This continues the series of poems and short stories taken from Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander
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Of all the beautiful, accomplished young ladies who brightened by their presence the town of Greenville, Blanche Milum reigned the acknowledged belle, by right of birth and breeding; and, joined to these, she was the lucky owner of an almost perfect face; a graceful, supple figure; and the most winning, charming manners.
It was the last day of the year, and she stood upon the hearth rug looking with satisfied eyes upon the adornings of her parlor, and chatting busily with her aunt, a middle-aged widow lady, who was visiting Mr. Milum’s family.
“Auntie, dear,” said Blanche, gayly, “I fear that you do not approve of my arrangements for the morrow. If not, speak out and let me know if you think I have done amiss.”
“I have not expressed any dissatisfaction,” said her aunt, smiling gravely. “It is not my place to find fault with you or your home; still—” Read More