White Turrets - Mrs. Molesworth

“It is an old story,” said Celia, calmly. “An old story, ending very beautifully, I think. I cannot tell you much, for I do not know the whole. But they were separated for years, through nobody’s fault exactly, and neither has ever cared for any one else,” she added simply.

“All the same,” said Winifred, “I am just a little disappointed in her.”

Celia’s own plans were not materially affected by this unexpected event, as, having by this time gathered experience, she was able to go on with her studies without actually sharing her friend’s home. Before long, those studies led her further afield for a time. But this sketch, or rough outline, rather—not worthy of the name of a story—of some girls’ experiences, must come to an end without chronicling the successes of the young painter, of whom great things are prophesied.

There are those, too, who predict that Celia Maryon is about to try the experiment of reconciling the claims and duties of married life with those of a special vocation. And if it be possible to succeed in so doing, assuredly no woman could have a wiser, less exacting, and more sympathising husband than the one whom rumour has selected for her—Eric Balderson.

The End.