Oh, I _wish_ I had a brother like Arthur!' Her face
softened and quivered as she stood still a moment, sending her
ardent look towards the sunset. 'I think I shall ask him to advise
me.... I don't suppose he will.... How provoking he used to be! but
awfully kind too. He'll think I ought to do what father tells me.
How can I! It's wrong--it's abominable! Everybody despises us. And
Desmond's dying to be off--to get away from it all--like Aubrey. He
hates it so--he almost hates coming home! It's _humiliating_, and
it's not our fault!'
Such cries and thoughts ran through her as she walked impetuously up
and down, in rebellion against her father, unhappy for her girl
friend, and smarting under the coercion put upon her patriotism and
her conscience. For she had only two months before left a school
where the influence of a remarkable head-mistress had been directed
towards awakening in a group of elder girls, to which Pamela
belonged, a vivid consciousness of the perils and sufferings of the
war--of the sacredness of the cause for which England was fighting,
of the glory of England, and the joy and privilege of English
citizenship.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65