But Hannah said "no," very quietly and
firmly, and that was the end of it. The old style bonnet was worn as
well as the old style cloak, and Burton felt keenly the difference
between her personal appearance and his own. He, the Boston dandy, with
every article of dress as faultless as the best tailor could make it,
and she, the plain countrywoman, with no attempt at style or fashion,
with nothing but her own sterling worth to commend her, and this was far
more priceless than all the wealth of the Indies. Hannah Jerrold had
been tried in the fire, and had come out purified and almost Christlike
in her sweet gentleness and purity of soul. She knew her brother was
ashamed of her--whether designedly or not, he always made her feel
it--but she had felt it her duty to attend her aunt's funeral, even
though it stirred anew all the bitterness of her joyless life.
And now the funeral was over, and she was going home that very
afternoon--to the gloomy house among the rocks, where she had grown old,
and her hair gray long before her time--going back to the burden which
pressed so heavily upon her, and from which she shrank as she had never
done before.
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