Read "Miss Crespigny" by Frances Hodgson Burnett online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
She went up stairs, after this, to her own room, a comfortable, luxurious little place, near Mrs. Despard's own apartment. A clear, bright fire burned in the grate, and her special sleepy-hollow chair was drawn before it; and when she had laid aside her hat, and disposed of her purchases, she came to this chair, and seated herself in it. Then she drew the Pen'yllan letter from her pocket, and laid it on her lap, and left it there, while she folded her hands, and leaned back, looking at the fire dreamily, and thinking to herself.
The truth is, that letter, that gentle, sweet-tempered, old-fashioned letter of Miss Clarissa's, stung the girl, worldly and selfish as she was. Three years ago she would not have cared much, but "seeing the world" -- ah! the world had taught her a lesson. She had seen a great deal of this world, under Mrs. Despard's guidance. She had ripened marvelously; she had grown half a score of years older; she had learned to be bitter and clear-sighted; and now a curious mental process was going on with her.