Explore "Rose a Charlitte" by Marshall Saunders on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Whate'er thy lot, whoe'er thou be, -- / Confess thy folly, kiss the rod, / And in thy chastening sorrow, see / The hand of God. " / MONTGOMERY.
Bidiane flashed around upon her companions. Rose -- pale, trembling, almost unearthly in a beauty from which everything earthly and material seemed to have been purged away -- stood extending her hands to the wanderer, her only expression one of profound thanksgiving for his return.