Explore "Loved and Lost" by Bertha M. Clay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Through the lanes, swiftly, but ever so wearily, sped Lady Gwendolyn. Her eyes were dim with unshed tears -- she had no time for womanly weakness -- her lips were compressed, until they looked like a mere thread; her head drooped on to her bosom. She had never known what shame meant before, and she felt as if she should never be able to look her fellow creatures in the face again.
It took her half an hour only to reach Bridgton Hall -- this morning. The stable clock was striking seven as she entered the grounds, and made her way hurriedly to the front door. Everything was very quiet, or seemed so to her, recalling the gay music and laughter that had filled the house a few hours back.