With Love from Bliss (Saskatchewan Saga Book #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

James Clerk Maxwell, educator, scientist, and winner of the coveted Adams prize at Cambridge for his essay, “On the Stability of Motion of Saturn’s Rings.” His recently published “Theory of Heat” was even more prestigious. Sadly, his fame had made little impact on Canada; Sebastian felt the poorer for it and strove to be recognized personally by philanthropy and good deeds. Consequently, when the call came to take in his wife’s profligate brother’s only child, he had encouraged her to do so. “After all,” he said, “you were willing to take on my sister’s child.”
    And it was so; Frances, orphaned and in poor health, had been a member of the Maxwell household since she was twelve. Now fifteen, a sweet child making no demands, needing only food and clothing, a little education when her health permitted, and a few medicines, her presence at Maxwell Manor barely caused a ripple in Sebastian’s well-run household. Could one more child make much difference?
    Just how great that difference could be weighed uneasily on Charlotte Maxwell’s mind as the carriage brought her, with that child, closer home.
    And no wonder; the newest member of her household was spouting some obscure Scripture: “‘Heaviness in the heart of man—’” Kerry was quoting, and explaining earnestly, “I think that means women, too, Aunt, and maybe even children, speshully children—‘Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop.’ Did you ever have a stoop-ed heart? I know I did.”
    “You have a habit, child,” Charlotte said a trifle peevishly, growing more uneasy about her husband’s reaction all the time, “of asking questions and then hurrying on and giving one no opportunity to answer. You’ve left me with my mouth open several times today. Now, what do you mean, stupid heart?”
    Kerry’s merry laugh rang out. The impassive face of Gideon seemed about to crack wide open, but he saved himself from such unacceptable behavior by a coughing fit that kept his mistress waiting, with a pained expression, for the child’s answer.
    “Not stupid, Aunt Charlotte! Stoop-ed, like stoopt. It means bent—”
    “I know what it means, for heaven’s sake. Why don’t you just say stoopt, then?”
    “I think prob’ly King James would say stoop- ed, and it’s his book; it says so right in the front. You don’t say belovd, do you? No, you say belov- ed .” Kerry looked at her aunt, discerning the pink nose even in the dimming light. “But,” she added quickly, “I’ve never been called belovd or belov-ed, though I s’pose you have. By your husband maybe, and by your children?” It was a question, and for once Kerry waited for an answer. She hadn’t thought of the possibility of children in the household until this moment, and an anxious look touched her piquant face. Kerry’s contact with other children had been limited, and she found just talking to them a strange and often unsettling experience. Children seemed so . . . childish. And sadly lacking in appreciation of the Scriptures.
    Charlotte Maxwell sighed and leaned back tiredly against the carriage’s “machine-buffed” cushions. “I have no children,” she said, and her tone seemed to give the impression that right now she was very happy about her lack.
    Kerry relaxed obviously. “I don’t blame you,” she piped wisely. “Children can be a terr’ble nuisance.”
    Again Charlotte Maxwell wondered about the child’s life with Avery her guide, teacher, and example. Knowing her brother—thoughtless and careless in the best of times, hurtful and impatient, even harsh, when crossed—didn’t conjure up a picture of a normal life for any child. And his drinking? Charlotte sighed again and shook her head slightly as if to clear it of unpleasant recollections.
    “No children of my own,” she found herself explaining to this unchildlike being sitting at her side and peeping at her nose from time to time. “But there is another young person in the