It was as if the child had been doubly given to her , with a right to him solely that nothing could take away or transcend . Marrying ! She had never thought of it in connection with him . He did not come of a marrying race . His father had been sixty when he had married her , Thyra Lincoln , likewise well on in life . Few of the Lincolns or Carewes had married young , many not at all . And , to her , Chester was her baby still . He belonged solely to her . And now another woman had dared to look upon him with eyes of love . Damaris Garland ! Thyra now remembered seeing her . She was a new-comer in Avonlea , having come to live with her uncle and aunt after the death of her mother . Thyra had met her on the bridge one day a month previously . Yes , a man might think she was pretty -- a low-browed girl , with a wave of reddish-gold hair , and crimson lips blossoming out against the strange , milk-whiteness of her skin . Her eyes , too -- Thyra recalled them -- hazel in tint , deep , and laughter-brimmed . The girl had gone past her with a smile that brought out many dimples . There was a certain insolent quality in her beauty , as if it flaunted itself somewhat too defiantly in the beholder 's eye . Thyra had turned and looked after the lithe , young creature , wondering who she might be . And to-night , while she , his mother , waited for him in darkness and loneliness , he was down at Blair 's , talking to this girl ! He loved her ; and it was past doubt that she loved him .
The thought was more bitter than death to XXXXX .
Avonlea Blair Chester Garland Lincoln Lincolns Thyra beholder laughter-brimmed right