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I assure your honour that I am deeply obliged." His air, manner, and even accent, were so like those of a Frenchman, that I could not forbear asking him whether he was one. He shook his head and replied, "No, your honour, no, I am not a Frenchman, but a native of this poor country, Tom Jenkins by name."
I can't make good the sale of this field to you, as I have lost it by my own carelessness: but that's nothing to you; for you know, as well as I do, that to make good the deficiency, you will, somehow or other, get a better piece of ground out of the small remains of patrimony I have left, God help me!" "God help you, indeed!" cried Hopkins, with a look and accent of mingled rage and contempt.
"Yes," panted the other; "I'm beaten. It's all over now." "Then you give in?" cried Waller, who grew more and more excited in his triumph, while he gazed down at the distorted countenance beneath him, wondering who the lad was and why there was a something un-English in his accent and the turn of his words, though they sounded native all the same.
"Did you ever see the unfortunate being to whom these books belong?" asked Maria, when Jemima brought her slipper. "Yes. He sometimes walks out, between five and six, before the family is stirring, in the morning, with two keepers; but even then his hands are confined." "What! is he so unruly?" enquired Maria, with an accent of disappointment.
To these national peculiarities Rob Roy added a sort of hard indifference of accent and manner, expressive of a mind neither to be daunted, nor surprised, nor affected by what passed before him, however dreadful, however sudden, however afflicting.
Quinn, as has been stated, was a Unionist, and, in spite of his Catholic name, a Protestant; but he had a poor opinion of his Unionist neighbours who, so he said, were far more loyal to England than England quite liked. He hated the English accent ... "finicky bleatin'," he called it ... and declared, though he really knew better, that all Englishmen spoke with a Cockney intonation.
Lanyard closed the bag, thrust it back beneath the berth, and got upon his feet. "But you are quite sure ?" "My jewels are all in order," she affirmed, without meeting his gaze. "And you miss nothing else?" "Nothing." Was there an accent of hesitation in this response? "Then, I take it, the thief was disappointed." Now she glanced quickly at his eyes. "Why do you say that?"
Cameron deciding finally that it should bear her own, Margaret Augusta, while Juno advocated that of Rose Marie, inasmuch as their new clergyman would Frenchify the pronunciation so perfectly, rolling the "r," and placing so much accent on the last syllable.
"Who is this gentleman?" he asked, speaking in a foreign accent, with an under-bred insolence of tone and manner. She controlled herself the moment he addressed her. "This is Mr. Germaine," she answered: "a gentleman who was very kind to me in Scotland." She raised her eyes for a moment to mine, and took refuge, poor soul, in a conventionally polite inquiry after my health.
As I had no idea such a thing would happen, I was downright thunderstruck, and, trembling in every nerve, made the best return in my power. Just as I had finished, some of the grand officers said so loud that I could hear with a most comforting accent, "Very well, indeed!" which set me something to rights again.
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