United States or Germany ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I could only judge by appearances," concluded Pedgift, pointing his sarcasm with a pinch of snuff; "and appearances, Bashwood, were decidedly against you." "I don't deny it, sir. I only mentioned the circumstance because I wished to acknowledge that I was curious, and am curious about Miss Gwilt." "Why?" asked Pedgift Senior, seeing something under the surface in Mr.
Go, on second thoughts, whether the loss of the yacht is known in England or not. "Yours truly, ALLAN ARMADALE." "I looked up when I had come to the end of the letter, and saw, for the first time, that Bashwood had left his chair and had placed himself opposite to me. He was intently studying my face, with the inquiring expression of a man who was trying to read my thoughts.
Bashwood in the proper way as the charming object of Mr. Bashwood's admiration? "There could be no doubt that Bashwood was the man to serve the doctor's purpose, and that my influence was to be trusted to make him serve it. The difficulty was not here: the difficulty was in the unanswered question that I had put to the doctor a minute since. I put it to him again. "'Suppose Mr.
From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt. "Thorpe Ambrose, July 20th, 1851. "DEAR MADAM I received yesterday, by private messenger, your obliging note, in which you direct me to communicate with you through the post only, as long as there is reason to believe that any visitors who may come to you are likely to be observed.
Impossible! "I have reasons," he resumed, "for advising you not to believe too readily what Mr. Bashwood may say. Don't tell him this, but take the warning." Allan looked at his friend in astonishment. "It was you who always liked Mr. Bashwood!" he exclaimed. "It was you who trusted him, when he first came to the great house!" "Perhaps I was wrong, Allan, and perhaps you were right.
"Oh, sir, don't say that!" pleaded Mr. Bashwood. "Don't deny me the great favor, the inestimable advantage of your advice! I have such a poor head, Mr. Pedgift! I am so old and so slow, sir, and I get so sadly startled and worried when I'm thrown out of my ordinary ways.
The one present chance of discovering a truer solution of the mystery was to press the steward on the one available point in which he had laid himself open to attack. He had positively denied on the previous evening that he knew anything of Allan's movements, or that he had any interest in Allan's return to England. Having detected Mr. Bashwood in one lie told to himself.
He leaned heavily against the wall of the room, and looked at the woman who had slept on his bosom, and who had denied him to his face. Mr. Bashwood stole panic-stricken to her side. "Go in there!" he whispered, trying to draw her toward the folding-doors which led into the next room. "For God's sake, be quick! He'll kill you!" She put the old man back with her hand.
"What rooms shall we put them in, on the first floor?" "Put Mr. Armadale in Number Four." "And his friend next to him, in Number Three?" said the doctor. "Well! well! well! perhaps they are the most comfortable rooms. I'll give my orders immediately. Don't hurry away, Mr. Bashwood," he called out, cheerfully, as he reached the top of the staircase.
He knocked at the house door. "I have got a note for Miss Gwilt," he said, walking into the passage, the moment the door was opened. "She's gone," answered the servant. "She went away last night." Bashwood the younger wasted no more words with the servant. He insisted on seeing the mistress. The mistress confirmed the announcement of Miss Gwilt's departure on the previous evening.
Word Of The Day