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"I had a horrid dream, too," she said, "about the 'Seven Sisters. I was Pluto to your Diavoline, and Philip Berkley was a phantom that grinned at everybody and rattled the bones; and I waked in a dreadful fright to hear uncle's spurred boots overhead, and that horrid noisy old sabre of his banging the best furniture.
"Is friendship not enough, Mr. Berkley?" "It is too late for friendship. You know it." "That cannot be." "Why, Ailsa?" "Because it is friendship mistaken friendship that moves you now in every word you say." She raised her candid gaze. "Is there no end to your self-murder? Do you still wish to slay yourself before my very eyes?"
Benton here still?" "No," she said softly. "Where is he?" "At Paigecourt. I asked him to go because he is the best doctor I ever knew. He came down here to see me; he is not detailed for duty under contract. I asked him to go and see Stephen Craig. He grumbled and went." She looked up shyly at Berkley, smiled for the first time, then her pale young face grew beautiful and solemn.
"And as a specimen of the class of Miserable Wretches, I suppose you will take me," said Flemming, making an effort to enter into his friend's humor. "Certainly I am wretched enough. You may make me the stuffed bear, the specimen of this class." "By no means," replied Berkley; "you are not reduced so low. He only is utterly wretched, who is the slave of his own passions, or those of others.
The objections made to faith are by no means an effect of knowledge, but proceed rather from ignorance of what knowledge is. Bishop Berkley. No difficulty emerges in theology which has not previously emerged in philosophy. Sir Wm. Hamilton.
Private Burgess spends his time off duty under the oak trees out yonder watching your window like a dog. . . . I ah may say to you, Berkley, that you ah have become a credit to the regiment. Personally and as your commanding officer I wish you to understand that I am gratified by your conduct. I have said so in my official reports." Berkley's sunken eyes had reverted to the man beside him.
Instead of a thousand francs, my old friend would hardly bring five dollars. After such a catastrophe what remained for me to do? Evidently to humble my pride and beg an obolus of young Berkley.
Among these papers you will find several notes written to her in the spring and summer of 1861 by the trooper Berkley and discovered in her room by her landlady after her departure.
The men seemed stupefied with fatigue; yet every now and then they roused themselves to inquire after her comfort or to offer her a place behind them. She timidly asked Berkley if she tired him, but he begged her to stay, alarmed lest the vision of Ailsa depart with her; and she remained, feeling contented and secure in her drowsy fatigue.
"Oh, hell!" cut in Berkley savagely, "I'm sick of hearing about it. If you all knew that I was too scared to realise what I was doing you'd let up on that episode." Stephen laughed. "I hope our boys get scared in the same way. . . . Hello, here's a friend of yours I believe " They turned to encounter Casson, the big dragoon, arm in arm with the artilleryman, Arthur Wye.
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