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Who can describe the strange mingling of grateful joy with bitter anguish that almost burst the heart of David Bright's widow on that terrible night! She was singing one of the "Songs of Zion," and busy with household cares, preparing for the expected return of her husband and her son, when they carried Billy in.
He recovered, and afterwards arrived at great wealth in New South Wales. November 14th. At dinner at Mr. Bright's, a week or two ago, Mr. Robertson Gladstone spoke of a magistrate of Liverpool, many years since, Sir John . Of a morning, sitting on the bench in the police court, he would take five shillings out of his pocket and say, "Here, Mr. Clerk, so much for my fine. I was drunk last night!"
Therefore she had kept back as a bonne bouche, to be served up as an apparent after-thought, a certain half sheet of paper which she had preserved carefully in her pocket-book since the night on which she had made the copy of Sir David Bright's will.
He referred to the demonstration in front of Miss Burdett-Coutts's house on the previous day, and made some remarks comparing her with the Queen, who was just then in Scotland, by no means to the advantage of the latter. Bright's loyalty, which was strong and real, was outraged by Ayrton's language.
And ever since he has been attending to his business, and every time I meet him he seems running over with happiness, joy, and good health." "Father, wasn't he supposed to be suffering from a very severe case of Blight's disease?" "Yes, he had a consultation of three of our best physicians, and they pronounced it Bright's disease."
There was a kindliness now in the tone of David Bright's voice when he spoke to Billy that drew out the heart of that urchin as it had never been drawn out before, save by his mother's soft voice, and which produced a corresponding sweetness in the tones of the boy for "love begets love." The mission skipper received his visitor with unwonted heartiness.
So different from you, Mr. Blumenthal, and Mr. King! You ain't afraid to take hold of a rough hand without a glove on. How is Mrs. King? Hope she's coming to-morrow. If the thrushes and bobolinks could sing human music, and put human feeling into it, her voice would beat 'em all. How romantic that you should come here to Joe Bright's to find your sister, that you thought was dead."
"'It was the first time I had been on duty at "The Castle," he said, 'for I used to be night porter at "Bright's," in Wolverhampton, but just after I had come on duty at ten o'clock a gentleman came and asked if he could see the Hon. Robert de Genneville. I said that I thought he was in, but would send up and see. The gentleman said: "It doesn't matter. Don't trouble; I know his room.
By dint of patience and hard work, however, he gained the top of the mountain. At sunrise he looked back into Bright's Cove. It lay there peacefully deserted, to all appearance; but Bob, looking very closely, thought to make out smoke. The long thread of the road was quite vacant. Bob had no very clear idea of where he was, except that it was in the unfriendly Durham country.
The elder grew very angry, and resolved to see the end of this as soon as possible. Calling a younger member of the household to him he whispered in his ear: "Run up to Prof. Bright's as fast as you can, and tell him to come down here as quick as possible." He would bring "Dodd" and his teacher face to face, and then see.
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