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Burrill and the footmen ventured to reconsider their early plans for giving warning. It wasn't so bad if the country was going to take him up. "Do you see what is happening?" Lady Mallowe said to Joan. "The man is becoming actually popular." "He is popular as a turn at a music hall is," answered Joan. "He will be dropped as he was taken up."
J. Burrill Curtis. Feb'y 27. NEW YORK, March 3, 1844. Your letter was very grateful to me. I had supposed the silence would be broken by some music burst of devotion, and that all friends would be dearer to you the more imperative the call upon your strength to battle for the Ideal. It half reproved me for the meagre sheet the same day brought to your hand.
In conclusion, the lecturer remarked that his lecture had been cast into a suggestive form, so as to set his audience thinking over the causes which make the air impure, and how these impurities are to be prevented from becoming deleterious to health. By T.J. BURRILL, M.D., Champaign, Ill.
"Say," he broke out, "I'll tell you what we'll do: we'll go together and buy everything 'suitable' in sight. The pair of us'll come back here as suitable as Burrill and Pearson. We'll paint the town red." He actually meant it. He was like a boy with a new game. His sense of the dreariness of London had disappeared. He knew what it would be like with Miss Alicia as a companion.
Each recovered himself in time, however, and not until the tea was arranged upon the table near the fire was any outward recognition of Miss Alicia's presence made. Then Burrill, pausing, made an announcement entirely without prejudice: "I beg pardon, sir, but Higgins's cart has come for Miss Temple Barholm's box; he is asking when she wants the trap."
"She doesn't want it at all," answered Tembarom. "Carry her trunk up- stairs again. She's not going away." The lack of proper knowledge contained in the suggestion that Burrill should carry trunks upstairs caused Miss Alicia to quail in secret, but she spoke with outward calm. "No, Burrill," she said. "I am not going away."
The only facts fairly authenticated were that the mysterious stranger had been taken away very late one night, some time before the interview between Mr. Temple Barholm and Captain Palliser, of which Burrill knew so much because he had "happened to be about." When a domestic magnate of Burrill's type "happens to be about" at a crisis, he is not unlikely to hear a great deal.
Wordsworth lives in a clear atmosphere of thought, and his poetry is simple and natural, but no more than Tennyson's. Pardon these critical distinctions. I make them to have them expressed, for Burrill did not see why I called Miss Barrett purple. It was because her highly colored robe was not harmonious with her native style of thought. Ben Jonson, too, I have been reading.
Burrill made a stately step forward, properly intent on his duty, and his master waved him back. "Say," he said hastily, "don't bring in any tea. They don't want it. They're Americans." Hutchinson snorted. He could not stand being consigned to ignominy before the footmen. "Nowt o' th' sort," he broke forth. " We're noan American. Tha'rt losing tha head, lad."
"The crimson room, sir," answered Burrill, and he closed the door of the tapestry chamber and shut Tembarom in alone with Pearson. For a few moments the two young men looked at each other, Pearson's gaze being one of respectfulness which hoped to propitiate, if propitiation was necessary, though Pearson greatly trusted it was not. Tembarom's was the gaze of hasty investigation and inquiry.
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