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Miss Hargrove hastened to her room, and took off her hat with trembling hands. Burt's pale, resolute face told her that the crisis in her life had come. And yet she did not fully understand him. If he meant to speak, why had he not done so? why had he not asked permission to consult her father? Mr.
"I think Burt's quotation very pat," said Amy, "and I could not have believed that anything written so long ago would apply so marvellously to what I have seen to-day." "Marvellously pat, indeed," said Leonard. "And since your quotation has led to such a nice little pat on your classical back, Burt, you must feel repaid for your long burning of the midnight oil."
They had not gone a mile together before one would have thought they had been acquainted for years. Burt's frank face was like the open page of a book, and the experienced society girl saw nothing in it but abounding good-nature, and an enjoyment as genuine as her own. She was on the alert for traces of provincialism and rusticity, but was agreeably disappointed at their absence.
Her back was toward him, and her great dog was at her side, looking up into her face, as if in mute sympathy with his fair mistress. Hope sprang up in Burt's heart. She could not be there with bowed head if she despised him.
I did as the rest did till one day, fresh from the lecture, I went into the library and chanced upon a copy of Burt's "History of Greek Philosophy." I opened it and shortly found the very discussion, and some of the very sentences, word for word, that I had just copied with so much labor into my note book. And they were in print, too, so much easier to read than my note book writing!
That the dream was never realized was one of the real disappointments of Burt's life. Inexplicably he saw that little girl again as he looked at Helen's upturned face with its quivering chin and swimming, reproachful eyes. John Burt had a queer feeling of something wilting, crumbling inside of him, something hard and cold giving way around his heart.
As time passed, and he saw the increasing evidences of Burt's feeling, he was careful that his manner should be strictly fraternal toward Amy, for his impetuous brother was not always disposed to be reasonable even in his normal condition, and now he was afflicted with a malady that has often brought to shame the wisdom of the wisest.
She smiled so that I knew it must be something nice, so I clapped my hands and said, "Then Uncle Burt's all well again, too." For every time while I was sick, when I asked about Uncle Burt, Aunty May would say, "He's much better, but we mustn't talk." I had to be patient and wait then, but this day I said, "Oh. Aunty May, he is really better, isn't he?"
Therefore, from the very delicacy of the situation, she felt herself helpless. Nature was her ally, however, and if all that was passing in Burt's mind had been manifest, the ardent little schemer would not have been so despondent.
The bedrooms are large, airy, with almost no furniture, floors of varnished wood, and at the bed-head, in case of insomnia, one shelf of books of a particular and dippable order, such as "Pepys," the "Paston Letters," Burt's "Letters from the Highlands," or the "Newgate Calendar." ... The following chapters of a projected treatise on Ethics were drafted at Edinburgh in the spring of 1879.
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