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Only the sweet-faced mother, strong in her mother-love and in her faith in God, believed that he would yet return, and was content to watch and wait. Meantime, Everard Houston had become like a son to Mr. and Mrs. Cameron.
"We have to figure on the working of their alleged minds if they are," said Nestor. Then he turned to Fremont and asked: "You were on good terms with Mr. Cameron?" "Yes; well, we had a few words at dinner to-night about office work.
"I have heard him mentioned by friends of mine long ago, long ago," replied Mrs. Cameron with a sort of weary languor, not unwonted, in her voice and manner; and then, as if dismissing the bygone reminiscence from her thoughts, changed the subject. "Lily tells me, Mr. Chillingly, that you said you were staying at Mr. Jones's, Cromwell Lodge. I hope you are made comfortable there." "Very.
Told by Bob the story lost nothing of its freshness; for every particular, except indeed the kindness he had shown her, was related, even to the sheep pasture, about which she was going to New York to consult a lawyer. "I thought once of referring her to you, Mr. Cameron," Bob said; "but couldn't find it in my heart to quiz her, she was so wholly unsuspicious. You have not seen her, have you?"
As the three friends dived over the bank and their haste and heedlessness carried them pell-mell to the bottom there sounded a yell behind them that certainly was not emitted by the bull. Goodness knows, he roared loudly enough! But this was no voice of a bull that so startled the two girls and Tom Cameron it was far too shrill. "There's somebody in that tree!" yelled Tom.
But a new thought entering his mind, he released Fanny, and said, "Pardon me, dear Fanny; sorrow has well nigh bereft me of my senses. In my first joy in finding you innocent, I forgot that you could not be mine, for you belong to another—to Mr. Cameron." "Cameron go to Thunder!" exclaimed Uncle Joshua, who was still standing near. "That’s another of Tempest’s lies.
He took one step after her, then stopped and turned away, with a rather disagreeable smile and a shrug of his shoulders. Nobody would have guessed, as the Old Lady swept out, how her heart was seething with abhorrence and scorn. She would not have had the courage to come to town, even for Sylvia's sake, if she had thought she would meet Andrew Cameron.
If James Mohr by accident speaks the truth in the following Information, more was done by Lochgarry and Cameron than Pickle wotted of during the autumn of 1752 and the spring of 1753. The arms may have been those ordered by Charles in 1750. Here is James Mohr's Confession, made in London, November 6, 1753: 'That, in June 1753, the Pretender's Son wrote to Mr.
I wish you’d brought the whole city." "We came pretty near it, I think," said Mr. Miller, at the same time presenting Mr. Stafford and Mr. Cameron. Mr. Middleton continued talking, as if replying to Mr. Miller’s first remark. "No consequence, no consequence, Mr. Stafford, Mr. Cameron, how are you? The more the merrier.
Wilford Cameron, of Madison Square, awoke in her the ambition to know more of that lady, and, if possible, gain an entrance to her dwelling. To this end she favored Aunt Betsy's visit, hoping thus to accomplish her object, for, of course, when Miss Barlow went to Mrs. Cameron's, she was the proper person to go with her and point the way.
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