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It's so common. Oh! I don't like Mary best. What do you think?" Richard thought it just like another. "Do you know," Ralph continued, throwing off the mask and plunging into the subject, "I'd do anything on earth for some names one or two. It's not Mary, nor Lucy. Clarinda's pretty, but it's like a novel. Claribel, I like. Names beginning with 'Cl' I prefer.
They returned into the hall, preserving for some time a mournful silence, when Adrian, who thought tears would be disgraceful to his manhood, rushed into an adjoining apartment, and resting his folded arms upon a table, hid his face in them. Amaranthé began to sob audibly, while tears flowed plentifully down the cheeks of the gentle Claribel.
Why don't you sell this great place fo' it goes clean to destruction, an' buy a little cottage jes' big enough fo' you three chillun? You'd be so much more comf'table." "Sell Marchmont, Mam Daphne," cried Claribel. "Why, it has never belonged to any one but a Mason since the days of Boone!
As long as she may go creeping unnoticed about the world, taking no trouble herself, or being troubled by others, that is all she desires. I have no notion of such tame satisfaction." To this Claribel only answered by a smile. They all retired at the usual hour to their beds, but to Adrian and his sister it was not to rest.
In Claribel the effects of the fairy's power were the least visible. Her nature had always been so placid, that it could admit of no great increase of contentment, but she was perfectly at peace with herself and others, and free from any portion of envy at the riches of one cousin, or the beauty of the other.
Claribel, after considering a little, answered, "I do not know that I was absolutely happy. I was, indeed, always contented, as she promised I should be, and never felt inclined to repine, or be vexed at any thing; but I do not remember ever experiencing any particular pleasure." "No," returned the fairy, "nor would any one under such circumstances.
There's lots of other colors, you know; pink, and all sorts.". Claribel put out one little brown hand, and timidly touched the other hat. "This one," she said. It was very plain, and very pretty; yet there were no flowers, and the modest white ribbon lay smoothly about the crown. Miss Lucindy gave a little cry, as if some one had hurt her. "O!" she exclaimed, "O Claribel! you sure?"
His dwelling was thronged with joyous spirits like himself, who courted and flattered him, always extolling in exaggerated terms his generosity and powers of pleasing. Invitations came from far and near, and neighbouring families vied with each other in giving costly entertainments to this charming brother and sister, nor was Claribel ever left out of the party.
What shall I do?" "Are you willing to pay for such accomplishments?" asked the wise chemist. "Certainly," answered Claribel, jingling her purse. "Then come to me to-morrow at two o'clock," said he.
"Who can it be at this hour of the morning?" cried Claribel, dropping her iron and clutching at her light curly hair, which was always in pretty disorder. "We're none of us dressed to meet strangers. Run, Mam Daphne! How fortunate you are here to go to the door!"
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