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Step by step it traced his career from the beginning, showing first of all how he had debauched his own town of Coniston; how, enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended his grip over the county and finally over the state; how he had bought and sold men for his own power and profit, deceived those who had trusted in him, corrupted governors and legislators, congressmen and senators, and even justices of the courts: how he had trafficked ruthlessly in the enterprises of the people.
Coniston believes, and always will believe, that the social bars are strong enough. So Cynthia looked down at the reins. "Poor Josephine!" she said, "I always wish he had not cast her off." "C-cast her off?" said Jethro. "Cast her off! Why did he do that?" "After a while, when he got to be Emperor, he needed a wife who would be more useful to him. Josephine had become a drag.
He, too, rose, puzzled and disconcerted at this change in her. "And may I not come to Coniston?" he asked. "My father and I should be glad to see you, Mr. Worthington," she answered. He untied her horse and essayed one more topic. "You are taking a very big book," he said. "May I look at the title?" She showed it to him in silence. It was the "Life of Napoleon Bonaparte."
Brampton and Harwich are rivals, but Coniston Water gives of its power impartially to each. And beyond that river rises beautiful Farewell Mountain of many colors, now sapphire, now amethyst, its crest rimmed about at evening with saffron flame; and, beyond Farewell, the emerald billows of the western peaks catching the level light.
Brampton and Harwich are rivals, but Coniston Water gives of its power impartially to each. And beyond that river rises beautiful Farewell Mountain of many colors, now sapphire, now amethyst, its crest rimmed about at evening with saffron flame; and, beyond Farewell, the emerald billows of the western peaks catching the level light.
Coles had predicted, from that first sharp attack, and one morning they brought up a reclining chair which belonged to Mr. Satterlee, the minister, and set it in the window. There, in the still days of the early autumn, Wetherell looked down upon the garden he had grown to love, and listened to the song of Coniston Water.
They had learned from Lem Hallowell that Cynthia had returned a lady: a real lady, not a sham one who relied on airs and graces, such as had come to Coniston the summer before to look for a summer place on the painter's recommendation. Lem was not a gossip, in the disagreeable sense of the term, and he had not said a word to his neighbors of his feelings on that terrible drive from Brampton.
"Something tells me," he continued, "that I shall succeed. And that is why I walk on Coniston Water to choose the best site for a dam." "I am honored by your secret, but I feel that the responsibility you repose in me is too great," she said. "I can think of none in whom I would rather confide," said he. "And am I the only one in all Brampton, Harwich, and Coniston who knows this?" she asked. Mr.
Of all those who had been amazed when Jethro Bass suddenly emerged from his retirement and appeared in the capital some months before, none were more thunderstruck than certain gentlemen who had been to Coniston repeatedly, but in vain, to urge him to make this very fight. The most important of these had been Mr.
There was a certain railroad in the West which had got itself much into Congress, and much into the newspapers, and Isaac D. Worthington had got himself into that railroad: was gone West, it was said on that business, and might not be back for many weeks. And Lem Hallowell remembered when Mr. Worthington was a slim-cheated young man wandering up and down Coniston Water in search of health.
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