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The Morin girl was following close to her mother, and Jacques Morin was eagerly discussing their information. Madge passed Courthope in silence. They all went to the window to see; Courthope, following in the most absurd helplessness, trailing the end of his binding-cord behind him, brought up the rear of the little procession.
"I understand," said the marquis, and paled frightfully and turned his head aside. When Mrs. Courthope suggested that Lady Florimel should be sent for, he flew into a frightful rage, and spoke as it is to be hoped he had never spoken to a woman before. She took it with perfect gentleness, but could not repress a tear. The marquis saw it, and his heart was touched.
"This is the verra place for me, mem," said Malcolm, reissuing; "that is," he added, "gien ye dinna think it's ower gran' for the likes o' me 'at 's no been used to onything half sae guid." "You're quite welcome to it," said Mrs Courthope, all but confident he would not care to occupy it after hearing the tale of Lord Gernon.
Courthope Miss Jane Fairfax I believe you have met before. Madge's voice dropped in a well-feigned absorption in her next guest; but she soon found time again to whisper to him a long speech which Miss Bates had made to Eliz. Soon afterwards she came flying to him in the utmost delight to repeat what she called a "lovely sneap" which Lady G had given to Mrs.
It lasted but a moment, however, for the old man, spurred by torture as well as hate, gathered what survived of a most sinewy strength into one huge heave, threw her back into the room, and rose, with the blood streaming from his eyes just as the marquis came round the near end of the passage, followed by Mrs Courthope, the butler, Stoat, and two of the footmen.
Courthope rose up and followed her glance, almost an adoring glance, to the portrait he had before observed. He went and stood again face to face with it. A goodly man was painted there, dressed in a judge's robe. Courthope read the lineaments by the help of the living interpretation of the daughter's likeness.
Mrs Courthope, the housekeeper at Lossie House, was a good woman, who did not stand upon her dignities, as small rulers are apt to do, but cultivated friendly relations with the people of the Sea Town.
Invariably also, just as he slipped, the face of the Prince appeared in the breach, but it was at the same time the face of Mrs Catanach. The next morning, Mrs Courthope found him feverish, and insisted on his remaining in bed no small trial to one who had never been an hour ill in his life; but he was suffering so much that he made little resistance.
Such, Pope, has been thy Fortune, such thy Doom. Collecting Cackle, Johnson condescends To interview the Drudges of your Friends. Though still your Courthope holds your merits high, And still proclaims your Poems poetry, Biographers, un-Boswell-like, have sneered, And Dunces edit him whom Dunces feared! They say; what say they? Not in vain You ask. To tell you what they say, behold my Task!
She dropped him a courtesy with an uplook and again a vailing of her wicked eyes. The marquis would not have the doctor come near him, and when Malcolm entered there was no one in the room but Mrs Courthope. The shadow had crept far along the dial. His face had grown ghastly, the skin had sunk to the bones, and his eyes stood out as if from much staring into the dark.
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