United States or South Korea ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"We do our best to guard dear Mary's reputation," said Miss Crewys. The impetuous canon sprang to his feet with a half-uttered exclamation; then recollecting the age and temperament of the speaker, he checked himself and tried to laugh. "I do not know," he said, "who has said, or ever could say, one single word against that against our dear and sweet Lady Mary.
The Vandyck commanded the staircase, attracting immediate attention, as it faced the principal entry. In the wide space between the two great windows were two portraits of equal size; the famous Sir Peter Crewys, by Lely, painted to resemble, as nearly as possible, his royal master, in dress and attitude; and his brother Timothy, by Kneller.
On his side, John Crewys felt very kindly towards the venerable ladies, who represented to him all the womankind of his own race. Both sisters possessed the family characteristics which he lacked. They were tall and surprisingly upright, considering the weight of years which pressed upon their thin shoulders.
"His letters give no details about himself," said Lady Belstone; "he makes no fuss about his wounded arm. He is a thorough Crewys, not given to making a to-do about trifles." "He could only write a few words with his left hand," said Miss Crewys; "more could not have been expected of him.
She hid her face against his shoulder. John Crewys was playing softly on the little oak piano in the banqueting hall, and Lady Mary stood before the open hearth, absently watching the sparks fly upward from the burning logs, and listening. The old sisters had gone to bed.
"How thoughtless you are, Georgina, asking our cousin into the dining-room just when Ash must be laying the cloth for dinner. He will be sadly put about." "Dear, dear, it quite slipped my memory, Isabella." "You have no head at all, Georgina." "Can I frame an excuse?" said Miss Crewys, piteously, "or will he think it discourteous?"
Yet she had wished him to go, that she might be free to devote herself to her boy to be very sure that she was not a light and careless mother, ready to abandon her son at the first call of a stranger. And John Crewys had understood as another might not have understood.
"She will die," said Blundell, "if this goes on;" and he neither mentioned any name, nor did John Crewys require him to do so. The doctor's words came hurrying out incoherently from the depths of his anxiety and earnestness. "She will die if this goes on. There were few hopes and little enough pleasure in her life before; but what is left to her now? De mortuis nil nisi bonum.
John Crewys bowed over those little white hands, and became suddenly conscious that his vague, romantic sentiment had given place to a very real emotion an almost passionate anxiety to shield one so fair and gentle from the trouble which was threatening her, and of which, as he knew, she was perfectly unconscious.
She wore a violet silk of sombre hue, ornamented by a black silk apron and a black lace scarf. The velvet bow which served so very imperfectly as a skull-cap was also violet, intimating a semi-assuaged, but respectfully lengthened, grief for the departed. "And now this maddest scheme of all," said Miss Crewys. "Bless me! What mad scheme?"
Word Of The Day