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"There can be no doubt," said Ellis, who had come into the room behind the reporter. "I saw the negro last night, at twelve o'clock, going into Mr. Delamere's yard, with a bundle in his hand." "He is the last negro I should have suspected," said Carteret. "Mr. Delamere had implicit confidence in him." "All niggers are alike," remarked McBane sententiously.
Delamere gave a plausible excuse which won Clara's pardon and another enchanting smile, which pierced Ellis like a dagger. He knew very well that Delamere's excuse was a lie. Ellis himself had been ready as early as six o'clock, but judging this to be too early, had stopped in at the Clarendon Club for half an hour, to look over the magazines.
Delamere's face, which had taken on some color in the excitement of the interview, had gradually paled to a chalky white while Carteret was speaking. His head sunk forward; already an old man, he seemed to have aged ten years in but little more than as many seconds. "Can this be true?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper. "Is it entirely authentic?" "True as gospel; true as it is that Mrs.
He had always counted himself the least envious of men, but for this occasion he coveted Tom Delamere's readiness. "The beauty of the flowers," observed old Mr. Delamere, with sententious gallantry, "is reflected upon all around them. It is a handsome company." Mrs. Ochiltree beamed upon the table with a dry smile.
Smith," said Carteret, recognizing the speaker. "With your permission, I will formulate the oath, and Mr. Delamere may repeat it after me, if he will. I solemnly swear," "I solemnly swear," Mr. Delamere's voice might have come from the tomb, so hollow and unnatural did it sound. "So help me God," "So help me God,"
His old friend was very much excited, as the tremor in his voice gave proof. The criminal was his trusted servant, who had proved unworthy of confidence. No one could question Mr. Delamere's motives; but he was old, his judgment was no longer to be relied upon.
Cecilia possesses over her mother that witchcraft of gentle manners, which in the female sex is always irresistible, even over violent tempers. Prudential considerations have a just, though not exclusive, claim to Miss Delamere's attention.
"Who's going to dance?" said the Doctor: "the ball's begun. Ha! there goes poor Jack Delamere's head off! The ball chose a soft one, anyhow. Come here, Tim, till I mend your leg. Your wife has need only knit half as many stockings next year, Doolan my boy. Faix! there goes a big one had wellnigh stopped my talking: bedad! it has snuffed the feather off my cocked hat!"
I end where I began, with 'Persevere and may the success your perseverance deserves be your reward. If I recollect right, these were nearly Miss Delamere's own words at parting with you."
The present possessor was, however, an excellent life, and he had a son stout and healthy, so all these hopes of Mrs. Rank and large fortune were, in Mrs. Delamere's opinion, indispensable to happiness.
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