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Many hours elapsed before John Grange opened his eyes from what seemed to be a deep sleep; and then he only muttered incoherently, and old Tummus's plump, elderly wife, who was famed in the district for her nursing qualities, sat by the bedside and shed tears as she held his hand. "Such a bonny lad," she said, "I wonder what Miss Mary'll say if he should die."
"Mme. de Senonches' positon has altered very much since Mme. de Bargeton went away; we very likely might marry Francoise to some elderly country gentleman." "She would disgrace herself if you did," Cointet returned in his dry way. "Better marry her to some capable, ambitious young man; you could help him with your influence, and he would make a good position for his wife."
I turn over in my own mind whether I should do well to make some observation of a trite and copy-book nature on the much greater duration of trees than men, but reflecting that the application of the remark may be painful to a person so elderly as the gentleman beside me, I abstain. However, he does something of the kind himself.
Five young maidens, clinging to each other's hands or belts, tripped along briskly. Behind them came several elderly women and a number of servants gracefully carrying on their heads baskets filled with provisions and various dishes for the picnic.
"But, my dear, it's only profiteers who can eat brioches now-a- days." "You just watch us." They went into a patisserie. An elderly woman with a lean yellow face and thin hair waited on them, casting envious glances up through her eyelashes as she piled the rich brown brioches on a piece of tissue paper.
I wonder if any one has not often been struck, as I have, by the sadness and hopelessness which seems to overshadow many of the people who live on the lonely farms in the outskirts of small New-England villages. It is most noticeable among the elderly women.
This tribute is as true in substance as it is striking in phrase. I have noticed the same peculiarity about Mr. Brookfield's humour as about Jenny Lind's singing. Those who had once heard it were always eager to talk about it. Ask some elderly man about the early triumphs of the Swedish Nightingale, and notice how he kindles. "Ah! Jenny Lind! Yes; there was never anything like that!"
The sermon of the elderly minister had to do with beliefs rather than deeds, and was the subject of discussion at luncheon. "It is very like a sermon I found in my room," said Honora. "I left that book in your room, my dear, in the hope that you would not overlook it," said Mrs. Holt, approvingly. "Joshua, I wish you would read that sermon aloud to us." "Oh, do, Mr. Holt!" begged Honora.
As in a dream, Honora followed Peter to a table, and he handed her a programme. "Oh, Peter," she cried, "it's going to be 'Pinafore'!" Honora's eyes shone like stars, and elderly people at the neighbouring tables turned more than once to smile at her that evening. And Peter turned more than once and smiled too. But Honora did not consider Peter.
It was at this inn that Borrow explained to the elderly Genoese, who had indiscreetly resented his host's disrespectful remarks about the young Queen Isabel, how he invariably managed to preserve good relations with all sorts of factions. Borrow remained at Cordoba much longer than he had intended, because of the reports that reached him of the unsafe condition of the roads.
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