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Emilia was obliged to abandon her little people. She was to this extent the creature of mania: that she could not conceive of a way being open by which she might return to her father and mother, or any of her friends. It was to her not a matter for her will to decide upon, but simply a black door shut that nothing could displace.
"You should have hinted something that might be construed a promise or not, as we please to read it." "If I promise I perform," returned Mr. Pole. "Our Hillford people have cause for complaint," Mr. Barrett observed. And to Emilia: "You will hardly favour one party more than another, will you?"
And again, "I thought he looked quite charming." And once again, "But, goodness, what a state the poor man must be in! How could you help telling him, Lucia?" "I had promised," said Lucia, solemnly, "and I keep my promises, Emilia." "And that man has positively gone?" sighed Emilia, taking no notice of a rather challenging emphasis which Lucia had laid on her last remark.
Wesley gently; "though I may persuade him to let the lad decide for himself when he comes of age. Until then the offer stands open." "I sometimes wonder," Emilia mused, "if our father be not staring mad." "Hush, child! That is neither for you to say nor for me to hear. You know it has been almost a vow with him to dedicate your three brothers to God's service."
"Fear?" said Emilia. "Yes," said Kate. "It is an unequal bargain, where one side does all the loving." "Don't be troubled," said Emilia. "I dare say he will not love me long. Nobody ever did!" And her eyes filled with tears which she dashed away angrily, as she ran up to her room. It was harder yet for her to talk with Hope, but she did it, and that in a very serious mood.
I somehow found myself in his Highness's territories, of which anybody may read a description in the Almanach de Gotha. His Highness's father, as is well known, married Emilia Kunegunda Thomasina Charleria Emanuela Louisa Georgina, Princess of Saxe-Pumpernickel, and a cousin of his Highness the Duke.
This conflict of the baffled spirit of youth with its forceful flood of being continued until it seemed that Emilia was lifted through the fiery circles into daylight; her last cry being as her first: "I have my voice!" Of that which her voice was to achieve for her she never thought. She had no thought of value, but only an eagerness to feel herself possessor of something.
"Without doubt," said the Cardinal. "Well ? What can one do?" The Cardinal looked grave. "One can pray," he said. "Emilia and I pray for his conversion night and morning." "That is good," he approved. "But that is surely not enough?" "One can have Masses said." "Monsignor Langshawe, at the castle, says a Mass for him twice a week." "That is good," approved the Cardinal. "But is that enough?"
A pillar of dim silver rain fronted the moon on the hills. Emilia walked hurriedly, with her head bent, like a penitent: now and then peeping up and breathing to the keen scent of the tender ferns. Wilfrid still grasped her hand, and led her across the common, away from the rout. When the uproar behind them had sunk, he said "You'll get your feet wet. I'm sorry you should have to walk.
Then she said, "If you feel any responsibility about this little person, take my advice, and don't let her have appointments and meetings. They're bad in any case, and for a girl who has no brother has she? no: well then, you should make the best provision you can against the cowardice of men. Most men are cowards." Emilia sang in the drawing-room.
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