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Annie became a lovely woman, a devoted daughter, a most self-sacrificing character, and one scrupulously exact in her dealings with others; but she never forgot "that red silk frock." "How strange that any one should be so superstitious!" said Emily Mahon. Rosemary Beckett had been telling a group of girls of the ridiculous practices of an old negro woman employed by her mother as a laundress.
"D n it, woman, I am not talking of the furniture, and you know it!" thundered the Judge. "William Owen!" said Aunt Martha, who had not gone through fifty or a hundred such conflicts without deriving some controversial profit from them "I do not choose to be sworn at, in your house or the house of any other man. If you were a gentleman, you would not be guilty of the outrage." Emily trembled.
Beat me as much as you please, and I will not say a word, but oh! pray, sir! don't tell Emily she must not love me." "And, father, if he were wicked, you know you told me once that we must love the wicked and try to do them good, because our Father in Heaven loved us while we were yet sinners," urged Emily.
I am quite confident that apart from considerations of fortune you will admire and approve of my Emily. Your affectionate Nephew, Arthur Pendennis, Jr."
He sighed drew her to him gently and kissed her on the forehead. Was that his own reply? She was not calm enough to ask him the question: it remained in her thoughts for some time after he had gone. On the same day Emily was at Brighton. Francine happened to be alone in the drawing-room. Her first proceeding, when Emily was shown in, was to stop the servant.
Men must, however, eat, in spite both of sentiment and vertu; and the Baron, while he assumed the lower end of the table, insisted that Lady Emily should do the honours of the head, that they might, he said, set a meet example to the YOUNG FOLK. After a pause of deliberation, employed in adjusting in his own brain the precedence between the Presbyterian kirk and Episcopal church of Scotland, he requested Mr.
This Emily person was very small, and fluffy, and blue-eyed, and sort of well, crinkly looking. You know. The corners of her mouth when she smiled, and her eyes when she looked up at you, and her hair, which was brown, but had the miraculous effect, somehow, of being golden. Jo shook hands with her.
He thought Emily, however, a pretty girl who ought to do better, and he had his eye on "a young gentleman in the neighbourhood" and for some four or five months past he had been pressing her to receive his addresses favourably. This was clearly a good match. Not that he would unduly press her, but "if she could, for I would never force a young girl's inclinations."
The world accepted her disclaimer. But the trouble began again after Charlotte's death. Emily herself had no legend; but her genius was perpetually the prey of rumours that left her personality untouched. Among the many provoked by Mrs. Francis Grundy said that Branwell told him he had written Wuthering Heights. Mr. Leyland believed Mr. Grundy.
Emily went on, in her fussy way, to make things clear to my intellect by adding that our host had kindly sent Mr. Burden to the nearest railway station in his own fastest motor, as it seemed he had just time to catch a train leaving almost immediately. I didn't know what to make of it all, and don't now.
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