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Mother smiled a little at that. "Be thankful then that you are saved that temptation." And then she stroked my hot cheek and went on softly: "Don't think so much about your looks, child; plain women are just as vain as pretty ones. Not that you are plain, Esther, in my eyes, or in the eyes of any one who loves you."
When Mike has a theatre of his own and can send boxes to his friends, when Henry maybe is an editor of power, when Esther and Angel are the enthroned wives of famous men, and the new heaven and the new earth are quite finished, will they never sigh sometimes to have the making of them all over again? Then they will have everything to enjoy, so there will be nothing left to hope for.
Miss Esther!" called a sharp voice from the kitchen door. "You must all come in at once. Your ma wants you immejutly all of you." Esther rose, a little anxious pucker gathering on her brow as she remembered the Canadian letter. "Come along, Pen," she said impatiently. "I wonder what it is. Bad news from father, I expect."
So things were on that sunny May day when Penelope lay dreaming and watching the butterflies in the neglected garden, and Esther made a milk pudding in the kitchen, and the two younger children played about the house, while nearer and nearer came the postman bearing the letter that was to alter all their lives for them.
At last Esther pressed his hand, and, in a choking voice, exclaimed, "Charlie, my dear boy, I'd give my life if it would change your complexion if it would make you white! Poor fellow! your battle of life will be a hard one to fight!" "I know it, Ess; but I shouldn't care to be white if I knew I would not have a dear old Ess like you for a sister," he answered, pressing her hand affectionately.
I praised the wisdom of the oracle, and kissed the Pythoness a score of times, promising that the cabala should be obeyed implicitly, adding that she had no need of being taught the science since she knew it as well as the inventor. I spoke the truth, but Esther laughed, and, fearing lest I should really think so, took pains to assure me of the contrary.
George Moore by "Esther Waters." These novels were only the two or three of his soul's adventures that he happened to tell. But he died with a thousand stories in his heart. By H. Bellyse Baildon. Chatto & Windus.
"But we cannot be so long away from the mother both of us," said Moses. "She, too, is ill. And how will the children do without thee? I will go by myself." "No, I must see Benjy!" Esther cried. "Be not so stiff-necked, Esther! Besides, it stands in the letter that I am to come they do not ask thee. Who knows that the great people will not be angry if I bring thee with me?
I remained with Esther in Irving Place, in spite of Virginia's urgent invitation to share her apartment, adding to the room an old Italian chest, a few large pieces of copper and brass, and a strip or two of antique embroidery. I preferred Irving Place. It was simple, quiet, and detached. I came and went as I pleased; ate where I wanted to and when; wandered here and there at will.
He doubted not that Pierre Lanier had effected their removal. From London advices he learned that this villain was then in Calcutta, disguised, but shadowed by detectives who were not to be hampered in their methods. To Esther he said: "If these sleuths knew of the Paris confession and would coöperate with me, how easily the family might be located.
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