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Yes, it is very far off, that magic time when the world was full of splendid things and splendid men and women, a great Fair, and I, like the child in Henley's poem, wandered about, enjoying, desiring, possessing. Now I know there is nothing worth wanting, and nothing but poor flesh and blood, despite all the costumes and accessories.
Pictures in frames which had been ill-placed in the parlor now hung by his bed and over the mantelpiece. A neat-colored rug from Mrs. Henley's room ornamented the floor, and on it stood a table from the hall, holding the family Bible, an album of photographs, some other books from the parlor, and a vase containing fresh roses.
One of Mr Henley's last charges to me had been to keep up a large fire all night, to enable him the better to steer his course, and also to find the island again. Indeed, that this might be done, he assured me, was another strong reason for his wishing me and Tommy to remain on the island.
Wait for me a minute, and I will be your guide." Mrs. Vimpany protested. "My dear! let the servant show the way." Iris held gaily to her resolution, and ran away to her room. Mrs. Vimpany yielded with her best grace. Miss Henley's motive could hardly have been plainer to her, if Miss Henley had confessed it herself.
Our Thursday nights had come to an end before he went to America, to Germany, to Khartoum with Kitchener, to South Africa, where he passed into the great silence that no protest of ours, or any man's can break. If his work was overrated, he himself as I knew him was as kind and brave as in Henley's verse to his memory.
Beneath the snug characteristics of the latter-day student his sweet abhorrence of a rag, his nasty delight in plays which he calls 'hot-stuff, his cigarettes and his chess-playing beneath these my head, like Henley's, is bloody but unbowed. Forgive a tear." The shower ceased; the tea was finished; the pretty waitress was coyly singeing her modesty in the attractive candle of Mr.
Henley's eloquence cannot be forgotten by those who ever once listened to him, but his wit was not, like Whistler's, so keen nor his thrust so direct that the phrase, the one word of the retort or the attack, was unforgettable. He had his little affectations of speech as of style, and they added to its picturesqueness.
Thus Guir died, in an agony of remorse, and with the intensest desire to live." Ah Ben stopped suddenly, and fixed his eyes upon Henley, as if trying to read his thoughts. "There is one thing in that story that strikes me as very peculiar," observed Paul, returning his host's look with interest. "And what is that?" answered the old man, his eyes still fixed on Henley's face.
The woman vanished into the dark passage leading toward the kitchen, but no sound of labor reached us from that direction, which made me suspicious that she lingered not far from where we sat. I caught Mrs. Henley's eyes occasionally straying in that direction uneasily. Yet she managed to keep up a sprightly conversation, largely relating to the country we had traveled over.
Clifton to his friend, Mr. Fairfax. To these be pleased to add the following particulars of what passed after Mr. Henley's narrative breaks off, and the sudden interruption of my third letter by terror. Mr. Henley heard but had no time to write their last consultation.
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