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"Fire, you scoundrel, fire!" he roared at the second man, who was about to lower his clumsy musket, after tugging in vain at the trigger, when the piece went off, and the bullet fled skyward, sending the nearest lanthorn held up in the shrouds out of its holder's hand, to fall with a splash in the sea, and float for a few moments before it filled and sank, the candle burning till the water touched the wick.
Holder's been telling me about a rather unusual woman in that apartment house just above Fourteenth Street, on the south side of Dalton." "I think I know her by sight," Sally corrected herself. She appealed. to Holder. "Red hair, and lots of it I suppose a man would call it auburn. She must have been something of a beauty, once." The rector assented, in some astonishment.
And between the wood and the wold stood many a Danish "town," with its clusters of low straggling buildings round the holder's house, stone or mud below, and wood above; its high dikes round tiny fields; its flocks of sheep ranging on the wold; its herds of swine in the forest; and below, a more precious possession still, its herds of mares and colts, which fed with the cattle in the rich grass-fen.
But beyond this they dared not go; for they too were confronted by that levelled pistol, and its holder's assurance that he would fire at the first man who advanced another step.
Vows in those days were indissoluble, except in rare cases; as a rule it was only by flight and disappearance for ever that a man could escape social disgrace and the penalties threatened by the spiritual arm to a renegade monk. To-day, when orders can be laid down at the holder's will, the Church of England contains priests of whom it cannot get rid.
The next moment was too dreadful for surprise, but never had the sense of tragedy so pierced the innermost depths of Holder's being as now, when Horace Bentley's calmness seemed to have forsaken him; and as he gazed down upon the features on the pillow, he wept . . . . Holder turned away.
When one of these is a firm belief in the holder's divine rights and semi-divine origin, the effect is undoubtedly impressive. And the Countess impressed. "My dear Alicia," said she, when they had settled down to tea and confidential talk, "you have not yet told me what has taken Rudolph abroad again so soon."
I can see now what would have happened to me I should have had fatty degeneration of the soul." The expression was not merely forcible, it was overwhelming. It brought up before Holder's mind, with sickening reality, the fate he had himself escaped. Fatty degeneration of the soul! The little man, seeing the expression on the rector's face, curbed his excitement, and feared he had gone too far.
"Well, then, on the holder's success. You can agree to that, can't you?" "'Tis agreed. You are my counsel. When will you see the manuscript?" "Whenever you choose to leave it with me." The costumer's smile was firm: "Sir, I cannot permit that to pass from my hand." "Oh! then have a copy typed for me." The Creole soliloquized: "That would be expensive."
I remember when my father went to poll his vote a strange, weird article that had to be carried carefully concealed on the person, lest the roughs of the opposition should catch a glimpse of the tip of it and bash in the holder's head with what awed imagination we followed his course, as of a hero gone to storm a redoubt or lead a forlorn hope! with what anxiety we waited at home with the bandages!
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