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"Thus," mentally exclaimed Macallan, "has religion degenerated into superstition; and that which, from the purity of its origin, would have commanded our respect, is now only deserving of our contempt. It is by the motives that have produced them, that our actions must be weighed. That which once was an offering of religious veneration and love, is now a tribute to superstition and to fear.
The doctors, this time, had no fear for his life, provided that his patience would support him through a lengthened period of the most absolute repose. "It now rests with you, Valeria," Mrs. Macallan wrote, "to fortify and comfort Eustace under this new calamity.
"What amusement?" replied Macallan, rising from his seat, annoyed at these repeated attacks from all quarters upon his favourite study. "Listen to me, and I will explain to you how investigation is the parent of both amusement and instruction. What is this rock that I am standing on?
I turned eagerly to the Major for further information. "Has Mrs. Macallan heard anything of my husband?" I asked. "Is she coming here to tell me about him?" "She has heard from him, I believe," said the Major, "and she has also heard from your uncle the vicar. Our excellent Starkweather has written to her to what purpose I have not been informed.
She invited me to breakfast with her in her room, instead of in the servants' hall as usual. I remained with the housekeeper but a short time certainly not more than half an hour. "Coming upstairs again, I met the under-housemaid sweeping on one of the landings. "The girl informed me that Mrs. Macallan had taken a cup of tea during my absence in the housekeeper's room. Mr.
There was no meeting those questions, in my present situation, by any adequate reply. I felt strangely unlike myself I submitted in silence. Mrs. Macallan struck the last blow that completed her victory. "My poor Eustace is weak and wayward," she said; "but he is not an ungrateful man.
She has taken a woman who speaks foreign languages with her to Hungary and she has left the maid with me. A perfect treasure! I should be only too glad if I could keep her in my service: she has but one defect, a name I hate Phoebe. Well! The house belonged to that Mr. Macallan who was afterward tried you remember it, of course? for poisoning his wife.
Don't waste your time with me! Beginning in that manner, she worked herself into one of her furious rages. I was brushing her hair at the time; and feeling that my presence was an impropriety under the circumstances, I attempted to leave the room. She forbade me to go. Mr. Macallan felt, as I did, that my duty was to withdraw, and he said so in plain words. Mrs.
As to the other symptoms, except weakness from lying in bed, and irritability of temper, there was really nothing the matter with her. She slept badly, I ought perhaps to add. But we remedied this by means of composing draughts prescribed for that purpose by the doctor. "On the morning of the 21st, at a few minutes past six, I got my first alarm that something was going wrong with Mrs. Macallan.
Let me see! sweet something divine philosophy I forget the exact words. Well, what have you caught?" "If you've caught nothing, doctor, you're better off than I am," said the purser, wiping his brow, "for I've caught a headache." "I have been very well amused," replied Macallan. "Ay, I suppose, like what's-his-name in the forest you recollect?" "No, indeed, I do not." "Don't you?
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