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Anyone who wants to know what kind of an artist F. S. Cary was can see his picture of Charles and Mary Lamb in the National Portrait Gallery. In 1865 Butler sent from London to New Zealand an article entitled "Lucubratio Ebria," which was published in the Press of 29th July, 1865.
His wife had not come near him. But Sepia might have been seen, more than once or twice, hovering about his door. Both she and Mewks thought, after such a night, he must have forgotten his appointment with Mary. When he had had some chocolate, he fell into a doze. But his sleep was far from profound. Often he woke and again dozed off. The clock in the dressing-room struck eleven.
Where's the butter department of this Bon Marche, Edna?" Edna, after another convulsion, declared she didn't know. "No doubt Miss er Mary Jane knows," went on her companion. "Why, yes, of course she does. Right there, behind the oilskin jacket. Remove jacket, open door behold, the icebox and the butter. Neat, compact, and convenient. One pound only, Elizabeth Eliza. Thank you."
She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she heard her mother come out on the veranda with some one. She was with a fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices. Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that he was a very young officer who had just come from England.
He climbed aboard the run-about, drove out of the yard, and rattled off down the road. He executed his commissions, and was sailing happily back to the village, when about a mile short of it a sitting figure rose from the roadside, stepped forward, and waved an arresting hand. To his surprise, Mary saw that it was one of the Blue Marines.
The next day found Grace rather at a loss how to proceed in the case of Elfreda. From what she had overheard it was evident that Alberta Wicks and Mary Hampton had decided to make Elfreda the victim of some well-laid plot of their own. What the nature of it was Grace had not the remotest idea. To approach Elfreda was embarrassing to say the least.
Mary went to see Letty as often as she could, and that was not seldom; but she had scarcely a chance of seeing Tom; either he was not up, or had gone to the office, Letty supposed: she had no more idea of where the office was, or of the other localities haunted by Tom, than he himself had of what spirit he was of.
After the young Countess had gone, Mary's father sat for a long time resting his head on his hand and with his eyes fixed on the ground. The tears fell down his wrinkled cheeks, and Mary, touched by his grief, threw herself at his knees and besought him to believe in her innocence. The old man raised himself and looked for a long time in her eyes, and then said "Yes, Mary, you are innocent.
What I now tell you is literally true. Barbauld at Newington. He sat with Mary about half an hour, and took leave. The maid saw him go out from her kitchen window, but suddenly losing sight of him, ran up in a fright to Mary. G.D., instead of keeping the slip that leads to the gate, had deliberately, staff in hand, in broad, open day, marched into the New River.
"George Larkins rode in this morning to see when papa would come home, and he told me. He said I had better not tell Margaret, for he did not believe it." "And you have not! That is very good of you, Mary." "Oh! I am glad you are come! I could not have helped telling, if you had been away a whole week! But, Ethel, does papa believe it?"
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