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"What sort of a looking man was this Mr. Massingbird?" he asked. "I knew a gentleman once of that name, who went to Australia." The woman glanced up at him, measuring his height. "I should say he was as tall as you, sir, or close upon it, but he was broader made, and had got a stoop in the shoulders. He was dark; had dark eyes and hair, and a pale face.
I was supposed to be dead, but I came to life again." "Did you catch Fred's star when he died?" asked Jan, pointing to the cheek. "No," replied John Massingbird, with another burst of laughter, "I get that up with Indian-ink." Bit by bit, Jan came into possession of the details. At least, of as much of them as John Massingbird deemed it expedient to furnish.
Ah! there Roy could not answer him; he was at a nonplus; he was unable to say whether the codicil had been found or not. A rumour had gone about Deerham, some time subsequently to the loss, that it had been found, but Roy had never come to the rights of it. John Massingbird stared as he heard him say this.
Massingbird should remain in his cottage in concealment, while he, Roy, endeavoured to ascertain the truth regarding the codicil. And John Massingbird was fain to adopt it. He took up his abode in the upper bedroom, which had been Luke's, and Mrs.
He deemed that, in the uncertainty, Sibylla's place was by his side, still his wife; but, when once the uncertainty was set at rest by the actual appearance of Frederick Massingbird, then let her retire. It was the only course that he could pursue, were the case his own. His mind was made up upon one point to withdraw himself out of the way when that time came.
"It is your cousin, Sibylla; John Massingbird." A moment's pause. And then, clutching at the hand of Lionel "Who?" she shrieked. "Hush, my dear. It is John Massingbird." "Not dead! Did he not die?" "No. He recovered, when left, as was supposed, for dead. He is coming here to-morrow morning, Jan says." Sibylla let fall her hands.
"Dan Duff's nothing," remarked he; "and Cheese is nothing; and others, who confess to have seen it, are nothing: and old Frost's not much. But I'd back Bourne's calmness and sound sense against the world, and I'd back Broom's." "And they have both seen it?" "Both," replied Jan. "Both are sure that it is Frederick Massingbird." "What will Mr.
Stephen Verner had been prodigal in his number of carriages, although the carriages had a sinecure of it, and Lionel had found no occasion to purchase. Of course they belonged to John Massingbird; everything else belonged to him. He, for the last time, ordered the close carriage for his wife. His carriage, it might surely be said, more than John Massingbird's.
The shaft may have been levelled at John Massingbird, but Lionel Verner took it to himself. How full of self-reproach he was, he alone knew. He had had the power in his own hands to make these improvements, and in some manner or other he had let the time slip by: now, the power was wrested from him. It is ever so.
He might know of the existence of Frederick Massingbird, and had gone to break the news to him, Lionel; to tell him that his wife was not his wife. "You do not know precisely what his business was with me?" he inquired, quite wistfully. "No, I don't. I don't know that it was much beyond the pleasure of seeing you and Mrs. Verner." Lionel rose. "If I " "But you will stay and dine with me, Mr.
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