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Midwinter had only left that morning. Where had Mr. Armadale gone? Somewhere into the country. Where had Mr. Midwinter gone? Nobody knew. Mr. Bashwood looked at his son in speechless and helpless dismay. "Stuff and nonsense!" said Bashwood the younger, pushing his father back roughly into the cab. "He's safe enough. We shall find him at Miss Gwilt's."
Inwardly she made a passing observation how, like ravenous wolves, her nephews devoured their food. Coyotes in midwinter could not have been more starved. Without comment she offered them the remaining fried cakes, and between them they took it all. She offered the second helping of coffee, which they accepted without hesitancy. Filling their cups, she placed her empty coffeepot on the dead ashes.
Moreover it was imperiously necessary for these disappointed troops to make some immediate movement: for they had been brought to the gates of Perinthus in hopes of passing immediately on shipboard; it was midwinter they were encamped in the open field, under the severe cold of Thrace they had neither assured supplies, nor even money to purchase, if a market had been near.
"One moment," interposed Midwinter, stopping him resolutely on his way out to the carriage. "I say nothing against Mr. Pedgift's fitness to possess your confidence, for I know nothing to justify me in distrusting him. Darch's unfriendly feeling toward you when he wrote. Wait a little before you go to this stranger; wait till we can talk it over together to-night." "Wait!" replied Allan.
"I feared that in climbing the hill you had lost your breath," answered disorganized John. "So I did," she returned. Then she gave a great sigh and said, "Now I am all right again." All right? So is the morning sun, so is the arching rainbow, and so are the flitting lights of the north in midwinter. All are "all right" because God made them, as He made Dorothy, perfect, each after its kind.
The ceremonial of the Yule log is distinguished from that of the other fire-festivals by the privacy and domesticity which characterize it; but, as we have already seen, this distinction may well be due simply to the rough weather of midwinter, which is apt not only to render a public assembly in the open air disagreeable, but also at any moment to defeat the object of the assembly by extinguishing the all-important fire under a downpour of rain or a fall of snow.
So is a snow-plough, in midwinter, though I prefer a more flexible implement when it comes to cultivating my early peas. There is something worse than to be a Doctrinaire who pursues an ideal without regard to practical consideration; it is worse to be a Philistine so immersed in practical considerations that he doesn't know an ideal when he sees it.
He was expected back toward the latter part of that present May, and, if Midwinter could be sure where the cruise would take them to at the close of the month, he thought he would write and have the letter forwarded. Had he any family reasons to be anxious about it? None that he knew of; he was curious to see what had been waiting for him for many years, and that was all.
"I'll wait," he said, "till we get to Thorpe Ambrose." From Ozias Midwinter to Mr. Brock. "Thorpe Ambrose, June 15, 1851. "DEAR MR. BROCK Only an hour since we reached this house, just as the servants were locking up for the night. Allan has gone to bed, worn out by our long day's journey, and has left me in the room they call the library, to tell you the story of our journey to Norfolk.
"Suddenly I can't say in how long or how short a time the hum of voices ceased; the door opened; and Armadale showed himself on the threshold, alone. "'I wish you good-by, he said, roughly. 'And I hope, when I am married, my wife may never cause Midwinter the disappointment that Midwinter's wife has caused me!
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