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Hence partly it came that Mary met with no interruption to her watching and ministering. Mewks kept coming and going watching her, and awaiting his opportunity. Mr. Redmain scarcely heeded him, only once and again saying in sudden anger, "What can that idiot be about? He might know by this time I'm not likely to want him so long as you are in the room!"
Redmain still stared in her face. "Now what is it you've got in your head?" he said at last. "I have been watching you think for three minutes and a half, I do believe. Come, out with it!" "Hardly think, sir," answered Mary. "I was only plaguing myself between my recollection of the stone and the actual look of it. It is so annoying to find what seemed a clear recollection prove a deceitful one!
Redmain with all her heart; first, because Hesper Mortimer hates him, and next, but twice as much, because she is going to love him. It is a great pity you should have him, Hesper. I wish you would hand him over to me. I shouldn't mind what he was. I should soon tame him." "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Hesper, with righteous indignation. "You would not mind what lie was!"
She was now past hunger, and growing faint, when, through the settled darkness, the words came to her from the bed: "I should like to have you near me when I am dying, Mary." The voice was a softer than she had yet heard from Mr. Redmain, and its tone went to her heart. "I will certainly be with you, if God please," she answered. "There is no fear of God," returned Mr.
Not long was Allan Redmain in following, and in the space of another hour they had carried Kenric on board the /Kraken/ of Bute. For six long days and nights no food had passed his lips, and had it not been that his frame was of uncommon strength he must have died in that noisome cell.
Of the burial of Hamish and Alpin, and of the solemn rites attending that ceremony, there is no need to tell. Noble and true were they both, and well-beloved for their worthiness. But they are dead, and so, as the old scalds would say, have passed out of the story. On a day in June, Ailsa Redmain, well arrayed, went forth from Kilmory riding behind her father, Sir Oscar, on his sturdy horse.
She said nothing, and her husband resumed: "So you came to forgive me?" he said. "And Marston," she answered. "Well, I will accept the condescension that is, if the terms of it are to my mind." "I will make no terms. Marston may return when she pleases." "You must write and ask her." "Of course, Mr. Redmain. It would hardly be suitable that you should ask her."
"You can never, in your sober senses, Mary," she said, "mean that God requires of me to do things for Mr. Redmain that the servants can do a great deal better! That would be ridiculous not to mention that I oughtn't and couldn't and wouldn't do them for any man!"
And Aasta stood forth, looking very beautiful in a robe of white, and with her eyes downcast, and her hands clasped before her. "Tell me your name and history," said the young king. "My name, my lord, is Aasta, and nothing else," said she. "I am a thrall to Sir Oscar Redmain, who claimed me as his bondmaid when I was but a little child, for it was upon his lands that I was found.
Hesper fixed her eyes on her mother, but hers were too cold and clear to quail before them, let them flash and burn as they pleased. "As you did papa?" said Hesper. "As I did Mr. Mortimer." "That explains a good deal, mamma." "We are your parents, anyhow, Hesper." "I suppose so. I don't know which to be sorrier for you or me. Tell me, mamma: would you marry Mr. Redmain?"
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