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Father Kelly swallowed a groan of dismay at the fresh strain on his faith when he perceived her beckoning a ring-laden hand at the custodian of votes; and the Vicar-General involuntarily frowned. They both with one accord pushed up to the table to the visible relief of the young man behind it.
Don't you find this great big place rather rather depressing?" She gave a little shudder, and held out her ring-laden hands towards the fire. "I suppose it's because the house is so old, and there are so few people in it. But tell me about yourself. You're very young, and yes, you're exceedingly good-looking. Do you mind my telling you so?" "Not at all," said Celia, with a smile.
The ring-laden fingers of the girl twisted together with a twofold motion of interest and horror. "And you haven't had any treatment?" asked she. "You haven't called a doctor?" "No. I didn't want to do that. Because if anybody had seen me, they'd have suspected. And I preferred to die, Alicia, rather than to have them take away the necklace I stole for you."
See all these brooches, and the rings." Rose held up her hands and twirled her ring-laden fingers, and laughed again. "They are pretty large, most of the rings," said she. "There is one pearl and one emerald that are charming, and several of the dearest old-fashioned things. Think of poor Aunt Abrahama having all these lovely things packed away in a bureau drawer and never wearing them."
My lady caught my eye with hers, both keen and sweet were those dark-blue eyes of her ladyship's: And she held my great red hands in hers, soft, warm, white, ring-laden. Looking at last a little wistfully into my face, she said "Poor child! And you're the eldest of nine! I had a daughter who would have been just your age; but I cannot fancy her the eldest of nine."
He was, as I had seen at once, very much overdressed; his jabot was too full, he had three watches, ring-laden fingers, not unduly clean, and no less than five snuff-boxes, which he used in turn. He treated me in every respect as if I had been his equal in appearance, address and fortune. His gallantry to Virginia would have been, I thought, excessive if displayed to any woman in the world.
One may fancy the dark-browed woman of forty years, in the beauty of maturity almost too ripe, with her black eyes and hair of auburn, her jewelled cap, her gold laces just open at her marble throat, her gleaming earrings, her sleeves slashed to show gauze-fine linen, her white, ring-laden fingers that delicately took the finely carved meats in her plate before forks were used in Rome and dabbled themselves clean from each touch in the scented water the little page poured over them.
"Would you prefer to send it yourself?" I asked. Harry Goward shook his head. "I would rather wait till she has read it. I feel, under the circumstances, that I owe that to her." Now, at that critical moment, a wide figure darkened the entrance of the writing-room, and, plumping down solidly at another table, spread out a fat, ring-laden hand and began to write a laborious letter.
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