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It would ill befit that glorious day to see the log cabin taken; but, on the other hand, what loyal citizen could allow himself to be defeated, even as a skulking redman, at the very hour of Tiverton's triumph?
The boys are beginning to toot, and fire off their crackers, and Tiverton's going to the dogs, and Sudleigh'll be glad of it! Come, Mr. Oldfield, come along!" Nicholas stood quite calmly looking through the window into the morning dew and mist. He wore his habitual air of gentle indifference, and the doctor saw in him those everlasting hills which persuasion may not climb.
Perhaps the carriage folk from the outer world, who sometimes penetrate Tiverton's leafy quiet, may wonder at the queer little enclosures of sticks and pebbles on many a bare, tree-shaded slope along the road. "Left there from some game!" they say to one another, and drive on, satisfied. But these are no mere discarded playthings, dear ignorant travellers!
The boys are beginning to toot, and fire off their crackers, and Tiverton's going to the dogs, and Sudleigh'll be glad of it! Come, Mr. Oldfield, come along!" Nicholas stood quite calmly looking through the window into the morning dew and mist. He wore his habitual air of gentle indifference, and the doctor saw in him those everlasting hills which persuasion may not climb.
In his wife's day, he had stood in the pulpit above them, and expounded scriptural lore in academic English; now he lapsed into their own rude phrasing, and seemed to rest content in a tranquil certainty that nothing could be better than Tiverton ways and Tiverton's homely speech. "Dorcas," he repeated, with all a child's delight in his own cleverness, "you've had somebody here. I heard ye!"
Next morning I went round to Tiverton's as usual, and while he was at breakfast, and we were starting our usual round of talk, in came Sir James Blount, a stranger at such an hour. "Have you heard the news?" he asked abruptly. "What news?" asked Tiverton, rather sour at being cheated out of his morning's consolatory grumble with me. "Mr.
It would ill befit that glorious day to see the log cabin taken; but, on the other hand, what loyal citizen could allow himself to be defeated, even as a skulking redman, at the very hour of Tiverton's triumph?
Unconsciously to ourselves, we guessed at Whitechapel and the East End "tough," and shuddered under the knowledge of evil. Mrs. Wilde, her heavy face many a shade sincerer than when she walked in dirty white satin, was Nancy; and in her death, culminated the grand moment of Tiverton's looking the drama in the face, and seeing it for what it is, the living sister of life itself.
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