United States or Turkmenistan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I didn't know any one I have never heard " Gaspare went to her and shut the door resolutely. "You are not to listen, Signorina. You are not to listen." He spoke no longer like a servant, but like a master. Vere's hands had dropped. "I am going to send for Monsieur Emile," she said. "Va bene, Signorina." She went quickly to the writing-table, sat down, hesitated.
There was a sound almost of irritation in Vere's voice. "He has been working very hard." "Oh, I see." Her voice had softened. "The Marchesino is coming here to lunch to-morrow." "Oh, Madre!" "Does he bore you? I had to ask him to something after accepting his dinner, Vere." "Yes, yes, of course. The Marchese is all right."
Suddenly a vivid illumination burst forth. Great pine torches, piles of tar-barrels, and heaps of other inflammable material, which had been carefully arranged in Fort Porcupine, were now all at once lighted by Vere's command.
The cold of the unearthly sea still numbed my body. My heart labored, staggering at each beat. Vere's support and nearness were welcome to me. His tact let me rest in the mute inaction necessary to recovery, while my body, astonished that it still lived, hesitatingly resumed the task of life. Somehow he reassured and directed Phillida.
Hermione started up from the cushion against which she had pressed her head, and opened her eyes, instinctively laying her hand on Vere's volume of Rossetti, and pretending to read it. "Avanti!" she said. The door opened and Gaspare appeared. Hermione felt an immediate sensation of comfort. "Gaspare," she said, "what is it? I thought you were in bed." "Ha bisogna Lei?" he said.
And now for the first time the common curiosity to which she had not yet fallen a victim came upon her, flooded her. What was Vere's secret? That it was innocent, probably even childish, Hermione did not question even for a moment. But what was it? She heard a light step outside and drew back from the door. The step passed on and died away down the paved staircase.
Once I spent a fortnight with Tom and Elise in Wisconsin. The family seldom came to New York without telephoning to me, and often we dined together and went to the theater. I ought to have been very happy. I had won all I had left home for. I worked; I produced. At Van de Vere's my creative genius had found a soil in which to grow.
She just looked round at me, and beamed in the sweetest way, and said "You are more like a flower than ever, Una! It is nice to see you again!" and she meant it, every word. She really is too good to live! I took her to Vere's room, and was going to leave them alone, but Vere called me back, and made me stay.
"There was some one immediately available to take my place at Van de Vere's another protégée of Mrs. Scot-Williams. I had to decide quickly. Madge is improving every week, Oliver writes, but she has got to stay in Colorado at least during the winter, the doctor says. Becky is still far from strong. She was very ill this summer. She doesn't take to strangers. I think I'm needed here.
Vere's horse was killed, and fell on him so that he could not rise; but the English closed round him, and he was rescued with no other harm than a bruised leg and several pike thrusts through his clothes. While the conflict between the pikemen was going on the English arquebusiers opened fire on the flank of the enemy, and they began to fall back.
Word Of The Day