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The blue eyes seemed to have become hard, and yet there were wrinkles about their corners suggestive of humour that might be mockery. The Count stiffened; but beyond that he preserved his outward calm whilst confessing that he did not understand Sir Terence's meaning. "It's this way," said Sir Terence. "I've noticed that ye're not looking so very well lately, Count." "Really? You think that?"
"Ye're a fine fellow, Captain; ye've brought me good news," he said; then he bade an aide call Captain de Peyster, his second in command, and in the same breath gave Tybee and me in charge to an ensign for our billeting for the night.
She'll have just what the Court gives her, and what her father laid out for her, and I'll work my will, and I'll do his will. Ye're speaking to no fule, here now! Take yere money and yere letters, and bring me the maid, or I'll bundle ye both in a jiffey into the Queen's highway. I'll have none but my own servants here now!"
'It is, says I. 'I was thinkin' las' night I'd give up me gredge again ye, says he. 'I had th' same thought mesilf, says I. 'But, since I seen ye'er face, he says, 'I've con-cluded that I'd be more comfortable hatin' ye thin havin' ye f'r a frind, says he. 'Ye're a man iv taste, says I. An' we backed away fr'm each other.
'I want you to be away somewhere where nobody can say a word against you. I want to see you and talk to you sometimes, and know that you are going on prosperously. 'I'm mightily obliged to ye, she said again. 'Ye're a good little fool, but a fool you are. 'I am not a fool for this, Norah. Nobody is a fool who tries to do God's work.
Here comes his boy back an' says, 'I'm Peter Junior, and yer son. An' his feyther says till him, 'Ye're no my son, for my son was murder't an' ye're Richard Kildene wha' murder't him. And noo, it's for ye to go home, Hester, an' bring Peter to his senses, and show him the truth. A mither knows her ain boy, an' if it's Peter Junior, it's Peter Junior, and Richard Kildene's died."
The reply came in shouts from the distant kitchen, "He's awa to the doctor's. He winna be in to supper the nicht, and ye're to gang awa early to yer bed." The shouts came nearer as Lisbeth, wiping her floury hands on the large apron she always wore when cooking, came bustling along the passage.
"My dear, it's news to me," cried he, in great wonder, "for never a knock did I knock," and his eyes were laughing down at her. "What!" she cries; "what! And who would be daring?" "That's just what I cannot say, for the lads think ye're no' canny some way, but maistly because the weemen hiv them under their thumbs, so I'm thinkin' it must just have been Hamish."
'Ye're jest jealous, she exclaimed, with a forced titter. 'Ye're jest jealous o' Luke Stock. 'Nay, but ye need na fill yer head wi' that nonsense. I'm too deep set on ye t' feel jealousy, he answered, gravely. The smile faded from her face, as she murmured: 'I canna mak ye out, Mr. Garstin. 'Nay, that ye canna.
His extinct pipe lay on the sill. "Will that be you, lad?" he asked. Danny flared into the rage of a strong man who is surprised at the outset of committing a good deed. "Who pays the rent and buys the food that is eaten in this house?" he snapped, viciously. "Have I no right to come in?" "Ye're a faithful lad," said old man McCree, with a sigh. "Is it evening yet?"
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