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Do I see a lady in the garden? I hope I have not driven her away." She looked round, and appealed to Mr. Vanborough. "Your friend's wife?" she asked, and, on this occasion, waited for a reply. In Mr. Vanborough's situation what reply was possible? Mrs.
Vanborough to admit that he broke her heart, with the strictest attention to propriety. It was rejected, without an instant's hesitation. She repudiated his money she repudiated his name. By the name which she had borne in her maiden days the name which she had made illustrious in her Art the mother and daughter were known to all who cared to inquire after them when they had sunk in the world.
Vanborough; "if you won't consider " "I want a plain answer to my question 'yes, or no." "Let me speak, will you! A man has a right to explain himself, I suppose?" Mr. Kendrew stopped him by a gesture of disgust. "I won't trouble you to explain yourself," he said. "I prefer to leave the house. You have given me a lesson, Sir, which I shall not forget.
Vanborough, whom she loved; whom she had honestly believed to be a single man; whom she had suspected, up to that moment, of nothing worse than of trying to screen the frailties of his friend. She dropped her highly-bred tone; she lost her highly-bred manners. "If you can tell the truth, Sir," she said, haughtily, "be so good as to tell it now.
It's unworthy of you to keep your wife buried here, as if you were ashamed of her." "I am ashamed of her." "Vanborough!" "Wait a little! you are not to have it all your own way, my good fellow. What are the facts? Thirteen years ago I fell in love with a handsome public singer, and married her. My father was angry with me; and I had to go and live with her abroad. It didn't matter, abroad.
There was time, if the chance only offered there was time for him to get the visitor out of the house. The visitor, innocent of all knowledge of the truth, gayly offered him her hand. "I believe in mesmerism for the first time," she said. "This is an instance of magnetic sympathy, Mr. Vanborough. An invalid friend of mine wants a furnished house at Hampstead.
The first change that came over the scene was produced by the appearance of a servant in the dining-room. Mr. Vanborough looked up at the man with a sudden outbreak of anger. "What do you want here?" The man was a well-bred English servant. In other words, a human machine, doing its duty impenetrably when it was once wound up. He had his words to speak, and he spoke them.
Have you been falsely presenting yourself to the world falsely presenting yourself to me in the character and with the aspirations of a single man? Is that lady your wife?" "Do you hear her? do you see her?" cried Mrs. Vanborough, appealing to her husband, in her turn. She suddenly drew back from him, shuddering from head to foot. "He hesitates!" she said to herself, faintly.
Part the Second. The record begins with a marriage the marriage of Mr. Vanborough and Lady Jane Parnell. In three months from the memorable day when his solicitor had informed him that he was a free man, Mr.
Delamayn. "I decline to do more." "You are not wanted to do more." Listening intently to that interchange of question and answer, Mrs. Vanborough advanced a step in silence. The high courage that had sustained her against outrage which had openly declared itself shrank under the sense of something coming which she had not foreseen.
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