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Updated: June 5, 2025
But then he remembered his cousin and determined to be a man of his word. "All right. See you soon. Ever yours, F. G." Such was the entire response which Miss Altifiorla received from her now declared lover. Sir Francis had told himself that he hated the bother of writing love-letters.
"You might find a hundred in Exeter," said Miss Altifiorla proudly, "and yet I may be right in my opinions." Mr. Western was to come down to Exeter only on the day before the marriage. The Holts had seen him as they came through London where they slept one night, but as yet the story had not been told. Cecilia expected, almost wished, that the story might reach him from other quarters.
Fancy Uncle Septimus doomed to pass his life in company with Miss Altifiorla! The happy man in question is Sir Francis Geraldine." "No!" said Mrs. Hippesley, jumping from her seat. "It is impossible," said the Dean, who, though he greatly disliked his brother-in-law, still thought something of the family into which he had married, and thoroughly despised Miss Altifiorla.
But that was only a reason the more for parting with him. He did not care to have to deal with a man who had to wear out his old clothes in his house because he had not credit with his tailor to get a new coat and trousers. He thought that he would part with Dick; but he had not quite made up his mind when he sat down to write his letter to Miss Altifiorla. "My dear Miss Altifiorla," he said.
"Who is to be the happy swain?" asked Mrs. Green. "Swain!" said Miss Altifiorla, unable to repress her feelings. "Well; lover, young man, suitor, husband as is to be. Some word common on such occasion will I suppose fit him?" Miss Altifiorla felt that no word common on such occasions would fit him. But yet it was necessary that she should name him, having gone so far.
"Was he doomed to remain alone in the world because of that?" asked Miss Altifiorla. "Well, no; I don't exactly mean that. But it is droll." "I hope that the Dean and Mrs. Hippesley will be satisfied with his choice. I do particularly hope that all his friends will feel that he is doing well.
But the letter from Miss Altifiorla was very different from these, and as it had some effect perhaps in producing the circumstances which are to be told, it shall be given at length: "MY DEAR CECILIA, I am of course expected to congratulate you, and as far as Mr. Western's merits are concerned, I do so with my full heart.
Miss Altifiorla also came to the cathedral, with pink bows in her bonnet, determined to show that though she were left alone in her theory of life she did not resent the desertion. And Mrs. Green was there, humble and sweet-tempered as ever, snubbing her husband a little who assisted at the altar, and whispering a word into her friend's ears to assure her that she had done the proper thing.
"It cannot," he replied. "Poor dear Cecilia. She has brought it on her own head. I must get into my train now, as we are just off. I am so much obliged to you for coming to see me start." "We shall meet each other before long," he said, as she again kissed her hand and took her departure. Miss Altifiorla could not but think what a happy chance it was that prevented his marriage with Cecilia Holt.
The more she turned the matter in her mind, the more impossible to her became the task of telling it. At last she resolved that she would not tell it now. She would not tell it at any rate till she again saw him, because Miss Altifiorla had told her that she "presumed he had pardoned her that episode." It was arranged that they should be married at Exeter in April.
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