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Updated: June 2, 2025
And so I left him, assuring him that, living in the nineteenth century, I wanted to hear the Church of the nineteenth century, and no other; and should be most happy to listen to her, as soon as she had made up her mind what to say. Argemone was angry and disappointed.
Argemone Lavington, the heroine of Yeast, is, though not of the most elaborately drawn, one of the most fascinating and real heroines of English fiction; an important secondary character of the second book, the bookseller Sandy Mackaye, is one of its most successful "character-parts." Both, but especially Yeast, are full of admirable descriptive writing, not entirely without indebtedness to Mr.
Take care, lest the starvation be so complete that eventually you will be unable to reclaim it. Dialectics answer very well in collegiate halls, but will not content you. Remember 'Argemone." "She is a miserable libel on woman's nature and intellect. I scorn the attempted parallel!" answered Beulah indignantly. "Very well; mark me, though, your intellectual pride will yet wreck your happiness."
'EVERY feeling, Miss Lavington? Argemone hesitated. She had made the good old stock assertion, as in duty bound; but she could not help recollecting that there were several Popish books of devotion at that moment on her table, which seemed to her to patch a gap or two in the Prayer-book.
Though Argemone, rather than remember, may have blotted out her memory; or though Viviani, after fifty years of renowned practice in his profession, may be unable to look back at it without a shudder, then endowed with youth, health, energy, ambition, now lacking these, the recollection of the suffering he has seen overwhelming his sensitive nature blackly and heavily as clods of burial might do; yet they are but those points of shadow that throw the fact into prominence.
'I envy you your path, when it leads through such Elysiums, said Lancelot. 'Come here, gentlemen both! cried Argemone from the bridge. 'Fairly caught! grumbled Lancelot. 'You must go, at least; my lameness will excuse me, I hope.
She could not but listen and admire, when he introduced her to the sheer paganism of Schiller's Gods of Greece; for on this subject he was more eloquent than on any. He had gradually, in fact, as we have seen, dropped all faith in anything but Nature; the slightest fact about a bone or a weed was more important to him than all the books of divinity which Argemone lent him to be laid by unread.
After the ladies retired, Lancelot, in his sulky way, made up his mind that the conversation was going to be ineffably stupid; and set to to dream, sip claret, and count the minutes till he found himself in the drawing-room with Argemone.
Smith, are you not are you not wicked? They tell me so, said Argemone, with an effort, 'And is that not the cause of your disease? Lancelot laughed. 'No, fairest prophetess, it is the disease itself. "Why am I what I am, when I know more and more daily what I could be?" That is the mystery; and my sins are the fruit, and not the root of it. Who will explain that? Argemone began, 'The Church
He knew that Argemone felt for him; how much it seemed presumptuous even to speculate, and as yet no golden-visaged meteor had arisen portentous in his amatory zodiac.
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