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Updated: June 26, 2025
"She is as generous with her money as with her diamonds perhaps," said Barold. "Possibly the quality is peculiar to Nevada. We part here, Mr. Poppleton, I believe. Good-morning." One morning in the following week Mrs. Burnham attired herself in her second-best black silk, and, leaving the Misses Burnham practising diligently, turned her steps toward Oldclough Hall.
"What does he come simpering and turning pink here for? Why doesn't he go and see some of his old women, and read tracts to them? That's his business." Octavia's manner toward her visitor formed a fresh grievance for Barold. She treated the curate very well indeed.
Francis Barold from Mr. Burmistone's house, and leave Mr. Burmistone at home. And, after all, I must say it is my opinion nobody would have objected to Mr. Burmistone, in the first place, if Lady Theobald had not insisted upon it." Mrs. Burnham reflected. "Perhaps that is true," she admitted cautiously at length.
Then he glanced at Lucia, and Lady Theobald addressed her: "Lucia," she said, "this is Francis Barold, who is your cousin." Capt. Barold shook hands feebly. "I have been trying to find out whether it is third or fourth," he said. "It is third," said my lady. Lucia had never seen her display such cordiality to anybody. But Capt. Francis Barold did not seem much impressed by it.
It was universally decided that it would appear pointed, but that Lady Theobald would not mind that in the least, and perhaps would rather enjoy it than otherwise; and it was thought Lucia would not go. And it is very likely that Lucia would have remained at home, if it had not been for the influence of Mr. Francis Barold.
"May I ask who thinks of giving a garden-party in Slowbridge?" "It is no one in Slowbridge," replied this lady cheerfully. "Some one who lives a little out of Slowbridge, Mr. Burmistone, my dear Lady Theobald, at his new place." "Mr. Burmistone!" "Yes, my dear; and a most charming affair it is to be, if we are to believe all we hear. Surely you have heard something of it from Mr. Barold." "Mr.
This was said upon the evening of the first gathering upon Miss Belinda's grass-plat, and at the same time it was prophesied that Mr. Francis Barold would soon go away. But neither of the prophecies proved true. Mr. Francis Barold did not return to London; and, strange to say, Lucia was seen again and again playing croquet with Octavia Bassett, and was even known to spend evenings with her.
Arthur Poppleton, blushing, a trifle timorous perhaps, but happy beyond measure to find himself in Miss Belinda's parlor again, with Miss Belinda's niece. Perhaps the least possible shade of his joyousness died out when he caught sight of Mr. Francis Barold, and certainly Mr. Francis Barold was not at all delighted to see him. "What does the fellow want?" that gentleman was saying inwardly.
"You know Miss Octavia Bassett well, I suppose," remarked Barold, with condescension, as they passed through the gate. "You clergymen are fortunate fellows." "I wish that others knew her as well, sir," said the little gentleman, kindling. "I wish they knew her her generosity and kindness of heart and ready sympathy with misfortune!" "Ah!" commented Mr.
Barold had entered his distinguished relative's drawing-room, he had not regarded his third cousin with a very great deal of interest. He had seen too many beauties in his thirty years to be greatly moved by the sight of one; and here was only a girl who had soft eyes, and looked young for her age, and who wore an ugly muslin gown, that most girls could not have carried off at all.
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