United States or Sweden ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Bonner's cottage. He had meant to go, but had not gone. He was due there to-day; this very morning Helen would expect him. He had never missed spending a Sunday with them since the engagement; and yet he felt loath to go, and did not know why. He had seen Connie off to Church. Con never missed. Ellice had not gone. Ellice was perhaps a little less constant than Con.
During the past month the young Squire had received various letters from Sir Thomas Underwood, and the other Ralph had received one. With Sir Thomas's caution, advice, and explanations to his former ward, the story has no immediate concern; but his letter to him who was to have been Mary Bonner's suitor may concern us more nearly. It was very short, and the reader shall have it entire.
"Maybe a new sash," answered mother reflectively. "They've got some pretty brocaded pink ribbon at Bonner's." After which Missy finished her breakfast in a rapture. It is queer how you can eat, and like what you eat very much, and yet scarcely taste it at all. When the two hours of practicing were over, mother sent her down town to buy the ribbon for the sash a pleasant errand.
Susan Bonner's mistress hearing of Strong's arrival sent for him at this juncture, and the chevalier went up to her ladyship not without hopes that he should find her more tractable than her factotum Mrs. Bonner. Many a time before had he pleaded his client's cause with Lady Clavering and caused her good-nature to relent. He tried again once more.
When he first decided on taking it, and even when he decided on buying it, he assured himself that Mary Bonner's taste might be quite indifferent to him.
He was the hero of the hour, for was not Rosalie Gray herself, pale and ill with torture, his most devoted slave? What else could Tinkletown do but pay homage when it saw Bonner's head against her shoulder and Anderson Crow shouting approval from the bob-sled that carried the kidnapers.
For the Countess had an itch of the simplest feminine curiosity to know whether the dear child had any notion of accomplishing a certain holy duty of the perishable on this earth, who might possess worldly goods; and no hints not even plain speaking, would do. Juliana did not understand her at all. The Countess exhibited a mourning-ring on her finger, Mrs. Bonner's bequest to her.
Once he had caught a glimpse of John Everard hurrying to Starden Hall in his little car, he himself had been standing by Mrs. Bonner's gate. Everard had turned his head and glanced at him, with that curiosity about strangers that all dwellers in rustic places feel. "An artist, I suppose," Johnny thought as he drove on.
The pages of the Acts and Monuments, which describe Bonner's examination of those brought before him on charges of heresy, teem with such picturesque epithets as "this bloody wolf," the "Bishop was in a marvellous rage" or "in a great fury," but when we read what Bonner really said, we find nothing to justify these exaggerated expressions.
"I think," he said, "that we shall often meet again." He stood and watched the graceful little figure of her as she sped swiftly down the road, then turned and walked slowly back towards Mrs. Bonner's cottage. So Joan had seen him, and had cut him dead. "If I was not so dead sure, so dead certain sure that Slotman will turn up eventually, I would clear out," Hugh thought to himself.
Word Of The Day