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Updated: May 22, 2025
"Stop!" cried the orange-woman, laying a strong detaining hand on the footman's arm; "stop you 'tis I'll go with more sense and speed." "What is that person that woman?" cried Lady de Brantefield, who now heard and saw the orange-woman for the first time. "Woman! is it me she manes?" said the orange-woman, coming forward quite composedly, shouldering on her cloak. "Is it who I am?
He observed, indeed, that the writer of the letter seemed to be a fool, and to have very little feeling. We agreed that my mother was the fittest person to break the matter to poor Lady de Brantefield. If my mother should not feel herself equal to the task, my father said he would undertake it himself, though he had rather have a tooth pulled out than go through it. We went together to my mother.
My recollection of Lady de Brantefield proved wonderfully correct; she gave me back the image I had in my mind a stiff, haughty-looking picture of a faded old beauty. Adhering religiously to the fashion of the times when she had been worshipped, she made it a point to wear the old head-dress exactly.
By the extraordinary anxiety my mother showed, and by the pains she took that there should be peace betwixt Lady Anne and me, I perceived, what had never before struck me, that my mother wished me to be in love with her ladyship. Now I could sooner have been in love with Lady de Brantefield.
Her next look was for me, and in her eyes, voice, and manner, when she thanked me, there was an expression which transported me with joy; but it was checked, it was gone the next moment: some terrible recollection seemed to cross her mind. She turned from me to speak to that odious Lady de Brantefield. I could not see Mr.
The mob had seized their carriage and had found in one of the pockets a string of beads, which had been left there by the Portuguese ambassador's lady, whom Lady De Brantefield had taken home from chapel the preceding day.
"But if they break in here you will be torn to pieces." "No those only will be sacrificed who have sacrificed. A 'de Brantefield' they dare not! I shall not stir from this spot. Who will presume to touch Lady de Brantefield?" Mr. Montenero and I lifted up the huge chair on which she sat, and carried her and it into the back room.
Of Lady de Brantefield, the touch-me-not mistress of the mansion, I had retained a sublime, but not a beautiful idea I now felt a desire to see her again, to verify my old notion.
He stated that she had found it in the old muff, but that he never knew That this muff had belonged to Lady de Brantefield. Mrs. Fowler had assured Him that it had been left to her along with the wardrobe of a lady with Whom she had formerly lived.
But since I was so possessed with this idea, the muff should be produced there was nothing like ocular demonstration in these cases, except internal conviction: "Did you ring, Mr. Harrington?" "I did." And Miss Nancy with the treble ruffles in her hand now appeared. "'Tis your mother, child, I want," said Lady de Brantefield.
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