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Updated: June 9, 2025
The batteries upon Goat Island, Brenton's Point and Conanicut Island, would render the passage of the harbour the more secure to us, particularly with the aid of our vessels, as the British are not strong enough to attack us there, and would never attempt it in an unfavourable season.
Then the priest within him rallied to the need, although the latent man of science in him forbade him to accompany the rallying with many words. "Can I be of any help?" "If you feel you could go to the house with me, Brenton. You knew Reed." Brenton's alert ear caught the unconscious change of tense. He interrupted with a question. "Just how bad is it?" "I don't know.
"What did that old fellow mean?" said Malbone in Harry's ear, as they came to a protected place and could hear each other, "by talking of Brenton's Reef coming to Price's Neck." "Some sailor's doggerel," said Harry, indifferently. "Here is Price's Neck before us, and yonder is Brenton's Reef." "Where?" said Philip, looking round bewildered.
"I called up Doctor Keltridge, and he said he had a broken hip to set at once. It may be two hours, before he can get here. He told me to keep up the stimulant." "You have used it?" "Once, while you were talking to Mrs. Brenton. It is nearly time, again." "Did it " Brenton's voice failed him utterly. The nurse hedged. "It is too soon yet to know. The second dose ought to show more."
Olive fairly stuttered over her reply, for she saw Scott Brenton's eyes turn to his wife, and she read amazement in them, amazement and something else that was dangerously akin to contempt. "I thought your name was Catia, Mrs. Brenton." But Kathryn Brenton laid down her fork, as though the salad had ceased to interest her.
At any other time, under any other circumstances, the spell of the place would not have been one half so potent. Now, in the intimacy evoked by hour-long discussions of their sons' possible futures, the professor was coming to take a dominant place in Brenton's life.
In the broadest sense, Brenton's old work, like his new, had been teaching. Day after day, his enthusiasm for his theme increased its pace, threw off the bridle of hard, concrete fact, ran to the speculative limits of its course, and then ran past them.
That's all, Ramsdell. Send it off, to-night." Next afternoon, Whittenden came, to all seeming the same unspoiled, curly-headed youngster who had helped to open Brenton's eyes, so long ago, to the real good there was in life, despite the melancholy teachings of his early Calvinism. The professor was busy with a class, Mrs.
One goes straight to the point, or else one keeps still entirely; and, at that phase of his existence, keeping still was not Scott Brenton's forte. Indeed, he was later than are the most of us in learning the lesson that the keenest social weapon lies in reticence. The starchy little damsel, it appeared, was the daughter of a petty farmer, lately come into the village.
Then, according to the mandates of the Ladies' Galaxy, she hurled her bridal bouquet down across the banister, not upon the waiting Eva Saint Clair Andrews who hankered for it lustily, but straight against the manly waistcoat of the least and the pinkest one of the visiting clergy, a youth of twenty-five or six who had reluctantly torn himself away from an anxious wife and a croupy baby, on purpose to be on hand at Brenton's wedding.
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