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Updated: May 3, 2025
"I know I am an awful bore lying here, and I shall not be able to crawl to a sofa even for another week, these doctors say." "You are not a bore you are a darling," she murmured, patting his hand. "And if only I were allowed to stay with you night and day and nurse you like Brome, I should be perfectly happy. But these snatched scraps John, darling, I can't bear it!"
"Well, against the Senor Brome then?" "Perhaps, but that is between me and him. I will not discuss it with you." "Senora," went on Inez, with a slow smile, "we are both innocent of what you thought you saw." "Indeed; then who is guilty?" "The Marquis of Morella." Margaret made no answer, but her eyes said much. "Senora, you do not believe me, nor is it wonderful. Yet I speak the truth.
He obeyed, and Isabella, borrowing his sword from the king, gave him the accolade by striking him thrice upon the right shoulder and saying: "Rise, Sir Peter Brome, Knight of the most noble Order of Saint Iago, and by creation a Don of Spain." He rose, he bowed, retreating backwards as was the custom, and thereby nearly falling off the dais, which some people thought a good omen for Morella.
She watched while the poor woman within dropped on all-fours, feebly trying to gather up the cakes spreading themselves slowly over the dirty floor. "If that don't make me sick!" said Dinah Brome to herself as she turned and went on her way.
"Then, Senor Brome, I fear that you will leave it dead, as indeed we may all of us, unless we make land soon, for the vessel is filling fast with water. Still, knowing your metal, I looked for some such words from you, and am prepared with another offer which I am sure you will not refuse. Senor, our swords are much of the same length, shall we measure them against each other?
About nine o'clock on the following morning one of the jailers came to summon Margaret and her father to be led before the court. Margaret asked anxiously if the Senor Brome was coming too, but the man replied that he knew nothing of the Senor Brome, as he was in one of the cells for dangerous criminals, which he did not serve.
London, Printed by E.C. for H. Brome, at the Star in Little Britain. 1669.
What if then there should be a secret marriage, and the Senora Betty should chance to wear the bride's veil, while the Dona Margaret, in the robe of Betty, was let go with the Senor Brome and her father?"
She spoke as if Carson and his kind were completely indifferent to her. Her next remark surprised Sommers. "I think I can see now why you felt as you did about well, Mr. Carson. He is a sort of shameless ideal held up before such people as this young man who is speculating. Isn't that it?" Sommers nodded. "Uncle Brome, too?
There was a moment's pause, then a voice behind cried: "By God! not I," and a brawny Kentish man-at-arms ranged up beside him, his cloak thrown over his left arm, and his sword in his right hand. "Nor I," said another. "Peter Brome and I have fought together before." "Nor I," shouted a third, "for we were born in the same Essex hundred."
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