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Updated: May 3, 2025
What you saw from the tower was a play in which the Senor Brome took his part badly enough, as you may have noticed, because I told him that my life hung on it. I have nursed him through a sore sickness, Senora, and he is not ungrateful." "So I judged; but I do not understand you." "Senora, I am a slave in this house, a discarded slave. Perhaps you can guess the rest, it is a common story here.
When he makes several hundred thousand dollars in Consolidated Iron, every clerk, every little man who knows anything about it has all his bad, greedy, envious passions aroused." The doctor smiled at the serious manner in which the young woman explored the old ground of their differences. "But," she concluded, "they aren't all like Mr. Carson and Uncle Brome. You mustn't make that mistake.
Brome passed through Northumberland into Scotland, then down the western side of the island towards Devonshire, where he found the farmers gathering in their corn on horse-back, the roads being so narrow that it was impossible for them to use waggons.
"I thought the man was drunk. 'Who did you work for? I asked. 'For Pullman, in de vorks, he said; then I saw how it was. He was one of the strikers, or had lost his job before the strike. Some one told him you were in with me, Brome, and a director of the Pullman works. He had footed it clear in from Pullman to find you, to lay hands on you personally." Porter laughed rather grimly.
Dinah Brome stood in the village shop, watching, with eyes keen to detect the slightest discrepancy in the operation, the weighing of her weekly parcels of grocery. She was a strong, wholesome-looking woman of three- or four-and-forty, with a clean, red skin, clear eyes, dark hair, crinkling crisply beneath her sober, respectable hat. All her clothes were sober and respectable, and her whole mien.
A week ago he might have taken refuge in a dozen houses. To-night he stood upon street corners and wistfully eyed the passing stream. He walked to the river aimlessly, and then walked back, examining the blank faces of the people. He spied through the lowered window of a carriage Brome Porter and Carson, going in the direction of the Northwestern station.
"Some protege of Alec's," Brome Porter replied. "Son of an old friend fresh chap." "I am afraid our young friend is not going to turn out well," Dr. Lindsay, who had overheard the discussion, added in a distressed tone. "I have done what I can for him, but he is very opinionated and green yes, very green. Pity he is a clever fellow, one of the cleverest young surgeons in the city."
He had proposed to Margaret, but she was not willing to marry him, as he found that she was affianced to a distant cousin of hers, the Senor Peter Brome, a swashbuckler who was in trouble for the killing of a man in London, as he had killed the soldier of the Holy Hermandad in Spain.
"I can't think what he'll du all alone in th' house and me gone!" she often whimpered. "A man can't fend for 'isself, like a woman can. They ha'n't the know ter du it. Depper, he ain't no better'n a child about makin' the kettle bile, and sechlike. It'll go hard, me bein' put out o' th' way, wi' Depper." "Sarve 'm right," Mrs Brome always stoically said. "He ha' been a bad man to you, Car'line.
"Ler'm help her hisself," said Mrs Brome, strong in her indifference. "A couple o' boxes o' matches, Mrs Littleproud; and you can gi' me the odd ha'penny in clo' balls for the disgestion." "You should ha' heered 'm run on! 'Where be that Dinah Brome? he say, 'that ha' showed herself helpful in other folks' houses. Wha's she a-doin' of, that she can't do a neighbour's part here?"
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