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Updated: May 7, 2025
If I may judge by my own experience I do not think you will regret the change. I have never done so for a moment, although I was fond of Kingston." Since he had been last at Burnley, and had seen again the pictures painted at Sens for Mr. Handsley, my husband had been dissatisfied with them.
In my early youth I naturally took the religion and political color of the people about me. There was at Burnley in those days a curate who has since become a well-known clergyman in Manchester, Mr. James Bardsley. We always listened with interest to what Mr.
Avery Sparhallow did not seem so happy. She worked rather abstractedly and frowned oftener than she smiled. Avery Sparhallow was conceded to be a beauty, and had no rival in Burnley Beach. She was very pretty, with the obvious, indisputable prettiness of rich black hair, vivid, certain colour, and laughing, brilliant eyes. Nobody ever called Janet a beauty, or even thought her pretty.
Then I struck another avenue and came to another trap which gave after mighty efforts on my part, and I came up into that book-shop which Burnley disappeared into, and which told the police so firmly that he left again in a few minutes. The trap was hidden away under the counter. I didn't stop; I thought it probably wasn't healthy, so I unbolted the front door and crept off home to bed.
They went together, and Burnley bade Hope observe that the water was trickling through in places, a drop at a time; it could not penetrate the coaly veins, nor the streaks of clay, but it oozed through the porous strata, certain strips of blackish earth in particular, and it trickled down, a drop at a time.
"But," objected Grace in dismay, "if he is mad, he won't listen, and he will come here and attack me." "If he does," said Hope, simply, "I must kill him, that's all." Burnley, however, in point of fact, kept more and more aloof for many hours; he never left his work till he laid bare the whole body of that miner, and found a pickaxe in his dead hand.
This was no other than that Ben Burnley, who, being a miner, had stuck half-way between Devonshire and Durham, and had been some months in Bartley's mine. He opened on Hope in a loud voice, and dialect which we despair of conveying with absolute accuracy. "Mr. Hope, sir, they won't let me go down t' mine." "No; you're discharged." "Who by?" "By me." "What for?"
It soon found its way to Clifford Hall, and the deputy ran himself with the news to Mr. Bartley. Bartley received it at first with a stony glare, and trembled all over; then the deputy, lowering his voice, said, "Sir, the worst of it is, there is foul play in it. There is good authority to say that Ben Burnley fired the mine to destroy his betters, and he has done it; for Mr.
"'You wait here, John, he said, waving me back from accompanying him. "We stood around like a group of ghosts. "'It is the truth, Kaluna said. 'You could see it for yourselves. "They looked at me, and I nodded. Harry Burnley lifted his glass to his lips, but lowered it untasted. He spilled half of it over the bar. His lips were trembling like a child that is about to cry.
Or do you mean that you went to Granny Thomas you, a Sparhallow! and asked her for a love philtre to make me love Randall Burnley?" "I didn't tell her it was for you she thought I wanted it for myself," moaned Janet. "Oh, we must undo it I'll go to her again no doubt she knows of some way to undo the spell " Avery, whose rages never lasted long, threw back her dark head and laughed ringingly.
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