Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 21, 2025
Carterette took no note, but said to Ranulph: "Of course he had to pilot the Frenchmen back, or they'd have killed him, and it'd done no good to refuse. He was the first man that fought the French on the day of the battle, wasn't he? I've always heard that." Unconsciously she was building up a defence for Olivier Delagarde. She was, as it were, anticipating insinuation from other quarters.
It pleased him: Carterette had been worthy of herself, and of him. Ranulph had played his game well too. He only failed to do justice to the poor beganne, Dormy Jamais. But then the virtue of fools is its own reward.
Eating seemed superfluous and a man might die more gaily on an empty stomach. He assured the chaplain that he had come to terms with his conscience and was now about to perform the last act of a well-intentioned life. There and then he wrote to Carterette, telling her about the vestry-books of St. Michael's, and begging that she should restore them secretly.
"Good riddance to Monsieur Savary dit Detricand, and good welcome to the Comte de Tournay," answered Guida, trying hard to humour Carterette, that she should sooner hear the news yet withheld. "And what follows after?" Carterette was half sorry that her great moment had come. She wished she could have linked out the suspense longer.
"It's the gunner," he cried and handed the glass to the old man. "It's Carterette," said Mattingley in a hoarse voice. "But it's not possible. It's not possible," he added helplessly. "Nobody was ever there. My God, look at it look at it!" It was a picture indeed.
Then a pedigree is nicely grown on a summer day, and this fine young Jersey adventurer is found to be a green branch from the old root; and there's a great blare of trumpets, and the States of the duchy are called together to make this English officer a prince and that's the Thousand and One Nights in Arabia, Ma'm'selle Carterette." Guida was sitting rigid and still.
She unfolded the letter slowly, and Guida stopped sewing, but mechanically began to prick the linen lying on her knee with the point of the needle. "Well," said Carterette deliberately, "this letter's from a pend'loque of a fellow at least, we used to call him that though if you come to think, he was always polite as mended porringer. Often he hadn't two sous to rub against each other.
Carterette was out of breath. She had hurried here from her home. As she said herself, her two feet weren't in one shoe on the way, and that with her news made her quiver with excitement. At first, bursting with mystery, she could do no more than sit and look in Guida's face.
He realised that within one life a man may still live several lives, each loyal and honest after its kind. A fate stronger than himself had brought him here; and here he would stay with fate. It had brought him to Carterette, and who could tell what good and contentment might not yet come to him, and how much to her! That evening he went to Carterette and asked her to be his wife.
Suddenly, however, with a new and painful knowledge piercing her intelligence, and a face as white and scared as Guida's own, she ran to the dresser, caught up a hanap, and brought some water. Guida still sat as though life had fled, and the body, arrested in its activity, would presently collapse. Carterette, with all her seeming lightsomeness, had sense and self-possession.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking