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Updated: May 3, 2025
And once more the little childish cry of delight, long sweet to the Colonel's ears, escaped her. "Pa," she said, "is it ?" And there she stopped, for fear that it might not be. But he nodded encouragingly. "Dorothy Carvel's necklace! No, it can't be." "Yes, honey," said the Colonel. "Your Uncle Daniel sent it, as he promised.
We passed Mr. Carvel's room and went down the little corridor over the ball-room, until we came to the full-storied wing. My uncle flung open the window and shutters opposite and gave me the key. A delicacy not foreign to him held him where he was. Time had sealed the door, and when at last it gave before my strength, a shower of dust quivered in the ray of sunlight from the window.
That flush that came into her face was there when she saw her son this afternoon, so far as I can gather from Carvel's description. I wish they had waited for me. This remark about her son is very curious, too. It is more like a monomania than anything we have had yet.
"This morning one of Colonel Carvel's servants came for his letters. He must be feeling better. I I pray that he is better," said Richter, his voice breaking. "He has been very good to me." Stephen said nothing. But he had been conscious all at once of an affection for the Judge of which he had not suspected himself. That afternoon, on his way home, he stopped at Carvel & Company's to inquire. Mr.
He crouched in the area while the steps of pedestrians beat above his head, and took no thought but of escape. At last, however, he grew cooler, removed his hat, and peeped over the stone coping. Colonel Carvel's house her house was now ablaze with lights, and the shades not yet drawn.
He knew all the family, however, and seemed familiar with their tastes and pursuits: he inquired about John's manufacturing interests, and about Mrs. Carvel's poor people; he asked Hermione several questions about the recent exhibitions of flowers, and discussed with Chrysophrasia a sale of majolica which had just taken place in London.
How fondly do we believe, with the ostrich, that our body is hidden when our head is tucked under our wing! Not a visitor in Philadelphia but knew Terence Flaven, Mrs. Grafton Carvel's father, who not many years since sold tea and spices and soap and glazed teapots over his own counter, and still advertised his cargoes in the public prints.
Brice," said Mr. Hopper, his glance caught by the indefinable in Stephen's costume. This would have puzzled Mr. Hopper's tailor more. "Very well, thanks." "A fine day after the rain." Stephen nodded, and Mr. Hopper entered the hours after him. "Be you asked to Virginia Carvel's party?" he asked abruptly. "I do not know Miss Carvel," said Stephen, wondering how well the other did.
Dolly was carried off immediately, as I expected. The doctor and Worthington and Fitzhugh were already there, and waiting. I stood by Mr. Carvel's chair, receiving the guests, and presently came Mr. Swain and Patty. "Heigho!" called Mr. Carvel, when he saw her; "here is the young lady that hath my old affections. You are right welcome, Mr. Swain. Scipio, another chair!
He stood with his back against the great arched window flooded with the yellow light of the setting sun, a little black figure in high relief, with a face of parchment. And he took a pinch of snuff before he spoke. "I am here py Mr. Carvel's orters, sir," said he, "and py tose alone vill I leaf."
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