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Updated: September 26, 2025
'Where was she while we were at the table? 'Sure she was with Mr. Beamish. 'Ah! he groaned. 'The poor soul is in despair over her losses to-night, he turned from the boxed-up duchess to remark to Chloe. 'Give her a comfortable cry and a few moral maxims. 'I will, she said. 'You love me, Caseldy? 'Love you? I? Your own? What assurance would you have? 'None, dear friend.
Caseldy reluctantly owned that it would be an unkindness to remove Chloe from attendance on her during the short remaining term of her stay at the Wells; and so he had not proposed it, he said, for the duchess was a child, an innocent, not stupid by any means; but, of course, her transplanting from an inferior to an exalted position put her under disadvantages. Mr.
He allied Chloe's adjective to a number of epithets equally applicable to nature and to women, according to current ideas, concluding: 'Count, they call your Caseldy at his lodgings. "The Count he is out for an airing." He is counted out. Ah! you will make him drop that "Count" when he takes you from here.
Beamish calculated that Caseldy would be a serviceable ally in commanding a proper respect for her Grace the Duchess of Dewlap. So he betook himself cheerfully to Caseldy's lodgings to deliver a message of welcome, meeting, on his way thither, Mr.
He checked himself: he scarce dared to say it. She nodded. 'You have seen the man, Chloe? Her smiling broke up in the hard lines of an ecstasy neighbouring pain. 'He has come; he is here; he is faithful; he has not forgotten me. I was right. I knew! I knew! 'Caseldy has come? 'He has come. Do not ask. To have him! to see him! Mr. Beamish, he is here. 'At last! 'Cruel!
'Poorly, the young gentleman replied. 'But the Count can sing, and Chloe's a real angel when she sings; and won't you, dear? she implored Chloe, to whom Caseldy addressed a prelude with a bow and a flourish of the hand. Chloe's voice flew forth. Caseldy's rich masculine matched it.
Beamish spoke of the difficulties of his post as guardian, and also of the strange cavalier seen at her carriage window by Chloe. Caseldy smiled and said, 'If there was one and Chloe is rather long sighted we can hardly expect her to confess it. 'Why not, sir, if she be this piece of innocence? Mr. Beamish was led to inquire. 'She fears you, sir, Caseldy answered.
Beamish observed; 'but he might have it, without the dismissal, for I cannot consent to lose Alonzo. No, madam, he nodded at the duchess. Caseldy continued his whisper: 'You can't think of wearing a thing like that about your neck? 'Indeed, said Chloe, 'I think of it. 'Why, what fashion have you over here? 'It is not yet a fashion, she said.
'Where was she while we were at the table? 'Sure she was with Mr. Beamish. 'Ah! he groaned. 'The poor soul is in despair over her losses to-night, he turned from the boxed-up duchess to remark to Chloe. 'Give her a comfortable cry and a few moral maxims. 'I will, she said. 'You love me, Caseldy? 'Love you? I? Your own? What assurance would you have? 'None, dear friend.
The total disappearance of the pair of heroes who had been the latest in the conspiracy to vex his delicate charge, gave Mr. Beamish a high opinion of Caseldy as an assistant in such an office as he held. They had gone, and nothing more was heard of them.
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