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He never forgot them as they used to sit together of the summer evenings, the two golden heads over the page, the child's little hand, and the mother's, beating the time with their voices rising and falling in unison. But these happy days were to end soon, and it was by Lady Castlewood's own decree that they were brought to a conclusion.
'Twas this, no doubt, that accounted for the sadness in Lady Castlewood's eyes, and the plaintive vibrations of her voice. Who does not know of eyes, lighted by love once, where the flame shines no more? of lamps extinguished, once properly trimmed and tended? Every man has such in his house.
Truly a ludicrous and pitiable object, at least exhausting everybody's pity but his dearest mistress's, Lady Castlewood's, in whose tender breast he reposed all his dreary confessions, and who never tired of hearing him and pleading for him. Sometimes Esmond would think there was hope. Then again he would be plagued with despair, at some impertinence or coquetry of his mistress.
You have no news for me from America? How sad! But what a poor plight you yourself are in!" "Not a bit of it. At first sight you might think so; and we certainly have had a very busy time. Send back the fly. Leave your bag at our hotel. Porter, be quick with Lady Castlewood's luggage. One piece of luck befalls me to receive so often this beautiful hand.
Atterbury and his dying penitent took place within, an immense contest of perplexity was agitating Lord Castlewood's young companion. At the end of an hour it may be more Mr. Atterbury came out of the room, looking very hard at Esmond, and holding a paper. "He is on the brink of God's awful judgment," the priest whispered. "He has made his breast clean to me.
The night before and after the altercation with the Prince, my gentleman, having suspicions of his Royal Highness, and fearing lest he should be minded to give us the slip, and fly off after his fugitive beauty, had spent, if the truth must be told, at the "Greyhound" tavern, over against my Lady Castlewood's house in Kensington Square, with an eye on the door, lest the Prince should escape from it.
Harry's undeniable extravagances and spendthrift associates, his nights at faro and hazard, and his rides to Newmarket, and asked why he alone should keep his hands from the young fellow? In vain Madame Bernstein pleaded that Harry was poor. Bah! he was heir to a principality which ought to have been his, Castlewood's, and might have set up their ruined family.
He was helped to the Royal bed; he called Castlewood familiarly by his own name; he quite forgot the part upon the acting of which his crown, his safety, depended. 'Twas lucky that my Lady Castlewood's servants were out of the way, and only those heard him who would not betray him.
"Besides partaking of all the pleasures of the place, I hope my honoured mother will believe that I have not been unmindful of my education. I have had masters in fencing and dancing, and my Lord Castlewood's chaplain, the Reverend Mr. Sampson, having come hither to drink the waters, has been so good as to take a vacant room at my lodging. Mr.
The twigs are now bare, perhaps, and the leaves have fallen; but, for all that, shall we not, remember the vernal time? George Warrington has mentioned in the letter just quoted, that in spite of my Lord Castlewood's previous play transactions with Harry, my lord and George remained friends, and met on terms of good kinsmanship.
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