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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Will you send her back as soon as possible?" she asked with her old imperativeness. "Who Polly?" said Mrs. Whitney, following the glance. "Why, she has gone to see Dick, you know. Now, why cannot I read a bit?" and she picked up the paper. "You don't know what has been read," said Mrs. Chatterton as Mrs. Whitney drew up a chair and sat down, running her eye in a practiced way over the front page.
"Are there others in that condition?" enquired the stranger; "what an unprincipled scoundrel!" "Who, sir? How dare you apply such language to a gentleman?" "I did not, sir, apply it to a gentleman; I applied it to Mr Chatterton." "To me, sir! It was to me! I'm Mr Chatterton, sir; and now, out with your writ whose suit? What's the amount? Is it Stulz or Dean?"
"I wished to see you on a very interesting subject, madam." "Love, I'll bet a guinea who has deserted you now? that green chest, Henicky, No. 34." "There is an officer in this regiment of the name of Chatterton?" "Yes, he's one of my young men, though I've not seen him yet. What then?" "Can I speak to you for a minute alone?"
"Now for the fashion department." Mrs. Whitney whirled the paper over dexterously. "Do you know, Mrs. Chatterton, gray stuffs are to be worn more than ever this spring?" "I don't care about that," said Mrs. Chatterton quickly, "and besides, quite likely there'll be a complete revolution before spring really sets in, and gray stuffs will go out. Find some description of tea gowns, can't you?
This was as true of Crete and Phnicia as it was later true of Venice, Holland, and England. THE SEA KINGS OF CRETE, J. Baikie, 1910. PHNICIA, Story of the Nations Series, George Rawlinson, 1895. THE SAILING SHIP, E. Keble Chatterton, 1909. SHIPS AND THEIR WAYS OF OTHER DAYS, E. Keble Chatterton, 1913. ANCIENT SHIPS, Cecil Torr, 1894. ARCHEOLOGIE NAVALE, Auguste Jal, 1840.
And then he told her the sad tale of Chatterton, and waited, anxious to hear her comments. "Well," he said, seeing that she remained silent, "how can I hope, when this mighty genius laboured and despaired? What did he want, save birth and fortune and friends and human justice?" "Did he pray to God?" asked Helen, drying her tears. Again Leonard was startled.
She waved the prescription at her, and redoubled her speed. "Who?" gasped Alexia, stumbling after as best she could. "Mrs. Chatterton," said Polly, a lump in her throat as she uttered the name. "O, dear me! that old thing," cried Alexia, her enthusiasm over the errand gone. "Hush!" said Polly hoarsely; "she may die. She has had bad news."
Chatterton sharply, "and then get the basin of water." "I will call Hortense," said Polly quietly, placing the tray as desired. "Hortense has gone to the apothecary's," said Mrs. Chatterton, "and I will not have one of the other maids; they are too insufferable."
No man is more inclined to murder his nephews, or stifle his wife, after reading "Richard the Third" or "Othello." It is the reality that is necessary to constitute the danger of contagion. Now, it was this reality in the fate and life and crowning suicide of Chatterton that forced itself upon Leonard's thoughts, and sat there like a visible evil thing, gathering evil like cloud around it.
"Oh! you horrid boy," she cried, and ran back dismally to the girls, with nothing to tell. And Charlotte Chatterton walked as if she disdained the ground, her peaked hat towering threateningly, while her sallow face was wreathed with smiles; and it seemed as if she couldn't sing enough, throwing in encores in a perfectly reckless fashion. "What is it? oh!
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