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Updated: June 10, 2025
SHEFFIELD, May 5, 1864. MY DEAR FRIEND, Dear B. did you no wrong, and me much right, in giving me to read a letter of yours to her, written more than a month ago, which impressed me more and did me more good than any letter I have read this long time. It was that in which you spoke of Mr. Choate.
This is Susan's house, isn't it?" "Yes." Esther had now retired to the last defences. She saw auntie settling upon them in a jovial ease. It might have been different, she thought, if Alston Choate had got her a divorce years ago and then married her. "Come," she said, with an undiminished sweetness, "I'll take you to your room."
Choate had any such interest in local affairs," said Amabel. She was aware Jeff was smoothing her down, ruffled feather after feather, and she was pathetically grateful. If she hadn't kept a strong grip on herself, her lip would have been quivering still. "In a way she's not. She doesn't care about Addington as we do, but she hates to see old traditions go to the dogs.
There is another legend that Daniel Webster, Rufus Choate and Nathaniel Hawthorne were all distantly related through the Batchelder family. There are said to be red and black Batchelders, like the Douglas family in Scotland; and the black Batchelders have a rare gift of intellect which only comes to the surface when united with some other stock.
Choate, stately in dark silk and lace and quite unlike the revolutionary matron who had lain in bed and let her soul loose with the "Mysteries of Paris," sat between her son and daughter and was silent though she grew bright-eyed. Mary whispered to her: "Anne looks very sweet, doesn't she? but not at all like a dancer." "Sweet," said the mother. "Anne doesn't belong there, does she?" said Alston.
His arguments were clear and direct, but they lacked the quality that is near to genius. This quality Choate possessed in a degree not elsewhere found in the life or history of the American Bar. Cushing's arguments were loaded with learning and heavy with suggestions upon the general subject rather than upon the case. This of his law arguments.
The lambent glow of beauty might fall upon him unheeded; even its lightnings might not penetrate his shell. But that had been better than the dry-rot of an escape from righteous punishment. "You know, Choate," said he, "I believe the first thing for a man to learn is that he can't dodge penalties." "I believe you. Though if he dodges, he doesn't get off.
"Oh, yes," said Lydia, getting back her spirit. "There isn't one we don't know." And they laughed again and Miss Amabel tied on her bonnet and went away attended by Choate, with Weedon Moore a pace behind, holding his hat, until he got out of the house, as it might be at a grotesque funeral. Miss Amabel had called back to Lydia: "You must come and train my classes in their national dancing."
Jeffrey looked at him in a grave consideration. Alston Choate seemed to him a negligible quantity; so did Esther and so did Madame Beattie. All he wanted was to clear the slender shoulders of poor savage, wretched Lydia at home. "Do you mind telling me, Jeffrey?" Alston was asking, in quite a human way considering that he embodied the majesty of the law.
Nobody will ever help me, Alston Choate. Do you realise that? Nobody." Her melting eyes were on his and she herself was out of her chair and tremulously near. But Esther made no mistake of a too prodigal largess a man like Reardon was bewitched by, even if he ran from it. She stood there in sorrowful dignity and let her eyes plead for her.
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