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I vow thee a silver image. I vow to lead a changed life. I was drawn into it, holy Lady Saint. They showed me the Prince's letter. He got it all out in one breath, while some of them were lifting up d'Aubepine, and the Coadjutor was in convulsions of suppressed laughter, and catching hold of Clement's arm whispered: 'No, no, Monsieur, I entreat of you, do not undeceive him.
Glory's letter was waiting for him, and he tore it open with nervous fingers, but when he had read it he laughed aloud. "God bless her! But she doesn't know everything yet." Mrs, Callender was out in the carriage; she would be back for lunch, and the maid was laying the cloth; but he would not wait. After scribbling a few lines in pencil to tell of his great resolve, he set off to Clement's Inn.
But it was too small for a home. The Ark was left at anchor, while Leonard Calvert went exploring with the Dove. Up the Potomac some distance he went, but at the last he wisely determined to choose for their first town a site nearer the sea. The Dove turned and came back to the Ark, and both sailed on down the stream from St. Clement's Isle.
She leaned over, and whispered tremblingly in his ear: "I am Clement's sole heiress; perhaps he'll die; I might be a widow to-morrow." Hector was petrified. "But Sauvresy, thank God! is getting well fast." Bertha fixed her large, clear eyes upon him, and with frightful calmness said: "What do you know about it?" Tremorel dared not ask what these strange words meant.
Sir Clement, with great earnestness, pressed me to go; and while I was thus uneasily deliberating what to do, the dance, I suppose, finished, for the people crowded down stairs. Had Lord Orville then repeated his offer, I would have accepted it notwithstanding Sir Clement's repugnance; but I fancy he thought it would be impertinent.
Clement's talking of this matter, and there set down; and I walked to Sir G. Carteret's, and there dined with him and several Parliament-men, who, I perceive, do all look upon it as a thing certain that the Parliament will enquire into every thing, and will be very severe where they can find any fault.
Just before ten o'clock there was another musical performance, namely, that of the chimes of St. Clement's clock in the Strand, which played the clear, cheerful notes of a psalm, before it proceeded to ring its ten fatal strokes.
Sir Henry Guest, the great surgeon who worked among the poor without recompense, loved Gainsborough's 'Lady Wilton. The portrait hangs above his tomb in St. Clement's Hundreds. D'Epernay loved Mlle. Jeanne Vacaresco, who died before he was born. And I I love in my own fashion."
And imagine one becoming penitent when the day of grace is over!" "I keep Clement's words before me, 'The Lord who died for us is not our enemy. Surely that is a splendid thought against final despair." "Many thoughts are splendid," he replied, "if we could believe them now as the early Christians did in the first centuries." Agnes, with parted, whitening lips, could find no response.
As for the poet, he learned more of his own sentiments during this visit of Clement's than he had ever before known. He wandered about with a dreadfully disconsolate look upon his countenance. He showed a falling-off in his appetite at tea-time, which surprised and disturbed his mother, for she had filled the house with fragrant suggestions of good things coming, in honor of Mr.
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