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In the very earliest things, in "Claribel," in "Mariana," in the "Recollections of the Arabian Nights," in the "Ode to Memory," in the "Dirge," in the "Dying Swan," in "Oriana," there is even to those who were born long after they were written, even to those who have for years sedulously compared them with almost all things before and with all things since, the unmistakable note of the new, of the new that never can be old.
From the stories she had read, or heard her relate, she had formed a general idea of the advantage of personal attractions, which, in her own person robust and awkward, had no great chance of being displayed. Claribel, who was rather younger than her cousins, was also less of her age. She was pretty and sweet-tempered, but timid and without energy of character.
Amaranthé and Claribel had long satisfied all the pride of Ursula's heart, by the perfection they had attained in the important branches of embroidery that she had taken such pains to instruct them in, but to themselves they failed to afford any source of enjoyment. They felt that they had nothing to work for, and could take little pride in performances which they had nobody to commend.
Leare on to the platform of the railway, weeping and trembling. The old colored nurse could not speak French, and seemed to think her only duty was to hold the hand of little Claribel and to stand where her young mistress placed her. All looked to Hermione. She carried a canvas bag of five-franc pieces and paid right and left.
Claribel timidly answered, "I am not ambitious of riches, they would but embarrass me; neither do I covet beauty to be an object of general notice, would to me be only distressing. A contented mind must surely be the greatest of all blessings: at least, I can neither imagine or desire a greater. I shall therefore gratefully accept one of your favourite flowers," looking at the lilies.
She recounted the insult, as she thought fit to call it, that had been offered to her, in terms of bitter wrath to Claribel, who attended her toilet; but comforted herself with the near prospect of recrimination, and declared she should have far more pleasure in crushing the pride of that insolent little ugly moppet Ethelinde, than in captivating the first lord in the land.
Evidently he thought the place deserted, seeing no signs of life anywhere about it. As his gaze wandered upward to the grinning old gargoyle, the girls hastily drew back. When they peeped out again, he had gone. "Do you realise what we have done?" asked Claribel, with tears of mortification springing to her eyes. "We have kept still and acted another lie for the sake of our ancestral latch-string.
"I wonder if you'd mind if I just sort of stayed around so I could look after I mean, so I could watch you painting? May I? Please!" Claribel sensed something tense under that request. She longed to get at Peter's thought processes. She was immensely interested in this shabby little chap who made astonishing sketches and whose personality was so intriguing. "Why, of course you may, Peter.
But, oh, girls, I did hope to finish that book to-day! It may be weeks before I'm keyed up to the pitch again where I feel equal to writing the climax as it should be done." There were tears in Wilma's eyes as she carried the lunch-basket into the pantry, but she giggled as, passing the old portraits on the stairs, as they went up to dress, Claribel shook her fist in their faces.
Now, sad reverse! her eyes were dimmed and sunk in her head, her cheeks hollow and of ghastly paleness, and the malevolent passions that had corroded her heart, were traced in deep furrows over her countenance. Almost frozen with horror she uttered a piercing shriek, and fell lifeless on the floor. Claribel affrighted, endeavoured to raise her, and called for assistance, but no one came near her.
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