Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
"Naught ails me. I do not know. For forgive me!" Clorinda laughed. "Soft little fool," she said, "why should you ask me to forgive you? I might as fairly ask you to forgive me, that I keep my shape and show no wasting." Anne rose from her chair and hurried to her sister's side, sinking upon her knees there to kiss her hand. "Sister," she said, "one could never dream that you could need pardon.
But now she knew not that he had seen her; nor did he, poor valiant wretch, know that the knight in black armour whom he pursued, was a woman, and Clorinda.
Poor Clorinda certainly did present a rather dry and withered aspect; her hands bore rough evidence of the toil with which she had earned the money her sable lover coveted, and their clasp was very unsatisfactory to a man whose flirtations had hitherto been with ladies' maids.
"My poor little girl, Grandpapa," announced Phronsie, releasing the arm she clung to, and tumbling up over the steps, "and please make her stay, and I'm going to let her take Clorinda," and she plunged breathlessly into the old gentleman's arms. "Hoity-toity, child!" exclaimed old Mr. King, holding her closely. "Well, what have we here?" as Polly led Rag up on to the veranda.
This she had indeed, and so had Mistress Wimpole, and throughout Sir John Oxon's stay they were called upon to see that they played well their parts. Two weeks he stayed and then rode gaily back to town, and when Clorinda made her sweeping curtsey to the ground to him upon the threshold of the flowered room in which he bade her farewell, both Anne and Mistress Wimpole curtseyed a step behind her.
Clorinda put her hands upon her shoulders, and stooping, kissed her, which in all their lives she had done but once or twice. "God bless thee, poor Anne," she said. "I think thou wouldst lie on my threshold and watch the whole night through, if I should need it; but I have given way to womanish vapours too much I must go and be alone.
Clorinda never allowed them to relax their vigilance, and Mistress Wimpole ceased to feel afraid, and became accustomed to her duties, but Anne never did so.
But Dolf gave a voluble account of what his master and mistress had said and done the night the bracelet was lost, and ornamented the conversation beautifully, calling on Clorinda to set him right if he erred, and the points where Clo most loudly expressed her approval as being the exact words spoken, were those Dolf embroidered most highly.
The lady's name was Henrietta Elizabeth Doone. It was said by the Morning Post that she was connected with the Doones of Gloucestershire. Doones of Gloucestershire Doones of Gloucestershire mused Miss Ramsbotham, Society journalist, who wrote the weekly Letter to Clorinda, discussing the matter with Peter Hope in the editorial office of Good Humour.
Phronsie popped her head up like a bird out of its nest, and piped out: "Oh, please, Mamsie, may she stay?" "Yes," said Mother Fisher, "she is going to stay, Phronsie." "Oh, my goodness me!" breathed old Mr. King. Phronsie slipped out of his arms and began to dance, clapping her hands. "I'm going to play with her now, but I must get Clorinda first," she cried excitedly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking