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Updated: May 18, 2025
"You refuse to be my wife?" "Yes, that way." "You take back your marriage vow?" "I take back myself!" Margaret's eyes shone, but her voice was calm. "If you loved any other man but you are as cold as ice!" "Am I?" "Yes! ... I have been faithful to you always," he observed by way of defence and accusation. Margaret rose from the couch, and looked down at her husband, almost compassionately.
He was very much delighted, though, to see Mark Tapley; and received Martin with his own frank courtesy. But Martin felt that he did not inspire John Westlock with any unusual interest; and twice or thrice observed that he looked at Tom Pinch doubtfully; not to say compassionately. He thought, and blushed to think, that he knew the cause of this.
But she could not be bewildered or in doubt much longer. This was Roland indeed, the hero of her life, come back to her a broken-down, desolate, and hopeless man. She knelt down on the hearth beside him, and laid her hand compassionately on his. "But you are Roland himself to me!" she cried. "Oh! be quick, and tell me all about it. Why did we ever think you were dead?"
It was very cold the next morning, though the sun was rising above the edge of the scourged plain, when Edgar, partly dressed and wearing wet boots and leggings, came into the room and looked down at George compassionately.
"Yes, Hester, and I have brought company with me," said the sexton. "Company!" repeated his wife. "Who is it?" "It is a poor boy, who was accidentally locked up in the church last night." "And he had to stay there all night?" "Yes; but perhaps it was lucky for him, for he had no other place to sleep, and not money enough to pay for one." "Poor child!" said Hester, compassionately.
The secretary kept his eyes on his notes, and young Spence continued, after a pause: "Only the thing is isn't it? to try and find out just what does make the world better?" "To try to find out?" his father echoed compassionately. "It's not necessary to try very hard. Goodness is what makes the world better." "Yes, yes, of course," his son nervously interposed; "but the question is, what is good "
"What's abaout Reub?" asked Abner. "He's a goin intew a decline daown to the jail." "I wanter know! Poor Reub!" said Abner, compassionately. "He fout side o' me tew Stillwater, an Perez was t'other side. Perez done me a good turn that day, ez I shan't furgit in a hurry. Gosh, he'd take it hard ef he hearn ez haow Reub wuz in jail!
Hopper regarded him compassionately; the good woman was much disturbed by the strangeness of his demeanour lately, and feared he was going to be ill. "You look dre'ful tired, sir," she said. "I'll make you a cup of tea at once. It'll do you good." "Yes, get me some tea," answered Warburton, absently. Then, as she was leaving the room, he asked, "Is it true that the grocer Boxon is dead?"
"But mother was so much older!" He looked at his daughter compassionately. "How old are you?" he inquired. "Thirty-six." "Your mother was thirty-nine," he replied. And at that Edith turned and stared at him, bewildered, shocked, brought face to face with a new and momentous fact in her life. "Mother only my age when she died?" "Yes," said Roger gently, "only three years older."
She saw that he knew nothing of art, and felt only the literary quality of the picture, and she was trying compassionately to get the talk away from it, when she heard her father's step in the hall below. Hilary gave a start of question, when he looked into the library, that brought Maxwell to his feet. "Mr.
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