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Updated: May 31, 2025
What, Bernard, still fit only for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, eh? Ha! is that Grisell? St. Cuthbert to wit! Copeland has made a hag of her!" "'Tis a good maid none the less," replied her father; the first direct praise that she had ever had from him, and which made her heart glow.
As she sat, the clatter of many spoons, the smell of many dinners, and the sound of many voices calling, "One vanilla, two strawberries, and a Charlotte Russe," "Three stews, cup coffee, dry toast," "Roast chicken and apple without," came up the next hole, which was marked "Copeland." "Dear me! it seems as if I was there," said Lily, longing to hop down, but afraid of the bump at the other end.
"That man-hunt is out of our hands," he heard Copeland saying. "But it's not out of my hands!" reiterated the detective. "Yes, it's out of your hands, too," answered Copeland. He spoke with a calm authority, with a finality, that nettled the other man. "What are you driving at?" he cried out.
Schooner "Oscar Jones," Captain Kelly, For William H. Copeland, Colored Seaman. To Sheriff of Charleston District. 1852, To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00 To Recog. $1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31 To Commitment and Discharge, 1.00 To 15 Days' Jail Maintenance of Wm. H. Copeland, at 80 cts. per day, 4.50 Received payment, $11.81 J. D , Per Charles E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.
Now, stand away while I pitch 'em down," said Snap, stopping at last before a hole in the ground where a dumbwaiter hung ready, with a name over it. There were many holes all round, and many waiters, each with its name; and Lily was amazed when she read "Weber," "Copeland," "Dooling," and others, which she knew very well.
That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, and no sooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, the debate began, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir William Copeland was bound to affiance his son instantly to her poor daughter, all the more since the injuries he had inflicted to her face could never be done away with.
It was a mercenary age among the clergy, and besides, it was the depth of a northern winter, and the funeral rites of the Lady of Whitburn would have been poor and maimed indeed if a whole band of black Benedictine monks had not arrived from Wearmouth, saying they had been despatched at special request and charge of Sir Leonard Copeland.
At last Flora insisted on Ethel's coming with her to make a distant call, and, as soon as they were in the carriage, said, 'It was not only for the sake of Mrs. Copeland, though it is highly necessary you should go, but it is the only way of ever speaking to you, and I want to know what all this is about Mary? 'The children have not been talking their nonsense to you!
Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated defences, observing that there could have been few alarms there. This lasted till the rites in the sick-room were ended, and the priest came forth. "Sir," he said to Copeland, "you will pardon the young lady. Her mother is in articulo mortis, and she cannot leave her." "I would not disturb her," said Leonard.
When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy northlanders to ride home, and Grisell was again perched behind old Cuthbert Ridley, he asked, "Well, my Dame of Copeland, dost peak and pine for thy runaway bridegroom?" "Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little Bernard than be away with yonder stranger I ken not whither." "Thou art in the right, my wench.
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