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Updated: May 23, 2025
The lights of the city were like a bed of glowworms, but the small, sad boy was blown off into the sea again, for his hour had not yet come. Here is the last entry I shall weary you with, for I would not abuse your patience: "APRIL 5, 1857. I was awoke this morning by the noise the pilot made in getting on board. At ten o'clock the steam-tug Hercules took us in tow. Cresey, Mr.
'He is come; is now at his estate is Huntingdonshire; doing, what do you think? I will give you a leading hint; recollect the seal which the little De Cresey put into your hands the day you dined at Oranmore. Faithful to his motto, "Deeds not words," he is this instant, I believe, at deeds, title-deeds; making out marriage settlements, getting ready to put his seal to the happy articles.
Lord Colambre recollected at this moment Lady Isabel's look and voice, when she declared that 'she would let her little finger be cut off to purchase the pleasure of inflicting on Lady de Cresey, for one hour, the torture of jealousy.
Oh that wife, my dear Elizabeth, I do hate! cried she, clasping her hands, and expressing hatred with all her soul and with all her strength. 'I detest that Lady de Cresey to such a degree, that, to purchase the pleasure of making her feel the pangs of jealousy for one hour, look, I would this moment lay down this finger and let it be cut off.
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