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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Oh, of course, those who looked to the Prince to make their fortunes are disappointed enough. I don't." "I rather thought Mr Crossland did," said Miss Newton, with a mischievous air. "Well, I hope there are other people in the world beside Mr Crossland," said Miss Marianne. "All right, my dear," replied her sister. "If you don't care, I am sure I need not.
"At all events, my red cheeks and my plough-boy appetite would scarcely distress her now," returned Hatty, rather bitterly. "Mr Crossland is coming for me I must go." And while she held my hand, I was amazed to hear a low whisper, in a voice of unutterable longing, "Cary, pray for me!" That horrid Mr Crossland came up and carried her off. Poor dear Hatty! I am sure something is wrong.
And when to this mutual and immortal memory we added the discovery that we were both at the Oval at the memorable match when Crossland rattled Surrey out like ninepins and the crowd mobbed him, and Key and Roller miraculously pulled the game out of the fire, our friendship was sealed. The fine thing about a wrangle on cricket is that there is no bitterness in it.
"Poor Miss Hester has been suffering so much from toothache I beg you will not disturb her, Miss Caroline." I suppose I was rude: but how could I help it? "Why should I disturb her more than Miss Crossland?" I replied. "Sisters do not make strangers of each other."
I am not in love with Mr Crossland not by any means. I never did admire the way in which his nose droops over his mouth. He has fine teeth that is a redeeming point." "Is it? I don't want him to bite me," observed Miss Marianne. Was this the sort of thing which girls called love? and was this the way in which fashionable women spoke of the men whom they had pledged themselves to marry?
I opened the door and walked straight in. Mr Crossland stood on the hearth, clad in a queer long black gown, and a black cap upon his head. On a chair near him sat a girl, her head bowed down in her hands upon the table, weeping bitterly. Her long dark hair was partly unfastened, and falling over her shoulder: what I could see of her face was white as death.
"Is Miss Marianne Newton a friend of yours?" "Yes, the dearest friend I have." "Then you will be on my side. Keep your eyes and ears open, and find out what it is. I tell you, something is wrong. Put yourself in the breach; help Miss Marianne, if you like; but, for pity's sake, save Hatty!" "But what makes you suppose that what is wrong has anything to do with Mr Crossland?"
It seems that his friend Eastwood, of Slaithwaite, knowing how often his life had been threatened, offered to ride back with him, and though Horsfall laughed at the offer and rode off alone, Eastwood had his horse saddled and rode after him, but unfortunately did not overtake him. "About six o'clock Horsfall pulled up his horse at the Warren House Inn at Crossland Moor.
Mrs Crossland began, "the father of these gentlewomen consigned them to my care " "And I take them out of your care," returned my Uncle Charles. "I will take the responsibility to Mr Bracewell." "I'll take all the responsi-what's-its-name," said Charlotte, suddenly appearing among us. "Thank you, Mr Desborough; I'd rather not stop here when Hatty is gone. Emily!" she shouted.
Grandmamma, in brocaded black silk, sat where she always does, at the side of the fire, and my Uncle Charles who for a wonder was at home and my Aunt Dorothea were receiving the people as they came in. The Bracewells were there already, and Hatty, and Mr Crossland, and a middle-aged lady, who I suppose was his mother, and Miss Newton, and a few more whose faces and names I know.
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