"Please, please don't whip her; I never thought you would be so cruel." And she put her arms round Marjory as if to protect her from her uncle's vengeance. The doctor could keep a straight face no longer. "You foolish children," he said, laughing, "do you suppose for one moment that I should be likely to whip either of you? Come here."
About a fortnight after the death of Halifax, a fate far more cruel than death befell his old rival and enemy, the Lord President. That able, ambitious and daring statesman was again hurled down from power.
Miss Laura even taught her not to hunt the birds outside. For a long time she had tried to get it into Malta's head that it was cruel to catch the little sparrows that came about the door, and just after I came, she succeeded in doing so. Malta was so fond of Miss Laura, that whenever she caught a bird, she came and laid it at her feet.
I venture to expect from your justice that you will grant me the favour of an opportunity of exculpating myself from so black a charge. It would be cruel indeed to condemn a man without hearing him. "I am with the most profound respect, &c." To this hypocritical epistle I replied by another note as follows:
The cruel slaughter of her first husband, perhaps the only person for whom she had ever felt a softening love, had hardened and soured her.
On the contrary, it seems to be in accordance with all the analogies of nature, analogies too often cruel in the sentence they pass upon the human female.
Lord Bearwarden has left me without a word of explanation except a cruel, cutting, formal letter that I cannot understand. I don't know what I have said or done, but it seems so hard, so inhuman. And I loved him very dearly, very. Indeed, though you have every right to say you don't believe me, I would have made him a good wife if he had let me. My heart seems quite crushed and broken.
He was sure, he said, that a just and intelligent jury must at once perceive the cruel injustice of such far-fetched inferences.
It was a sad day for the wolf-mother. But the hunter carried little Ailbe home with him on the horse's back. And he found a new mother there to receive him. Ailbe never knew who his first mother was, but she must have been a bad, cruel woman. His second mother was the kind wolf. And this one, the third, was a beautiful Princess.
I pitied him, but I thought chiefly of the beautiful, eager face that leaned towards him the night the League was made, and of the bright voice that said, 'You'll sign with me, Billy? and it seemed to me a cruel deed to make him lose his grip of life and hope; for this is what the pledge meant to him.