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Updated: June 12, 2025
To-day, as he paced the garden paths by Darsie's side, Ralph wore the air of a lovelorn poet, of a patriot sorrowing for his country, an artist wrestling over a life's masterpiece, like anything or everything, in fact, but just what he was a sulky and empty-headed young gentleman, wounded in his own conceit!
The confusion of thoughts which occupied Darsie's imagination, gave to his looks a disordered appearance, and his inattention to the food which was placed before him, together with his silence and absence of mind, induced Lilias solicitously to inquire, whether he did not feel some return of the disorder under which he had suffered so lately. This led Mr.
The elder members of the party listened with awe, if without approval, but Tim showed repeated signs of restlessness, and in a final outburst corrected the narrator on an all-important point. "That's the way they had it in Britain's Boys!" he declared, whereupon the Oxford man hid his head under an antimacassar, and exclaimed tragically that all was discovered! "Now it's Darsie's turn!
Darsie's shoulders hitched impatiently. "Oh! Oh! Sounds like a copy- book. I could make headlines, too! Easy to talk when you're not tried. Can't put an old head on young shoulders. Callous youth, and crabbed age..." Not that Aunt Maria was really crabbed.
In the moment's silence which followed Aunt Maria's startling announcement the words of advice and exhortation spoken by her father passed one by one through Darsie's brain. "If you cannot have what you like, try to like what you have... Put yourself now and then in your aunt's place. A sacrifice grudgingly performed is no sacrifice at all... What is worth doing at all, is worth doing well."
He seemed in no hurry to speak to her a fact duly scored against him in Miss Darsie's mind, and this indifference served to pique her into a more vivacious reception of the attentions of his companions. As Hannah had foretold, her pretty friend held quite a little court as one man after another strolled up to join the animated group around her chair.
The knot was strongly tied, but Darsie's fingers were strong also and in a minute's time it was undone, and the corners of the handkerchief dropped on the grass to reveal an inner bag of thick grey linen tied again round the mouth. "It is lumpy!" repeated Darsie again; then with a tug the string came loose, and lifting the bag in her hands, she rained its contents over the grass. Was it a dream?
As she settled herself, however, Darsie's attention was arrested by the manner in which the banks seemed to be slipping past; she turned her head over her shoulder, and discovered that in the minute which had elapsed since she had awakened from sleep the willow-tree had been left several yards behind.
People in general don't half realise the influence of just right thinking the atmosphere which surrounds a person who is mentally fighting for good. The sunbeams fall on the dark earth and soak up the poisoned waters, and so may our thoughts our prayers," She was silent for a few moments, her hand resting lightly on Darsie's knees.
The unique autobiographic interest so fresh and keen and personal, and yet so free from the odious intrusion of actual personality of the earlier epistolary presentment of Saunders and Alan Fairford, of Darsie and Green Mantle; Peter Peebles, peer of Scott's best; Alan's journey and Darsie's own wanderings; the scenes at the Provost's dinner-table and in Tam Turnpenny's den; that unique figure, the skipper of the Jumping Jenny; the extraordinarily effective presentment of Prince Charles, already in his decadence, if not yet in his dotage; the profusion of smaller sketches and vignettes everywhere grouped round the mighty central triumph of the adventures of Piper Steenie, who but Scott has done such things?
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