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He heard a step in the passage, but did not turn his head. Someone knocked discreetly. He heard, but he took no notice. The door opened softly, and old Dimsdale entered. "We have news, Sir Giles." Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke. He continued to glare heavily into space. Dimsdale paused beside him.
And her mate would you like to know her mate? She's married, you know." Dimsdale's face was pale. He was about to reply, when a lady came into view, leaning on the arm of an Agency Secretary. At first she did not see Dimsdale, then within a foot or two of him she suddenly stopped. The Secretary felt her hand twitch on his arm; then she clenched the fingers firmly on her fan.
Let us have no more of these false alarms. You must say a few words on the point to Mr. Dimsdale, as coming from yourself, not from me. Tell him to be more careful before he jumps to conclusions." "I will, sir." "And bring me ledger No. 33." Gilray stretched up his arm and took down a fat little ledger from a high shelf, which he laid respectfully before his employer.
"We have tasted your absence and found it bitter, Mahommed," Dimsdale answered in kind, with a touch of plaintive humour, letting the envelope fall from his fingers on the bed, so little was he interested in any fresh move of Imshi Pasha. "More tricks," he said to himself between his teeth. "Shall I open it, effendi? It is the word that thy life shall carry large plumes."
The tension of her attitude was such that Dimsdale became strongly aware that his presence was an intrusion. Yet, the matter being urgent, he stood his ground. He waited silently, and presently Anne lifted her head. "I think you must leave the matter till the morning, Dimsdale," she said. "It could do no good to have the doctor at this hour. Besides, I doubt if he could come.
She remembered that also, and a faint, sad smile touched her lips Lucas Errol, king and cripple, ruler and weakling. Softly the sunset faded. Anne's fingers ceased to roam over the keys. She clasped them in her lap and sat still. All at once a quiet voice spoke. "My lady!" With a start she turned. "Dimsdale! How you startled me!" "I beg your ladyship's pardon," the old man said.
The annual sum of five thousand dollars was assigned to encourage the translation of foreign literary works into the Russian language. The small-pox was making fearful ravages in Russia. The empress had heard of inoculation. She sent to England for a physician, Dr. Thomas Dimsdale, who had practiced inoculation for the small-pox with great success in London.
A great number of courtiers have followed his example, and many others are preparing to do so. Besides this, inoculation is now carried on at Petersburg in three seminaries of education, and in an hospital established under the protection of Dr. Dimsdale." The empress testified her gratitude for the benefits Dr.
Dimsdale, discreet and deferential as ever, stood before her. "Mr. Lucas Errol is here," he told her, "with another gentleman. I knew your ladyship would wish to be at home to him." "Oh, certainly," she answered, rising. "I am always at home to Mr. Lucas Errol. Please tell him I am coming immediately." But she did not instantly follow Dimsdale.
She has no friends, John, and no relations, save only my cousin, Dr. George Dimsdale. Never was a girl left more lonely and unprotected. Take her, I beg of you, and bring her up under your own eye. Treat her as though she were your child. Guard her above all from those who would wreck her young life in order to share her fortune. Do this, old friend, and make me happy on my deathbed."
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