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Updated: May 15, 2025
Now, as he glanced from one man to the other, he saw in an instant that something new something of unusual gravity was impending. Chester, buttoned to the throat in his dark uniform, accurately gloved and belted, with pale, set, almost haggard face, was standing by the centre-table under the drop-light.
He had a shaded drop-light in front of him, and in its glow his beautiful and benignly noble head had a dignity peculiar to him. All the portraits of Longfellow are likenesses more or less bad and good, for there was something as simple in the physiognomy as in the nature of the man.
He worked at his ledgers no more under his old gas drop-light, but would sit all evening staring into the fire, in his bedroom, and not speaking unless someone asked him a question. He seemed almost unaware of what went on around him, and those who were with him thought him dazed by Isabel's death, guessing that he was lost in reminiscences and vague dreams.
It was these flashes of intelligence that made him worth the labor to Mason. Sometimes he could set the whole seminary right on an obscure phrase; this made up for an hour of imperfect attention. To-night the two men were hard at it. They sat at opposite sides of the table, the electric drop-light illuminating the papers between them.
Well," he seized the visitor's hand, "au' evoi', Mistoo Itchlin." And Narcisse returned to his desk happy in the conviction that Richling had gone away dazzled. Dr. Sevier sat in the great easy-chair under the drop-light of his library table trying to read a book. But his thought was not on the page.
The back parlour was that day, by the thankful mother, consecrated to the comfort of the family thenceforth light, warmth, and beauty reigned in that room. There they gathered evenings, under the drop-light about the round table, with books and work, and talk and music.
She did not look up, but let him make several failures to light his cigar, and damn the matches under his breath, before she pushed the drop-light to him in silent suggestion. As he leaned over her chair-back to reach its chimney with his cigar in his mouth, she said, "You're all right, Alan."
And turning to his dresser he laid away the letters and the small photograph which he had been examining under the drop-light, locking them securely in the worn despatch box until he should have time to decide whether to burn them all or only the picture. Then he slipped on his smoking jacket.
If ever there was a man in immediate danger of apoplexy, Bangs is that man." It was after dinner when Mr. Bixby lighted his drop-light and sat down before the fire. He pushed an ottoman in front of him, on which to rest his feet, which he had comfortably encased in his slippers. But the shadows in his new room did not please him. He could hardly see the clock on the mantel.
As he turned to adjust his transom, something white thrust under the door caught his eye, and he walked over and drew it across the sill. It was a sealed note. He opened it, reading it as he walked back to the drop-light burning beside his bed: "Did you not mean to say good-bye?
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