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Updated: May 3, 2025
He had thought seriously of resuming his patronymic of Durrant, but reflected that he was too well known to don that cloak of transparent darkness without giving currency to the idea that he had soiled the other past longer wearing. It would be imagined, he said, picking out one dishonesty of which he had not been guilty, that he had settled money on his wife, and retired to enjoy it.
Now there was a shiver of wind instantly an edge of sky; and as Durrant ate cherries he dropped the stunted yellow cherries through the green wedge of leaves, their stalks twinkling as they wriggled in and out, and sometimes one half-bitten cherry would go down red into the green.
Don't you know, she come and stopped with us six weeks that time Marilla was so dyin' sick and we hadn't been able to get proper help; and what a providence Maria Durrant was! Mother said one day that she never saw so capable a woman." "I don't stand in need of nursin'," said the old man, grumbling, and taking a defensive attitude of mind. "What's the use, anyway, if you can't get her?
Jacob asked stiffly. "You do that for your mother," said Mrs. Durrant, looking at him again keenly, as she transferred the skein. "Yes, it goes much better." He smiled; but said nothing. Elsbeth Siddons hovered behind them with something silver on her arm. "We want," she said. ... "I've come ..." she paused. "Poor Jacob," said Mrs. Durrant, quietly, as if she had known him all his life.
Soon the ponies attacked the swelling moor road with striving forelegs. Mrs. Durrant let the reins fall slackly, and leant backwards. Her vivacity had left her. Her hawk nose was thin as a bleached bone through which you almost see the light. Her hands, lying on the reins in her lap, were firm even in repose.
Not a penny piece has she changed all these years, and, watching her enviously, it seems as if all within must be pure gold. The wise old woman, having fixed her eyes upon the sea, once more withdrew. The tourists decided that it was time to move on to the Gurnard's Head. Three seconds later Mrs. Durrant rapped upon the door. "Mrs. Pascoe?" she said.
Carter is playing by himself This is BACH," she whispered, as Mr. Carter played the first bars. "Are you fond of music?" said Mr. Durrant. "Yes. I like hearing it," said Jacob. "I know nothing about it." "Very few people do that," said Mrs. Durrant. "I daresay you were never taught. Why is that, Sir Jasper? Sir Jasper Bigham Mr. Flanders.
"Too late, Joseph," said Mrs. Durrant. "Not to sit for me," said Miss Eliot, planting her tripod upon the lawn. "I rather think," said Jacob, taking his pipe from his mouth, "it's in Virgil," and pushing back his chair, he went to the window. The rashest drivers in the world are, certainly, the drivers of post- office vans.
She always enjoyed her visits to the Haydon farm. But she had left Miss Durrant crying by the western window; the bitter tears were falling on Israel Haydon's old black coat.
After ten we went to supper, on four broiled chicken, four boiled ducks, minced veal, cold roast goose, chicken pastry, and ham. Our company, Mr. and Mrs. Porter, Mr. and Mrs. Coates, Mrs. Atkins, Mrs. Hicks, Mr. Piper and wife, Joseph Fuller and wife, Tho. Fuller and wife, Dame Durrant, myself and wife, and Mr. French's family.
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