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Updated: June 26, 2025
No one can mistake the rich tints and vigorous expression, the character and color, which distinguish Elliot's portraits; but few imagine how much he is indebted to the long possession and study of so invaluable an original for these traits, moulded by his genius into so many admirable representations of the loved, the venerable, and the honored, both living and dead."
And if Miss Elliot's influence is going to be on my side, I'm glad to play it off against Dr. Surtaine's." "Look here, Ellis, I don't like this association of my niece's name with young Surtaine." "All right. I'll drop it, if you object. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't know Miss Elliot, anyway.
He found it in a bit of open timber above the trail, and without a word he swung his team from the path. "Where are you going?" demanded Macdonald. "Going to rest for an hour," was Elliot's curt answer. Macdonald's jaw clamped. He strode forward through the snow beside the trail. "We'll see about that." The younger man faced him angrily. "Can't you see she is done, man?
She was a fine woman, had had a decent education, was brought forward by some cousins, thrown by chance into Mr Elliot's company, and fell in love with him; and not a difficulty or a scruple was there on his side, with respect to her birth. All his caution was spent in being secured of the real amount of her fortune, before he committed himself.
If he had known, neither he nor Jim Dawlish would have got through much work that morning. It was nearly a fortnight after Colonel Elliot's death that Jeff Ironside went to the stable somewhat suddenly one morning, saddled his mare, and, without a word to anyone, rode away. Granny Grimshaw was the only witness of his departure, and she turned from the kitchen window with a secret smile and nod.
Mrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of fancying herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving her in that house, there was particular attention. He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had expressed his hope of Miss Elliot's not being the worse for her exertions, and had spoken of those exertions as great.
You've spilled your ink." Before he could speak or move further, Esmé Elliot's arms were about him. Her face was close to his. He could feel the strong pressure of her breast against him as she forced him back. "No, no!" she was pleading, in a swift half-whisper. "Don't go near him. Don't look. Please don't. Come away." He set her aside. A candlelight flared high.
The moment of her stepping forward in the Octagon Room to speak to him: the moment of Mr Elliot's appearing and tearing her away, and one or two subsequent moments, marked by returning hope or increasing despondency, were dwelt on with energy.
At first Stefan, who, man-like, professed contempt for social functions, refused to accompany Mary to these at-homes. But after Mrs. Elliot's visit to the studio he conceived a great liking for her, and to Mary's delight volunteered to accompany her on the following Friday. Few misanthropes are proof against an atmosphere of adulation, and in this Mrs.
Don't you see how thin and pale I am?" Elliot's eyes filled, as he looked earnestly at the gentle girl, so wasted of late, and throwing his arms about her neck, he hid his face on her shoulder, and murmured: "Oh! you must not go from us we can't spare you even to God! Why does he want to take you? He has plenty of angels already around him!
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