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Elsmere more than half attracted by the stronger vices, and in many cases more inclined to laugh with what was human in them than to weep over what was vile, Robert's wife would go away and wrestle with herself, that she might be betrayed into nothing harsh towards Robert's mother. But fate allowed their differences, whether they were deep or shallow, no time to develop.

So Robert had hastily to provide another subject, and he fell upon that of the squire. Mr. Newcome's eyes flashed. 'He is coming back? I am sorry for you, Elsmere. "Woe is me that I am constrained to dwell with Mesech, and to have my habitation among the tents of Kedar!"

If there were two or three people in Paris or London who knew or suspected incidents of Madame de Netteville's young married days which made her reception at some of the strictest English houses a matter of cynical amusement to them, not the remotest inkling of their knowledge was ever likely to reach Elsmere. He was not a man who attracted scandals. Nor was it anybody's interest to spread them.

Life was delightful to her; action, energy, influence, were delightful to her; she could only breathe freely in the very thick of the stirring, many-coloured tumult of existence. Whether it was a pauper in the workhouse, or boys from the school, or a girl caught in the tangle of a love-affair, it was all the same to Mrs. Elsmere. Everything moved her, everything appealed to her.

Crowds, heat, decorations, the grandees on the platform, and conspicuous among them the Squire's slouching frame and striking head, side by side with a white and radiant Lady Helen the outer success, the inner revolt and pain and the constant seeking of his truant eyes for a face that hid itself as much as possible in dark corners, but was in truth the one thing sharply present to him these were the sort of impressions that remained with Elsmere afterward of this last meeting with his people.

When the Elsmeres rose to go, she said good-bye to Catherine with an excessive politeness, under which her poor guest, conscious of her own gaucherie during the evening, felt the touch of satire she was perhaps meant to feel. But when Catherine was well ahead Madame de Netteville gave Robert one of her most brilliant smiles. 'Friday evening, Mr. Elsmere; always Fridays. You will remember?

The Squire paused, his keen scrutinizing look dwelling on the face beside him, as though to judge whether he were understood. 'Oh, true! cried Elsmere; 'most true. Now I know what vague want it is that has been haunting me for months He stopped short, his look, aglow with all the young thinker's ardor fixed on the Squire.

Leyburn, who was strolling about the garden. She at once informed him with much languid plaintiveness that Catherine had gone to Whinborough for the day, and would not be able to join the picnic. Elsmere stood still. 'Gone! he cried. 'But it was all arranged with her yesterday! Mrs. Leyburn shrugged her shoulders. She too was evidently much put out. 'So I told her. But you know, Mr.

At the same time, though Elsmere was, in truth, more interested in her friends than in her, he could not possibly be insensible to the consideration shown for him in her drawing-room. Madame de Netteville allowed herself plenty of jests with her intimates as to the young reformer's social simplicity, his dreams, his optimisms.

Once inside, he carried kitty to the closet where the birds at present hung, but his experiment was unsatisfactory, for she dug into his cheek with a fury which rendered it necessary to abandon the attempt. When the outraged animal had fled down the street, Elsmere looked about for fresh interests.