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Updated: May 24, 2025
The escritoir was closed, but Agnes saw with joy that the key still remained in its lock, and that Mrs. Harrington had left her watch upon a marble console close by.
After she had been reading, perhaps an hour, she dipped a pen into the standish on her escritoir, and began to write slowly, as if weighing every word as it dropped from her pen. Then she closed the book, locked it carefully, and securing it in the escritoir again, walked slowly toward her bed-chamber, which opened from the boudoir, evidently worn out and ready to drop down with exhaustion.
Pray, where did you get them?" "I stole them from our father's escritoir." "Amiable son! But I weary myself no more with your tissue of falsehoods. To-morrow we shall cast anchor. I will leave the service, and devote the rest of my life to the discovery of origin.
The young lady, having rummaged her pockets in vain, expressed some surprise at the loss of her purse; upon which her attendant gave indications of extreme amazement and concern. She said, it could not possibly be lost; entreated her to search her escritoir, while she herself ran about the room, prying into every corner, with all the symptoms of fear and distraction.
I chose a volume of engravings, and ensconced myself in a favourite nook in which I had often passed a half-hour similarly. This was a deep recess by the fireplace, fenced on the other side by a great old escritoir. Into this I drew a stool, and, with candle and book, I placed myself snugly in the narrow chamber.
I will let Lesley, who is an honest fellow for a landsman, know that he attends for the benefit of either party. Is there anything I can do for you in case of an accident?" "I have but little occasion to trouble you," said Lovel. "This small billet contains the key of my escritoir, and my very brief secret. "I understand," said the sailor.
Germain tore the answer into pieces in a passion. "Not the person to whom they relate!" he cried, "Who am I then, and what shelter would this precious epistle give me against the son?" Stepping to his escritoir he wrote back the following fiery note: "To Monsieur de Léry, Chevalier of St. Louis, at Quebec.
This fact determined me not to use them. I restored them to the escritoir; put the dagger between the folds of my vest, and prepared to leave the house. At this moment a heavy knocking was heard at the gate I resumed my seat in the piazza until the servant should report the nature of the interruption. He was followed in by my friend Kingsley.
Seating herself at the escritoir, she began to search among the trinkets attached to her chatelaine for a small key, which she inserted in a little heart beset with rubies, which locked the golden clasps of the book. All this time Agnes Barker was watching each movement of her benefactress with the eyes of a serpent. She saw the tiny heart fly open, and the manuscript pages of the book exposed.
"Ralph, much mischief was done in that absence my boy, my lost William: he, whom you know as Joshua Daunton, broke into his mother's house, rifled my escritoir, and carried off some of my most important documents that unread letter among the number." "But how know you its contents?" said I, breathless with agitation. "By the tenor of these succeeding ones from Sir Reginald and his priest."
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