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Updated: May 4, 2025
'I spoke to him of Evan's position. God forgive me! I said that was the cause of my looks being sad. 'You could have thought of nothing better, interposed the Countess. 'Yes? 'He said, if he might clear them he should be happy! 'In exquisite language, Carry, of course. 'No; just as others talk.
MacIan looked at the grass frowningly for a few seconds, and then said in a new, small and childish voice: "I am awfully stupid, Mr. Turnbull; you must be patient with me." Turnbull caught Evan's elbow again with quite another gesture. "Come," he cried, with the harsh voice of one who hides emotion, "come and let us be tactful in chorus."
As it did not suit her to think so, she at once encouraged an imaginary conversation, in which she took the argument that it was quite impossible Evan could have been so mad, and others instanced his youth, his wrongheaded perversity, his ungenerous disregard for his devoted sister, and his known weakness: she replying, that undoubtedly they were right so far: but that he could not have said he himself was that horrible thing, because he was nothing of the sort: which faith in Evan's stedfast adherence to facts, ultimately silenced the phantom opposition, and gained the day.
She heard Evan's name, and by that and the likeness I saw she knew at once, and I saw a truce in her eyes. She gave me a tacit assurance of it she was engaged to dine here yesterday, and put it off probably to grant us time for composure. If she comes I do not fear her. Besides, has she not reasons? Providence may have designed her for a staunch ally I will not say, confederate.
This defense by Evan's demi-Brigade still continues, although half an hour, or more, has elapsed. Burnside has not yet been able to dislodge the Enemy from the position. Emboldened to temerity by this fact, Major Wheat's Louisiana battalion advances through the woods in front, upon Burnside, but is hurled back by a galling fire, which throws it into disorder and flight.
Turnbull stood staring at the sea; but his shoulders showed that he heard, and after one minute he turned his head. But the girl had only brushed Evan's hand with hers and had fled up the dark alley by the lodge gate. Evan stood rooted upon the road, literally like some heavy statue hewn there in the age of the Druids. It seemed impossible that he should ever move.
Andrew Cogglesby, Mrs. Strike, and Evan's mother. She saw by his face the offence she had committed, and acted on by one of her impulses, said: 'Mama, I think if I were to speak to Mr. Harrington Ere her mother could make light of the suggestion, Old Tom had jumped up, and bowed out his arm. 'Allow me to conduct ye to the drawing room, upstairs, young lady. He'll follow, safe enough!
Tom! and the speaker was reproved with, 'There you go! at it again! and out and up they hustled. The chairman said quietly to Evan, as they were ascending the stairs: 'We don't have names to-night; may as well drop titles. Which presented no peculiar meaning to Evan's mind, and he smiled the usual smile.
Doubleday, whose propensities were waggish, suggested 'shaving, but half ashamed of it, since the joke missed, fell to as if he were soaping his face, and had some trouble to contract his jaw. The delay in Evan's attendance on the guests of the house was caused by the fact that Mrs.
Holl, finding to her great inward satisfaction that the paternal sanction and approval had been given to Evan's adventure, felt no longer constrained to keep up a semblance of disapproval, but embraced him with great heartiness, and then wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. Then came the great point of the disposal of Evan's fortune.
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