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Updated: May 11, 2025
Fairthorn, and I shall place you under his care. You may like to look over the old house, and make yourself" Darrell paused "at home," jerked out Mr. Fairthorn, filling up the hiatus. Darrell turned his eye towards the speaker, who evidently became much frightened, and, after looking in vain for a corner, sidled away to the window and poked himself behind the curtain. "Mr.
If my fortune were to vanish, Fairthorn would never disappear; and that's more than I would say if I were a King, and Fairthorn a Bishop!"
A shrill voice was heard, exclaiming, "I will I will! don't hold me!" the door burst open, and Sally Fairthorn whirled into the room, with the skirt of her gown torn loose, on one side, from the body. Behind her followed Miss Lavender, in a state of mingled amusement and anger.
At the old farm-house there was great stir of preparation. Sally, with her gown pinned up, dodged in and out of kitchen and sitting-room, catching herself on every door-handle, while Mother Fairthorn, beaming with quiet content, stood by the fire, and inspected the great kettles which were to contain the materials for the midnight supper.
He thought, poor man, that he should be enabled to extract from Sophy some revelations of her early life, which would elucidate, not in favour of her asserted claims, the mystery that hung upon her parentage. But had Dick Fairthorn been the astutest of diplomatists, in this hope he would have been equally disappointed. Sophy had nothing to communicate.
Sally Fairthorn met Gilbert in her usual impetuous way. She was glad to see him, but she could not help saying: "Well, have you got your tongue yet, Gilbert? Why, you're growing to be as queer as Dick's hat-band! I don't know any more where to find you, or how to place you; whatever is the matter?"
"By Babel's streams we Sat and Wept When Zion we thought on; For Grief thereof, we Hang our Harp The Willow Tree upon." Across the bottom of the sampler was embroidered the inscription: "Done by Sarah Ann Fairthorn, May, 1792, in the 16th year of her age."
Darrell winced and answered gently, "I did not know you were in the room. Poor Fairthorn; thank you!" "Thank me! what for?" "For a kind thought. So, then, you like the boy?" "Mayn't I like him?" asked Fairthorn, looking rather frightened; "surely you do!" "Yes, I like him much; I am trying my best to love him.
To this class belonged Gilbert and his mother, the Fairthorns, and even the Bartons. Farmer Fairthorn had a birthright, it is true, until his marriage, which having been a stolen match, and not performed according to "Friends' ceremony," occasioned his excommunication.
Guy Darrell, in this young lady you will welcome the grandchild of Sidney Branthwaite, our old Eton school friend, a gentleman of as good blood as any in the land!" "None better," cried Fairthorn, who had sidled himself into the group; "there's a note on the Branthwaite genealogy, sir, in your father's great work upon 'Monumental Brasses." "Permit me to conclude, Mr.
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