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Updated: June 18, 2025
'No you are not a Moreland, and yet yes, there is a slight something in spite of your blue eyes and shaggy hair, and she patted Frances's head. 'And you, my boy; and she examined Eugene in his turn. 'His eyes are more like his grandmother's; nothing approaching your eyes, Jacinth, but still they are more of the colour. 'Eugene is very like mamma, said Frances eagerly. 'Everybody says so.
No one would have supposed that Lady Frances's temper had been ruffled, when she crept into the room where Constantia was watching her still sleeping father, and communicated the news of the anticipated death of Mother Hays, with her strange request, in so low a whisper, that happily he was not disturbed.
How very, very different she looked from the last time she had seen herself in a big mirror! She remembered it well out shopping with Aunt Frances in a department store, she had caught sight of a pale little girl, with a thin neck, and spindling legs half-hidden in the folds of Aunt Frances's skirts.
"Nor do I think she will try. But it is better in the long run that a woman respect a man, not loving him, than to love, despising him. Respect is likely to last; all sorts of love may die. But in any case it is Frances's intention to marry a fortune for her father's sake, even though she has to close her eyes in doing it." "I'll try to prevent that misfortune," he answered gloomily.
Did you play the harp, when you were a girl, Lady Myrtle? she went on rather eagerly. She was vaguely anxious to change the conversation, for she had still a half-nervous fear of Frances's indiscretion should the subject of their school-fellows be entered upon. 'The harp! repeated Lady Myrtle, half-absently; 'no, my love, I never was very musical.
And one day, admiring Frances's pretty muff, and congratulating her on the immunity from chilblains it must afford, poor little Margaret confided to her impulsively that she had never possessed such a treasure in her life. 'It is one of the things I have always wished for so, she said simply, 'though these woollen gloves that Camilla knits us are really very good.
The wind howling through the trees and around the corner of the tower made so great a din that at first we did not hear what Betty said to attract Frances's attention, but presently, the storm lulling for a moment, we listened intently and heard her say: "It is Betty Pickering."
Passmore slipped her hand affectionately through Frances's arm, and led her across the wide hall to another cool and small apartment where covers were already placed for two. "I am very glad of some lunch, Carrie," said Frances. "I left home early this morning. I am not ashamed to say that I am both tired and hungry."
It was much more stately and cold, and was furnished with very old dark mahogany; but it, too, had a lovely view over the peaceful homestead, and Frances's eyes brightened as she reflected how she and Ellen would transform the room with heaps of flowers, and make it gay and lovely for a much-honored guest.
'Yes, said Jacinth, 'Uncle Marmaduke is not our real not our full uncle. He is mamma's half-brother only. 'Oh, exclaimed the old lady, 'now I understand. 'But we love him just as much quite as much as if he was our whole uncle, said Frances, eagerly. 'He's perfectly oh, he's as nice as he can possibly be. Lady Myrtle smiled, and gave a little pat to Frances's shining tangle of curly hair.
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