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Updated: May 27, 2025
"My young friend," interrupted Gawtrey, "whether the officer comes after us or not, our trade is ruined; that infernal Adele, with her fabulous grandmaman, has done for us. Goupille will blow the temple about our ears. No help for it eh, Birnie?" "None." "Go to bed, Philip: we'll call thee at daybreak, for we must make clear work before our neighbours open their shutters."
There was a sort of glorying in its deep tone; it was not the hollow hysteric of shame and despair it spoke a sanguine joyousness! William Gawtrey was a man whose animal constitution had led him to take animal pleasure in all things: he had enjoyed the poisons he had lived on. "But your father surely your father "
By his science in that game he made, at first, enough; at least, to defray their weekly expenses. The market fell off, and Gawtrey at length thought it prudent to extend their travels. "Ah!" said Mr. Gawtrey, "the world nowadays has grown so ostentatious that one cannot travel advantageously without a post-chariot and four horses."
After winding through gloomy and labyrinthine passages, which conducted to a different range of cellars from those entered by the unfortunate Favart, Gawtrey emerged at the foot of a flight of stairs, which, dark, narrow, and in many places broken, had been probably appropriated to servants of the house in its days of palmier glory. By these steps the pair regained their attic.
All present were armed with pistols and cutlasses except Morton, who suffered the weapons presented to him to lie unheeded on the table. "Courage, mes amis!" said Gawtrey, closing his book, "Courage!" a few months more, and we shall have made enough to retire upon, and enjoy ourselves for the rest of the days. Where is Birnie?" "Did he not tell you?" said one of the artisans, looking up.
"He had a good heart, in spite of all his sins. Poor William!" said Simon. Philip Morton heard, and his lip curled with a sad and a just disdain. If when, at the age of nineteen, William Gawtrey had quitted his father's roof, the father had then remembered that the son's heart was good, the son had been alive still, an honest and a happy man.
Gawtrey himself was generally a boon companion; their society, if not select, was merry.
"There is another!" cried the voice of one of the pursuers. "Fire!" "Poor Gawtrey!" muttered Philip. "I will fulfil your last wish;" and scarcely conscious of the bullet that whistled by him, he disappeared behind the parapet. "Gently moved By the soft wind of whispering silks." The reader may remember that while Monsieur Favart and Mr.
He passed for a young heir; Gawtrey for his tutor a doctor in divinity; Birnie for his valet. The task of maintenance fell on Gawtrey, who hit off his character to a hair; larded his grave jokes with university scraps of Latin; looked big and well-fed; wore knee-breeches and a shovel hat; and played whist with the skill of a veteran vicar.
Even the hints that Gawtrey unawares let fall of practices scarcely covered by the jovial phrase of "a great schoolboy's scrapes," either escaped the notice of Philip, or were charitably construed by him, in the compassion and the ignorance of a young, hasty, and grateful heart. "And she's a stranger Women beware women."
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