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The matter of the discussion it arose from the subject of village charities became of no importance, but the sense of irritation remained with her, and she was unaccountably cross with Christopher. Geoffry's point of view she could ignore, but Christopher's worried her.
Beloiseau, I'm the mother of Geoffry Chester. You know him, I believe?" "Oh, is that possible? He is my esteem' frien', madame. Will you" he began to dust a lone chair. "No, thank you; I came to find Geoffry's quarters. I left the hotel with my memorandum, but must have dropped it. I remember only Bienville Street." "He's not there any mo'. Sinze only two day' he's move'. Mrs.
None of his sons' marriages were to boast of, but Geoffry's, as it turned out, was the least unfortunate of any Geoffry's marriage with Elizabeth Bulmer, that is. If he had not approved of that lady, he had tolerated her pity that he had not tolerated her a little more! The Forest climate had not suited the robust young Woldshire folk.
"By heavens, are you going to make out she can help it, and that that makes it better?" Christopher faced him with amazed indignation. Geoffry's whole attitude and reception of his story seemed to him incredibly one-sided. "Of course it's better. A hundred times better. Do you mean you'd rather have her the victim of a real madness she could not control? Think what you are saying, man."
Alexandre and me, and three Chapdelaine', we are all prettie anxiouz for that letter." "Yes, I know about it, and there is one, from a New York publishing-house, on Geoffry's desk." "Well, madame, Marais Street, here's the place. Ah! and street-car or jitney passing thiz corner will take you ag-ain at yo' hotel." Satisfied with her son's quarters, Mrs.
Geoffry, in his gratitude for her decisive action, which lifted the onus of a broken engagement from his shoulders, found a substantial ground for his belief that they had sacrificed themselves on the altar of duty. Mrs. Leverson sighed profoundly with unconscious satisfaction over the highly heroic behaviour of them both and yielded easily to Geoffry's desire to travel.
His Xantippe left no child. Mr. Fairfax urged the obligations of ancient blood, old estate, and a second marriage; but Laurence had suffered conjugal felicity enough, and would no more of it. It was now that the squire first bethought himself seriously of his son Geoffry's daughter.
He cast his thoughts back rapidly. He knew he could not have borne that they two should witness one of her wild fits of repentance and misery. It would have been unbearably unfit. He could not have left her to Geoffry, and yet it had been Geoffry's right. He walked on by her side wondering where he had blundered. "You would not have gone, Christopher, no matter who said so."
Fairfax was not impervious to regret, but no regret would bring them to life again. The next morning, while the dew was on the grass, he made his way into the churchyard, and sought about for Geoffry's grave. He discovered it in a corner, marked by a plain headstone and shaded by an elder bush.
Geoffry's first sensation then, as he caught sight of the two figures, was one of gratification to his artistic sense; and even when May extended her hand, and Nanni, after the custom of the gondolier, raised it to his lips, it did not at once strike the young man as other than natural and fitting.
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