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Updated: May 26, 2025
Therewith the ironmaster takes his departure, Sir Leicester ringing the bell and my Lady rising as he leaves the room. When my Lady goes to her boudoir, she sits down thoughtfully by the fire, and inattentive to the Ghost's Walk, looks at Rosa, writing in an inner room. Presently my Lady calls her. "Come to me, child. Tell me the truth. Are you in love?" "Oh! My Lady!"
There is a curious personal honour and sincerity breathing through all his impersonations that make us feel, so to say, that not only would we take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds, but that between him and his art is such an austere compact that he would be incapable of humiliating it by any mere advertising devices; and beyond that, those who have seen him play this time in New York must have been aware that in the very texture of all his performances was woven like a sigh the word "farewell."
He remembered that it was Christmas Eve, a time when some family festivity, of which fancy-dress was a feature, might well be in progress; she leapt to the dramatic conclusion that this was a thief masquerading in ghost's attire, the better to make his escape in the event of discovery. Cowardly ruffian! He should not find it so easy as he expected!
The narrative now develops new features; the token given on the ghost's third coming obviously concerns Buckingham's mother, the Countess, the "one person more" who knew the secret communicated. The ghost produces no knife from under his gown; no warning of Buckingham's death by violence is mentioned.
Norris's Poem on Friendship, a work, which I doubt, though honored with a ghost's approbation, we may now seek for as vainly as Correlli tormented his memory to recover the sonata which the devil played to him in a dream.
Paul was perfectly well aware that he had repeated those words before, and he was doing so for the very good reason that he did not know what else to say; but the ghost's command confused him, and he stood silent and motionless, resolved to remain quiet rather than make a mistake.
She was very much distressed by her sister's manner of going on, and what followed would not have taken place had she gone to the ghost's hut and joined in the 'conspiracy; but the other girls were now fairly mad with excitement, and Margaret Drummond, a Scots girl, was so much in love with Hollyhock that she would have done anything on earth for her. 'You are splendid, lassie! she cried.
Other poets showed me the objects of the outer world, this one shows me my own mind: my own thoughts, my own being he presents before me, and therefore I shall always take the same interest in the Ghost's Letters." "They are true food for the mind," said Otto; "they are as words in season; there must be movement in the lake, otherwise it will become a bog."
All around the horizon are pale, fleecy clouds, never changing, never moving, like a silver setting for the flawless turquoise sky. I do not forget one night, when I should have been asleep, of lying on the forecastle-head and gazing down at the spectral ripple of foam thrust aside by the Ghost's forefoot.
She wants to be classical and severe, and her last cry to Pygmalion, instead of being the utterance of a tortured soul, is 'monotonous and hollow as a ghost's. It is with no desire to be discourteous that we venture any comparison between the Galatea of Miss Anderson and of Mrs. Kendal. The comparison should only be made on the point of reading. Yet surely there can be no doubt that Mrs.
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