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Updated: May 24, 2025
"If my tea stands too long," repeated the wine-merchant mechanically, his mind getting farther and farther away from his breakfast, and his eyes fixing themselves more and more inquiringly on his housekeeper's face. "If my tea Dear, dear me, Mrs. Goldstraw! what is the manner and tone of voice that you remind me of? It strikes me even more strongly to-day, than it did when I saw you yesterday.
I have taken the place, I have innocently got the inheritance of another man. He must be found! How do I know he is not at this moment in misery, without bread to eat? He must be found! My only hope of bearing up against the shock that has fallen on me, is the hope of doing something which she would have approved. You must know more, Mrs. Goldstraw, than you have told me yet.
Goldstraw kept silence well, and remembering that her face in repose decidedly invited trustfulness, he was as glad as men usually are to believe what they desire to believe.
Goldstraw," said Wilding, taking the card beside him, "of a manner and tone of voice that I was once acquainted with. Not of an individual I feel sure of that, though I cannot recall what it is I have in my mind but of a general bearing. I ought to add, it was a kind and pleasant one." She smiled, as she rejoined: "At least, I am very glad of that, sir."
We shall get on well I hope we shall get on well together in spite of what has happened. It isn't your fault; I know it isn't your fault. There! there! shake hands; and and do the best you can in the house I can't talk about it now." The door opened as Mrs. Goldstraw advanced towards it; and Mr. Jarvis appeared. "Send for Mr. Bintrey," said the wine-merchant. "Say I want to see him directly."
"Lying here, perhaps you will not mind my calling you Sally, Mrs. Goldstraw?" said the poor wine-merchant. "It sounds more natural to me, sir, than any other name, and I like it better." "Thank you, Sally. I think, Sally, I must of late have been subject to fits. Is that so, Sally? Don't mind telling me now." "It has happened, sir." "Ah! That is the explanation!" he quietly remarked. "Mr.
Goldstraw in the dining- room, in which he had seen her on the previous day; and, the usual preliminary civilities having passed on either side, the two sat down to take counsel together on the affairs of the house. "About the meals, sir?" said Mrs. Goldstraw. "Have I a large, or a small, number to provide for?" "If I can carry out a certain old-fashioned plan of mine," replied Mr.
"Yes," said the wine-merchant, thoughtfully repeating his last phrase, with a momentary glance at his future housekeeper, "it was a kind and pleasant one. But that is the most I can make of it. Memory is sometimes like a half-forgotten dream. I don't know how it may appear to you, Mrs. Goldstraw, but so it appears to me." Probably it appeared to Mrs.
Nothing in the noiseless self-possession of her manner could have been changed to her advantage. Nothing could have been in better unison with both, than her voice when she answered the question: "What name shall I have the pleasure of noting down?" with the words, "My name is Sarah Goldstraw. Mrs. Goldstraw. My husband has been dead many years, and we had no family."
"Do you mean to say that you would have concealed this from me if you could?" he exclaimed. "I hope I should always tell the truth, sir, if I was asked," said Mrs. Goldstraw. "And I know it is better for me that I should not have a secret of this sort weighing on my mind. But is it better for you? What use can it serve now ?" "What use? Why, good Lord! if your story is true "
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