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Updated: June 18, 2025
It was strange that, with such an income, he permitted the favourite residence of his mother and sister to be sold but so it was. The generous feelings of his early childhood had been completely blunted, and to himself alone he intended to appropriate that fortune, when a portion would yet have removed many of Mrs. Greville's anxious fears for the future.
"We couldn't," said Sam; "there's no train." "Oh, but they always put on a special train whenever anyone is ill." "Then there would be plenty!" "At least they did when Mr. Greville's mother was ill, so they will now; and then you may ride upon the engine, for there won't be any carriages, you know. I say, Sam, if you go to church, and the telegraph comes, I shall set off."
Greville's mansion at first alone, and Percy controlled his own feelings. To calm the strong emotion, the deep anxiety, that now he was indeed in the same city as his Mary, almost overpowered Herbert; the struggle for composure, for resignation to whatever might be the will of his God, was too powerful for his exhausted strength.
Mr. Hamilton had returned from France, unsuccessful, however, in his wish to obtain the restitution of Greville's papers. Dupont had concealed his measures so artfully, and with such efficacy, that no traces were discovered regarding him, and Mr.
"Given at the Court of Kensington this 20th day of June, 1837. God Save the Queen." "Then," resuming Mr. Greville's narrative, "the doors were thrown open, and the Queen entered, accompanied by her two uncles, who advanced to meet her.
She compared her lot with Mrs. Greville's, and thought how much greater was her trial; and yet she, too, was a mother, and though so many other gifts were vouchsafed her, Herbert was as dear to her as Mary had been to Mrs. Greville.
But the difference of age made no difference to the friendship which grew up between them in Oxford, a friendship only less enduring and close than that between Clough and Matthew Arnold, which has been "eternized," to use a word of Fulke Greville's, by the noble dirge of "Thyrsis."
They borrowed a book on Egypt from Mr. Greville's library, and copied little pictures of the Sphinx, scarabs, Ra, the Sun god, and other appropriate bits, painting them in bold colors on their pieces of parchment, and feeling as if they had gone back a few thousand years in history, and were dwellers in Memphis or some other great city on the banks of the Nile.
On the other hand, many of the papers criticised the work in a hostile and violent manner. It was, they said, a breach of official confidence for a man in Greville's position to keep a journal at all. Greville whose name it was fatally easy to rhyme to Devil was described as a man delighting in listening at keyholes, and habitually misrepresenting the only half-heard secrets.
It is impossible that any relation of those facts can be made so as to be agreeable to that family; and no omissions could be made that would render the narration palatable to them. Besides, these are Charles Greville's opinions, and not yours; and you are not answerable for them.
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