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Updated: June 15, 2025
Middleton's heart as she passed him. To Archie, just then, the whole universe was his agony, and there was no room for more. Ten minutes later came Dr. Grey's brougham. The doctor, as he jumped out, told his man to wait. He went from the gate to the house more hurriedly than Mrs.
Bounding up the steps, Grey dashed into the hall, and shaking the snow from his coat and cap, seized his aunt around the waist, and after two or three hearty kisses, commenced waltzing around the parlor with her, talking incessantly, and telling her how delighted he was to be at Grey's Park again.
The little Rowlands were walking with their mother when the chaise came up the street; but being particularly desired not to look at it, they were not much benefited by the event. Their grandmamma, Mrs Enderby, was not at the moment under the same restriction; and her high cap might be seen above the green blind of her parlour as the chaise turned into Mr Grey's gate.
Alice was looking full upon the river, and her thoughts had strayed away to her future home among John Grey's flower-beds and shrubs; but the river, though it sang to her pleasantly, seemed to sing a song of other things than such a home as that, a song full of mystery, as are all river songs when one tries to understand their words. "When are you to be married, Alice?" said George at last.
Mellord, was of course hopelessly ruined; but elsewhere the ink had not penetrated very far; a number of new mounts would soon put that right. Then he thought he would go to Mr. But as he was sitting in Mrs. Grey's little parlor, at tea, Nina fancied he looked a little preoccupied and was not talking as blithely as usual, and she made bold to ask him if anything were the matter.
He had just heard from little George Rowland, that Mrs Rowland had said at home, that the young ladies at Mr Grey's, who had been made so much fuss about, were not young ladies, after all: she had seen the face of one, as they passed her in the chaise, and she was sure the person could not be less than fifty. "She saw Morris, no doubt," said Hester, amidst the general laugh.
Grey's wife ought to hold in his and her own house. Still she said nothing. She trusted to time and patience. And she had such a dread of domestic war of a family divided against itself.
These dainty ones are themselves contemptuously called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key to the manners and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when I tell you that cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel Fig climbs over the fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate.
Glancing in for an instant, Miss Grey put her finger upon her lip, saying to him: "She is asleep; sit quietly down till she wakens." There was a buzzing in Grey's ears and a blur before his eyes, so that he did not at once see distinctly the face which lay upon the pillow resting on one hand, with the bright hair clinging about the neck and brow.
"Then what was the use of praying for Mrs Grey's son, since it was God's will that he should die? What is the use of anybody's praying about anything?" Effie hesitated. There was something in Christie's manner indicating that it was not alone the mere petulance of the moment that dictated the question. "I am not wise about these things, Christie," she said.
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