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Updated: May 28, 2025
I won't quote that about "praise from Sir Hubert," because it's so very trite, but I feel it. But do you really like Gwendoline better than my Magdalen Harwood, in "Strawberries and Cream." Here Mark got into deep water once more; but he was no mean conversational swimmer, and reached dry land without any unseemly floundering.
It was Gwendoline Gildersleeve. "Good morning!" he said briskly, coming up before Gwendoline had time to perceive him and fly. "This is really most fortunate. I've run down from town today on purpose to see you, but hardly hoped I should have the good fortune to get a tete-a-tete with you at least so easily. I'm so glad I'm in time. Now, don't look so cross.
And I've discovered some circumstances about Granville Kelmscott that may alter the case as regards your opinion of that rich young man, whose estate weighed down a poor fellow like me in what you've graciously pleased to call your affections." Gwendoline rose, and looked down at the man contemptuously. "Mr.
When you've quite got over that dream, you'll be glad to return to the man you threw overboard for the rich squire's son. No circumstances have ever altered him. He loved you from the first, and he will always love you," Gwendoline looked him back in the face again, as pale as death. "Mr. Nevitt," she said scornfully, unmoved by his tale, "I do not love you, and I will never love you.
It was in the dell that Granville sometimes ran up against Gwendoline. He sat down on the broken ledge of ironstone that overhung the little brook. It was eleven o'clock gone. By eleven o'clock, three mornings in the week, chance pure chance the patron god of lovers, brought Gwendoline into the dell to meet him.
"I'll try a herring with bread and butter and vinegar to supper. Very much obliged. It was not my blame that we quarreled. Others had his eye on the agency." "Tish, I did not want the old Mermaid. You keep her. I got the sole agency for the Gwendoline." "How is Gwendolines going?" "More than I can do to keep ztok of her.
"Yes," Gwendoline went on slowly, trying to recall his very words. "To the skirts of Dartmoor, I think he said; to a place in the wilds by the name of Mambury." "Mambury!" The terror and horror that frail and faded woman threw into the one word fairly startled Gwendoline. She opened her eyes and stared aghast at her mother. And well she might, for the effect was electrical. Mrs.
Cyril had all the remaining notes, still unchanged, in his possession; and the prosecution, knowing nothing of the forgery, or its sequel, had no clue at all as to where they came from. But as for Sir Gilbert, he listened still with ever-deepening horror. His mind swayed to and fro between hope and remorse. They were making the man guilty, and Gwendoline would be saved!
He opened the door and went up to his own room again. His mind was resolved. He wouldn't even say good-bye to Gwendoline Gildersleeve. He'd pack a few belongings in a portmanteau in haste, and go forth upon the world to seek his fortune in the South African diamond fields. But Colonel Kelmscott sat still in the library, bowed down in his chair, with his head between his hands, in abject misery.
The punishment of his sin was too heavy for him to bear. How could he ever tell Emily now that Granville was gone? A horrible numbness oppressed his brain. Oh, mercy! mercy! his head was flooded. At the Gildersleeves', too, the house that day was alive with excitement. Gwendoline had thrown herself into a fever of alarm as soon as she had posted her letter to Granville Kelmscott.
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