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And a day or two later she did finally consent to accompany him. His proposal had come at an opportune moment, when she was heartsore, and restless, and anxious to escape from the painful memories and associations of the past month.
It was the face of a young man, a face sallow and angular, but now a little flushed with the day's sun and the work of climbing. It was a face that I had first seen at Fosse Manor. I felt suddenly sick and heartsore. I don't know why, but I had never really associated the intellectuals of Biggleswick with a business like this. None of them but Ivery, and he was different.
While the world envied his prosperity and happiness, here he sat, more heartsore and wearied of life than the worst criminal that ever stood before the inquisition. What!
"No; but he is worse," said another; "he would see that which none of us have seen, and make himself a wonder." "Come, let us forswear his company," said all. So the hunter walked alone. One night, as he wandered in the shade, very heartsore and weeping, an old man stood before him, grander and taller than the sons of men. "Who are you?" asked the hunter.
In accents hushed the throng reply, 'Jesus of Nazareth passeth by!" John had but a vague idea of religion, yet something in the singing affected him; and, weary and footsore and heartsore as he was, he sank into a seat and listened with absorbed attention: "Jesus!
And Sonny, heartsore and bewildered, would shrink back hopelessly to his kennel. When this, or something much like it, had happened several times, even Ann, for all her finer perceptions, began to feel that Sonny might be a bit nicer to the Kid, and, as a consequence, to stint her kindness.
"I'll make her want me 'til she's heartsore with wanting!" Uncle Matthew died three days later. He slipped out of life without ostentation or murmur. "The MacDermotts are not afeard to die," he had said to John at the beginning of his illness, and in that spirit he had died. In the morning, he had asked Mrs. MacDermott to look for Don Quixote in the attic and bring it to him, and she had done so.
And Bruce, lonely and heartsore, yet throwing himself into his labors with all the zest of the best thoroughbred type, was one of this group. His early teachings now stood him in good stead. What once had been a jolly game, for his own amusement and that of the Mistress and the Master, was now his life-work.
Heartsore as the gentle ladies had been made by the preceding stories, this last of Dioneo provoked them to such merriment, more especially the passage about the Stadic and the hook, that they lacked not relief of the piteous mood engendered by the others.
The unshed tears in his mild blue eyes struggled for freedom now, and one or two flowed slowly down his wrinkled cheek. Marguerite, though heartsore and full of agonizing sorrow herself, felt her whole noble soul go out to this kind old man, so pathetic, so high and simple-minded in his grief. She said nothing, however, and the Abbe continued after a few seconds' silence.
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