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Updated: June 25, 2025
I shall cultivate Iredale; he's the only man I care about round here." Prudence had nearly completed her operations and was salting the cream in the pail. "Say, sis, did it ever strike you that Iredale's dead sweet on you?" Hervey went on coarsely. The girl suddenly turned and looked her brother squarely in the face. Her brow was again flushed, but now with anger.
She dared not trust herself to answer Lew but glanced at the other men to see if they were not smiling at their foreman's absurd idea; they were as grave as images. "The chestnut wanted to get back at us for killing his herd off," went on Hervey. "So he sneaks up to the ranch and opens the corral gate and takes the mares out.
Then she retired to her boudoir, saying, with an air of levity, to Belinda as she left the room, "Good bye, my dear Belinda; I leave you to ruminate sweet and bitter thoughts; to think of the last speech and confession of Lady Delacour, or what will interest you much more, the first speech and confession of Clarence Hervey."
She continued to be a maid of honour after this event, which remained a profound secret. Her husband was a lieutenant in the navy, and on his return from his long absences the couple quarrelled violently. It was not, however, until sixteen years later that Mrs. Hervey began a connection with the Duke of Kingston, which ended in a form of marriage.
"Pray, Lady Delacour," interrupted Clarence Hervey, "when do you go to Harrowgate?" "What a sudden transition!" said Lady Delacour. "What association of ideas could just at that instant take you to Harrowgate? When do I go to Harrowgate? Immediately after the birthday, I believe we shall I advise you to be of the party."
If I'm not pleased by what pleases other people in the West, I'd better leave the ranch to Lew Hervey and go back East." This was extraordinarily straight-from-the-shoulder thinking but all the way out to the scene of the festivities she pondered quietly. The episode of the mares was growing in importance.
"Yes," answered his companions; "but you didn't keep the path. You turned out of the way when you met that crowd of children yonder." "Now I," said Sir Philip, "dashed fairly through them kept the path, and won my bet." "But," said Hervey, "would you have had me run over that little child, who was stooping down just in my way?"
He watched the tall, drooping figure; then, as Hervey passed from view, Iredale turned back and flung himself into his chair, and his laugh sounded through the stillness of the room. But there was no mirth in that laugh. It was like the hysterical laugh of a man whose nerves are strained to breaking tension. He knew he had made a terrible mistake.
Such a system naturally tended to foster a false estimate of their duties on the part of those who were promoted. If the dispenser of Church preferment was too apt to regard merely political ends, the recipient or expectant was on his part too often ready to play the courtier or to become the mere political partisan. The writers referred to are, of course, Horace Walpole and John, Lord Hervey.
Oh, that's the tragic muse that you have chosen! You don't like the tragic better than the comic muse, do you?" Clarence Hervey made no answer, for he was at that instant recollecting how Belinda looked in the character of the tragic muse. "Has your ladyship ever happened to meet with the young lady who has spent this winter with Lady Delacour?" said Clarence to Lady Anne.
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