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Updated: June 10, 2025
They scarcely heard what was taking place; they looked at each other and smiled, and dreamed of love and death and an eternity of happiness. Now the door flew open; there was seen John Heywood's pale face: there were the maids of honor and the court officials. And all shrieked and all wailed: "The king is dying! He is struck with apoplexy! The king is at the point of death!" "The king calls you!
As he lay thus, his eyes fell on his cousin, old Thomas Heywood's little folio, lying on the window seat where he had left it two years ago, and straightway his fluttering birds alighting there, he thought how the book had been lying unopened all the months, while he had been passing through so many changes and commotions.
So saying, he shook her hand affectionately, pushed back his chair from the table, and resuming his cap and sword, left the friends together, promising to return as soon as the examination of the man should be concluded. Mr. Heywood's history may be told in a few words.
Sharp cords and flaccid folds in Wutzler's neck, Chantel's brown cheeks, the point of Heywood's resolute chin, shone wet and polished in the lamplight. All four men scowled pugnaciously, even the pale Nesbit, who was winning. Bad temper filled the air, as palpable as the heat and stink of the burning oil.
My hope is, that Corporal Nixon may see nothing of them, but that, on the contrary, if he has been apprised by the boy, as the fellow says he was to be, of their presence at Heywood's farm, he will make his way back without stopping, or at least, use every precaution to conceal himself, until he can drop down under cover of the darkness."
But was she? The question was quick and revolting. As quickly, a choice of sides was forced on him. He understood these people, recalled Heywood's saying, and with that, some story of a regiment which lay waiting in the open, and sang while the bullets picked and chose. All together: as now these half-dozen men were roaring cheerfully:
Dear Maria," he added, impetuously, taking Miss Heywood's hand in his own; "I know you have a noble a courageous heart, and can bear philosophically what I have to tell you." "I can bear much," was the reply, accompanied by a forced smile, that was contradicted by the quivering of the compressed lip; "and if I could not, I find I must begin to learn. Yet what can you have to tell me, my dear Mr.
It was a lovely day, and every thing seemed to smile upon the denizens of that region, from the early dawn until the setting of the sun. Officers and men were in their brightest uniforms the women and children in their holiday dresses. A splendid new Star Spangled Banner the work of Maria Heywood's hands floated in the dazzling rays of the sun, upon the southern bastion of the Fort.
"Hates this station, I fancy, much as we hate it." "Anything to concern us?" asked Gilly. "Intimated he could beat me at chess," laughed the young man, "and will bet me a jar of peach wine to a box of Manila cigars!" Chantel, from a derisive dumb-show near the window, had turned to waddle solemnly down the room. At sight of Heywood's face he stopped guiltily. "Chantel!"
In another moment the bear was within three yards of him, and, being taken by surprise, it immediately rose on its hind legs, which is the custom of bears when about to make or receive an attack. It stared for a moment at the horrified artist. Let not my reader think that Heywood's feelings were due to cowardice. The bravest of men have been panic-stricken when taken by surprise.
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