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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Jane!" he said. "Jeanette! Ah, I knew you would not fail us! Come straight up. You have arrived at the right moment." Jane looked up, and saw the doctor standing at the top of the stairs; something wrapped in an old coat, held carefully in his arms.
Glossop's last night, for some of our heads were rather dizzy, and I know that Mr. Romaine was out of gear. Now Belle! don't look so shocked and pained; I am sorry I told you." "Yes, I am very sorry. I had great hopes that Mr. Romaine had entirely given up drinking, and I was greatly pained when I saw him take a glass of wine at your solicitation. Jeanette I think Mr.
The doctor made a quick movement of interest. "Good heavens, Jane!" he said. "You have got hold of a truth there, and you have expressed it exactly as I have often wanted to express it without being able to find the right words. You have found them, Jeanette." She looked into his eager eyes and smiled sadly. "Have I, Boy?" she said. "Well, they have cost me dear.
Romaine, noticing a shadow on the bright and beautiful face of Jeanette, whose color had deepened by the plain remarks of her cousin Belle. "What is the matter?" "Oh nothing much, only my cousin Belle has been here this morning, and she has been putting me on the stool of repentance." "Why! what have you been doing that was naughty?"
Esperance trembled and her lips were icy cold. Albert had also seen the Duke, and was not deceived by his attitude. He had resolved to be calm, but a sullen, unbidden anger arose within him. When the housekeeper had installed the two girls in a tower of the Chateau, she left with them a little Breton peasant girl. "She will be devoted to your service," she said. "Her name is Jeanette.
"I have known many beautiful women, but since Jeanette, the beauty of women has not spoken to the soul of me. There is a beauty and it was hers that cries out, just as a still and glorious morning cries out, to the open windows of the soul. To me Jeanette was all sighing, sobbing beauty. Beauty did not rest upon her; it glowed through her.
Just before the expedition started from Rockland it was remarked in conversation that the boat crew under DeLong, in the ill-fated expedition of the "Jeanette", met their death by starvation in the delta of the Lena, with the exception of two, Naros and Nindermann, simply because their hunter, Naros, had only a rifle with ball cartridges, the shot guns having been left on board the "Jeanette;" that on the delta there was quite an abundance of small birds which it was almost impossible to kill by a bullet and even when killed by a lucky shot, little was left of the bird.
I went out and left her for the same country that is calling you now, Neal!" The boy looked up with agony on his face. The father paused a moment and then went on: "Your soul is your soul not John Barclay's, my boy not Jeanette Barclay's but yours yours, Neal, to blight or to cherish, as you will." A moment later he added, "Don't you see, son don't you see, Neal?"
If Jeanette Barclay, the only child of a man who, when she was in her twenties, was to be one of the hundred richest men in his country, so far as mere money goes, had been brought up with a governess and a maid, and with frills and furbelows and tucks and Heaven knows what of silly kinks and fluffy stuff in her childish head, instead of being brought up in the Sycamore Ridge public schools, with Grandmother Barclay to teach her the things that a little girl in the fourth reader should know, and with a whole community of honest, hard-working men and women about her to teach her what life really is, indeed she would have lived a different life, and when she was ready to marry But there we go looking in the back of the book again, and that will not do at all; and besides, a little blue-eyed girl in gingham aprons, sitting on a cool stone with moss on its north side, watching the bass play among the rocks in a clear, deep, sun-mottled pool under a great elm tree, has a right to the illusions of her childhood and should not be hustled into long dresses and love affairs until her time has come.
This state of things led the Austrian cabinet to turn to France, and seek the establishment of friendly relations with that court. Louis XV., the most miserable of debauchees, was nominally king. His mistress, Jeanette Poisson, who was as thoroughly polluted as her regal paramour, governed the monarch, and through him France. The king had ennobled her with the title of Marchioness of Pompadour.
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