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Updated: May 6, 2025
Good-by; and and pray believe that, in whatever you do with Levy, I have no hand in it." Towards the evening, Randal was riding fast on the road to Norwood. The arrival of Harley, and the conversation that had passed between that nobleman and Randal, made the latter anxious to ascertain how far Riccabocca was likely to learn L'Estrange's return to England, and to meet with him.
Leslie was too acute not to detect some motive hostile to his wooing, however plausibly veiled in the guise of zeal for his election, in this officiousness of Harley's. But Lord L'Estrange's manner to Violante was so little like that of a jealous lover, and he was so well aware of her engagement to Randal, that the latter abandoned the suspicion he had before conceived, that Harley was his rival.
The two continued to converse for a few moments, Dick seeming to forget the election itself, and ask questions of more interest to his heart, which Harley answered so, that Dick wrung L'Estrange's hand with great emotion, and muttered, "My poor mother! I understand now why she would never talk to me of Nora. When may I tell her the truth?"
The earliest illustrated paper is Mercurius Civicus, London's Intelligencer, in 1643. The first commercial newspaper was a venture of L'Estrange's in 1675, and was styled The City Mercury, or Advertisements concerning Trade. The first sporting paper was The Jockey's Intelligencer, or Weekly Advertisements of Horses and Second-hand Coaches to be Bought or Sold, in 1683.
"There is a hitch," said Dick, pithily, when Randal joined him in the oak copse at ten o'clock. "Life is full of hitches." RANDAL. "The art of life is to smooth them away. What hitch is this, my dear Avenel?" DICK. "Leonard has taken huff at certain expressions of Lord L'Estrange's at the nomination to-day, and talks of retiring from the contest."
Satisfied so far, and knowing that it was not in Riecabocca's habits to read the newspapers, by which he might otherwise have learned of L'Estrange's arrival in London, Randal then proceeded to inquire, with much seeming interest, into the health of Violante, hoped it did not suffer by confinement, etc.
So she took her stepmother's arm, and left Helen and Leonard to follow. "I wonder," she said musingly, "how Miss Digby became Lord L'Estrange's ward. I hope she is not very rich, nor very high-born." "La, my love," said the good Jemima, "that is not like you; you are not envious of her, poor girl?" "Envious! Dear mamma, what a word!
"There is a hitch," said Dick, pithily, when Randal joined him in the oak copse at ten o'clock. "Life is full of hitches." RANDAL. "The art of life is to smooth them away. What hitch is this, my dear Avenel?" DICK. "Leonard has taken huff at certain expressions of Lord L'Estrange's at the nomination to-day, and talks of retiring from the contest."
Violante, as the less shy, began the conversation. "You are his ward, Lord L'Estrange's?" "Yes." "Perhaps you came with him from Italy?" "No, not exactly; but I have been in Italy for some years." "Ah! you regret nay, I am foolish you return to your native land. But the skies in Italy are so blue, here it seems as if Nature wanted colours."
But perhaps the real difference in the heart of either girl was this, that Helen felt awe of Lady Lansmere, and Violante felt only love for Lord L'Estrange's mother. Violante, too, was one of those persons whom a reserved and formal person, like the countess, "can get on with," as the phrase goes. Not so poor little Helen, so shy herself, and so hard to coax into more than gentle monosyllables.
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