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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Why, we are old-fashioned people," said the earl, rather embarrassed, "and the duchess is a woman of the world." "Let us hope," said the countess, mildly, "that her daughter is not." "I would not marry Lady Mary, if all the rest of the female sex were turned into apes," said Lord L'Estrange, with deliberate fervour. "Good heavens!" cried the earl, "what extraordinary language is this?
He did not continue, but said with a soft voice, "Do you think, Lord L'Estrange, that the contemplation of the mode of life pursued by others can reconcile a man to his own, if he had before thought it needed a reconciler?" Harley looked pleased, for the question was ironical; and if there was a thing in the world be abhorred, it was flattery. "Recollect your Lucretius, Mr.
Through that side I can reach at his heart, and prove him a fool like myself, where he esteemed and confided! Good." Thus soliloquizing, Lord L'Estrange gained the corner of Bruton Street, when he was again somewhat abruptly accosted. "My dear Lord L'Estrange, let me shake you by the hand; for Heaven knows when I may see you again, and you have suffered me to assist in one good action."
"It relates to Harley," said the countess, as if in apology; "and I would take your advice." "To Harley! Speak on, I beseech you." "My son has probably told you that he has educated and reared a young girl, with the intention to make her Lady L'Estrange, and hereafter Countess of Lansmere." "Harley has no secrets from me," said Egerton, mournfully.
Harley was no less so. But, as if by a sudden impulse, the soldier bent down his manly head and kissed the poet's brow; then he hastened to the gate, flung himself on his horse, and rode away. Lord L'Estrange did not proceed at once to Riecabocca's house. He was under the influence of a remembrance too deep and too strong to yield easily to the lukewarm claim of friendship.
The mass of resistance I had to face, for poetry's sake, was too enormous ... my country's motto was not "beauty is truth, truth beauty," but "blessed be that man who can make two hills of corn grow where one bank of violets grew before," ... and my pilgrimage, in that hour of vision, it disgusted me ... for I was making it not to some grand poet like L'Estrange, but to the home of the chief exponent of the "Honest-to-God, No-Nonsense-About-Me Hick School of Literature" ... and associated with him was the syndicate poet, William Struthers, called familiarly Uncle Bill, whose daily jingles run together as prose, were now making him a fortune.
A few days after we had visited these places, the French government ordered the seizure of the father Abbe, M. de L'Estrange; the confiscation of the property of the order, and the dismissal of the fathers from Switzerland.
"Well," said Levy, when the servant had withdrawn, "I must go to Egerton, and the instant I leave him I shall repair to the town. Perhaps I may pass the night there." So saying, he left Randal, and took his way to Audley's apartment. "Levy," said the statesman, abruptly, upon the entrance of the baron, "have you betrayed my secret my first marriage to Lord L'Estrange?"
So young, he must have some good in him, at least towards the man to whom he owes all." "Mr. Leslie," said L'Estrange, aloud, "you see the state of the poll. Our Committee believe that, if you continue to stand, Egerton must be beaten.
"Then I shall see you at Lansmere with Mr. Egerton, to assist in conducting his election. It is a sacrifice of your time worthy of your friendship; not a step farther, I beg. Baron, I have the honour to wish you good-evening." As the street door opened on Lord L'Estrange he again found himself face to face with Randal Leslie, whose hand was already lifted to the knocker. "Ha, Mr.
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