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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Good-night, Sir Willoughby." "You do not give it. You are in doubt? Still? What language must I use to convince you? And yet you know me. Who knows me but you? You have always known me. You are my home and my temple. Have you forgotten your verses of the day of my majority? 'The dawn-star has arisen In plenitude of light . . ." "Do not repeat them, pray!" cried Laetitia, with a gasp.
Vernon spoke more of her father, a scholar of high repute; happily, a scholar of an independent fortune. His maturer recollection of Miss Middleton grew poetic, or he described her in an image to suit a poetic end: "She gives you an idea of the Mountain Echo. Doctor Middleton has one of the grandest heads in England." "What is her Christian name?" said Laetitia.
She had rebuked herself for want of reserve in the presence of Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer, and she was guilty of a slightly excessive containment when she next addressed Laetitia. It was, like Laetitia's look at Dr.
When I looked at my watch after I was dressed, I found I had risen an hour earlier than usual. I groped my way downstairs to spend the hour before breakfast in the library. "No sooner was I seated with a book than I heard the voice of Laetitia scolding the butler, in no very gentle tones, for leaving the garden door open all night.
I am sure, if I had been buried, I should not have stood up seeing myself more vilely stained, soiled, disfigured oh! Help me to forget my conduct, Laetitia. He and I were unsuited and I remember I blamed myself then. You and he are not: and now I can perceive the pride that can be felt in him. The worst that can be said is that he schemes too much." "Is there any fresh scheme?" said Laetitia.
He grew, therefore, tenderly inclined to Laetitia once more, so far as to say within himself. "For conversation she would be a valuable wife". And this valuable wife he was presenting to his cousin. Apparently, considering the duration of the conference of his Clara and Vernon, his cousin required strong persuasion to accept the present. Neither Clara nor Vernon appeared at the mid-day table. Dr.
He met Laetitia and rescued her from Lady Busshe, murmuring, with the air of a lover who says, "my love! my sweet!" that she had done rightly to come and come at once. Her father had been thrown into the proper condition of clammy nervousness to create the impression. Laetitia's anxiety sat prettily on her long eyelashes as she bent over him in his chair. Hereupon Dr.
This Laetitia, embodiment of useless woman-hood, launching herself on that disgusting dependence on a man that soon would strand her among the derelicts; and that Laetitia's Harry, that might have been a man among men, coming to the apotheosis of his languishing to oh, wreathed, fatted calf with gilded horns!
Dr Middleton bowed to the litany, feeling that occasion called for humbleness from him. "Let us hope . . . !" he said, with unassumed penitence on behalf of his inscrutable daughter. The ladies resumed: " Vernon Whitford, not of his blood, is his brother!" " A thousand instances! Laetitia Dale remembers them better than we." " That any blow should strike him!"
Laetitia said, quietly: "Do you remember a walk we had one day together to the cottage?" Clara put up her hands with the motion of intending to stop her ears. "Before I go!" said she. "If I might know this was to be, which all desire, before I leave, I should not feel as I do now. I long to see you happy . . . him, yes, him too. Is it like asking you to pay my debt? Then, please!
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