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Updated: May 31, 2025
Langhope's convenience they might still deceive the gods. Once pledged to her new task, Justine, as usual, espoused it with ardour. It was pleasant, even among greater joys, to see her husband again frankly welcomed by Mr. Langhope; to see Cicely bloom into happiness at their coming; and to overhear Mr.
It takes but the throb of a nerve to carry such a complex impression from the eye to the mind, but the object of the throb had perhaps felt the electric flash of its passage, for her colour rose while Amherst spoke. "Ah, here is my father now," she said with a vague accent of relief, as Mr. Langhope's stick was heard tapping its way across the hall. When he entered, accompanied by Mrs.
Langhope's handsome face darkened. "Open Bessy's eyes to Amherst? Damn him!" he said quietly. Mrs. Ansell let the imprecation pass. "When was he last here?" she asked. "Five or six weeks ago for one night. His only visit since she came back from the Adirondacks." "What do you think his motive is? He must know what he risks in losing his hold on Bessy." "His motive?
Langhope's bringing his grand-daughter at the promised time; but Justine could hear a note of challenge in his voice, as though he felt that Mr. Langhope's sincerity had not yet been put to the test. As the time drew nearer it became more difficult for her to decide just how she should take the step she had determined on.
"There is no need for such words between us," he said impatiently; "and Mr. Langhope's attitude," he added, with an effort at a lighter tone, "has made it unnecessary, thank heaven, that we should ever revert to the subject again." He turned to his desk as he spoke, and plunged into perusal of the letters that had accumulated in his absence.
Langhope's privacy was invaded by a stream of visiting teachers, who were always wanting to consult him about Cicely's lessons, and lay before him their tiresome complaints and perplexities. Poor Mr. Langhope found himself in the position of the mourner who, in the first fervour of bereavement, has undertaken the construction of an imposing monument without having counted the cost.
He dragged heavily through his solitary evening, and awaited with dread and yet impatience a message announcing his wife's return. It would have been easier far easier when she left Mr. Langhope's door, to go straight out into the darkness and let it close in on her for good.
Langhope's look of relief showed the timeliness of her suggestion. Amherst was too preoccupied to wonder how his mother would take this visit; but he welcomed Mr. Langhope's departure, hoping that the withdrawal of his ironic smile would leave his daughter open to gentler influences. Mr.
AT half-past six that afternoon, just as Amherst, on his return from the mills, put the key into his door at Hanaford, Mrs. Ansell, in New York, was being shown into Mr. Langhope's library. As she entered, her friend rose from his chair by the fire, and turned on her a face so disordered by emotion that she stopped short with an exclamation of alarm. "Henry what has happened?
Langhope's hesitation showed a tinge of embarrassment. "I'm not sure some one has always just arrived." "Well, the Fenton Carburys, then!" Mrs. Ansell left it to her tone to annotate the announcement. Mr. Langhope raised his eyebrows slightly. "Are they likely to be an exceptionally costly pleasure?"
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