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Updated: September 6, 2025
That this assumption of Marguerite could not continue exclusive Mr. Raleigh found, when now and then joined in his walks by an airy figure flitting forward at his side: now and then; since Mrs. Laudersdale, without knowing how to prevent, had manifested an uneasiness at every such rencontre; and that it could not endure forever, another gentleman, without so much reason, congratulated himself, Mr.
Numberless as had been the times he had heard her speak of Rite, he never had suspected it, but had always at the name pictured some indifferent child, some baby-friend, or cousin by courtesy. "She is not like her mother," said he, coolly. "The very antipodes, all her father. Bless me! What is this? A real Laudersdale mess, custards and cheesecakes, and I detest them both."
Laudersdale rose and stretched out her arm, blindly. "The room is quite dark," she murmured; "the flowers must soil the air. Will you take me up-stairs?" Meanwhile, the unconscious object of their remark was turning over a pile of pages with one hand, while the other trifled along the gleaming keys. "Here it is," said he, drawing one from the others, and arranging it before him, a gondel-lied.
Laudersdale continued to walk, the path which she followed slowly descended to the pebbly rim, rich in open spaces, slopes of verdure just gilding in the declining sun, and coverts of cool, deep shadow. As she advanced leisurely, involved in pleasant fancy, something caught her eye, an unusual object, certainly, lying in a duskier recess; she drew nearer and hung a moment above it.
Somewhat later, he started from his seat, bade them all good-night, ran gayly down the bank, and shoved off from shore. And shortly after, Mrs. Laudersdale, looking from her window, saw, for an instant, a single fire-fly hovering over the dark lake. It was Mr.
It was an easy matter to regain the boat, to gather up his oars, and shoot away. Till they faded from sight, he saw her still beside him; and so they stood till the last echo of the dipping oars was muffled in distance and lost. Summer-nights are brief; breakfast was late on the next morning, or rather, Mrs. Laudersdale was late, as usual, to partake it.
Laudersdale sat in a low chair while Marguerite spoke, the nasturtium-vine dinging round her feet like a gorgeous snake, her hands lying listlessly in her lap, and her attitude that of some queen who has lost her crown, and is totally bewildered by this strange conduct on the part of circumstances.
Roger Raleigh presented himself with the breakfast-urn at the Bawn, tarried during sunshine, slipped home by starlight across the lake. Every day Mrs. Laudersdale was more brilliant, and flashed with a cheery merriment like harmless summer-lightnings. One night, as he pushed away from the bank, he said, "Au revoir for five hours." "For five hours?" said Mrs. Laudersdale. "For five hours."
And she seized the sheet which Mrs. Laudersdale had abandoned in sweeping from the room. "Is there a Mr. Laudersdale? Where is he?" asked Mr. Raleigh, as he leaned against the window. "Who?" asked his cousin, deep in a paragraph. "Mr. Laudersdale. Where is he?"
You've lost all the charades, Helen!" They came in, very gay, and seemed at once to arouse an airier and finer spirit among the humming clusters. Mr. Laudersdale did not join his wife, but sat on the piazza talking with Mr. McLean. People were looking at an herbal, others coquetting, others quiet. Some one mentioned music. Directly afterward, Mr. Raleigh rose and approached the piano.
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