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Updated: June 19, 2025
You'll learn there all about Ferdinand Lefroy as was our cousin, him as never got married up to the day he died of drink and was buried at San Francisco. They'll be very glad, I shouldn't wonder, to see that pretty little picter of yours, because they was always uncommon fond of cousin Ferdy at Kilbrack.
Robert Lefroy, since the first night at St. Louis, had become sullen rather than disobedient. He had not refused to go on when the moment came for starting, but had left it in doubt till the last moment whether he did or did not intend to prosecute his journey.
Peacocke did his best to go on with the work as though nothing had occurred to disturb the usual tenor of his way, and as far as the boys were aware he succeeded. He was just as clear about his Greek verbs, just as incisive about that passage of Cæsar, as he would have been had Colonel Lefroy remained on the other side of the water.
As this sea was probably not more than 200 miles distant from York, according to the reckoning of the native, who said it was "ten sleeps off," I judged that one month's provision would be sufficient. Henry Landor. Accordingly, Mr. Lefroy and myself started on the expedition, on horseback, taking with us a native boy, and a pack-horse loaded with flour, tea, and sugar, and other necessaries.
On the stone was cut simply the names, Ferdinand Lefroy of Kilbrack, Louisiana; and to these were added the dates of the days on which the man had been born and on which he died.
She merely bade God bless him, but said not a word to hinder or to encourage his going. He was gone just the three months which he had himself named, and then returned elate with his news. He had seen the younger brother, Robert Lefroy, and had learnt from him that the elder Ferdinand had certainly been killed.
After that the two men sat without a word between them for a quarter of an hour, when the Englishman got up to take his leave. "Our business is over now," he said, "and I will bid you good-bye." "I'll tell you what I'm athinking," said Lefroy. Mr. Peacocke stood with his hand ready for a final adieu, but he said nothing. "I've half a mind to go back with you to England.
The soft light shone alike upon gems in sculpture and art on the walls painted in dreamy soul-entrancing landscapes, or gay grouping of the Graces; if the pictured female loveliness was clad only in feathery clouds of fleecy drapery, the few thought the painter might have been more lavish of robing; but the room was warm with gay laughter, warm with the sweet breath of warm hearts, with the warmth of the rose-tinted lights clothing the ethereal loveliness on its walls; and now, falling on one of the loveliest women in the kingdom, thought Trevalyon, as laying his burden on a soft velvet lounge, his eyes dwelt on Vaura's beauty, for they are alone once more, Father Lefroy having left the boudoir with Mason to summon Sir Andrew Clarke, as they could not restore the nun unaided.
Reaching down, MacNair seized him by the collar, and jerking him to his feet, half dragged him to the rim of the plateau. "Look!" he cried savagely. "Yonder, comes LeFroy and with him are the men of the Mounted." Lapierre stared dumbly. His thin hand twitched nervously, and his fists clasped and unclasped as the palms grew wet with sweat.
There was nothing to mar our happiness, till one day he came and made his way into our presence." "The husband?" "Yes; the husband, Ferdinand Lefroy, the elder brother; he of whom I had been told that he was dead; he was there standing before us, talking to us, half drunk, but still well knowing what he was doing." "Why had he come?" "In want of money, I suppose, as this other one has come here."
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