United States or El Salvador ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
What strife between pities and passions; what longing for peace! . . . And in his feverish exhaustion, which was almost sleep, Lennan hardly knew whether it was the thrum of music or Sylvia's moaning that he heard; her body or Nell's within his arms.... But life had to be lived, a face preserved against the world, engagements kept.
She felt her husband's eyes rest on her just for a moment, knew that he had turned, heard him murmur: "Ah, the angel clown!" And, quite still, she waited for the door to open. There was the boy, with his blessed dark head, and his shy, gentle gravity, and his essay in his hand. "Well, Lennan, and how's old Noll? Hypocrite of genius, eh? Draw up; let's get him over!"
"Rather boring, wasn't it? I should have thought you'd have got young Lennan to take you there." "Why?" By instinct she had seized on the boldest answer; and there was nothing to be told from her face. If he were her superior in strength, he was her inferior in quickness. He lowered his eyes, and said: "His line, isn't it?" With a shrug she turned away and shut the door.
I am going to have some tea;" and gingerly he walked away, quizzing, as it were, with a smile, his own stiffness. Lennan remained where he was, with burning cheeks. His tutor's words again had seemed directed against her. How could a man say such things about women! If they were true, he did not want to know; if they were not true, it was wicked to say them.
Now that she was gone, it was curious how little they spoke of her, considering how long she had been with them. And they had from her but one letter written to Sylvia, very soon after she left, ending: "Dad sends his best respects, please; and with my love to you and Mr. Lennan, and all the beasts. "Oliver is coming here next week. We are going to some races."
He arrived a few minutes before eight o'clock, turned the boat round, and waited close beneath the bank, holding to a branch, and standing so that he could see the path. If a man could die from longing and anxiety, surely Lennan must have died then! All wind had failed, and the day was fallen into a wonderful still evening.
And then, as quickly, the fire went out of her; she sank down on the sofa; covering her face with her arms, rocking to and fro. She did not cry, but a little moan came from her now and then. And each one of those sounds was to Lennan like the cry of something he was murdering. At last he went and sat down on the sofa by her and said: "Sylvia! Sylvia! Don't! oh! don't!"
That was the beginning of a time when nothing counted except his work. To Anna he wrote twice, but received no answer. From his tutor he had one little note: "MY DEAR LENNAN, "So! You abandon us for Art? Ah! well it was your moon, if I remember one of them. A worthy moon a little dusty in these days a little in her decline but to you no doubt a virgin goddess, whose hem, etc.
The flower from her dress, miraculously uncrushed in those dark minutes on the grass, she set in water beside her at the window Mark's favourite flower, he had once told her; it was a comfort, with its scent, and hue, and memory of him. Strange that in her life, with all the faces seen, and people known, she had not loved one till she had met Lennan!
Maurice O'Connell, uncle of Mr. Daniel O'Connell, and my most active partisan was Mr. John O'Connell, brother of Mr. Daniel O'Connell." In Newry an attempt was made to put up an anti-Unionist candidate, but the Roman Catholic Bishop, Dr. Lennan, met and repulsed the intruder in militant fashion. "Mr. Bell," he reports to Archbishop Troy, "declined the poll, and surrendered yesterday.
Word Of The Day