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The exultant and insurgent flesh seemed to have its temple and castle within those olden walls, and he longed with all his heart to escape, to set himself free in the wilderness of London, and to be secure amidst the murmur of modern streets. Lucian was growing really anxious about his manuscript.
We must not show ourselves inferior to him in courage, which is, I suppose, his cardinal virtue." "If you write the note now, I will post it for you." "No, thank you. I will send it with my other letters." Lucian would rather have waited; but she would not write while he was there. So he left, satisfied on the whole with the success of his mission.
Here he was looking over a gate one day, doubtful and wondering, when he heard a heavy step behind him, and glancing round quickly saw it was old Morgan of the White House. "Good afternoon, Master Lucian," he began. "Mr. Taylor pretty well, I suppose? I be goin' to the house a minute; the men in the fields are wantin' some more cider. Would you come and taste a drop of cider, Master Lucian?
Of course you'll expose the gang?" Lucian was mildly amused; he couldn't enter into his father's feelings at all. He sat smoking in one of the old easy chairs, taking the rare relish of a hot grog with his pipe, and gazing out of his dreamy eyes at the violent old parson.
"When the news arrived at Sinope," says Lucian though I own the story is rather trite-"that Philip was about to attack them, the inhabitants were thrown into a violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their arms; others rolled stones to build up the walls; everybody, in short, was employed, and everybody in the way of his neighbor.
"I beg your pardon," replied Lucian, with all humility, "but it was reported in Geneva Square that Berwin the name by which your father was known drank too much; and when I met him he was certainly not not quite himself," finished the barrister delicately. "No doubt his troubles drove him to take more than was good for him," said Diana in a low voice.
A chatter of surprise, amusement, and remonstrance spread through the rooms; and the company crowded towards the table. Lucian rose, white with rage, and for a moment entirely lost his self-control. Fortunately, the effect was to paralyze him; he neither moved nor spoke, and only betrayed his condition by his pallor and the hatred in his expression.
Lucian willingly accepted both these attentions, and sipped his wine it was particularly fine claret before the fire, while Berwin coughed and shivered, and muttered to himself about the cold of the season.
Céline turned toward him an awe-struck countenance and motioned him to be silent. He tip-toed from the room, thoroughly frightened and nervous, and sent a message to Lucian Davlin forthwith. When he was safely away, Cora awoke from her nap, and desired Céline to let in more light.
I should call Gellius an honest errand boy in Athena's temple. So there you have two ways of looking at your future host. If Lucian is the most enlightened wit of the day, Aurelius is the most Roman of us all and likely to rule over us when Antoninus rejoins the gods. "On Gellius's return next year he is to be made a judge. He will study law painstakingly and apply it exactly.
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