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Updated: June 18, 2025
At length, however, the receding rage within him returned, though with vacillating step, and he growled between his teeth, "A pretty friend indeed, robbing me of my girl! Go along with you!" "She was not your girl any more than she was or ever can be mine." "What, you be n't after her?" "Certainly not; I am going to Luscombe, and I ask you to come with me.
At length, however, the receding rage within him returned, though with vacillating step, and he growled between his teeth, "A pretty friend indeed, robbing me of my girl! Go along with you!" "She was not your girl any more than she was or ever can be mine." "What, you be n't after her?" "Certainly not; I am going to Luscombe, and I ask you to come with me.
The sun was setting when from the brow of a hill they beheld the spires of Luscombe, imbedded amid the level meadows that stretched below, watered by the same stream that had wound along their more rural pathway, but which now expanded into stately width, and needed, to span it, a mighty bridge fit for the convenience of civilized traffic.
"I honour all lovers," said the minstrel, with real tenderness in his tone, "and would willingly serve to cheer or comfort your friend, if I could; but I am bound elsewhere, and must leave Luscombe, which I visit on business money business the day after to-morrow." "So, too, must I. At least give us both some hours of your time to-morrow."
There certainly was a change in the owner of the dog with the begging-tray, a change in costume, in countenance, in that indescribable self-evidence which we call "manner." The costume was not that Bohemian attire in which Kenelm had first encountered the wandering minstrel, nor the studied, more graceful garb, which so well became his shapely form during his visit to Luscombe.
That accounts for playing euchre of a Sunday evening, as if there were no harm in it. Euchre is an American game. The man is called Fritz. Ah! I guess Germans who have lived a good deal in America; and the verse-maker said he was at Luscombe on pecuniary business. Doubtless his host is a merchant, and the verse-maker in some commercial firm.
They are very keen, too, on pleasing Miss Flummerfelt, and it seems Mitchell thought she would be particularly glad I was going to act with her instead of Luscombe, because, as I say, Luscombe put so little meaning into the words. It never would have got over the footlights. Old Mitchell will be too pleased to get me back to worry about a trifle like that. 'Well, that's all right.
The minstrel left them at the entrance of the town, saying, "I regret that I cannot see more of either of you, as I quit Luscombe at daybreak. Here, by the by, I forgot to give it before, is the address you wanted." KENELM. "Of the little child. I am glad you remembered her." The minstrel again looked hard at Kenelm, this time without dropping his eyes.
This time it was along a by-path amid fields, which was a shorter cut than the lane they had previously followed, to the main road to Luscombe. They walked slowly till they came to a rustic foot-bridge which spanned a gloomy trout-stream, not noisy, but with a low, sweet murmur, doubtless the same stream beside which, many miles away, Kenelm had conversed with the minstrel.
"I honour all lovers," said the minstrel, with real tenderness in his tone, "and would willingly serve to cheer or comfort your friend, if I could; but I am bound elsewhere, and must leave Luscombe, which I visit on business money business the day after to-morrow." "So, too, must I. At least give us both some hours of your time to-morrow."
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