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'It's your friend Mr. Lushington's latest, you know, and it won't be out for ten days. I thought you would like to see it, so I got an advance copy before it was published. He held the volume out to her, but she would not even look at it, nor answer him. 'How you hate me! Don't you, Madame Cordova? Margaret still said nothing. She was considering how she could best get rid of him.
In November 1843 Miss Edgeworth went to London, and spent the winter with her sister Harriet, Mrs. Wilson. MARIA to MRS. R. BUTLER. NORTH AUDLEY STREET, Dec. 3, 1843. We dined at Dr. Lushington's last Thursday the dinner was very merry and good-humoured. Mr. Richardson was there, and delighted I was to see him, and he talked so affectionately of Sir Walter and auld lang syne times; and Mr.
Arab women marry about the age of sixteen; they are allowed great liberty in visiting one another, and can divorce their husbands on very slight grounds. Every lady who pays a visit, carries a small bag of coffee with her, which enables "her to enjoy society without putting her friends to expense." Lushington's Journey from Calcutta to Europe.
What attracted her was probably his daring masculineness, which contrasted so strongly with Lushington's quiet and rather bashful manliness. The Englishman would die for a cause and make no noise about it, which would be heroic; but the Greek would run away with a woman he loved, at the risk of breaking his neck, which was romantic in the extreme.
Lushington's translation in "Records of the past," edited by Dr. S. Birch. A silence as of the grave reigned in the vast hall, Rameses fixed his eyes on the poet, as though he would engrave his features on his very soul, and compare them with those of another which had dwelt there unforgotten since the day of Kadesh. Beyond a doubt his preserver stood before him.
So Lushington's comparison came to nothing at all, and he was no nearer to a solution of his problem than before. Then came the unexpected, and it furnished him with a surprisingly simple means of comparing himself with his rival in the eyes of Margaret herself. There are several roads from Paris to Versailles, as every one knows, leaving the city on opposite sides of the Seine.
Margaret went over the little incidents of the evening as she drove home alone, and felt better satisfied with herself than she had been since Lushington's visit, in spite of having deliberately gone to sleep in Mustapha Pasha's drawing-room.
Lushington's translation in "Records of the past," edited by Dr. S. Birch. A silence as of the grave reigned in the vast hall, Rameses fixed his eyes on the poet, as though he would engrave his features on his very soul, and compare them with those of another which had dwelt there unforgotten since the day of Kadesh. Beyond a doubt his preserver stood before him.
Rushmore knew no more about Lushington's family than Margaret. The latter was spending the spring in Versailles with the elderly American widow, and the successful young writer had been asked to stop a week with them. Mrs.
Lushington was almost choking. 'Do let me give you another handkerchief, said Logotheti, sympathetically. 'I always carry a supply when I'm motoring they are so useful. Yours is quite spoilt. A forcible expression rose to Lushington's lips, but he checked it, and at the same time he wondered whether anybody he knew had ever been caught in such a detestable situation.
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