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Isabel was passive; she supposed he had gained the right to do so. "My dearest! It is all I ask." The sensations of Mr. Carlyle, when he returned to West Lynne, were much like those of an Eton boy, who knows he has been in mischief, and dreads detection. Always open as to his own affairs for he had nothing to conceal he yet deemed it expedient to dissemble now.
Carlyle; next, he had been seduced into joining the corps of the Theatre Royal at Lynneborough; then he turned auctioneer; then travelling in the oil and color line; then a parson, the urgent pastor of some new sect; then omnibus driver; then collector of the water rate; and now he was clerk again, not in Mr. Carlyle's office, but in that of Ball & Treadman, other solicitors of West Lynne.
He was brought down to the sitting-room that day for the first time; but, of his mind, there was little hope. It was in a state of half imbecility; the most wonderful characteristic being, that all its self-will, its surliness had gone. Almost as a little child in tractability, was Justice Hare. Richard came up to his mother, and kissed her. He had been to East Lynne. Mrs.
"Because, Lady Isabel, nothing gets patronized at West Lynne nothing native; and people have heard so long of poor Kane's necessities, that they think little of them." "Is he so very poor?" "Very. He is starved half his time." "Starved!" repeated Isabel, an expression of perplexity arising to her face as she looked at Mr. Carlyle, for she scarcely understood him.
No; never again; it shone out all too plainly, dazzling his brain as with a flame of living fire. Barbara was at the seaside, and Lady Isabel was in her bed, dying. You remember the old French saying, L'homme propose, et Dieu dispose. An exemplification of it was here. She, Lady Isabel, had consented to remain at East Lynne during Mrs.
There are not many public entertainments at Saratoga, except such as the hotels supply; but a series of Salvation Army meetings did duty as amusements, and there was one theatrical performance a performance of East Lynne entirely by people of colour. The sentiments and incidents of the heart-breaking melodrama, as the coloured mind interpreted them, were of very curious effect.
After five years, he was seeing it as it really was. He wondered how his family and his friends would look to him now. Or Lynne. The ship was coming in over the Mall; he could see the cracked paving sprouting grass, the statues askew on their pedestals, the waterless fountains.
"She was Lucy's mother, you know, and I loved her. I think that's why I love Lucy, for she is the very image of her. Where did you know her? Here?" "I knew her by hearsay," murmured Lady Isabel, arousing to recollection. "Oh, hearsay! Has Carlyle shot the beast, or is he on his legs yet? By Jove! To think that he should sneak himself up, in this way, at West Lynne!"
'East Lynne, by the way, is one of my puzzles. Except that it has once or twice wearied me to the point of exasperation, it has never moved me in any way; and countless thousands have cried over it.
'This stone was placed here by her grateful relatives, E. and R.S., meaning Rose and Edward Lynne." The coldness of the clergyman was forgotten in the bitterness of self-reproach. "I was a fool," she thought, as she turned away, "to fancy that my native air could be untainted by the destiny which has mocked me from my cradle."
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