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Henson shook his head with the air of a man extending a large and generous meed of forgiveness. He sought in vain to read Bell's eyes, but there was a steady, almost boyish, smile in them. "I indeed rejoice," he said, unctuously. "I indeed rejoice rejoice rejoice!"
After the great victory of Blenheim, the enthusiasm of the army for the duke, even of his bitterest personal enemies in it, amounted to a sort of rage: nay, the very officers who cursed him in their hearts were among the most frantic to cheer him. Who could refuse his meed of admiration to such a victory and such a victor?
The fate of battles frequently depends on causes which the General, the Statesman, or the Philosopher, are equally unable to decide upon; and the laurel, "meed of mighty conquerors," seems oftener to fall at the caprice of the wind, than to be gathered.
Whatever thy soul shalt cherish as highest and best good to be longed for, that shall be given to thee, in its new and resurrected form, over which has passed the chrism of the immortal and everlasting life. We need a new perception of that great law of the "survival of the fittest." Who are the "fit"? The nomadic tramp who yields no meed of use to his fellows?
Some half-confessed meed of admiration, already astir in her nature for the horseman and his way, increased as he breasted the ascent. How thoroughly at home how much a part of it all he appeared, as he rode upon his pony! Two hours of steady climbing, with her mare oblique beneath her weight, and Beth felt an awe in her being.
For the moment his voice was utterly useless and he prayed helplessly for a meed of self-control that might aid him to gain a sane footing.
Skreigh, and other lovers of, the marvellous, who still hold that the Enemy of Mankind brought these two wretches together upon that night, by supernatural interference, that they might fill up the cup of their guilt and receive its meed, by murder and suicide. To sum the whole-the close of all.
Thy outraged country shall bestow A lasting monument of fame, The highest meed of praise below A British patriot's deathless name! Dark, heavy clouds were gathering in the west, Wrapping the forest in funereal gloom; Onward they roll'd, and rear'd each livid crest, Like Death's murk shadows frowning o'er earth's tomb. From out the inky womb of that deep night Burst livid flashes of electric flame.
Only make ye me ready a prize of honour forthwith, lest I alone of all the Argives be disprized, which thing beseemeth not; for ye all behold how my prize is departing from me." To him then made answer fleet-footed goodly Achilles: "Most noble son of Atreus, of all men most covetous, how shall the great-hearted Achaians give thee a meed of honour?
She had heard him spoken of, and always with a meed of affection that is given to few men. Whoever this graceless scamp was, he was not the lieutenant of rangers. The words slipped out before she could stop them: "You're not Lieutenant O'Connor at all." "Playing on that string again, are you?" he jeered. "I'm sure of it this time."
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