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She felt as if she could not continue in her present condition, excluded from Vere's confidence. Yet she knew now that she could never plead for it. "No, Madre. I can do it to-morrow." Vere looked and sounded surprised, and the mother felt more than ever like an intruder. Yet something dogged kept her there. "Are you tired, Vere?" she asked. "Not a bit." "Then let us have a little talk."
And in some parts there were cracks in the ground through which rose the fumes of sulphur that set a man's head reeling." Raleigh shivered. "Madre de Dios, you portray the very floor of hell." "Beyond doubt the floor of hell. There was but one thing that could get us across that devil's land, for our bones were molten with fear.
She sat down quickly beside her mother on the window-seat, leaning against her confidentially and looking out over the sea. Hermione put her arm round the girl's shoulder. "There! Don't you see!" She pointed. "It has passed Casa Pantano." "I see! Yes, that is Gaspare, and Monsieur Emile in the stern. They won't be late for lunch. I almost wish they would, Madre." "Why?" "I'm not a bit hungry.
And when that time comes neither I nor he would wish to keep them out of your hands." "I see. Well, Madre dear, let us read whatever you like." Vere had been on the verge of telling her mother about the previous night and Peppina. But, somehow, at the last moment she could not. And thus, for the moment at least, Artois and she shared another secret of which Hermione was unaware.
We started to take a walk, and passed along the aqueduct, which approaches the city by a aeries of arches; thence up the point of the hill to a place known as the Madre, or fountain, to which all the water that drips from the leaves is conducted by tile gutters, and is carried to the city by an open stone aqueduct. Here we found Mr.
A missionary is said to have visited it, but with the destruction of the missions the record has been lost. I have no doubt the river I have seen is the Madre de Dios of that missionary." The thought of being so near the banks of this river suggested other thoughts. At once a design entered into my mind.
So we begin her history as the ancient artists have placed it before us, with that mingled naïveté and reverence, that vivid dramatic power, which only faith, and love, and genius united, could impart. Ital. La Leggenda di Sant' Anna Madre della Gloriosa Vergine Maria, e di San Gioacchino.
It was not this that troubled me concerning Ysidria, but knowing Madre Moreno as I did, and what an unscrupulous, scheming and heartless woman she was, I felt that she had brought this lovely niece to her home for some purpose known only to herself. Of what that purpose could be I had not the faintest idea, but I knew the Madre never did anything without an object.
Piccola, I am not clever like thee; I cannot amuse myself like thee with books. I am in a foreign land. "Dearest Madre," said Isaura, half weeping too, "forgive me, you are right. The Greek jacket is splendid; I shall be so pleased to see you wear it: poor Madre! so pleased to think that in the foreign land you are not without something that pleases you!"
Every one has a right to their freedom." "But, Madre " Vere began, startled by her mother's abrupt vehemence. "No, Vere, no! My child, my dearest one, never tell me anything but of your own accord, out of your own heart and desire. Such a confidence is beautiful. But anything else anything else, I could not bear from you."
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