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Updated: October 15, 2025
This window had in the inside strong oaken shutters, which had been fastened as securely as their construction would admit of some time before the departure of the brothers and Mr. Marchdale on that melancholy expedition, the object of which, if it had been known to her, would have added so much to the terrors of poor Flora.
"Why, look you here," said Sir Francis Varney, stepping forward and placing his hand to his neckerchief; "look you here; if Mr. Henry Bannerworth should demand another fire, he may do so with the same bullet." "The same bullet!" said Marchdale, stepping forward "the same bullet! How is this?" "My eyes," said Jack; "who'd a thought it; there's a go!
Marchdale, is this generous?" "Am I treated generously by one who is your own guest, and towards whom I was willing to hold out the honest right hand of friendship?" Henry turned to Charles Holland, saying, "Charles, I know your generous nature. Say you meant no offence to my mother's old friend." "If to say I meant no offence," said Charles, "is to say I meant no insult, I say it freely."
The Cardinal was smiling; but about his eyes there was a suggestive redness. "Mr. Marchdale," he said, "your housekeeper is in great distress of conscience touching one or two offences she feels she has been guilty of towards you. They seem to me, in frankness, somewhat trifling. But I cannot persuade her to accept my view.
And it was a wonder; for Marchdale was not an old man, although he might be considered certainly as past the prime of life, and he was of a strong and athletic build.
She may yet be living and restored to us." "And," said Mr. Marchdale, "she may be able to give us some account of this dreadful visitation." "True true," exclaimed Henry; "we will hasten home."
"I am more and more bewildered as each moment some strange corroborative fact of that dreadful supposition we so much shrink from seems to come to light and to force itself upon our attention." There was a silence of a few moments duration, and Henry had turned towards Mr. Marchdale to say something, when the cautious tread of a footstep was heard in the garden, immediately beneath that balcony.
What his object is, and what is the object of Marchdale, will, now that we have progressed so far in our story, soon appear, and then much that is perfectly inexplicable, will become clear and distinct, and we shall find that some strong human motives are at the bottom of it all. Evident it was that Marchdale was not near so scrupulous as Sir Francis Varney, in what he chose to do.
Marchdale. "You sigh," said Henry. "Some fearful thoughts, I feel certain, oppress your heart." "Hush-hush!" said Mr. Marchdale, as he pointed to Flora. "Hush! not here not here." "I understand," said Henry. "Let her sleep." There was a silence of some few minutes duration. Flora had dropped into a deep slumber. That silence was first broken by George, who said, "Mr.
"Mine's Outfield West. The fellows call me 'Out' West. My home's in Pleasant City, Iowa. You come from Maine, don't you?" "Yes; Marchdale. It's just a corner store and a blacksmith shop and a few houses. We've lived there our family, I mean for over a hundred years." "Phew!" whistled West. "Dad's the oldest settler in our county, and he's been there only forty years. Great gobble!
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