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Updated: June 10, 2025
But who, except enthusiasts, was to treat religion seriously? when one saw the doddering Head of Religion yearly flouted, kicked about and hustled in his own capital by his Barbarian Highness the 'King' so he must now style himself and be styled, where in better days 'Count Palatine' or 'Lord Marcher' would have served his turn well enough of Ts'in or Tsin or Ts'i or Ts'u, who would come thundering down with his chariots when he pleased, and without with-your-leave or by-your-leave, march past the very gates of Honanfu; and lucky if he did march past, and not come in and stay awhile; on his way to attacking his Barbarian Highness the 'King' of somewhere else.
She looked up at him a while in silence. "No you don't understand." "I suffer," said John Marcher. "Don't, don't!" "How can I help at least THAT?" "DON'T!" May Bartram repeated. She spoke it in a tone so special, in spite of her weakness, that he stared an instant stared as if some light, hitherto hidden, had shimmered across his vision.
In reading to themselves they glide over these words, in reading aloud they stumble over them. Besides, our every-day books and newspapers are so larded with French that the ordinary reader is obliged marcher a pas de loup, for instance.
When they were two they either mingled their sounds of ecstasy or melted into silences of even deeper import, so that there were aspects of the occasion that gave it for Marcher much the air of the "look round," previous to a sale highly advertised, that excites or quenches, as may be, the dream of acquisition.
Isn't that what you sufficiently express," she asked, "in calling it the worst?" Marcher thought. "Assuredly if you mean, as I do, something that includes all the loss and all the shame that are thinkable." "It would if it SHOULD happen," said May Bartram. "What we're speaking of, remember, is only my idea." "It's your belief," Marcher returned. "That's enough for me.
It was as if, being nothing anywhere else for any one, nothing even for himself, he were just everything here, and if not for a crowd of witnesses or indeed for any witness but John Marcher, then by clear right of the register that he could scan like an open page.
Seeing that his marcher prerogatives were thus rapidly becoming undermined, Gloucester put the most cherished marcher right to the test by renewing the private war with the Earl of Hereford which had disturbed the realm during Edward's absence. The king issued peremptory orders for the immediate cessation of hostilities. These mandates Hereford obeyed, but Gloucester did not.
On the death of John the Scot without heirs in 1237, the palatinate of Randolph of Blundeville became a royal escheat. Its grant to Edward made him the natural head of the marcher barons. The Cheshire earldom became the more important since the Welsh power had been driven beyond the Conway.
She took this in, but the light in her eyes continued for him not to be that of mockery. "Isn't what you describe perhaps but the expectation or at any rate the sense of danger, familiar to so many people of falling in love?" John Marcher thought. "Did you ask me that before?" "No I wasn't so free-and-easy then. But it's what strikes me now." "Of course," he said after a moment, "it strikes you.
"I don't think of it as when it does come necessarily violent. I only think of it as natural and as of course above all unmistakeable. THE thing will of itself appear natural." "Then how will it appear strange?" Marcher bethought himself. "It won't to ME." "To whom then?" "Well," he replied, smiling at last, "say to you." "Oh then I'm to be present?" "Why you are present since you know." "I see."
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