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Updated: June 24, 2025
Marvell her helplessness had infected Undine, and their half-hour in the sober faded drawing-room remained among the girl's most unsatisfactory memories. She re-entered it alone with more assurance. Her confidence in her beauty had hitherto carried her through every ordeal; and it was fortified now by the feeling of power that came with the sense of being loved.
She was no longer capable of following the action on the stage. Two presences possessed her imagination: that of Ralph Marvell, small, unattainable, remote, and that of Mabel Lipscomb, near-by, immense and irrepressible. It had become clear to Undine that Mabel Lipscomb was ridiculous. That was the reason why Popple did not come to the box.
Undine Marvell, and the fulness and animation of her new life with the vacant dissatisfied days which had followed on her return from Dakota, forgot the smallness of her apartment, the inconvenient proximity of Paul and his nurse, the interminable round of visits with her mother-in-law, and the long dinners in the solemn hotels of all the family connection.
In St. Giles's Churchyard were buried Lord Herbert of Cherbury, Shirley, Roger L'Estrange, Andrew Marvell, and Richard Pendrell, who assisted in Charles II.'s escape; his altar-tomb is easily seen near the east end of the church. By 1718 the graveyard had risen 8 feet, so that the church stood in a pit or well. The further burial-ground at St.
Miss Marvell acknowledged his "Good afternoon," with a pleasant bow, keeping her hands the while in the pockets of her serge jacket, and she remained standing till Winnington had left the room. "Now for Lady Tonbridge!" thought Winnington, as he rode away. "If she don't help me out, I'm done!"
He having served twenty years successfully in Parliament, and that with such Wisdom, Dexterity, and Courage, as becomes a true Patriot, the town of Kingston-upon-Hull, from whence he was deputed to that Assembly, lamenting in his death the public loss, have erected this Monument of their Grief and their Gratitude, 1688." Thus lived and died Andrew Marvell.
Delia called, in her anguish, as she knelt beside the charred frame, over which France who was kneeling on the other side had thrown his coat. The dark eyes opened in the blackened face, the scorched lips unlocked. A shudder ran through the dying frame. "The child! the child!" And with that cry to heaven, that protesting cry of an amazed and conquered soul Gertrude Marvell passed away.
Bird. "But I can send them away of course, if you wish." "Oh no, I'll come" said Delia. "But it's rather tiresome just as" she looked at Gertrude. "Don't be long," said Miss Marvell, sharply, "I'll wait for you here." And she plunged back into the letters, her delicate face all alive, her eyes sparkling. Delia departed evidently on a distasteful errand.
I don't want Ralph Marvell or any of them to know anything. If any of his folks found out, they'd never let him marry me never! And he wouldn't want to: he'd be so horrified. And it would KILL me, Elmer it would just kill me!" She pressed close to him, forgetful of her new reserves and repugnances, and impelled by the passionate absorbing desire to wring from him some definite pledge of safety.
"Why not out of sympathy? I thought he looked at us rather closely. Of course, if he reads the Tocsin he knows something about you! What fun it would be to discover a comrade and a brother down here!" "It depends entirely upon what use we could make of him," said Miss Marvell. Then she turned suddenly on her companion "Tell me really, Delia how long do you want to stay here?"
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