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Updated: June 2, 2025
"Bless you for coming to her," Adam said. "Mr. Massey brought me word yesterday as you was come." They could neither of them say any more just yet, but stood before each other in silence; and Bartle Massey, too, who had put on his spectacles, seemed transfixed, examining Dinah's face.
Such is the age we would assign to the town, judging by the aspect of John Massey, the first town-born child, whom his neighbors now call Goodman Massey, and whom we see yonder, a grave, almost autumnal-looking man, with children of his own about him.
The subject of Luciferian Freemasonry has been under discussion in the columns of Light long before the appearance of this volume, and a number of transcendentalists, including one of great eminence Mr Charles Carleton Massey a few high-grade Masons, and myself, have exposed the pretensions of the French conspiracy.
"What was a girl like that doing in Alan Massey's society?" To most of the observers it meant but one thing, eventually if not now. Even the most cynical and world-hardened thought it a pity, and these would have been confounded if they could have heard just now his passionate plea for marriage. One did not associate marriage with Alan Massey.
And once the rite was spoken not John Massey not all Holiday Hill combined could take her from him. She would be his and his alone to the end. Tony was ripe for madness to-night, overwrought, ready to take any wild leap in the dark with him. He could make her his. He felt the intoxicating truth quiver in the touch of her hand, read it in her eager, dark eyes lifted to his for his answer.
Roberts had followed up various trails and discovered that Antoinette Holiday was the girl Massey loved, discovered through the bribing of a Crest House servant, that the young man they called Carson was also presumably in love with the girl whose family had befriended him so generously in his need. It was incredibly good he thought.
"Does that mean Dick John Massey?" "Maybe. Maybe not. I have told him not to speak of love for a long, long time. We must both be free. He is going to France as a war correspondent next week." "Don't you hate to have him go?" "Yes, I do. But I can't be selfish enough to keep him hanging round me forever on the slim chance that some time I shall be willing to marry him.
‘Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown, With the barons of England, who fight for the crown?— he! he! their own names. Whilst the lads are sent to those hotbeds of pride and folly—colleges, whence they return with a greater contempt for everything “low,” and especially for their own pedigree, than they went with.
"I know a whole lot about Alan Massey, maybe more than is on your old card. I know his mother was Lucia Vannini, so beautiful and so gifted that she danced in every court in Europe and was loved by a prince. I know how Cyril Massey, an American artist, painted her portrait and loved her and married her.
The last words were spoken very low for the girl's ears alone, though more than one person at the table seeing him bend over her, understood, that Alan Massey, that professional master-lover was "off" again. "Don't, Mr. Massey. I don't care for that kind of jest." "Jest! Good God! Tony Holiday, don't you know that I mean it, that this, is the real thing at last for me and for you?
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