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Updated: May 10, 2025
Meekin's elegant hat was raised from his intellectual brow and hovered in the air, like some courteous black bird, for an instant. "Mrs. Jellicoe! Mrs. Protherick! My dear leddies, this is an unexpected pleasure! And where, pray, are you going on this lovely afternoon? To stay in the house is positively sinful. Ah! what a climate but the Trail of the Serpent, my dear Mrs.
Low had made up his mind, even before Bernard returned; for Stephen was going a long walk to see Meekin's father, who was a farmer in the next parish, and Bernard went with him. Stephen would not take him, however, till he had come back to where Lucilla was, to ask her if she thought Mr. Low would be pleased if he took him.
All the material horrors of Meekin's faith stripped, by force of dissociation from the context, of all poetic feeling and local colouring were launched at the suffering sinner by Meekin's ignorant hand.
All was silent, save that from the adjoining chamber came the sound of Meekin's gentlemanly snore. North took down a book from the shelf and tried to read, but the letters ran together. "I wish I hadn't taken that brandy," he said. "Fool that I am." Then he began to walk up and down, to fling himself on the sofa, to read, to pray. "Oh, God, give me strength! Aid me! Help me!
He was very silly to marry her; but you can't reason with an old man in love, Mr. Meekin." Mr. Meekin's Christian brow had grown crimson, and his decorous blood tingled to his finger-tips. To hear a young lady talk in such an open way was terrible. Why, in reading the Decalogue from the altar, Mr.
"Indeed I will, sir," said John Rex, who had taken Mr. Meekin's measure very accurately, "and it is very kind of you to condescend to speak so to a wretch like me." "Not at all," said Meekin, with affability; "it is my duty. I am a Minister of the Gospel." "Ah! sir, I wish I had attended to the Gospel's teachings when I was younger. I might have been saved from all this."
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