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Updated: May 3, 2025
Melcombe was silent. "He told me himself, that if I wouldn't have him it would drive him to drink." "Laura!" exclaimed Mrs. Melcombe with vehemence, "it's not credible that you can take up with a lout who courts you in such fashion as that.
Peter Melcombe hesitated a moment, then said in a low voice "Thank you, Mr. Mortimer, but you will give me a little time to think of this." "Certainly," he answered, with all composure, "till to-morrow morning;" then he went on as if that matter was quite settled, and enough had been said about it.
"Dear grandmother, don't laugh!" exclaimed her grandson's widow; "and don't look so strange. Lose your wits! you never will, not you. We shall have you a little longer yet, please God, and bright and sensible to the last." "Folks are oft-times known to talk wild in their age," repeated Madam Melcombe; and during the rest of that evening she continued silent and lost in thought.
Melcombe unlocked the door of a dark, old-fashioned sitting-room upstairs, and going to the shutters opened one of them, saying, "This is the room in which the dear old grandmother spent the later years of her life." This really was an interesting old room. Laura and Amelia folded back the shutters with a genuine air of reverence and feeling.
I'll work, like my betters, and take not a stick or a clod away from that Melcombe." The guests were arriving. John Mortimer had been standing at the altar-rails, his three sons with him. Several members of the family grouped themselves right and left of him. This was to be the quietest of weddings.
"Very natural," said Mrs. Melcombe. sighing, "that she could not bear to have her misfortunes made a subject for idle talk and curiosity. I am sure I should feel keenly hurt if it was ever said that my poor innocent darling haunted the place." "Had anything been said against him in his lifetime?" Valentine next ventured to ask.
Poor Cuthbert Melcombe, the eldest son, had left neither chick nor child; no more had poor Griffith, the youngest. As for Peter, to be sure he had left children, but then he was gone himself. And these that had behaved so bad to their blessed mother were all she had to stand by her grave. It was very mysterious, but she was at rest now, and would never feel their undutifulness any more."
Melcombe had left the room, and he was alone with Laura, who had seated herself on a sofa and taken a long piece of crochet-work from her pocket, which she was doing almost with the air of one who waits patiently till somebody else has finished his investigations. "I thought you would be interested in that picture," she said; "you recognise it, I suppose?" "No!" he exclaimed.
Now, you know if that poor little fellow were to die, Valentine, who has nothing to live on, and nothing to do, is his heir. What a fine thing it would be for him!" "I don't see yet what you mean." "Mrs. Melcombe found out before Giles left Melcombe all about these letters.
Melcombe perceived, not without surprise, that while she felt nothing but a feminine exultation in being admired, the young man's homage was both deep and real. Nothing was either fancied or feigned. So by Monday morning Mrs.
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