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Updated: June 14, 2025
She was pursuing an association in her own mind not intelligible to her hearers an association with a certain actress as well as the part she represented. "Your comparison is a riddle for me, my dear," said Mrs. Meyrick, smiling. "You said that Mrs. Grandcourt was tall and fair," continued Mirah, slightly paler. "That is quite true." Mrs.
Hans Meyrick had laughed at him for having something of the knight-errant in his disposition; and he would have found his proof if he had known what was just now going on in Deronda's mind about Mirah and Gwendolen. Deronda wrote without delay to announce his visit to Diplow, and received in reply a polite assurance that his coming would give great pleasure. That was not altogether untrue.
I only remember that I was in it when I began to think, 'I cannot tell Ezra; he must not know." "You are afraid of grieving him?" Mrs. Meyrick asked, when Mirah had paused a little. "Yes and there is something more," said Mirah, hesitatingly, as if she were examining her feeling before she would venture to speak of it. "I want to tell you; I cannot tell any one else.
When Mirah had sung her last note and touched the last chord, she rose and said, "I must go home now. Ezra expects me." She gave her hand silently to Mrs. Meyrick and hung back a little, not daring to look at her, instead of kissing her, as usual. But the little mother drew Mirah's face down to hers, and said, soothingly, "God bless you, my dear."
Robert did not know very much of the Squire, but he knew enough to feel sure that this confiding, indulgent theory of Meyrick's was ludicrously far from the mark as an adequate explanation of Mr. Wendover's later life. Presently Meyrick became aware of the sort of tacit resistance which his companion's mind was opposing to his own. He dropped the wandering narrative he was busy upon with a sigh.
A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released, and Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, "Out of my hands you go no more." Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himself, said, with deep feeling, "My poor boy, you can never be a stranger to me. The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment.
"Paint as many Berenices as you like, but I wish you could feel with me perhaps you will, on reflection that you should choose another model." "Why?" said Hans, standing up, and looking serious again. "Because she may get into such a position that her face is likely to be recognized. Mrs. Meyrick and I are anxious for her that she should be known as an admirable singer.
The shadow that I had seen on that good-bye visit to Philadelphia was clear to me now. I had said at Lenox, repeating the words after Bessie with fatal emphasis, "I am glad, very glad, that Fanny Meyrick is to sail in October. I would not have her stay on this side for worlds!" Then the next day, twenty-four hours after, I told her that I too was going abroad.
At length she began to speak softly. "I remember my mother's face better than anything; yet I was not seven when I was taken away, and I am nineteen now." "I can understand that," said Mrs. Meyrick. "There are some earliest things that last the longest." "Oh, yes, it was the earliest.
But across the envelope these words were written in pencil: "Go to Europe with Fanny Meyrick, and come up to Lenox, both of you, when you return." A double pleasure rewards the pioneer who is the first to penetrate into the midst of a new people.
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