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Updated: May 16, 2025
She went by the old path past Mr. Cross Moore's and saw him in his garden, wheeling his wife in her chair. Mrs. Moore was a frail woman, and because of long years of invalidism, a most exacting person. She had great difficulty in keeping a maid because of her unfortunate temper; and sometimes Mr. Moore was left alone to keep house. Nobody could suit the invalid as successfully as her husband.
The plantation, in fact, was ready to stand a short siege. Moore now produced a number of rifles, which he put, with ammunition, into the hands of some of the more stalwart negroes. These he sent to their cabins, which lay at a distance of about a furlong and a half on various sides of the house.
"Didn't Tom Moore write it?" she answered. "Is there anything BETTER than Friendship between man and woman?" She nodded: "Indeed there is. Me father felt it for me mother or I wouldn't be here now. Me father loved me mother with all his strength and all his soul." "Could YOU ever feel it?" he asked, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he waited for her to answer. She nodded.
Captain Moore's vessel was lost going through the Gut of Canso, by striking on a sunken rock, whence the soldiers whom she carried were put on board Captain Wilson's ship bound to Louisbourg. Captain Moore, his son, mate and carpenter, took a passage in the Duke William.
I had found an advertisement concerning a lot of negroes to be sold that very day by public auction in Clayville. All this, of course, was "before the war." "Well, I suppose you ought to see it," said Moore, rather reluctantly. He was gradually emancipating his own servants, as I knew, and was even suspected of being a director of "the Underground Railroad" to Canada.
"My sisters are at the Mellords' to-night," said she, as she accompanied him along the corridor and up the steps and through the now almost deserted wings. "They were dining there, and we left them as we came to the theatre, and promised to pick them up on our way home. There will be a bit of a crush, I suppose; you won't mind coming in for a few minutes, will you, Mr. Moore?" "I don't know Mrs.
Wilson have worked. A man " "I don't think a man did unearth it," Bab replied. Just then the bell rang again. The next moment the door opened, and the butler announced: "Miss Marjorie Moore!" The newspaper girl gave Bab a friendly smile; then she turned coldly to Mr. William Hamlin. "Miss Moore!" Mr. Hamlin exclaimed in surprise and in anger. "I wish to see a man from your newspaper.
"Well, I hope to Heaven for your sake what you suppose comes true," returned Moore, with exceeding bitterness. "Do you know where he has been?" asked Columbine. Some strange feeling prompted that. There was a mystery here. Wilson's agitation seemed strange and deep. "Yes, I do." The cowboy bit that out through closing teeth, as if locking them against an almost overmastering temptation.
He must up stakes an' move his camp; an' if he calls on another shindig after he's warned, we-alls takes our ponies an' our ropes an' yanks his outfit up by the roots. A gent of his enterprise, however, will come to a dead halt; an' his persecutions of Hamilton will cease. "'An' you-all calls this yere a free American outfit! says my Colonel, mighty scornful, when Jack Moore notifies him.
Miss Moore will go for me like mad if she finds you crying again. If we don't pull together we shall have that girl running the whole show before we are much older, and neither of us will ever dare even to contradict the other in her presence again. We shouldn't like that, should we?" She laughed a little in spite of her wan countenance. "Oh, no, Edward. We mustn't risk that."
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