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Updated: June 12, 2025
Down here had been wrought this most deplorable miracle, fraught with such dislocation of lives! Noel's face, absorbed and passionate, outside the door of her room on the night when Cyril Morland went away her instinct had been right! "He wants you to go up and stay with him, Bob." "Why not both of us?" "He wants Nollie to come down to me; she's not well." "Not well? What's the matter?"
Morland says that by sending it tonight to Salisbury, we may have it tomorrow. Tomorrow? I know I shall never have courage to open the letter. I know it will be the death of me." A reverie succeeded this conviction and when Isabella spoke again, it was to resolve on the quality of her wedding-gown.
My beloved Catherine, have I got you at last?" was her address on Catherine's entering the box and sitting by her. "Now, Mr. Morland," for he was close to her on the other side, "I shall not speak another word to you all the rest of the evening; so I charge you not to expect it. My sweetest Catherine, how have you been this long age? But I need not ask you, for you look delightfully.
Morland were all compliance, and Catherine all happiness.
What these men have to say is more or less interesting, but they address us in the same language, and however arbitrarily we may place them, though we hang a pig-stye by Morland next to a duchess by Gainsborough, we are surprised by a pleasant air of family likeness in the execution.
"Why, that's Jim Holloway, the great Jim Holloway," said he; then, seeing by the blank look upon Dodds's face that even this information had not helped him much, he went into details. "Sure he's the head of Holloway & Morland, of London," said he. "He's the buying partner, and he buys cheap; and the other stays at home and sells, and he sells dear.
Let us take an extreme instance, a pig in his sty. The painter, Morland, was able to convert even this disgusting object into a source of pleasure, and a pleasure as real as any that is known to the palate. Leaving this to have the weight it may be found to deserve, we turn to the original question; namely, What do we mean by Human or Poetic Truth?
The Royal Palace was the center of one of half a dozen swirls of battle that had condensed out of the general skirmishing. Paytrik Morland started for it with the first wave of ground-fighters from the Nemesis.
On the floor lay a rusty dagger! The bedstead, being touched, crumbled, and disclosed a small roll of manuscripts. They were not washing bills, like those discovered by Catherine Morland in "Northanger Abbey." Returning to her own chamber, Adeline heard the Marquis professing to La Motte a passion for herself. Conceive her horror!
It was always possible to stop the pony carriage to look at views bits of landscape caught at by vision through trees or under their spreading branches, or at the end of little green-hedged lanes apparently adorned with cottages, or farm-houses with ricks and barn-yards and pig-pens designed for the benefit of Morland and other painters of rusticity.
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