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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I would that difficult question could be settled and laid at rest; but my good lord has yielded something too much already for the sake of peace and quietness, and at each concession Mortimer's word was passed that he would claim no further rights over the portion that remained to us. But his word is broken without scruple, and we cannot ever be giving way.
As he looked, Andy saw something fall from below the flap of the coat of one of the trio, and land softly on the pavement. It fell limp, making no noise. One of Mortimer's companions, who, Andy afterward learned, was Leonard, or "Len," Scott, reached his hand into his pocket, and brought it out with a strange look on his face. "Hello!" he exclaimed, blankly, "my wallet's gone!"
"They remind me of you, Maria." "And which on 'em came from our garden, dear," said Mrs. Swan, meaning which came from Mr. John Mortimer's garden. Swan pointed out several. "Mr. Fergus came to me yesterday, and said he, 'We want a good lot of flowers to dress up the tent. You'll let us have some? 'Certain, said I; 'we allers do. Then he marches up to my piccotees.
I think your presence might be useful." Emily had come home then. Valentine set forth at once, and reached John Mortimer's house in the afternoon. A doctor's carriage stood at the door; a strange lady evidently a nurse passed through the hall; people were quietly moving about, but they seemed too anxious, and too much occupied to observe him. At last Emily came down.
But Mrs Delvile, calling after her, said, "Take with you my blessing!" and tenderly embracing her, added, "My son, as my chief nurse, claims a prescriptive right to govern me, but I will break from his control to tell my sweet Cecilia what ease and what delight she has already given to my mind! my best hope of recovery is founded on the pleasure I anticipate to witnessing your mutual happiness: but should my illness prove fatal, and that felicity be denied me, my greatest earthly care is already removed by the security I feel of Mortimer's future peace.
This task finished, Mortimer, with his bundle of letters and notes in hand, instead of going out of the room when he had passed around the desk, turned and faced the man whom he had served for thirty years. "Mr. Wingfield " "Well, Peter?" John Wingfield, Sr. looked up sharply, struck by Mortimer's tone, which seemed to come from another man.
We three she and I and Eddie Denton often talked over Mortimer's strange obsession. Denton said that, except that Mortimer had not come out in pink spots, his symptoms were almost identical with those of the dreaded mongo-mongo, the scourge of the West African hinterland. Poor Denton! He had already booked his passage for Africa, and spent hours looking in the atlas for good deserts.
The library was very still. There was no sound except for the solemn ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece or the occasional rustle of the evening paper in Mortimer's hand as he stood in front of the fire. Desmond was sitting on the settee, tranquilly smoking, studying Mortimer and thinking out the problem before him. He measured Mortimer with his eye.
The battle was obstinately fought, but was decided by the desertion of the Welsh tenants, and by the Welsh bowmen in Mortimer's service turning their bows against his men-at-arms; and, finally, the English were defeated, with the loss of eleven hundred men, Sir Edmund himself being made a prisoner.
Had the odd man gone off in Mortimer's car? He was thankful to note that, in the din, none save him seemed to have heard the car. By this time Mortimer had put up his pistol and Mrs. Malplaquet was speaking. Her remarks were effective and very much to the point.
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