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Oliphant on Charlotte Brontë. And even Mr. Clement Shorter, who has dealt so admirably with outrageous legends, goes half the way with the detractor. He has a theory that Charlotte Brontë was a woman of morbid mood, "to whom the problem of sex appealed with all its complications", and that she "dwelt continually on the problem of the ideal mate".
Leslie Stephen was my only old acquaintance in person; but Du Maurier and Tenniel I have met in my weekly "Punch" for many a year; Mr. Lang, Mr. Oliphant, Mr. Townsend, we all know through their writings; Mr. Burne-Jones and Mr. Alma Tadema, through the frequent reproductions of their works in engravings, as well as by their paintings.
Oliphant is hard pressed, sir." He asked the master: "Shall we take to the boats?" "That will be the best plan," Mr. Bellew replied. "Quick, lads, get the boats alongside and tumble in; there is not a moment to be lost." The crew at once sprang to the boats and rowed to the other junk, which was but some thirty yards away.
Shortly after the commencement of the term Hammond met Miss Oliphant by accident just outside Kingsdene. "I was going to post a letter to you," he said. His face was unusually pale, his eyes full of joy and yet of solicitude. "You can tell me what you have written," replied Maggie in her gayest voice. "No, I would rather you read my letter."
And yet my knowledge and experiences of later days lead me to endorse most heartily the well-known dictum of Lawrence Oliphant namely, that when he saw people sitting down in a casual, irresponsible way to "get messages through a table," it reminded him of an ignorant child going into a powder magazine with a lighted match in its hand.
The poor wanderers were made welcome on that evening without a word of discussion as to the cause of their coming. "I hope you are not angry with us, Uncle Oliphant," Emily Trevelyan had said, with tears in her eyes. "Angry with you, my dear; for coming to our house! How could I be angry with you?" Then the travellers were hurried up-stairs by Mrs.
"With whom?" inquired his father pricking his ears. "Oh, a chum of his; not half a bad sort of cove, only he dropped all his `h's. He turned up at Christy's, you know, but missed the best break- down, while he and Mr Armstrong were hob-nobbing outside. I saw it, though. It was prime." "Why didn't you tell me this before?" demanded Captain Oliphant.
Some gay lady in Breck's dark and shady past sprang up with a spicy little law suit two weeks before he was to be married to that Oliphant girl. Perhaps you saw it in the paper. Wedding all off, and Breck evading the law nobody knows where. This Bob of yours is as poor as Job's turkey, I suppose, but anyhow, he's decent.
Indeed, when, after the day's labours, Captain Oliphant sought the seclusion of his own apartment, this amiable, pleasant-spoken gentleman grew quite warm with himself. "Who is this grandee?" he asked himself. "A man hired at a few pounds a year and fed at the Maxfield table, in order to help the heir to a little quite unnecessary knowledge of the ancient classics and modern sciences.
Prissie had set up a higher standard than theirs, and they were determined to crush the little aspirant for moral courage. If in crushing Prissie they could also bring discredit upon Miss Oliphant, their sense of victory would have been intensified; but it was one thing for these conspirators to plot and plan and another thing for them to perform.
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