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"It is an honour; I must decline it." "Are you quite well, Laetitia? I propose in the plainest terms I can employ, to make you Lady Patterne mine." "I am compelled to refuse." "Why? Refuse? Your reason!" "The reason has been named." He took a stride to inspirit his wits. "There's a madness comes over women at times, I know.

I love to see a long and faithful attachment rewarded love it! Her tale is the triumph of patience. Far above Grizzel! No woman will be ashamed of pointing to Lady Patterne. You are uncertain? You are in doubt? Let me hear as low as you like. But there is no doubt of the new shifting of the scene? no doubt of the proposal? Dear Mr. Dale! a very little louder.

Dale; you are in it, by right of possessing a clever and accomplished daughter. At page 300 you will find the Patterne crest. And mark me, she will drag you into the peerage before she has done relatively, you know. Sir Willoughby and wife will not be contented to sit down and manage the estates. Has not Laetitia immense ambition? And very creditable, I say." Mr. Dale tried to protest something.

They were the faults, not of passion, but of a superior person, who was something of a Sir Willoughby Patterne in his pompous self-satisfaction. "He says," records Lamb in one of his letters, "he does not see much difficulty in writing like Shakespeare, if he had a mind to try it." Lamb adds: "It is clear that nothing is wanting but the mind."

All idealistic visionaries are typified in Don Quixote, all misers in Harpagon, all hypocrites in Tartufe, all egoists in Sir Willoughby Patterne, all clever tricksy women in Becky Sharp, all sentimentalists in Mr. Barrie's Tommy.

Well, he calls himself a Patterne, he is undoubtedly a man of courage, he has elements of our blood, and the name. I think I am to be approved for desiring to make a better gentleman of the son than I behold in the father: and seeing that life from an early age on board ship has anything but made a gentleman of the father, I hold that I am right in shaping another course for the son."

No one will accuse Willoughby Patterne of a deficiency of manlinesss: but what is it? he suffers, as none suffer, if he is not loved. He himself is inalterably constant in affection." " What it is no one can say. We have lived with him all his life, and we know him ready to make any sacrifice; only, he does demand the whole heart in return. And if he doubts, he looks as we have seen him to-day."

You are here because ? of course you wish to see Sir Willoughby. She? I did not catch you quite. She? . . . it seems, you say . . . ?" Lady Culmer said to the Patterne ladies: "You must have had a distressing time. These affairs always mount up to a climax, unless people are very well bred. We saw it coming. Naturally we did not expect such a transformation of brides: who could?

But no: it signifies that she deems herself to have need of composure nothing more. No one likes to be turned about; we like to turn ourselves about; and in the question of an act to be committed, we stipulate that it shall be our act girls and others. After the lapse of an hour, it will appear to her as her act. Happily, Willoughby, we do not dine away from Patterne to-night." "No, sir."

Mountstuart Jenkinson, wishing to make a clear and perfect picture of human grace, said that Sir Willoughby Patterne had a leg. She delicately glossed over and concealed the clumsy and offensive fact that he had really two legs. Two legs were superfluous and irrelevant, a reflection, and a confusion. Two legs would have confused Mrs. Mountstuart Jenkinson like two Monuments in London.