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Updated: June 27, 2025
A servant of Petronilla whispered it about that only by a false pretence of conversion had Aurelia made sure her inheritance; and at the mere thought of such wickedness the hearers shuddered, foretelling a dread retribution. The clergy were mute on the subject, even with the most favoured of their flock.
By smooth transition he passed to higher themes: with absent eyes turned to the laurel-planted court on to which the hall opened, he spoke as if scarcely aware of a listener, of troubles at Rome occasioned by imprudences, indiscretions what should he say of the Holy Father. As Petronilla bent forward, all tremulous curiosity, he lowered his voice, grew frankly confidential.
"Pity me, dear Petronilla," answered the young girl; "your kind words are a solace to me, but I dare not open my heart to the whisperings of hope. If I accepted your explanations, and afterwards heard of Geronimo's death, it would be double suffering to me. No, no, rather let me encourage the feeling that there is no room for hope."
"On his return?" repeated Mary, raising her tearful eyes to heaven. "Why not?" replied the duenna. "Why despair before being certain of the evil you dread? More extraordinary things have happened." "Already five days five centuries of suspense and fear! Ah! Petronilla, what a frightful night I passed!
Perhaps you can fancy how Maida jumped when she read “The Crystal Ball,” by William Potter, on the cover. But I do not think you can imagine how pleased she looked when inside she read the printed dedication, “To Petronilla.” From her father came a beautiful miniature of her mother, painted on ivory. The children crowded about her to see the beautiful face of which Maida had told them so much.
He spoke of the deacon Leander, now on his way hither begged Aurelia to listen to the reverend man, and gave solemn assurance that, the moment she abjured her errors, he would place her in a position of wealth and authority far above that of Petronilla. So utterly did he exhaust himself in entreaty and argument that he fell into a fainting fit.
'I fear not, replied Petronilla, looking rather as if the fear were a hope. 'Her nature is stubborn: she has the pride of the fallen angels. 'And her father, I am afraid, has no longer the strength to treat her sin with due severity? 'Earthly affection has subdued him, replied the lady, shaking her head. 'Who knows, she added, 'how far his weakness may lead my poor brother?
And all at once, as though his brain were restored by the freshness of the morning, he grasped the thought which had eluded him. Marcian's treachery was no new thing: twice he had been warned against his seeming friend, by Petronilla and by Bessas, and in his folly he had scorned the accusation which time had now so bitterly justified.
'Assuredly, answered Maximus, bending his head, whilst his eyes watched the distant sail. 'Whence comes he? 'From Sicily. We shall learn, I dare say, the business which took him there, added Petronilla, with a self-satisfied softening of her lips.
I hope you’ll make Petronilla wash them.” “Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?” Maida asked ecstatically. “When you’re grand and sthrong,” Granny promised. “I know just how I’ll furnish the room,” Billy said half to himself. “Oh, Billy, tell me!” Maida begged. “Can’t,” he protested mischievously. “You’ve got to wait till it’s all finished before you see hide or hair of it.”
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