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Updated: May 23, 2025
Place yourself on the spot, to please me. She set her chair where he indicated, and Pierston stood close beside her, directing her gaze to the familiar objects he had regarded thence as a boy. Her head and face the latter thoughtful and worn enough, poor thing, to suggest a married life none too comfortable were close to his breast, and, with a few inches further incline, would have touched it.
For a few seconds her impulsive innocence hardly noticed his start of surprise; but Mrs. Caro, the girl's mother, had observed it instantly. With a pained flush she turned to her daughter. 'Avice my dear Avice! Why what are you doing? Don't you know that you've grown up to be a woman since Jocelyn Mr. Pierston was last down here?
The widow thought that the second Avice might probably not have rejected Pierston on that occasion in the London studio so many years ago if destiny had not arranged that she should have been secretly united to another when the proposing moment came. But what had come was best. 'My God, she said at times that night, 'to think my aim in writing to him should be fulfilling itself like this!
Why was he born with such a temperament? And this concatenated interest could hardly have arisen, even with Pierston, but for a conflux of circumstances only possible here.
The whole noise impressed him with the sense that no one in its enormous mass ever required rest. In this illimitable ocean of humanity there was a unit of existence, his Avice, wandering alone. Pierston looked at his watch. She had been gone half an hour. It was impossible to distinguish her at this distance, even if she approached.
Pierston made him welcome, and they went towards Sylvania Castle. 'You were staring, as far as I could see, at a pretty little washerwoman with a basket of clothes? resumed the painter. 'Yes; it was that to you, but not to me. Yes, I am under a doom.
Almost at the moment he saw a figure coming forward from the last lamp at the bottom of the hill. But the figure speedily resolved itself into that of a boy, who, advancing to Jocelyn, inquired if he were Mr. Pierston, and handed him a note.
The manners of the isle were primitive and straightforward, even among the well-to-do, and noting her disappearance one day he followed her into the house and onward to the foot of the stairs. 'Avice! he called. 'Yes, Mr. Pierston. 'Why do you run upstairs like that? 'Oh only because I wanted to come up for something. 'Well, if you've got it, can't you come down again?
Pierston then experimented by slipping his hand into the crevice till he could just reach the buttons of her boot, which, however, he could not unfasten any more than she. Taking his penknife from his pocket he tried again, and cut off the buttons one by one. The boot unfastened, and out slipped the foot. 'O, how glad I am! she cried joyfully. 'I was fearing I should have to stay here all night.
The lady turned her head somewhat, and, though she was veiled with unusual thickness for the season, he seemed to recognize Nichola Pine-Avon in the form. Why should Mrs. Pine-Avon be there? Pierston asked himself, if it should, indeed, be she.
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