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Updated: May 8, 2025
Pritchett knew exactly how the brothers stood with each other; and he himself, though he was very partial to Mr. George, had not any warm love for Sir Lionel. "Oh, yes; a brother is a brother, surely. But, Mr. Bertram, you know, sir " "You mean," said Sir Lionel, "that he is a little vexed about the account." "Oh, yes, the account; there is the account, Sir Lionel.
Bertram rose from his chair and took an ominous-looking piece of paper from off the mantelpiece. "Yes, Mr. Pritchett is punctuality itself in these matters," said Sir Lionel, with a gentle laugh, which had not about it all his usual pleasantness. "You have probably checked it, and can say whether or no it be correct," said Mr. Bertram senior, looking at the paper in his hand.
Pritchett might be able to enumerate; and an inward love, the loss of which could hardly have been atoned for even by the possession of her whom he had lost. Nor was this the passion which men call self-love.
Squire Pritchett never entered the library again. His son Elnathan might be caught by her airs and graces, he said rudely enough in the post-office, but he was "too old to be talked down to by a chit who didn't know granite from marble."
George declared that he always had had, and would have, a regard for Mr. Pritchett; "though I wish he were not quite so sad." "Poor Pritchett! well; yes, he is sad," said the uncle, laughing; and then George went upstairs to get ready for dinner. The dinner, considering the house in which it was spread, was quite recherché.
I care not to have compassion on myself; why should his grief assail me grief which is so vile, so base, so unworthy of compassion?" And thus schooling himself for the morrow, he betook himself to bed. The only attendants at old Mr. Bertram's funeral were his nephew, Mr. Pritchett, and the Hadley doctor.
Pritchett wheezed so grievously that what he said was not audible. George immediately wrote to Miss Baker, announcing his return, and expressing his wish to see his uncle. He did not mention Lady Harcourt's name; but he suggested that perhaps it would be better, under existing circumstances, that he should not remain at Hadley.
Jackson back again with three hundred soldiers. We traveled very slowly and cautiously, and at the foot of the mountains, one hundred and fifty miles from Fort Yuma, we met a freight train from Santa Fe loaded with flour and bacon, principally, bound for Tombstone, Arizona. This train was owned by a man named Pritchett; but he was generally known as "Nick in the Woods."
Nor, indeed, did he wait to be invited; for he had written to say that he should be there before he received George Bertram's note. Mr. Pritchett also was sent for, and the old man's attorney. And then, when these arrangements had been made, the thoughts of the living reverted from the dead to themselves.
George went back to town and commenced his preparations for Paris. But on the following day he received the unwonted honour of a visit from Mr. Pritchett, and the honour was very pointed; in this wise. Mr.
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