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Updated: May 19, 2025
A lady, a little woman in a rumpled satin and velvet shoes a Miss Pybus came here, and said he has suffered. I, too, have suffered, and you, Laura, has your heart ever been touched?" Laura said "No!" but perhaps blushed a little at the idea or the question, so that the other said, "Ah Laura! I see it all. It is the beau cousin. Tell me everything. I already love you as a sister."
"Of course I haven't enquired in any way into the probabilities of the Pybus appointment. But I understand that there is very strong opposition to myself; naturally there would be. I also understand that, with the exception of my friend Foster, you are my strongest supporter in this matter. May I ask you why?" "Why?" repeated Ronder. "Yes, why?
"With regard to this Pybus business, Precentor," he was saying, "the matter now will be settled in another three days. I hope every one realises the extreme seriousness of this audacious plot to push a heretic like this man Wistons into the place. I'm sure that every one does realise it. There can be no two opinions about it, of course. At the same time " How very uncomfortable!
There ain't enough to do, you know. But I don't expect I'll be there long. No, I don't.... Pity poor Morrison at Pybus dying like that." Joan of course at once understood the allusion. She also understood that Mr. Forsyth was begging her to bestow upon him any little piece of news that she might have obtained. But that seemed to her mean spying spying on her own father.
"As soon as some one else will take the cause in hand I'll step back, but I'm not going to see the battle lost simply because I'm afraid of what people will say of me.... Well, this is all fine words. The point simply is that, as every one knows, poor Morrison is desperately ill and the living of Pybus St. Anthony may fall vacant at any moment.
The young lady's father was John Pybus, who had gone to India in the service of the Company, attained official distinction and made money. Returning to England, he settled at Cheam in Surrey, where he died in 1789. In 1800 his daughter Catharine was twenty-two years old.
He must do as he had done. Think only of Pybus. Fight that, win his victory, and then turn to what lay behind. But the sunlight no longer danced for him, he closed his eyes, turned on his side, and prayed to God out of his bewilderment. After breakfast he started out. A restless urgency drove him forth.
And the fact is that Madame Fribsby had been able to hold out no longer; and one day, after she and her lodger had been talking of Pen's approaching departure, and the Curate had gone off to give one of his last lessons to that gentleman, Madame Fribsby had communicated to Mrs. Pybus, who happened to step in with Mrs.
Pybus said many people were proud of very small things, and for her part, she didn't know why an apothecary's wife should give herself such airs. Mrs.
At that moment Appleford, who had been absent from the room for a minute, returned with a note which he gave to the Bishop. "From Pybus, my lord," he said; "some one has ridden over with it." At the word "Pybus" there was an electric silence in the room. The Bishop tore open the letter and read it. He half started from his chair with a little exclamation of distress and grief.
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