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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Mr. Babington!" returned Susan. "But he is no longer a ward!" "No. We had granted his marriage to a little niece of my Lord Treasurer's, but she died ere coming to age. Then Tom Ratcliffe's wife would have him for her daughter, a mere babe.
Ratcliffe's solemn curtain, we feel no further interest about either the frame or the veil. They are to us merely a receptacle for old bones, an inappropriate coffin, which we would wish to have decently buried out of our sight. And then how grievous a thing it is to have the pleasure of your novel destroyed by the ill-considered triumph of a previous reader.
"I doubt that will hardly do in this case, Mr. Sharpitlaw," returned the town-clerk; "they'll run their letters,* and be adrift again, before ye ken where ye are." * A Scottish form of procedure, answering, in some respects, to the English Habeas Corpus. "I will speak to the Lord Provost," said the magistrate, "about Ratcliffe's business. Mr.
If you care, however, to verify the fact, and to trace the history of the Subsidy Bill through all its stages, together with Mr. Ratcliffe's report, remarks, and votes upon it, you have only to look into the journals and debates for that year. "At last Mr.
"You heard about Nick Ratcliffe's wound, I expect, Miss Roscoe?" Muriel's hands leapt suddenly and fell into her lap. "Nick Ratcliffe! When was he wounded? No, I have heard nothing." He looked down at her with an uneasy suspicion that he had lighted upon an unfortunate subject. "I thought you would have heard," he said. "Didn't Daisy know?
"There's a bloodhound ranging Tinwald wood, There's harness glancing sheen: There's a maiden sits on Tinwald brae, And she sings loud between." Madge had no sooner received the catch-word, than she vindicated Ratcliffe's sagacity by setting off at score with the song: "O sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said, When ye suld rise and ride?
You are kind, thoughtful, conscientious, high-minded, cultivated, fitted better than any woman I ever saw, for public duties. Your place is there. You belong among those who exercise an influence beyond their time. I only ask you to take the place which is yours." This desperate appeal to Mrs. Lee's ambition was a calculated part of Ratcliffe's scheme.
Ratcliffe's grey eyes grew colder and stonier than ever as he gradually perceived that Baron Jacobi was carrying on a set scheme with malignant ingenuity, to drive him out of Madeleine's house, and he swore a terrible oath that he would not be beaten by that monkey-faced foreigner.
Even while Ratcliffe's hand was still on his shoulder he had raised his cane, and before the Secretary saw what was coming, the old man had struck him with all his force full in the face. For a moment Ratcliffe staggered back and grew pale, but the shock sobered him.
Her antipathy to Ratcliffe was more violent than her husband's, and was even more openly expressed, until the President was quite put out of countenance by it. She extended her hostility to every one who could be supposed to be Ratcliffe's friend, and the newspapers, as well as private gossip, had marked out Mrs.
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