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Updated: June 19, 2025
Reybold's eyes were full of tears as he listened to the boy, and, turning aside, he saw Joyce Basil weeping also. "My dear girl," he said to her, looking up significantly, "I fear he will see his great Father very soon." Reybold had few acquaintances, and he encouraged the landlady's daughter to go about with him when she could get a leisure hour or evening.
Reybold," she would say, "you commercial people of the Nawth can't hunt, I believe. Jedge Basil is now on the mountains of Fawquear hunting the plova. His grandfather's estate is full of plova." If, by chance, Reybold saw a look of care on Mrs. Basil's face, he inquired for the Judge, her husband, and found he was still shooting on the Occequan. "Does he never come to Washington, Mrs.
The laughter was general and cordial among the Southerners, while the intruder pressed hard upon Mr. Reybold.
As Reybold stood in an archway of this street, just as the evening shadows deepened above the line of sunset, he saw something pass which made his heart start to his throat and fastened him to the spot.
Between Reybold and Joyce there were already the delicate relations of a girl who did not know that she was a woman, and a man who knew she was beautiful and worthy.
I tried to keep the secret from my daughter, but her affection broke down my disguises. Thank God! the old rounder's deal has run out at last. For his wife he'll flash her diles no more, nor be taken on the vag." "Basil," said Reybold, "what trust do you leave to me in your family?" Mrs. Basil strove to interpose, but the dying man raised his voice: "Tryphonee can go home to Fauquier.
She pointed to one of the old portraits in the room a picture fairly painted by some provincial artist and it revealed a handsome face, a little voluptuous but aristocratic, the shoulders clad in a martial cloak, the neck in ruffles and ruffles, also and a diamond in the shirt bosom. Reybold studied it with all his mind.
Reybold had escorted the page's sister to the Congressional cemetery, and had observed even Old Beau to come with a wreath of flowers and hobble to the grave and deposit them there. But the Judge, remorseless in death as frivolous in life, never came near his mourning wife and daughter in their severest sorrow. Mrs.
We never sleep, brother and I, but we say your name together, and ask God to bless you." Reybold sought in vain to suppress a confession he had resisted. The contact of her form, her large dark eyes now fixed upon him in emotion, the birth of the conscious woman in the virgin and her affection still in the leashes of a slavish sacrifice, tempted him onward to the conquest.
The gorgeous old mendicant took them all grimly and leering, and then pounced upon the Northern man, assured by their twinkles and winks that the rest expected some sport. "And now, Right Honorable from the banks of the Susquehanna, Colonel Reybold you see, I got your name; I ben a layin' for you! come down handsome for the Uncle and ornament of his capital and country. What's yore's?"
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