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Updated: June 5, 2025
Indeed, Bell Robson piqued herself on her housekeeping generally, and once in-doors in the gray, bare stone house, there were plenty of comforts to be had besides cleanliness and warmth. The great rack of clap-bread hung overhead, and Bell Robson's preference of this kind of oat-cake over the leavened and partly sour kind used in Yorkshire was another source of her unpopularity.
'Good-night, aunt, good-night, Sylvie! But Sylvia turned her back on him, and he could hardly say 'good-night' to Daniel, who had caused such an unpleasant end to an evening that had at one time been going on so well. A few days after, Farmer Robson left Haytersbank betimes on a longish day's journey, to purchase a horse.
Mr Robson, when he came up from Plymouth for a natural history expedition into Dartmoor, did not select a hotel for his quarters, for the simple reason that such a house of accommodation did not exist, but took what he could get a couple of tiny bedrooms in the cottage of a widow whose husband had been a mining captain on the moor; and there after a long tramp they returned on the evening after the adventure, to find their landlady awaiting them at the pretty rose-covered porch, eager and expectant and ready to throw up her hands in dismay.
In the sudden sweep of this vital remembrance, Claire Robson rose for a moment above the fretful drip of circumstance.... Blood-red Dawn!... She threw herself back upon her bed and shuddered.... She rose at seven o'clock, but already the morning had grown pallid and flecked with gray clouds. An apologetic tap came at the door, and the voice of Mrs.
Mrs. Robson lingered on, began slowly to recover, and before Christmas was again sitting by the fireside in the house-place, wan and pulled down, muffled up with shawls and blankets, but still there once more, where not long before Sylvia had scarcely expected to see her again. Philip came up that evening and found Sylvia in wild spirits.
When I gived my vote to Measter Cholmley to go up to t' Parliament House, I as good as said, 'Now yo' go up theer, sir, and tell 'em what I, Dannel Robson, think right, and what I, Dannel Robson, wish to have done. Else I'd be darned if I'd ha' gi'en my vote to him or any other man. Div yo' think I'd send up Measter Cholmley to speak up for that piece o' work?
Mallathorpe's own express desire, made in her own handwriting. And it's quite certain that what he says about the relationship is true -I examined the proof myself. It's not unnatural that Mrs. Mallathorpe should desire to do something for her own cousin's son." "To that extent?" sneered Robson.
My kinsman's life, as well as that of the Captain Robson, depend upon your silence. I rather think you will do us no harm, eh? And there he had me. If I was ever disposed to violate his confidence, the fact that I would thereby jeopardize my young cousin would effectually deter me.
Potter, the book-keeper, round, and tubby, and puffy, and his keys went under inspection in the same way, taking a little longer this time, with two separate dashes to the light of the window. Then there was Mr. Robson, young and spruce, Mr. Clancy, older and less tidy, and four or five more.
Chancing to pass Flint's office at the noon hour, he dropped in. It happened that Miss Munch was standing near the counter, and she answered his inquiries with suave eagerness. "Oh, Miss Robson isn't with us any more. She hasn't been here for over a week not since her mother was taken sick. Oh, I thought you knew. You're Mr. Stillman, aren't you? I've heard my cousin, Mrs. Richards, speak of you.
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