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So the Vicar of Heriz Magna knelt beside the flesh that had been Lord Rokesle, and there they found him in the morning. LOVE AT MARTINMAS As Played at Tunbridge Wells, April 1, 1750 "He to love an altar built Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt.
"You are not overwhelmingly polite," she said, reflectively; "but, then, I suppose, living in the country is sure to damage a man's manners. Still, my dear Orson, you smack too much of the forest." "Anastasia," said Lord Rokesle, bending toward her, "will you always be thus cruel? Do you not understand that in this world you are the only thing I care for?
But Rokesle do you not know what Rokesle is ?" The Vicar of Heriz Magna would have gone on, but Lady Allonby had interrupted, her cheeks flaming. "Yes, yes," she cried; "I know him to be a worthy gentleman. 'Tis true I could not find it in my heart to marry him, yet I am proud to rank Lord Rokesle among my friends."
You heard the outer door of the corridor closing, heard chains dragged ponderously, the heavy falling of a bolt. Orts dropped the book and, springing into the arm-chair, wrested Aluric Floyer's sword from its fastening. "Tricked, tricked!" said Simon Orts. "You were always a fool, Vincent Floyer." Lord Rokesle blinked at him, as if dazzled by unexpected light. "What d'ye mean?"
I resume my lackeyship, Lord Rokesle. Perhaps 'twas only the gin. Perhaps In any event, I am once more at your service. And as guaranty of this I warn you that you are exhibiting in the affair scant forethought. Mr. Heleigh is but three miles distant.
"Punshon," said Lord Rokesle, "have any boats left the island to-night?" "No, my Lord." "You will see that none do. Also, no man is to leave Stornoway to-night, either for Heriz Magna or the mainland; and nobody is to enter Stornoway. Do you understand, Punshon?" "Yes, my Lord." "If you will pardon me," said Simon Orts, with a grin, "I have an appointment to-night.
I remember every vow you ever made to me, Anastasia, and I know they were all lies. I remember every kiss, every glance, every caress all lies, Anastasia! And gad! the only emotion it rouses in me is wonder as to why my worthy patron here should want to marry you. Of course you are wealthy, but, personally, I would not have you for double the money. I must ask you to rise, Lady Rokesle.
"Oh, bless me," Lord Rokesle observed; "I begin to fear these heroics are contagious. Possibly I, too, shall begin to rant in a moment. Meanwhile, as I understand it, you decline to perform the ceremony. I have had to warn you before this, Simon, that you mustn't take too much gin when I am apt to need you. You are very pitifully drunk, man. So you defy me and my evil courses! You defy me!"
His eyes twitched from the sobbing woman to Lord Rokesle, and then back again, in that furtive way Orts had of glancing about a room, without moving his head; he seemed to lie in ambush under his gross brows; and whatever his thoughts may have been, he gave them no utterance. "Simon," said Lord Rokesle, "Lady Allonby is about to make me the happiest of men.
"These rhetorical passages," said Lord Rokesle, "while very elegantly expressed, are scarcely to the point. So you and Simon went a-philandering once? Egad, that lends quite a touch of romance to the affair. But despatch, Parson Simon, your lady's for your betters now." "Dearly beloved, " said Simon Orts. "Simon, you are not all base. I am helpless, Simon, utterly helpless.
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