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He had started for Rushton & Co. on the previous Monday after having been idle for three weeks, and as the house where he was working had to be done right through he had congratulated himself on having secured a job that would last till Christmas; but he now began to fear that what had befallen Jack Linden might also happen to himself at any time.
"And so there are, my dear," said Jennie Montgomery, taking Helen Rushton by the arm and pointing to a small flower stand whereon sat a fragrant rose bush crowned with tea roses. "They are indeed magnificent, Jennie, but I meant the little June roses that made such a gorgeous sight the morning that Madge and I arrived sans ceremonie."
"Well, you see, ma'am, that is true; but at night and in the mornings she would kneel on my lap to say her prayers, and put her little soft arms round my neck. And those are the times I'll mostly miss her." Mrs. Rushton coughed slightly.
"Her clothes, everything belonging to her, had been taken out of the wardrobe, and carried away, and perhaps that also in mistake no doubt." "Nonsense, woman!" replied Mrs. Rushton. "I left it not long ago on her toilet-glass. I intended to show her a purchase I had made, and not finding her, left it as I tell you." Another search was made with the same ill-success.
"Did you ever hear of an Italian lady that Sir Tom was thick with before he married?" he asked his wife when he came home. "How can you ask me such a question," said that virtuous woman, "when you know as well as I do that there were half-a-dozen?" "Did you ever hear the name of Forno-Populo?" he asked. Mrs. Rushton paused and did her best to look as if she was trying to recollect.
Rushton as she was descending the stairs that Mademoiselle de Tourville, who had complained of headache in the morning, would like to take an airing with her. The sound of the harp issuing from the drawing-room, and the faintly-distinguished tones of her voice in some plaintive silver melody perhaps suggested the invitation; and thither the mistress of the mansion at once proceeded.
Miss Lavinia made one or two additional attempts to direct the conversation on general topics; but the surly guest strangled her incipient attempts with pitiless indifference. Finally, Miss Lavinia sailed out of the room with stately dignity, and disappeared. Mr. Rushton looked after her, smiling grimly. "The fact is, Squire," he said, "that your cousin, Miss Lavinia, is a true woman.
"Do not play that any more, young man," he said, in a low tone, "it distresses me." "Distresses you, sir?" said Verty. "Yes." "What? 'Lullaby?" "Yes," muttered the lawyer. Verty's sad eyes inquired the meaning of so singular a fact, but Mr. Rushton did not indulge this curiosity.
It may be supposed that at her present age of twenty-three, a wife, a mother, and with a modest consciousness of her own place and position, she was not a less difficult antagonist. She was still a little frightened, and grew somewhat pale, but she looked steadfastly at Mr. Rushton with a nervous smile. "I think you must not speak to me so," she said.
You can't get away from that; and if the world was round, as they want us to believe, all the water would run off except just a little at the top. To my mind, that settles the whole argymint. 'Another thing that gets over me, continued Rushton, 'is this: according to science, the earth turns round on its axle at the rate of twenty miles a minit.
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