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Updated: June 18, 2025
Saffy was not one to understand much of grief beyond her own passing troubles; it was a thing for which she seemed to have little reception; and her occasionally unsympathetic ways were, considering her age, more of a grief to her mother than was quite reasonable; she feared she saw in her careless glee the same root which in her brother flowered in sullen disregard. Mark was very different.
Saffy pounced on a flower like a wild beast on its prey; she never stood and gazed at one, like Mark. Hester would gaze till the tears came in her eyes; There are consciousnesses of lack which carry more bliss than any possession. Mark was in many things an exception a curious mixture of child and youth. He had never been strong, and had always been thoughtful.
The father was not equal however to the company of two of his children, and Mark alone proceeded to get ready, while Saffy sulked in a corner. But he was not doing the right thing in taking him out. He ought to have known that the boy was not able for anything to be called a walk; neither was the weather fit for his going out.
He saw, as they listened, the eyes of little Mark and Saffy had almost surpassed the use of eyes and become ears as well. He saw Hester also, who was still child enough to prefer a story of adventure to a love-tale fixed as if, but for the way it was bound over to sobriety, her hair would have stood on end.
When Mark heard his father's step, he bounded to meet him; and when his sweet moonlit rather than sunshiny face appeared at the door, the gloom on his father's yielded a little; the gleam of a momentary smile broke over it, and he said kindly: "Come, Mark, I want you to go for a walk with me." "Yes, papa," answered the boy. "May Saffy come too?"
Vavasor took upon him to assure Mrs. Raymount that Mark was safe and would be all right in a little while. She rose then, and with what help Saffy could give her, managed to walk home. But after that day she never was so well again. Vavasor ran on to the house. Mr. Raymount crossed the river by the bridge, and was soon on the spot just as the first signs of returning animation appeared.
Long before they reached their new home, Saffy and Mark were sound asleep, Hester was sunk in her own thoughts, and the father and mother sat in unbroken silence, hand in hand.
He was not a very vigorous boy in corporeal matters; but, unlike his father's, his light was almost always shining, and making the faces about him shine. After a few minutes, he said, as if unconsciously, his eyes fixed on the crocuses, "I can't think how they come!" "They grow!" said Saffy. Said her father, willing to set them thinking,
This expedition, however successful in the main, was attended with one misfortune, the loss of the Lichfield ship of war, commanded by captain Barton, which, together with one transport and a bomb-tender, was wrecked on the coast of Barbary, about nine leagues to the northward of Saffy, in the dominions of Morocco.
If, on the other hand, the men and women in the concert-room were as oddly distinguished one from another as these different fishes, you would prefer going with your brother." "I'm sure I shouldn't" said Saffy to Mark. "Phizzes is best on fishes," answered Mark sententiously. "I like faces best; only you don't always want to look at what you like best! I wonder why."
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