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Updated: May 14, 2025
Anders wanted to rub his leg, but made a mistake and caught hold of Lively Sara's, and made her scream; and this so flustered his hand that it could not find its way up, but went on making mistakes, and there was much laughter and merriment. Karl Johan was not taking much part in the hilarity; he looked as if he were pondering something. Suddenly he roused himself and drew out his purse.
"He wanted to bring her here, in fact he did bring her once, only she was so drunk that she could not get beyond the threshold, and Ninon's lover, the painter you saw painting the steam engines, was charged to explain to the poet that Sara's intemperance rendered her impossible in respectable society.
Yet she bit back the scream lest it should startle him, every muscle of her body rigid with the effort that her silence cost her. Seven stairs more! Six! Sara's lips were moving voicelessly. She was whispering rapidly over and over again "God! God! God! Keep him safe! . . . You can do it. . . . Don't let him fall. . . ." Five! Only five steps more! "Hold up the stairs! . . . God!
Heathfield is only twenty minutes from Brighton, and Mr. Hamilton will be able to visit you far more comfortably, and you can sleep a night or two at Sara's when you want to go up to London to get your trousseau. I thanked Aunt Philippa warmly for her kind thought, and then I wrote to Giles, and asked his opinion. I found that he entirely agreed with Aunt Philippa.
"Well," laughed the young man, to cover Sara's embarrassment, for she had blushed like a rose at this, "I did have something in my pocket; however, as it's only for early-go-to-beders, I don't believe I'll produce it to-night." Molly was on her feet in an instant. "I always go to bed early, Mr. Glendenning, only when Sara wants me to sit up, like last night: you don't blame me for that, do you?"
Patrick's reminiscent comment on Elisabeth Durward recalled itself to Sara's mind: "I think she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen," and she recognized that almost any one might have truthfully subscribed to the same opinion. Mrs.
Morosini was much taken with Sara's charms, and only thought of how he could possess her. He was still a young man, full of romantic notions, and she would have become odious in his eyes if he could have guessed that she would have to be bought with a heavy price. He told me several times that if a woman proposed payment for her favours, his disgust would expel his love in a moment.
"It will give Monkshaven something to talk about, anyway" whimsically. "I suppose" the toe of Sara's narrow foot was busily tracing a pattern on the carpet "I suppose you don't know why he shuts himself up like that at Far End?" "No, I don't," he answered. "But I'd wager it's for some better reason than people give him credit for. Or it may be merely a preference for his own society.
No one present except the future partner of his own heart marked the transient melancholy which passed over his countenance. She, who had suspected the unhappy Lady Sara's attachment, loved Thaddeus, if possible, still dearer for the compassion he bestowed on the meek penitence of the unhappy victim of a passion often as inscrutable as destructive.
She was oddly resentful of any manifestation of interest in her affairs, and snubbed Sara roundly when the latter ventured an injudicious inquiry as to whether Lester Kent were still in the neighbourhood. "How on earth should I know?" The golden-brown eyes met Sara's with a look of nervous defiance. "I'm not his keeper."
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