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Updated: June 12, 2025
Mrs Saville's face fell into an expression of martyr-like despair, and the colonel looked fierce and frowning; but, like many good things, and people also, Yew Hedge showed its worst points on the surface, and modestly hid its Virtues out of sight.
In some fashion he had strained his foot in mounting the ladder, and he was now trying to screen her from the result of her carelessness. To allow such a thing as that, however, was not Peggy Saville's way. Her eyes gleamed, and her voice rang out clear and distinct. "I am afraid it is I who am to blame. I am afraid you hurt yourself climbing into the store-room for me.
Whatever happened, she could not fail to be content if Arthur were near. He was so good, so strong, so radiant, that his very presence was a guarantee of happiness, of something more than happiness, for, with all his brightness of manner, there was an underlying nobility in Arthur Saville's character which Rosalind recognised and longed after in the depths of her vacillating heart.
Irritated and impatient at Saville's tone, Godolphin rose. "Between you and me," said Saville, in wishing him goodbye, "I don't think she will ever marry again. Lady Erpingham is fond of power and liberty; even the young Godolphin and you are not so handsome as you were will find it a hopeless suit." "Pshaw!" muttered Godolphin, as he departed.
A thunder of applausive hands marked the end of Percy Saville's comic song. Mr. Montagu Samuels was beaming at his brother's grotesque drollery. There was an interval of general conversation, followed by a round game in which Raphael and Esther had to take part. It was very dull, and they were glad to find themselves together again.
The most common disease to genius is nympholepsy the saddening for a spirit that the world knows not. Ah! how those outward disappointments which should cure, only feed the disease! The dinner at Saville's was gay and lively, as such entertainments with such participators usually are.
Once seated, and a little out of breath, she remembered Madame Saville's letter, which she had slipped into her pocket. It was sealed and had a stamp on it; it was too highly scented to be in good taste, and it was addressed to a lieutenant of chasseurs with an aristocratic name, in a garrison at Fontainebleau.
They did not accurately heed that the first half was Saville's; because the first half had excited, not ruined them. Besides this method of making money, so strictly social, Saville had also applied his keen intellect and shrewd sense to other speculations.
They had begged to be shown to Miss Saville's room, and came rustling in, smiling and beaming, with woollen caps over their heads, snow-shoes on their feet, and fleecy shawls swathed round and round their figures, and fastened with a hairpin on the left shoulder, in secure and elegant fashion. Peggy stood, brush in hand, staring at them and shaking with laughter. "He! he! he!
There was much that they wanted to say to each other, yet for the most part they were silent, Peggy sitting with her head on her mother's shoulder, and Mrs Saville's arms clasped tightly round her. Every now and then she stroked the smooth brown head, and sometimes Peggy raised her lips and kissed the cheek which leant against her own, but the sentences came at long intervals.
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