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Updated: June 14, 2025
Ferrall, watching curiously, saw Siward's gun fly up as two big dark spots floated up from the marsh and went swinging over his head. Crack! Crack! Down sheered the black spots, tumbling earthward out of the sky. "Duck," said Ferrall; "a double for Stephen. Lord Harry! how that man can shoot! Isn't it a pity that "
Even if he returned, she could not know with certainty how much of a part hazard had played on the landing above, where she already heard the distant sounds of Sylvia's voice mingling with Siward's, then a light footfall or two, and silence.
"I was," said Sylvia, curling her lip in biting self-contempt. "Well, that's a wholesome confession, anyway. O dear, how I do yawn! and Lent only half over. Sylvia, what are you staring at? Oh, I see." They had driven south to Washington Square, where Mrs. Ferrall had desired to leave a note, and were now returning. Sylvia had leaned forward to look up at Siward's house, but with Mrs.
The Duke, who with some difficulty comprehended the general meaning of Siward's speech, bit his lip, but replied courteously: "The youths of all nations may learn from renowned age. Much doth it shame me that I cannot commune with thee in the ancestral tongue; but the angels at least know the language of the Norman Christian, and I pray them and the saints for a calm end to thy brave career."
"Saw you at Westbury, I think," said Fleetwood politely to Plank, as the two lifted their glasses to one another. "I hunted there for a day or two," replied Plank, modestly. Fleetwood laughed, and glanced amusedly at Plank over his glass. "It isn't that horse, Mr. Plank. That's Drumceit, Stephen Siward's famous horse."
"Good God!" whispered Ferrall; "is it bad?" And Siward's glazed eyes stared and stared at the scrawled and inky message: "YOUR MOTHER IS VERY ILL. COME AT ONCE." The signature was the name of their family physician, Grisby.
She added that when Quarrier, as governor, had concurred in Siward's expulsion he knew perfectly well that Siward was not guilty, because she herself had so informed Quarrier. Since then she had also told Mortimer, but he had taken no steps to do justice to Siward, although he, Mortimer, was still a governor of the Patroons Club.
Sylvia, lying in the hot sand on the tiny crescent beach under the cliffs, listened gravely to Siward's figures, as, note-book in hand, he went over the real-estate problem, commenting thoughtfully as he discussed the houses offered. "Twenty by a hundred and two; good rear, north side of the street next door to the Tommy Barclays, you know, Sylvia; only they're asking forty-two-five."
But Elgfrothi's feat was performed under such widely different circumstances that the author may, or may not, have had Siward's feat in mind in recording the incident. However, suggestions received from one story are often employed in another quite as the author sees fit, so that, although one is not inclined to attach much importance to this incident, it is, nevertheless, worth noting.
"If all the Godwinssons be dead, there are Leofricssons left, I trust, and Siward's kin, and the Gospatricks in Northumbria. Ah? Where were my nephews in the battle? Not killed too, I trust?" "They were not in the battle." "Not with their new brother-in-law? Much he has gained by throwing away the Swan-neck, like a base hound as he was, and marrying my pretty niece. But where were they?"
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