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Updated: May 6, 2025
From this on he would drive a mule or an automobile. The fruit of his desire had turned to ashes in his mouth. But no. What of the widow? She realized, if the deacon did not, that she, not the squire's horse, had beaten the deacon's, and she was ready to make what atonement she could. As the squire passed ahead of the deacon she was stirred by a noble resolve.
There were rumors and surmises that the attractions which drew the young baronet to his bluff neighbor's hospitable hall were not the Squire's hearty cheer, old wine, and older stories, but a pair of shy, yet tender eyes, red lips, that smiled a wordless welcome, and sometimes pouted at a late coming, cheeks whose blushes daily grew warmer in love's ripening glow, a voice whose tones daily grew deeper, and seemed freighted with more delicious meanings.
In the Squire's lean brown throat, between the parted points of his stiff collar, a string seemed working. He stammered: "You you're talking like a madwoman! My father would have cut me off, his father would have cut him off!
"If I find him and bring him to the old red house this afternoon, so that Miss Redmond can identify him, will you have a sheriff ready to serve the warrant?" "Yes, I can do that." "Very well, then, and thank you, sir," said Chamberlain, moving toward the door. "And I'm keen on hearing how you got even with Mr. Thayer on the Horace." The light behind the squire's parchment face gleamed a moment.
Having waited until the bush had due time to reply. "Sorra fairer," he observed; "silence gives consint." In less than two minutes he stripped, put on one of the Squire's best shirts, and spread out his own dusky fragment in its place. "It's a good thing," said Art, "to have a clear conscience; a fair exchange is no robbery."
It seemed as though the second draught had not only operated with its own strength, but had kindled into power the latent forces of the first. He put away the bottle, and rang up Tupcombe. Less than an hour later one of the housemaids, who of course was quite aware that the Squire's illness was serious, was surprised to hear a bold and decided step descending the stairs from the direction of Mr.
Without more ado, slipping off the Squire's raiment, he donned the scarecrow's, after carefully shaking out the hay, which, from many alternate soakings and bakings in rain and sun, had become quite broken up, and would have been almost dust, were it not for the mildew which damped it.
But as he put down the letter something seemed to snap within him. Some chord of physical endurance gave way. For five months he had been living intellectually at a speed no man maintains with impunity, and this letter of the squire's, with its imperious demands upon the tired irritable brain, was the last straw. He sank down on the oriel seat, the letter dropping from his hands.
Jerome, half melted by the Squire's genial humor, half disposed still to be stiffly resentful, hesitated a second; but Miss Camilla also, for the second time, invited him to enter, with her gentle ceremony, which was the subtlest flattery he had ever known, inasmuch as it seemed to set him firmly in his own esteem above his poor estate of boyhood; and he entered, and seated himself in the place indicated, at his hostess's right hand, near the little tea-table.
"I don't agree at all. The Lard made they little wild things for the poor so well as for the rich same as the water what runs through Squire's park an' down along by the back o' my place. Who's to tell who they belongs to.
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