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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Ah, my dear madam, how do I know that? The English ladies do every day here what no other dames would dare or dream what then, must you be at home? Ach! your poor husbands!" "Mr. Thurnall!" calls Marie, from behind. "Mr. Thurnall!" Tom comes, with a quaint, dogged smile on his face. "You see him, Mr. Stangrave!
"How pleasant to sit here for ever!" said Claude, one afternoon, in the inn garden at Beddgelert, "and say, not with Descartes, 'I think, therefore I exist; but simply, 'I enjoy, therefore I exist. I almost think those Emersonians are right at times, when they crave the 'life of plants, and stones, and rain. Stangrave said to me once, that his ideal of perfect bliss was that of an oyster in the Indian seas, drinking the warm salt water motionless, and troubling himself about nothing, while nothing troubled itself about him."
And Tom hurried up the slope and out of sight, while Marie burst into an agony of weeping. "Gone, without a kind word!" Stangrave bit his lip, not in anger, but in manly self-reproach. "It is my fault, Marie! my fault! He knew me too well of old, and had too much reason to despise me! But he shall have reason no longer. He will come back, and find me worthy of you; and all will be forgotten.
So thought Stangrave on board the steamer, as he smoked his way up the shallows, and wondered which turn of the river would bring him to his destination. When would it all be over?
Down once more, into a glen; but such a glen as neither England nor America has ever seen; or, please God, ever will see, glorious as it is. Stangrave, who knew all Europe well, had walked the path before; but he stopped then, as he had done the first time, in awe. On the right, slope up the bare slate downs, up to the foot of cliffs; but only half of those cliffs God has made.
"Two? ah, rogue! shall not one suffice?" "Don't, my dearest fellow! I am looking for two English ladies." "Potz! You shall find two hundred in the hotels, ugly and fair; but the two fairest are gone this two hours." "When? which?" cries Stangrave, suspecting at once.
The hapless youth, who fancied himself alone upon the mountain tops, roared mere incoherences; and Tom, too angry to listen, and too hurried to punish, tore the revolver out of his grasp; whereon one barrel exploded "I have done it now!" No: the ball had luckily buried itself in the ground. Tom turned, to rush down hill again, and meet the impatient Stangrave. Crack whing g g! "A bullet!" Yes!
Men know now how to govern the world far too well to need any divine visitations, much less divine punishments; and Stangrave was an Utopian dreamer, only to be excused by the fact that he had in his pocket the news that three great nations were gone forth to tear each other as of yore.
Stangrave looked up, growling; and gave in. A Rhine-storm was rolling up rapidly. "They will be caught in it." "No. They are far beyond its path by now; while you shall endure the whole visitation; and if you try to proceed, pass the night in a flea-pestered post-house, or in a ditch of water."
But that might well be Alva stream, that Issbach in its green gulf far below, winding along toward the green gulf of the Moselle he will look at it no more, lest he see Grace herself come to him across the down, to chide him, with sacred horror, for the dark deed which he has come to do. And yet he does not wish to kill Stangrave. He would like to "wing him."
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