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Updated: June 25, 2025
James Steadman ushered in his lordship, a frail attenuated looking figure, of middle height, wrapped in a furred cloak, yet shivering, a pale sickly face, light auburn whiskers, light blue eyes, full and large, but with no intellectual power in them. Lady Maulevrier was sitting by the fire, in a melancholy attitude, with the Blenheim spaniel on her lap. Her son was at Hastings with his nurses.
"George Steadman, sir, a big, heavy-set chap very faithful in his attendance, sir, absolutely reliable never talks, but votes right." "I don't recall him," said the great man, after a pause, "but your description shows he's the sort we must retain."
It was at Steadman's order that the carriage waited for her ladyship at an obscure side door, rather than in front of the inn. An east wind was blowing keenly along the mountain road, and the careful Steadman was anxious his mistress should not be exposed to that chilly blast.
She was so unhappy about him, altogether so distressed at being compelled to break her word, that she could not prevent her thoughts from dwelling upon him, not even after she had poured out all her trouble to John Hammond in a long letter, in which her garden adventures and her little skirmish with Steadman were graphically described.
Thus it happened that although Lady Maulevrier asked repeatedly that James Steadman should be brought to her, she was not allowed to see him. She whose will had been paramount in that house, whose word had been law, was now treated as a little child, while the will was still as strong, the mind as keen as ever. 'She would talk to him of business, said Mr.
He was at length startled by a loud rap upon the door, and quickly turning the sketch face downwards upon the table called to the visitor to come in. At once a young man entered, and cast a curious glance around the snug room. "Mr. Steadman," he began, "you're wanted at the store. There's trouble on hand.
Steadman had begun to arrange his speech, and determined that he would merely make a few happy random extempore remarks, dashed off in that light, easy way which careful preparation can alone insure; and Mrs.
But the sun had come out warm, and the weather prophets said it was the last storm of the season. When Mr. Steadman and Mr. Driggs approached the Watson home, they found every window lighted and several sleighs in the yard. From the house came sounds of laughter and many voices. "There is no funeral here," said Mr. Driggs lightly.
Captain Steadman, sick in the next bed, and those around him, said he had been talking pleasantly with them, when he sat up to reach his cup of water on the table. As soon as he drank it he seemed to suffocate; and after tossing his arms wildly in the air, and making several fearful efforts to breathe, he died. "Hush, mother, hush," I said when I heard her cries.
He had on awful nice clothes, but thin toes on his boots, sharp as needles, and gray socks with dots on them, and a waist on his coat like as if he wore corsets, and gray gloves and a cane, Swell! He was some fine looker, you bet, but he wouldn't last long in that storm." "Where did he go, Bertie," asked Mr. Steadman, trying to hold his voice to a tone of unconcern.
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