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Updated: September 27, 2025
"Good Heaven!" he exclaimed, "it's Miss Talboys." It was Miss Talboys, flushed and breathless, with a woolen shawl thrown over her head. Robert Audley now saw her face clearly for the first time, and he saw that she was very handsome. He saw all this in a few moments, and he wondered only the more at the stoicism of her manner during his interview with Mr. Talboys.
"Great heavens!" exclaimed George Talboys, "is this the way you welcome me? I come to England to find my wife dead within a week of my touching land, and you begin to chatter to me about my beard you, her father!" "True! true!" muttered the old man, wiping his bloodshot eyes; "a sad shock, a sad shock, my dear George. If you'd only been here a week earlier."
And yet, as Mackinnon observed, there still stood the dirty friars and the small French soldiers; and there still toiled the slow priests, wending their tedious way up to the church of the Ara Coeli. But that was the mundane view of the matter, a view not regarded by Mrs. Talboys in her ecstasy.
It was half-past one o'clock when the night wanderer entered the village of Audley, and it was only there that he remembered that Clara Talboys had omitted to give him any direction by which he might find the cottage in which Luke Marks lay. "It was Dawson who recommended that the poor creature should be taken to his mother's cottage," Robert thought, by-and-by, "and, I dare say.
Dodd cannot penetrate there, I conclude." "Of course not." "Then she will be Mrs. Talboys." "Of course she will." Lucy sighed a little over David's ardent, despairing passion, and his pale and drawn face. Her woman's instinct enabled her to comprehend in part a passion she was at this period of her life incapable of feeling, and she pitied him. He was the first of her admirers she had ever pitied.
Talboys clambered up to the top of a tomb, and made a little speech, holding a parasol over her head. Beneath her feet, she said, reposed the ashes of some bloated senator, some glutton of the empire, who had swallowed into his maw the provision necessary for a tribe. Old Rome had fallen through such selfishness as that, but new Rome would not forget the lesson.
While the agitated young man walked up and down in a fever of regret and despair, the child ran to his grandfather, and clung about the tails of his coat. "Come home, grandpa, come home," he said. "I'm tired." George Talboys turned at the sound of the babyish voice, and looked long and earnestly at the boy. He had his father's brown eyes and dark hair.
The lady was very quiet and reserved, seldom sharing in the after-cabin amusements, never laughing, and speaking very little; but she and George Talboys had been excellent friends throughout the passage. "Does my cigar annoy you, Miss Morley?" he said, taking it out of his mouth. "Not at all; pray do not leave off smoking. I only came up to look at the sunset. What a lovely evening!"
She would fall back every now and then, and let Uncle Fountain pass her; then come dashing up to him, and either pull up short with a piece of solemn information like an aid-de-camp from headquarters, or pass him shooting a shaft of raillery back into his chariot, whereat he would rise with mock fury and yell a repartee after her. Fountain found himself good company Talboys himself.
But absent-minded and gloomy George Talboys had strolled away along the margin of the ditch, and stood striking the bulrushes with his cane, half a dozen paces away from Robert and Alicia. "Nevermind," said the young lady, impatiently; for she by no means relished this long disquisition upon my lady's note.
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