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Updated: May 31, 2025
"You said she would not be ready for sea till next month." "No, but there is discipline to be thought of." He looked past her, up to the stars, with a scrutinising maritime eye, recognising them and naming them to himself. He did not meet her eyes dangerous, tear-laden. "There is something the matter with you," she said. "You are different.
Letting fall her hands, he sank speechless upon his knees, and buried his head in the blue-and-white coverlet of the couch. With tear-laden eyes Sydney walked to the gate, her hands outstretched before her, like a blind man feeling his way. Johnny rubbed his nose in sympathy against her shoulder as she unfastened his chain.
Harrington was right such hours do go by like the rest; those that are tear-laden toil on a little slower than such as are bright with smiles, but the eternity which crowds close upon them receives both alike, and they float away into the past, mistily together.
I asked Alec MacKenzie pointblank, and he confessed that he was guilty of George's death. 'I'm very sorry, said Bobbie. 'Why? she asked, looking up at him with tear-laden eyes. 'Because I know that you were very much in love with him, he answered. Lucy flushed. But she had much more to say. 'I was very unjust to you on the night of that dance.
"It is seventeen years since we heard it together, dearest!" said Frederic, bending to kiss the tear-laden eyes. "And I can say to you now, what I did not, while poor Rosa lived, own to myself that, try to hush it though I did, in all that time the lost echo was never still."
It was for her to take the responsibility upon herself; it was for her to make the move; it was, in short, for her to say that the engagement should be over. The very day that Mrs. Fenwick left her she wrote the letter, and Captain Marrable had it in his pocket when he went down to bid a last farewell to his father. It had been a sad, weary, tear-laden performance, the writing of that letter.
"My dear," said Sir Thomas, seating himself by Clarissa's bedside, "this is very bad." "If I had known you were coming, papa, I would have got up." "If you are not well, perhaps you are better here, dear." "I don't think I am quite well, papa." "What is it, my love?" Clarissa looked at him out of her large tear-laden eyes, but said nothing. "Patience says that you are not happy."
Does one longer think of the storm when the wind has driven off the heavy, tear-laden clouds, and the thunder has died away in the distance? It seemed to her now that she had never had but one name in her heart, and upon her lips Zilah. And then this man, this hero, her hero, asked her hand, and said to her, "I love you." Andras loved her!
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