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Updated: June 25, 2025
The spaces between the beams were rough-plastered; and on the decoration of this plaster, while in a soft state, a good deal of time had been expended by Geoffrey Templestowe, who had developed a turn for household art, and seemed to enjoy lying for hours on his back on a staging, clad in pajamas and indenting the plaster with rosettes and sunken half-rounds, using a croquet ball and a butter stamp alternately, the whole being subsequently finished by a coat of dull gold paint.
Templestowe all right, and Mrs. I declare," stretching himself, "it's a blessing to get a breath of good air again. There's nothing in the world that can compare with Colorado." A light carryall was waiting near the station, whose top was little more than a fringed awning.
"Wilfrid, my early loved," slowly gasped she, removing her gray hair from her furrowed temples, and gazing on her boy fondly, as he nestled on Ivanhoe's knee "promise me, by St. Waltheof of Templestowe promise me one boon!" "I do," said Ivanhoe, clasping the boy, and thinking it was to that little innocent the promise was intended to apply. "By St. Waltheof?" "By St. Waltheof!"
Had not the arrival of the Grand Master been so unexpectedly sudden, he would have seen nothing at Templestowe which might have appeared to argue any relaxation of discipline.
"Oh, I say," cried Clarence, "this is something like! Isn't it scrumptious, Geoff? The hut never looked like this before. It's wonderful what a woman no, two women," with a bow to Mrs. Hope "can do toward making things pleasant. Where did that vase come from, Clover? We never owned anything so fine as that, I'm sure." "It came from my bag; and it's a present for you and Mr. Templestowe.
I am forgive the boldness which has offered to you the homage of my country I am the unhappy Jewess, for whom your husband hazarded his life against such fearful odds in the tiltyard of Templestowe." "Damsel," said Rowena, "Wilfred of Ivanhoe on that day rendered back but in slight measure your unceasing charity towards him in his wounds and misfortunes.
Mounted upon a mule, the gift of the Outlaw, with two tall yeomen to act as his guard and guides, the Jew had set out for the Preceptory of Templestowe, for the purpose of negotiating his daughter's redemption.
Unknown to herself a little sting of underlying jealousy tinctured these opinions. For many years Isabel Templestowe had been her favorite friend, the person she most admired and looked up to. They had been at school together, Isabel always taking the lead in everything, Imogen following and imitating.
We'll have one more pleasant night with everything just as it is, and then I'll go to work and pull all to pieces at once. It's the easiest way." Just then a foot sounded on the steps, and a knock was heard. Clover opened the door, and gave an exclamation of pleasure. It was Geoffrey Templestowe, splashed and wet from a muddy ride down the pass, but wearing a very bright face.
Clover, when questioned, "could not imagine what Mrs. Hope meant;" and Katy had to go away with her curiosity unsatisfied. Clarence came in once while she was there, but she did not see Mr. Templestowe. Katy's last gift to Clover was a pretty tea-pot of Japanese ware. "I meant it for Cecy," she explained. "But as you have none I'll give it to you instead, and take her the fan I meant for you.
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