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Updated: May 11, 2025
So Trebooze swallows his spite and shame, as do many folk who call themselves his betters, when they have to deal with a great man's hanger-on, and sends down a note to Tom: "Mr. Trebooze requests the pleasure of Mr. Thurnall's company with his hounds at " And Tom accepts why not? and chats with Campbell, as they go, on many things; and among other things on this,
"Is not your name Harvey! Are you not the schoolmistress who saved Mr. Thurnall's life? who behaved so nobly in the cholera? Yes! I knew you were! Come and sit down, and tell me all! I have so longed to know you! Dear creature, I have felt as if you were my own sister. He Mr. Thurnall wrote often about all your heroism." Grace seemed to choke down somewhat: and then answered steadfastly
And up and down the town the foul fiend sported, now here now there; snapping daintily at unexpected victims, as if to make confusion worse confounded: to belie Thurnall's theories and prognostics, and harden the hearts of fools by fresh excuses for believing that he had nothing to do with drains and water; that he was "only" such an only! "the Visitation of God."
"My father takes the Communion," said he, half to himself. "At least, it is a beautiful old " Howsoever the sentence would have been finished, Tom stopped short "Hey? What does that mean?" "At last?" gasped Frank, gently enough. "Excuse me!" He was bowed almost double, crushing Thurnall's arm in the fierce gripe of pain. "Pish! Hang it! Impossible! There, you are all right now!" "For the time.
"Whether" and she forced the words slowly out in a low whisper, "whether you know anything of of Mr. Thurnall's money his belt?" "Is the girl mad! Belt! Money? Do you take me for a thief, wench!" "No! no! no! Only say you you know nothing of it!" "Psha! girl! Go to your school:" and the old woman tried to rise.
We hold in England that an honest man is a match for three rogues. If the same law holds good in the United States, I leave you to settle whether Northerners or Southerners are the honester men." But now, those words of Thurnall's, backed by far bitterer ones of Marie's, were fretting Stangrave's heart. What if they were true? They were not the whole truth.
Thurnall's." "I think you had better go, Mr. Thurnall," said Mary, quietly. "Indeed you had, boy. Bother poets, and the day they first began to breed in Whitbury! Such an evening spoilt! Have a cup of coffee? No? then a glass of sherry?" Out went Tom. Mrs. Brown had been up, and seen him seemingly sleeping; then had heard him run downstairs hurriedly.
Although the story is in many respects weaker than its predecessors, it nevertheless abounds in brilliant and vivid word-paintings, the descriptions of North Devon scenery being probably unsurpassed in English prose. I. Tom Thurnall's Wanderings
To Grace he seemed one of the old Scotch Covenanters of whom she had read, risen from the dead to preach there from his rock beneath the great temple of God's air, a wider and a juster creed than theirs. Frank drew Thurnall's arm through his, and whispered, "I shall thank you for this to my dying day:" but Thurnall held down his head. He seemed deeply moved. At last, half to himself, "Humph!
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