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With the first she was all gay and coquette; with the second all fond and rampant; and with the last all cold and reserved. She therefore told Mr. I assure you, Mr. Wild, she hath the most violent passion for you in the world; and indeed, dear Tishy, if you offer to go back, since I plainly see Mr. Wild's designs are honourable, I will betray all you have ever said."
On the morrow on which this message was delivered, our hero, little dreaming of the happiness which, of its own accord, was advancing so near towards him, had called Fireblood to him; and, after informing that youth of the violence of his passion for the young lady, and assuring him what confidence he reposed in him and his honour, he despatched him to Miss Tishy with the following letter; which we here insert, not only as we take it to be extremely curious, but to be a much better pattern for that epistolary kind of writing which is generally called love-letters than any to be found in the academy of compliments, and which we challenge all the beaus of our time to excel either in matter or spelling.
It's really for Mitchy and Aggie," the girl went on "before they go abroad." "Ah then I see what you've come up for! Tishy and I aren't in it. It's all for Mitchy." "If you mean there's nothing I wouldn't do for him you're quite right. He has always been of a kindness to me !" "That culminated in marrying your friend?" Vanderbank asked.
Longdon's delivering his full thought. "Very horrid of two sisters to be both, in their marriages, so wretched." "Ah but Tishy, I maintain," Mrs. Brook returned, "ISN'T wretched at all. If I were satisfied that she's really so I'd never let Nanda come to her." "That's the most extraordinary doctrine, love," the Duchess interposed.
Sweet and short, like this toothful of cherry brandy I'm after drinking!" "Ah, that's poor stuff, Doctor," said Mr. Hallinan, proprietor of Hallinan's Hotel, a prosperous hostelry, much patronised by salmon-fishers. "Give me a sup of good old John Jameson in its purity!" "'Twas for Tishy I brought this out," replied the Doctor, apologetically; "but I lost sight of her.
'Is it true that you wish to remain with Effie and Tishy? That's what your mother calls it when she means that you will give me up. 'How can I give you up? the girl demanded. 'Why can't we go on being friends, as I asked you the evening you dined here? 'What do you mean by friends? 'Well, not making everything impossible.
For my part, I believe that the Big Doctor viewed with a justified composure " ... that last Wild pageant of the accumulated past That clangs and flashes for a drowning man." In that same wind-wild dawn, Larry awoke, and tried to believe that he was a bridegroom, and was going to espouse Tishy Mangan in the course of the next few hours. "C'est toujours l'imprévu qui arrive!" he told himself.
Dora was almost always taken up by visitors, and he had scarcely any direct conversation with her. She was there, and he was glad she was there, and she knew he was glad (he knew that), but this was almost all the communion he had with her. She was mild, exquisitely mild this was the term he mentally applied to her now and it amply sufficed him, with the conviction he had that she was not stupid. She attended to the tea (for Mademoiselle Bourde was not always free), she handed the petits fours, she rang the bell when people went out; and it was in connection with these offices that the idea came to him once he was rather ashamed of it afterward that she was the Cinderella of the house, the domestic drudge, the one for whom there was no career, as it was useless for the Marquise to take up her case. He was ashamed of this fancy, I say, and yet it came back to him; he was even surprised that it had not occurred to him before. Her sisters were neither ugly nor proud (Tishy, indeed, was almost touchingly delicate and timid, with exceedingly pretty points, yet with a little appealing, old-womanish look, as if, small very small as she was, she was afraid she shouldn't grow any more); but her mother, like the mother in the fairy-tale, was a femme forte. Madame de Brives could do nothing for Dora, not absolutely because she was too plain, but because she would never lend herself, and that came to the same thing. Her mother accepted her as recalcitrant, but Cousin Maria's attitude, at the best, could only be resignation. She would respect her child's preferences, she would never put on the screw; but this would not make her love the child any more. So Raymond interpreted certain signs, which at the same time he felt to be very slight, while the conversation in Mrs. Temperly's salon (this was its preponderant tendency) rambled among questions of bric-
Were I minded to use in this connexion a "loud" word and the critic in general hates loud words as a man of taste may hate loud colours I should speak of the composition of the chapters entitled "Tishy Grendon," with all the pieces of the game on the table together and each unconfusedly and contributively placed, as triumphantly scientific.
Tishy is little more than a baby; she may not be married for ten years. 'That is very true. 'And you dispose of the interval by a simple "meanwhile"? My dear Dora, your talk is strange, Raymond continued, with his voice passionately lowered. 'And I may come to the house often? How often do you mean in ten years? 'Don't say anything against my mother, the girl broke in, beseechingly.
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