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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Who were Ursula Townley and Kenneth MacNair?" I asked. "Kenneth MacNair was a first cousin of the Awkward Man's grandfather, and Ursula Townley was the belle of the Island in her day. Who do you suppose told me the story no, read it to me, out of his brown book?" "Never the Awkward Man himself!" I exclaimed incredulously. "Yes, he did," said the Story Girl triumphantly.
"Morley," Tod Greeley urged, "you-cum down to the club and set in Townley's armchair. Andrew Townley ain't ever going to sit anywhere again, I reckon; he's flat on his back for keeps now. His chair is mighty empty-looking and there ain't a man round the store but would welcome you to that seat of honour."
The matter is at present without settled form or plan, but the proposal of such a scheme has caused me deep regret and anxiety.... I am going to act to-morrow in "The Hunchback;" Thursday, Mrs. Beverley; Friday, Lady Townley; Saturday, Juliet; Monday, Julia again; and Tuesday, Bizarre in "The Inconstant;" which ends our engagement here.
We were likewise deceived by the hope of falling in with rich towns and mines on this coast, not then knowing that all the wealth of this country is in the interior. Seeing that we were now entirely disappointed in our hopes, we parted company, Captain Townley going back to the S.E. while we in Captain Swan's ship went to the west.
Her eyes were large, meditative, and intelligent, her features distinguished. She was a goodly product of her race, being descended from a line of chiefs and chieftainesses broken only in the case of her grandfather, as has been mentioned. They were perfectly made, slim, yet plump, the fingers tapering, the wrist supple. Mrs. Townley then and there decided that the girl had possibilities.
It was in the house of my cousin George Siddons, then one of the very pleasantest and gayest in Calcutta, that his young nephew Harry, son of his sister-in-law, my dear Mrs. I am to act Juliet to-morrow, and Calista on Thursday; Friday and Saturday I am to act Mrs. Haller and Lady Townley at Brighton.
Black, piercing eyes, not large, a low forehead, as low as that of Clytie in the Townley bust, black hair, twisted in heavy braids, a face that one could not help looking at for its beauty, yet that one wanted to look away from for something in its expression, and could not for those diamond eyes. They were fixed on the lady-teacher now.
Edward Lambert, a barrister of the Middle Temple, and the other was Mrs. Townley, a widow, a member of a well-known Hertfordshire family, who, on a pleasant journey in Scotland, had met, conquered, and married a wealthy young American, and had been left alone in the world, by no means portionless, eighteen months before.
The loss of this rich prize was chiefly owing to Captain Townley, who insisted on taking the Lima ship in the harbour of Acapulco, when we ought to have provided ourselves with beef and maize, as we might then have done, instead of being now forced to procure provisions at the critical time of her coming on the coast.
"Thank you." The following letter was dispatched to Mrs. Preston: "I think that will bring her," said the doctor. But he reckoned without his host. The next day he received the following letter, on scented paper: Dr. Townley threw down this letter with deep disgust. "Was ever any woman more disgustingly selfish?" he exclaimed. "Her husband might have died, so far as she was concerned."
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