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Updated: June 23, 2025
Mrs Trafford prepared for the interview, and tried to look very composed as the doors opened, and her husband ushered in and presented to her Lord and Lady de Mowbray, their daughters, Lady Firebrace, Mr Jermyn, who still lingered at the castle, and Mr Alfred Mountchesney and Lord Milford, who were mere passing guests, on their way to Scotland, but reconnoitering the heiresses in their course.
Within easy range, Trafford swung his gun shoulder-wards to fire, but at that instant a cloud of snow rose up between him and his quarry so that they all were blinded.
Gray will tell you all about me, I suppose, and the affairs besides; so I will stop. "Your nephew, " And don't mind what Mr. Gray says, please, and only do as you like." Richard Trafford finished this letter with something like a grim smile on his lips. "The boy has got the true Trafford spirit," he said to himself, "and some of Brother Noll's gentleness, I fancy.
While you are enchanted with the effect, it should possess so little prominency and peculiarity, that you should never be able to guess the cause. "Pray," said Lord Vincent to Mr. Wormwood, "have you been to P this year?" "No," was the answer. "I have, my lord," said Miss Trafford, who never lost an opportunity of slipping in a word.
He turned to the Indian: "Someone lives there"? he said. "It is the home of the dead, but life is also there." "White man, or Indian?" But no reply came. The Indian pointed instead to the buffalo rumbling down the valley. Trafford forgot the smoke, forgot everything except that splendid quarry. Shon was excited. "Sarpints alive," he said, "look at the troops of thim!
"All persons with good names affect good blood," said Lord de Mowbray; and then turning to Mrs Trafford he overwhelmed her with elaborate courtesies of phrase; praised everything again; first generally and then in detail; the factory, which he seemed to prefer to his castle the house, which he seemed to prefer even to the factory the gardens, from which he anticipated even greater gratification than from the house.
"Why go there till we go for the last time?" Noll's arm went about his uncle's neck. "Don't say such things!" he said. "Perhaps we'll not live here always, Uncle Richard; and, if we do have to be buried up there in the sand, heaven is just as near, after all." Trafford looked at the boy's face, ruddy and glowing from the long walk in the wind, and sighed, "Yes, for you, Noll. But for me, no, no!"
"Why I must say for him it is not selfishness that makes him a malcontent," said Mr Trafford; "he bemoans the condition of the people." "If we are to judge of the condition of the people by what we see here," said Lord de Mowbray, "there is little to lament in it. But I fear these are instances not so common as we could wish. You must have been at a great outlay, Mr Trafford?"
But Lady Frances was no longer a resident at Trafford Park, and he therefore telegraphed to the old butler, who had been a servant in the family from a period previous to his own birth. This telegram he sent on the Monday, as follows; "Shall be at Trafford Thursday morning, 4.30 A.M. Will walk over. Let Dick be up. Have room ready. Tell my father."
The lingering daylight touched it with a rosy flush as the rising night-breeze bore it steadily onward; but Trafford saw it not, and went up the piazza-steps, and into the stone house, without turning his eyes seaward.
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