Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
Even Lady Amaldina Hauteville with her bevy was not more thoroughly engaged to her aristocratic lover than was Lady Frances to this precarious Italian nobleman. But the brother in these days was by no means as happy as his sister. There had been a terrible scene between him and Lady Frances after his return from Trafford.
The bright waters of the Mowe and its wooded hills; her matin walks to the convent to visit Ursula Trafford a pilgrimage of piety and charity and love; the faithful Harold, so devoted and so intelligent; even the crowded haunts of labour and suffering among which she glided like an angel, blessing and blessed; they rose before her those touching images of the past and her eyes were suffused with tears, of tenderness, not of gloom.
She seemed dazed and inert with suffering, and spoke mournfully: "It is too late. Not you, nor any of your race, nor anything on earth can save him. He is dead dead now." At the first sound of her voice Trafford started. He drew near to her, as pale as she was, and wonder and pity were in his face. "Hester," he said, "Hester Orval!"
He noted the tall cases of books and the open organ, and unconsciously these evidences of taste and refinement made the thought of dwelling in the stone house more acceptable. If Uncle Richard would only care for him, he thought, all the rest would not matter. Trafford let go his hand, saying, "Go and get your supper, Noll; Hagar will show you. Then, if you like, you can come back."
The instant these words escaped Noll's lips he half regretted them. He had never before allowed his uncle to know that he thought him sad and gloomy, and he was not quite sure that the careless word would strike agreeably upon his ears. But Trafford only said, "Yes, Noll, I know. We will go out to supper," and rose from the chair and followed after his nephew.
"Ah," he said, "it has turned my head, I think. Once I laughed at all such fanciful things as these. This Scarlet Hunter, how many times have you seen him?" "But once." "What were his looks?" "A face pale and strong, with noble eyes; and in his voice there was something strange." Trafford thought of Shangi, the Indian, where had he gone?
I went down stairs to breakfast. Miss Trafford and Lady Nelthorpe were in the room talking with great interest, and, on Miss Trafford's part, with still greater vehemence. "So handsome," said Lady Nelthorpe, as I approached. "Are you talking of me?" said I. "Oh, you vanity of vanities!" was the answer.
You had better be here sharp at ten to-morrow. Mr. Jerningham bids me tell you. Yours truly, Thus Crocker got through his troubles on this occasion. On the day on which Crocker was going through his purgatory at the Post Office, a letter reached Lady Kingsbury at Trafford Park, which added much to the troubles and annoyances felt by different members of the family there.
If he had followed his own inclinations, the uncle would have turned about and retraced his steps, but Noll had started on, and Trafford followed, thinking, "It isn't often the boy has company in his rambles. I can humor him for once."
That was the first word that had ever been spoken in that direction, and that word was allowed to pass without any reply having been made to it, though it had been uttered almost in a question. Trafford Park was in Shropshire. Llwddythlw, the Welsh seat of the Duke of Merioneth, was in the next county; one of the seats that is, for the Duke had mansions in many counties.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking