Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 22, 2025
He addressed Lord Vargrave as Evelyn's guardian; slightly alluded to the scruples he had entertained till Lord Vargrave's suit was broken off; and feeling the subject too delicate for a letter, expressed a desire to confer with Lumley respecting Evelyn's wishes as to certain arrangements in her property.
There, that's a simile in the fashion of the old writers: 'Well of English undefiled! humph!" "So that beautiful child is Mrs. Templeton's, or rather Lady Vargrave's, daughter by a former marriage?" said Maltravers, abstractedly. "Yes, it is astonishing how fond he is of her. Pretty little creature confoundedly artful though.
We live in an age as favourable to intellect and to energy as ever was painted in romance. I have that faith in fortune and myself that I tell you, with a prophet's voice, that Evelyn shall fulfil the wish of my dying uncle. But the bell summons us back." On returning to the house, Lord Vargrave's valet gave him a letter which had arrived that morning. It was from Mr. Gustavus Douce, and ran thus:
"Don't be long, papa nobody plays so nicely as you do;" and, nodding and laughing from very glee, away scampered the young fairy. Lord Vargrave turned to his wife. "What think you of my nephew of Lumley?" said he, abruptly. "He seems all that is amiable, frank, and kind." Lord Vargrave's brow became thoughtful.
There, that's a simile in the fashion of the old writers: 'Well of English undefiled! humph!" "So that beautiful child is Mrs. Templeton's, or rather Lady Vargrave's, daughter by a former marriage?" said Maltravers, abstractedly. "Yes, it is astonishing how fond he is of her. Pretty little creature confoundedly artful though.
Here Lord Vargrave's well-fed servant, now advanced to the dignity of own gentleman and house-steward, entered the room with a letter; it had a portentous look; it was wafered, the paper was blue, the hand clerklike, there was no envelope; it bore its infernal origin on the face of it, IT WAS A DUN'S. Lumley opened the epistle with an impatient pshaw!
But give me beauty and love; I never was prudent: it is not my weakness." Though Caroline was his sole supporter in this dialogue, Lord Vargrave's eyes attempted to converse with Evelyn, who was unusually silent and abstracted. Suddenly Lord Vargrave seemed aware that he was scarcely general enough in his talk for his hearers. He addressed himself to Mrs.
De Montaigne now withdrew all inquiry for the unfortunate; he trembled at the thought of discovering him, of verifying his awful suspicions, of beholding a murderer in the brother of his wife! But he was not doomed long to entertain fear for Cesarini; he was not fated ever to change suspicion into certainty. A few days after Lord Vargrave's burial, a corpse was drawn from the Seine.
"Does the poor woman live in the neighbourhood? Do you know her?" asked Maltravers, turning from the contemplation of this new instance of Vargrave's selfishness of character. "No; the old body seems quite a stranger here, a tramper, or beggar, I think, sir. But it won't be a settlement if we take her in; and we can carry her to the Chequers, up the village, your honour."
There was positively a tear in Vargrave's cold eye, the only tear that had glistened there for many years; he paused irresolute, then advanced, again halted, muttered to himself, and turned aside. "As for the world," Lumley resumed, after a pause, "your engagement has been public, some public account of its breach must be invented.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking