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Updated: June 28, 2025
But a pang of compunction shot through him as he remembered the manuscript of "The Lifted Lamp" gathering dust on his table for half a year. "Not that it would have made any earthly difference since he's evidently never been able to get the thing published." But this reflection did not wholly console Betton, and he found it impossible, at the moment, to tell Vyse that his services were not needed.
One Sunday he went out of town, and on his return, rummaging among the papers on his desk, he missed "The Lifted Lamp," which had been gathering dust there for half a year. What the deuce could have become of it? "A lady? Did you let her come up?" "She said somebody'd sent her." Vyse, of course Vyse had sent her for his manuscript!
There were other letters, too; he had the solace of feeling that at last "Abundance" was making its way, was reaching the people who, as Vyse said, read slowly because they read intelligently. But welcome as were all these proofs of his restored authority they were but the background of his happiness. His life revolved for the moment about the personality of his two chief correspondents.
He felt a rush of heat to the ears; catching sight of himself in the glass, he saw a red ridiculous congested countenance, and dropped into a chair to hide it between flushed fists. He was roused by the opening of the door, and Vyse appeared on the threshold. "Oh, I beg pardon you're ill?" said the secretary.
Beebe!" said the maid, and the new rector of Summer Street was shown in; he had at once started on friendly relations, owing to Lucy's praise of him in her letters from Florence. Cecil greeted him rather critically. "I've come for tea, Mr. Vyse. Do you suppose that I shall get it?" "I should say so.
I hope it isn't because George spoke that you are both going?" "No." "I hope that you will enjoy Greece with Mr. Vyse." "Thank you." At that moment Mr. Beebe came back from church. His cassock was covered with rain. "That's all right," he said kindly. "I counted on you two keeping each other company. It's pouring again.
Fuller, Hiley Addington, Rose, Gascoyne, and Bathurst on one side; and by Mr. Ward, Sir P. Francis, General Vyse, Sir T. Turton, Mr. Whitbread, Lord Henry Petty, Mr. Canning, Stanhope, Perceval, and Wilberforce on the other. At length, on a division, there appeared to be one hundred and twenty-five against the amendment, and for it only seventeen.
But it doesn't take all my time, or pay enough to keep me alive." "In that case, my dear fellow if you could come every morning; but it's mostly awful bosh, you know," Betton again broke off, with growing awkwardness. Vyse glanced at him humorously. "What you want me to write?" "Well, that depends " Betton sketched the obligatory smile. "But I was thinking of the letters you'll have to answer.
"I've got your seat, haven't I?" he said, rising and moving away from the table. Vyse, with a quick gleam of relief, slipped into the vacant chair, and began to stir about vaguely among the papers. "How's your father?" Betton asked from the hearth. "Oh, better better, thank you. He'll pull out of it." "But you had a sharp scare for a day or two?" "Yes it was touch and go when I got there."
Lydia Vyse left Saratoga when the financial stringency began to make it unpleasant for her to remain. She told Mortimer without the slightest compunction that she was going. He did not believe her and he gave her the new car the big yellow-and-black Serin-Chanteur.
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