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Updated: June 27, 2025
He has made Walford's acquaintance, having met him, perhaps, some half a dozen times in all, at "Sea View," and, despite his simplicity, he has had no difficulty in recognising in the lieutenant a would-be rival. And this is just where his own modesty and self-depreciation have played him a scurvy trick.
Walford's novels, who is the acme of kind indelicacy. The cad is dreadful to live with, because he is always making one ashamed, and ashamed of being ashamed, because many of the things he does do not really matter very much. Then, when he is out of sight and hearing, you cannot trust him. He makes mischief; he throws mud. If he is vexed with you, he injures you with other people.
He had been suddenly wrenched out of one set of thoughts into another profoundly different. It was his shadow, together with Cynthia Walford's, that the Sergeant and the stranger had seen on Doctor Mary's blind. After "walking her home," he had well, just not proposed to Cynthia, restrained more by those scruples of his than by any ungraciousness on the part of the lady.
This had the intended effect of causing Walford's apologies and prayers to be reiterated with increased eagerness and incoherence, to the hearty amusement of the men in the saloon. At length Talbot opened the state-room door, and, thrusting in his head, said roughly "Here, come out of that, mister; you've worried poor Dicky quite long enough.
Suddenly Walford's mutterings ceased, an expression of joyous surprise lighted up his ghastly wasted features, he seized George's hand with a firm clasp in one of his, and, raising the other, exclaimed "Hark! what was that?" "I heard nothing, Ned," answered George tremulously; he knew instinctively now that the last dread moment was close at hand, "I heard nothing; what was it?"
A moment sufficed to satisfy him that it was a huge shark; and as the creature caught sight of him, and with a barely perceptible movement of its fins, backed out a foot or two from under the ship, as if in preparation to make a dart at him in case he should fall into the water, George shuddered at the thought of what might have been his or Walford's fate, had the monster been in the neighbourhood of the ship a few hours earlier.
She would have been happier at the Homestead, sitting by the fire reading aloud to Miss Wendover happier almost anywhere for she had not only to endure a kind of gentlemanly persecution from Dr. Rylance, but she was tormented by an ever-present dread of Brian Walford's appearance.
It was one of Mrs Walford's peculiarities to be depressed in spirits in exact proportion to the brightness and exhilarating character of the weather but Lucy was completely proof against it all just now; the sight she had so lately looked upon had sent a soft, dainty flush into her cheeks, a light into her eyes, and a song to her lips, which her mother's "miserables" were wholly powerless to drive away, and she went about the house filling it with the melody of her low, sweet voice.
'If Brian of the Abbey proposes to Ida, as I feel convinced he will, and if she accepts him, as she is sure to do, it will simply break Brian Walford's heart. 'Not a little bit, said Reginald. 'If he did spoon her last year, is that any reason, do you think, that he should care for her now? If she be not fair to me, what the deuce care I how fair she be?
Brian Walford will be with us for my birthday picnic, I daresay, wherever he may be now. I believe he is mooning away his time in Herefordshire, with his mother's people. 'Is his father dead? 'Yes, mother and father both, ages ago, in the days when I was a hard-hearted little wretch, and thought it a treat to go into mourning, and rather nice to be able to tell everybody, "Uncle Walford's dead.
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