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Updated: June 26, 2025
She arose unrefreshed, and after a hasty toilet descended to the breakfast-parlor, where she knew the little family awaited her. "The journey and the fright have been too much for you, love; you look very weary; you should have rested longer this morning," said Mr. Willcoxen, affectionately, as he arose and met her and led her to the most comfortable seat near the fire.
Not from love of notoriety not from any such ill-placed, vain glory, but from the wish to relieve some overtasked brother of the heat and burden of at least one day; and possibly by presenting truth in a newer and stronger light to do some good, did Thurston Willcoxen, Sabbath after Sabbath, and evening after evening, preach in the churches or lecture before the lyceum.
When the prisoner was placed at the bar, and asked the usual question, "Guilty or not guilty?" some of the old haughtiness curled the lip and flashed from the eye of Thurston Willcoxen, as though he disdained to answer a charge so base; and he replied in a low, scornful tone: "Not guilty, your honor." The opening charge of the State's Attorney had been carefully prepared. Mr.
"And you are not married yet, Thurston, as great a favorite as you are with the ladies! How is that? Every time I come home I expect to be presented to a Mrs. Willcoxen, and never am gratified; why is that?" "Perhaps I believe in the celibacy of the clergy." "Perhaps you have never recovered the disappointment of losing Miss Le Roy?" "Ah!
In the deep, absorbing sympathy for Marian's fate, the sudden death of Professor Grimshaw, and the reasonably-to-be-expected demise of old Mr. Cloudesley Willcoxen, passed nearly unnoticed, and were soon forgotten.
Thurston Willcoxen upon the charge of murder, and then went back to the beginning and related the whole story, from the first disappearance of Marian Mayfield to the late discoveries that had led to the apprehension of the supposed murderer, with many additions and improvements gathered in the rolling of the ball of falsehood.
She was occupied by a more enthusiastic devotion to her "brother," as she called her guardian. The mysterious sorrow, the incurable melancholy of a man like Thurston Willcoxen, could not but invest him with peculiar interest and even strange fascination for one of Miriam's enthusiastic, earnest temperament.
And straightway he ordered his carriage, threw himself into it, and rode over to Charlotte Hall, where he entered the name of his two young relatives as pensioners at his own proper cost. This done, he ordered his coachman to take the road to Dell-Delight, where he had an interview with Mr. Willcoxen.
Miriam's countenance changed fearfully, but she wrung her hand from the clasp of Paul's, and hastened toward the door. Paul sprang forward and intercepted her. "What does this mean?" asked Mr. Willcoxen, stepping up to them. "It means that she is mad, and will do herself or somebody else much mischief," cried Paul, sharply. "For shame, Paul! Release her instantly," said Thurston, authoritatively.
"Yes, young lady, I remember." "I have come to denounce her murderer." Colonel Thornton took up his pen, and drew toward him a blank form of a writ, and sat looking toward her; and waiting for her further words. Her bosom heaved, her face worked, her voice was choked and unnatural, as she said: "You will please to issue a warrant for the arrest of Thurston Willcoxen."
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