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Updated: June 17, 2025
And so she was; for Winnifred Blake had gladly accepted the invitation to spend that afternoon and evening at Dingle Cottage, much to Nellie's delight; and that young lady, too impatient to await her guest's arrival, had gone part of the way to meet the expected visitor.
Arthur replied, with entire coolness, "Aunt Winnifred, what's the use of going to church when Van Boozenberg goes, and is not in the least discomposed? I'm afraid of the morality of such a place!" Aunt Winnifred's eyes dilated with horror. She had no argument to throw at Arthur in return, and that reckless fellow always had to help her out.
Those acquainted with the countenances of the aristocracy would have recognized at once in the occupants of the equipage the Marquis of Muddlenut and his spouse, the Marchioness. It was the eye of the Marchioness which first detected the form of Winnifred Clair upon the doorstep. "Hold! pause! stop!" she cried, in lively agitation.
"Nay, Winnifred," said the Young Earl, "fly not. Hear me out!" "Let me fly," begged the unhappy girl. "You must not fly," pleaded Mordaunt. "Let me first, here upon bended knee, convey to you the expression of a devotion, a love, as ardent and as deep as ever burned in a human heart. Winnifred, be my bride!"
As Winnifred Laurance she had been the beauty of the family and was a handsome woman still, with brilliant dark eyes and cameo-like features. She always looked very sad, spoke in a low sweet voice, and was my childish ideal of all that was high-bred and graceful. I had many beloved haunts at the Grange, but I liked the garret best.
In another moment the noble lady was bending over the prostrate form of Winnifred Clair, and pouring brandy between her lips. Winnifred opened her eyes. "Where am I?" she asked feebly. "She speaks!" cried the Marchioness. "Give her another flaskful." After the second flask the girl sat up. "Tell me," she cried, clasping her hands, "what has happened? Where am I?"
A simple bedroom and sitting-room sufficed for her wants. Here she sat on her trunk, bravely planning for the future. "Miss Clair," said the Landlady, knocking at the door, "do try to eat something. You must keep up your health. See, I've brought you a kippered herring." Winnifred ate the herring, her heart filled with gratitude.
Of course Lady Brumpton is discomfited and disgraced at the end of the play, and, of course, Lord Brumpton is reconciled to his son for Steele took care that virtue should be rewarded and the moral code otherwise preserved. Frances and Mrs. Winnifred Glebe, who are they?"
Lord Mordaunt knelt on one knee on the greensward, and with a touch in which respect and reverence were mingled with the deepest and manliest emotion, he took between his finger and thumb the tip of the girl's gloved hand. "Miss Clair," he uttered, in a voice suffused with the deepest yearning, yet vibrating with the most profound respect, "Miss Clair Winnifred hear me, I implore!"
My own eyes were full of tears as Aunt Winnifred went down the stairs, leaving me sitting dreamily there in the sunset light, with the old yellowed bridal veil across my lap and the portrait of Eliza Laurance in my hand.
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