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Updated: June 11, 2025
Wylder was tropical: any real change in her would soon reach a point where it must become swift as well as comprehensive. Since returning to the trammels of a more civilized life, Mr. Wylder had grown self-absorbed, and from a loud, lawless man had become a sombre, sometimes morose person.
'If it affects our business, Miss Lake, I do request that you address yourself to me; if not, may I beg, Miss Lake, that you will defer it for a moment. 'William Wylder, lay down that pen; as you love your little boy, lay it down, and hear me, continued Miss Lake.
Wylder might have been expected to shrink from the puny, suffering creature, and give her affection and approbation to the other, as did her husband; but it was just here that the true in her, the pure womanly, came to the surface and then to the front: the child had an appealing look, which, when first she saw him, went straight to the heart of the strong mother, and afterward roused, if not enough of the protective, yet all the defensive in her.
Up the broad straight avenue with its solemn files of gigantic timber towering at the right and the left hand, the chaise rolled smoothly, and through the fantastic iron gate of the courtyard, and with a fine swinging sweep and a jerk, we drew up handsomely before the door-steps, with the Wylder arms in bold and florid projection carved above it. The sun had just gone down.
"I should be sorry to see any other man shoe horse of mine!" "So should I!" answered Richard. " I wonder why Miss Wylder sold Miss Brown!" he said, after a pause. "I am not so curious!" rejoined Arthur. "She sold her, and I bought her." Neither divined that the animal stood there a sacrifice to Barbara's love of Richard.
Wylder; a gentleman of very moderate abilities, with no prospects, and without fortune, who finds himself, without any deservings of his own, on a sudden, possessed of an estate, and about to be united to the most beautiful heiress in England, is, I think, rather a fortunate person. 'You did not always think me so stupid, Miss Lake, said Mr. Wylder, showing something of the hectic of vexation.
Bleak and wintry that ungenial month set in at Gylingden; and in accord with the tempestuous and dismal weather the fortunes of the Rev. William Wylder were darkened and agitated. This morning a letter came at breakfast, by post, and when he had read it, the poor vicar grew a little white, and he folded it very quietly and put it in his waistcoat pocket, and patted little Fairy on the head.
'MISTER LARKINS, Respeckted Sir, I write you, Sir, to let you know has how there is no more Chance you shud ear of poor Mr. Mark Wylder of hose orrible Death I make bold to acquainte you by this writing which is Secret has yet from all he bing Hid, and made away with in the dark.
'I'm here, you know, in loco parentis; my mother and I keep watch and ward. We allow Wylder, you see, to come every day to his devotions. But you are not to go to the Brandon Arms you got my note, didn't you? I had, and had come direct to the Hall in consequence. I looked over the door. Yes, my memory had served me right.
He had quite slept off what he would have called the nonsense of last night, and was very keen upon settlements, consols, mortgages, jointures, and all that dry but momentous lore. I find a note in my diary of that day: 'From half-past ten o'clock until two with Mark Wylder and Mr.
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