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Updated: June 4, 2025
They returned to the shady solitude under the trees. Away, in front of the house, the distant grating of carriage wheels told of the arrival of Miss Ladd's guests, and of the speedy beginning of the ceremonies of the day. "We must help each other," Alban resumed. "When we first spoke of Mrs. Rook, you mentioned Miss Cecilia Wyvil as a person who knew something about her.
Before reaching the end of Lawrence-lane, however, he half-repented his conduct, and halted to see whether Wyvil was following him; but as he could perceive nothing of him, he continued his course. Entering Cheapside, he observed, to his surprise, a crowd of persons collected near the Cross, then standing a little to the east of Wood-street.
Wyvil made no answer, but, walking to the other end of the room, threw himself into a chair, and, covering his face with his hands, appeared wrapped in thought. Lydyard took a seat beside him, and endeavoured to engage him in conversation; but, finding his efforts fruitless, he desisted. "Something is wrong," observed Parravicin, to the major.
Bloundel, noticing the apprentice's perplexity, and anxious to relieve it. "We have just discovered that the person calling himself Maurice Wyvil is no other than the Earl of Rochester." "Indeed!" exclaimed Leonard. "Yes, indeed," returned Mrs. Bloundel. "But this is not all. Amabel has promised to forget him, and I have urged her to think of you."
"First permit me to return you your purse, sir, since it is from you, I presume, that I received it," replied the astrologer. "No information that I can give deserves so large a reward as this." Wyvil would have remonstrated. But seeing the other resolute, he was fain to concede the point. "What question do you desire to have resolved, sir?" pursued Lilly.
"When you write to Mr. Morris," he continued, "say that you will wait to tell him what you think of Miss Jethro, until you see him again." "I have no prospect at present of seeing him again," Emily said. "You can see Mr. Morris whenever it suits him to come here," Mr. Wyvil replied. "I will write and ask him to visit us, and you can inclose the invitation in your letter." "Oh, Mr.
Arrived at this spot, Wyvil threw one end of the rope ladder over the wall, which was about twelve feet high, and speedily succeeding in securing it, mounted, and drawing it up after him, waved his hand to his companions, and disappeared on the other side. After waiting for a moment to listen, and hearing a window open, they concluded he had gained admittance, and turned to depart.
"Who, in Heaven's name?" "He calls himself Maurice Wyvil," replied Mrs. Bloundel. "I never heard of such a person," rejoined the doctor. "It must be an assumed name. Have you no letter or token that might lead to his discovery?" he added, turning to Amabel. "I have his portrait," she replied, drawing a small miniature from her bosom.
Wyvil suffered himself to be led up the court, and passing through a door on the left, they entered a spacious room, across which ran a long table, furnished at one end with wine and refreshments, and at the other with cards and dice.
"'Of all melancholy Sundays, she continued, the most melancholy in the calendar. Mr. Miles Mirabel preached his farewell sermon, in our temporary chapel upstairs. "'And you have not recovered it yet? "'We are all heart-broken, Miss Wyvil. "This naturally interested me. I asked what sort of sermons Mr. Mirabel preached. Lady Janeaway said: 'Come up to our room after dinner.
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