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Updated: June 16, 2025
Matey's designs could be finessed only by a knowledge of his character: that he was not the fellow to give up the girl he had taken to; and impediments might multiply, but he would bear them down. Three days before the break-up of the school another rumour came tearing through it: Aminta's aunt had withdrawn her from Miss Vincent's.
The letter was cast back into the box, locked up; there an end to it, or no interdiction of sleep. Sleep was a triumph. Aminta's healthy frame rode her over petty agitations of a blood uninflamed, as lightly as she swam the troubled sea-waters her body gloried to cleave. She woke in the morning peaceful and mildly reflective, like one who walks across green meadows.
No day scored an advantage; and she did not apparently suffer fatigue. He did: that is to say, he was worried and hurried to have the wrangle settled and Charlotte at Aminta's feet. He gained not an inch of ground. His principle in a contention of the sort was to leave the woman to the practice of her obvious artifices, and himself simply hammer, incessantly hammer. But Charlotte hammered as well.
She hinted as much subsequently, and Aminta's consciousness of the troth was touched. The young schoolmaster's company sat on her spirits, deadened her vocabulary. Her aunt spoke of passing the library door and hearing the two gentlemen loudly laughing. It seemed subserviency on the fallen young hero's part. His tastes were low.
That day receded like a spent billow, and lapsed among the others advancing, but it left a print deeper than events would have stamped. Aminta's pen declined to run to her lord; and the dipping it in ink was no acceleration of the process. A sentence, bearing likeness to an artless infant's trot of the half-dozen steps to mother's lap, stumbled upon the full stop midway.
Lawrence put her fingers to a silken amber bow at Aminta's throat, and squared it and flattened it with dainty precision, speaking on under dropped eyelids, intent upon her work, 'Lady de Culme will be happy to welcome you whenever it shall suit the Countess of Ormont to accompany her disreputable friend. But what can I do, dear? She raised her lids and looked beseechingly.
'Goes at it like a Spaniard; though Spaniards in Paris have been found wary enough. My lord hummed. 'Fellow looks as if he would easily lose his head over steel. 'He can be dangerous. The word struck on something, and rang. Mrs. Lawrence had a further murmur within her lips. Her travelling eye met Aminta's and passed it. 'But not dangerous, surely, if the breast is padded? said Mrs. Pagnell.
That was the secret of Lord Ormont's prepossession against Aminta's aunt; and who can tell? perhaps of much of his behaviour to the beautiful young wife he at least admired, sincerely admired, though he caused her to hang her head cast a cloud on the head so dear to him! Otherwise there was no interpreting his lordship. To think of herself as personally disliked by a nobleman stupefied Mrs.
Her minor intelligence, caracoling unhampered by harassing emotions, rebuked Aminta's for not perceiving that to win him round to whatever a woman may desire, she must be with him, outstrip him even, along the line he chooses for himself; abuse the country, rail at the Government, ridicule the title of English Army, proscribe the name of India in his hearing.
'Peep? if you like, my lord said, jesting at the blank she would find, and soft to the pretty play of her mouth. When the ladies had run to the end of it, he asked them: 'Well; now then? 'But it's capital the dear laddies! Mrs. Lawrence exclaimed. Aminta's eyes met Weyburn's.
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