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Clarence was a good brother, and I am sure he would not have gone, if he had not felt satisfied that Flora and myself were well provided for. I was then a boy of thirteen, handy at almost anything about the farm, the house, and the garden, and Captain Fishley wanted me to come and live with him. Clarence agreed to pay Flora's board, so that she was a boarder at the house of the Fishleys.
He then turned away from him, and, returning to the inn, wrote a scarcely intelligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor, intimating his purpose to wait upon her that evening. The messenger brought back a letter in Flora's beautiful Italian hand, which seemed scarce to tremble even under this load of misery.
His next measure was to go to the British Embassy, where, through his sister Flora's introductions, and his own Eton connections, he was already well known; and telling his story there, without any attempt to conceal his breathless agitation, he had no difficulty in bringing with him a companion who would authenticate the discovery of the receipt, and certify to any confession that might be obtained.
The noise was enough to waken the whole camp, and indeed it did so with amazing rapidity. I rushed outside in alarm, followed by my companions. The gray dawn was breaking, and the air was free of snow. The rest of the men were pouring from the tepees, rubbing their drowsy eyes and fumbling with their muskets. I saw Flora's face, flushed and frightened, peeping from the little doorway of her hut.
"They were expatriates for the Pretender's sake, many of them. Mistress Flora's husband was one of the prisoners we took. But, as I was saying, they were Tories to a man, and they fought wickedly. When it was over, the prisoners would have fared hardly but for a woman.
Henry looked in his face again, from which he had only momentarily withdrawn his eyes, and he was then more struck than ever with the resemblance between him and the portrait on the panel of what had been Flora's chamber.
Ethel did not quite like the pink colour on her cheeks, and feared that she had been shaken by Flora's agitation in the morning; but she was very calm and bright, in the affectionate greeting with which she held out her hands to the bride and bridegroom, as they came in. Mr. Rivers and Meta were the only guests, and, while Meta was seized by the children, Margaret lay talking to Mr.
He had backed out in his own way, giving the business, by some sharp shuffle, such a turn as to make the rupture ostensibly Flora's, but he had none the less remorselessly and basely backed out.
However, the Roman camp had long been an object of their desires, and Margaret was glad that the last day should have a brilliancy, so she would not hear of any one remaining to keep her company, talked of the profit she should gain by a leisure day, and took ardent interest in every one's preparations and expectations, in Ethel's researches into county histories and classical dictionaries, Flora's sketching intentions, Norman's promises of campanula glomerata, and a secret whispered into her ear by Mary and Harry.
What harm is there in that?" "Where are the dogs?" said Sir Wilfrid, looking round. "Aunt Flora's dogs? In the housekeeper's room, eating sweet biscuit. They adore the groom of the chambers." "Is Lady Henry aware of this this division of labor?" said Sir Wilfrid, smiling. "Of course not," said the Duchess, flushing. "She makes Julie's life such a burden to her that something has to be done.
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