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"It DOES sound jolly," Rainer laughed, a sudden eagerness of anticipation in his tone. His uncle looked at him gently. "Perhaps Grisben's right. It's an opportunity " Faxon looked up with a start: the figure dimly perceived in the study was now more visibly and tangibly planted behind Mr. Lavington's chair. "That's right, Frank: you see your uncle approves.
His uncle looked at him gently. "Perhaps Grisben's right. It's an opportunity " Faxon glanced up with a start: the figure dimly perceived in the study was now more visibly and tangibly planted behind Mr. Lavington's chair. "That's right, Frank: you see your uncle approves. And the trip out there with Olyphant isn't a thing to be missed.
"Your mother'll make a row about that, just as my Sally does when I get molasses on my clothes." "You should teach her to lick it off, Jemmy Wimble," said the rough-looking, red-faced labourer, who had lowered down a sugar-hogshead so rapidly, that he had been within an inch of making it unnecessary to write Don Lavington's life, from the fact of there being no life to write.
It might almost have been said that the one place in which one would not have expected to come upon him was in just such a solitude as now surrounded the speakers at least in this deepest hour of its desertedness. But it was just like Lavington's brilliant ubiquity to put one in the wrong even there. "Oh, yes, I've heard of your uncle." "Then you WILL come, won't you?
"My dear boy! ... Peters, another bottle. ..." He turned to his nephew. "After such a sin of omission I don't presume to propose the toast myself ... but Frank knows. ... Go ahead, Grisben!" The boy shone on his uncle. "No, no, Uncle Jack! Mr. Grisben won't mind. Nobody but YOU to-day!" The butler was replenishing the glasses. He filled Mr. Lavington's last, and Mr.
Nor does he fail to discover similar resemblances to Methodist experiences among the old mystic philosophers, Montanists, Quakers, French Quietists, French prophets, and Moravians. The argumentative value of Lavington's book may be taken for what it was worth.
'And now, my dear invalid, I must beg your pardon for sermonising. What do you say to a game of ecarte? We must play for love, or we shall excite ourselves, and scandalise Mrs. Lavington's piety. And the colonel pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket, and seeing that Lancelot was too thoughtful for play, commenced all manner of juggler's tricks, and chuckled over them like any schoolboy.
Lavington's glance was politely bent on him, but with a loosening of the strain about his heart he saw that the figure behind the chair still kept its gaze on Rainer. "Do you think you've seen my double, Mr. Faxon?" Would the other face turn if he said yes? Faxon felt a dryness in his throat. "No," he answered. "Ah? It's possible I've a dozen. I believe I'm extremely usual-looking," Mr.
Grisben's paternally pointing out the precise spot on which he was to leave his autograph. The effort to fix his attention and steady his hand prolonged the process of signing, and when he stood up a strange weight of fatigue on all his limbs the figure behind Mr. Lavington's chair was gone. Faxon felt an immediate sense of relief.
At the same moment his uncle turned to him with a renewed intensity of attention. There was such solicitude in Mr. Lavington's gaze that it seemed almost to fling a tangible shield between his nephew and Mr. Grisben's tactless scrutiny. "We think Frank's a good deal better," he began; "this new doctor "
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