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Among other circumstances that will occur to your recollection, the anonymous letters from France to Thomas Blount and others are very noticeable. We know that Montflorence was the writer, and that he was the chancellor of the consul Skipwith; and, from the connection of Mr. Monroe with those persons, we can entertain no doubt the anonymous letters were written with his privity.
"Do you mean to say there are no other servants in this great house no housemaids, no cooks?" "I have cooked for Miss Skipwith for the last thirty years. The house is large, but there are very few rooms in occupation." "I ought to have brought my maid," cried Vixen. "It will be quite dreadful.
They were alone together on the gravel walk, Miss Skipwith having retired to make tea in her dingy parlour. It had dawned upon her that this visitor of Miss Tempest's was no common friend; and she had judiciously left the lovers together. "Poor misguided child!" she murmured to herself pityingly; "just as she was developing a vocation for serious things! But perhaps if is all for the best.
She walked quickly to the house, burst into the parlour, where Miss Skipwith was sitting at her desk, the table covered with open volumes, over which flowers of literature the student roved, beelike, collecting honey for her intellectual hive. "Please, Miss Skipwith, will you give me some books about Buddha?" said Vixen, with an alarming suddenness. "I am quite of your opinion: I ought to study.
Can I really believe this?" asked Miss Skipwith, appealing to Violet. "Rorie never told a falsehood in his life," Vixen answered proudly. "I feel myself in a most critical position, my dear child," said Miss Skipwith, looking from Roderick's frank eager face to Vixen's downcast eyelids and mantling blushes. "I had hoped such a different fate for you.
Our estate has dwindled to the garden and meadows that surround this old house; our family has shrunk into one old woman; but if I can make the name of Skipwith famous before I go down to my grave, I shall not have lived and laboured in vain."
I have asked Doddery to find him a kennel somewhere among your capacious outbuildings." "He must not come into the house," said Miss Skipwith grimly; "I couldn't have a dog inside my doors. I have a Persian that has been my attached companion for the last ten years. What would that dear creature's feelings be if he saw himself exposed to the attacks of a savage dog?"
Vixen replied that she would very much like some tea, whereupon Miss Skipwith poured out a weak and tepid infusion, against which the girl inwardly protested. "If I am to exist at Les Tourelles, I must at least have decent tea," she said to herself. "I must buy an occasional pound for my own consumption, make friends with Mrs. Doddery, and get her to brew it for me."
Poor Miss Skipwith felt seriously uneasy. The first draught from the fountain of knowledge had evidently exercised an intoxicating effect upon Violet Tempest. It was as if she had been taking opium or hashish. The girl's brain was affected. "You have studied too long," she said. "This must not occur again. I feel myself responsible to your parents for your health."
Ah me! there will not be an earthquake, or anything to prevent the wedding, I daresay. No, I feel sure that all things are going smoothly. If there had been a hitch of any kind, mamma would have written to tell me about it." Miss Skipwith was not a bad person to live with in a time of secret trouble such as this.
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