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Updated: June 16, 2025
"You won't be mykin' anythink on them, y'r gryce," said the lad with a humour which opened the doors of Ian Stafford's heart wide; for to him heaven itself would be insupportable if it had no humorists. "I'll get at them in other ways," Stafford rejoined. "I'll get my profit, never fear. Now what about breakfast? You've sold all your papers, you know."
"How? what do you mean?" he demanded. "Yesterday my boat on the river was plugged. To-day a native tried to frighten my horse over the ravine. This" pointing to the chandelier "is the third attempt." "Do you know of any one who could have a grudge against you?" "No." "Or against your family?" There was a slight hesitation in Stafford's manner.
He could hear them now, the river-murmur repeated them. And then as now he had taken young Stafford's head on his arm, the boy lying as he had lain for eighteen hours, immovable, the rain running down over his face and through his short fair hair.
If he kill me it is the Baas. It is written." He spat on the ground again, and his eyes grown red with his passion glowered on Stafford like those of some animal of the jungle. Stafford's face was white, and every nerve in his body seemed suddenly to be wrenched by the hand of torture. What right had he to resent this abominable tirade, this loathsome charge by such a beast?
But there was this difference between the present and previous occasions when he had fallen or thought of falling in love, that he desired no victory: no, it was he and not Isabel who was to capitulate, leaning his forehead upon her young hand. . . . And he had never seen her till that morning, and the child was nineteen, the daughter of a country vicarage, brought up to wear calico and to say her prayers! more, she was Val Stafford's sister, and she loved her brother.
I owe him too much." "As if the boot weren't on the other leg!" Rowsley muttered. He was not mercenary none of Mr. Stafford's children were: he saw eye to eye with Val in Val's calm preference of six to eight hundred a year: but when Val carried his financial principles into the realm of sentiment Rowsley now and then lost his temper.
Of course he went for it at once, and wading in made a grab at it; he got hold of it easily enough, but the lamb a good sized one struggled, and in the effort to retain his hold Stafford's feet slipped and he went headfirst into a deep pool.
By this time Donald and Bess had recovered their tempers, and after a close inspection of the intruder had come to the conclusion that he was of the right sort, and Donald was sitting close on his launches beside Stafford, and thrusting his nose against Stafford's hand invitingly.
She bent over and stroked the terrier, who always seemed uneasy under her caress, and her hand touched Stafford's.
She sighed, and a moment afterwards her hand went to her lip with the gesture of a nervous school-girl. She had heard Stafford's voice in the hall. He came in and greeted her gravely, and, Howard being present, merely took her hand. "You two conspiring as usual?" he said, with a smile, with the smile which indicates a mind from which mirth has been absent for some time.
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