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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Master Torridon, your Grace," explained the Archbishop, with a deferential stoop of his shoulders. "Your Grace will remember " The King nodded abruptly, and thrust his hand out. Chris touched his father behind. "Go forward," he whispered; "kiss hands." The old man went forward a hesitating step or two.
"I have told Forrest to be here by nine o'clock. Shall you come with us?" Ralph yawned, and sipped his Bordeaux. "I do not know," he said, "I suppose so." "And Margaret is at Rusper still," went on the other. "She will not be here until August." "She, too, is thinking of Religion," put in Lady Torridon impassively. Ralph looked up lazily.
"Who is awaiting trial for destroying evidence. It is that, at least, your Grace, that is asserted against him. But it has not been proved. Master Torridon here tells me, your Highness, that it cannot be proved, but that he wishes to acknowledge it freely on his son's behalf."
The farewells were very short; it was impossible to indulge in sentiment in the genial business-atmosphere generated by Ralph, and a minute later Chris was mounted. Sir James said no more, but stood a little apart looking at his son. Lady Torridon smiled rather pleasantly and nodded her head two or three times, and Ralph, with Mr.
There was a profound silence; broken by the stifled merriment of a servant behind the chairs, who transformed it hastily into a cough. Sir James glanced across in great distress at his son; but Chris' eyes twinkled at him. Lady Torridon was silent a moment, completely taken aback by the suddenness with which the battle had broken, and amazed by the girl's audacity.
More says, I have not said a word to Beatrice. Beatrice, this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, and this, Mr. Torridon, is Beatrice. Her other name is Atherton, but to me she is a feminine benediction, and nought else." Ralph rose swiftly and looked across at a tall slender girl that was sitting contentedly on an outlying root of the lime tree, beside of Sir Thomas, and who rose with him. "Mr.
He apologised first for the poorness of the entertainment, saying that he had done his best. Ralph answered courteously; and the other went on immediately, standing deferentially before the chair where Ralph was seated, and fingering his cross. "I hope, Mr. Torridon, that it will be you who will visit us; you have found us all unprepared, and you know that we are doing our best to keep our Rule.
"As he had with Master More," she put in. Beatrice turned her head a little, but made no answer; and there was not the shadow of wincing on her steady face. "As he had with Master More," said Lady Torridon a little louder. "We must remember that he has my Lord Cromwell to help him," observed Beatrice tranquilly. Lady Torridon looked at her again.
It would have been a very surprising sight to Sir James Torridon to see his impassive son's attitude towards Cromwell. He was deferential, eager to please, nervous of rebuke, and almost servile, for he had found his hero in that tremendous personality. He pulled out his papers now, shook them out briskly, and was soon explaining, marking and erasing.
More cannot let my name alone, Mr. Torridon," she said tranquilly, as she drew back after the salute. "He made a play upon it the other day." "And have been ashamed of it ever since," said More; "it was sacrilege with such a name. Now, I am plain Thomas, and more besides. Why did you send for me, Beatrice?" "I have no defence," said the girl, "save that I wanted to see you."
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