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Updated: June 20, 2025
When, upon that winter day, now some six weeks past, which had beheld Lady Henry more than commonly tyrannical, and her companion more than commonly weary and rebellious, Delafield's stammered words as he and she were crossing Grosvenor Square in the January dusk had struck for the second time upon her ear, she was already under Warkworth's charm. But before the first time?
His authority for the estimate of the heights was a gentleman who had been employed for several years as surveyor of that company. This conversation occurred about sixteen years since. A year or two afterwards, I had the pleasure of dining, at Major Delafield's with Mr. Thompson, the gentleman referred to by Mr. M'Gillivray. I inquired of him in relation to the circumstances mentioned by Mr.
And so that other thought, which Jacob spent so much ingenuity in avoiding, rushed upon him unawares. The near, inevitable expectation of the famous dukedom, which, in the case of almost any other man in England, must at least have quickened the blood with a natural excitement, produced in Delafield's mind a mere dull sense of approaching torment.
But for that strange chance of Delafield's appearance in her path a chance no more intelligible to her now, after the pondering of several feverish hours, than it had been at the moment of her first suspicion where and what would she be now? A dishonored woman, perhaps, with a life-secret to keep; cut off, as her mother had been, from the straight-living, law-abiding world.
The situation may thus be stated: In the centre we are the sole arbiters, commanding the roads and holding a position which can only be described as authoritative. In the east, Delafield's corps has been destroyed; but the enemy's army of the pass, on the other hand, is in a critical position and may, in the course of a few days or so, be forced to lay down its arms.
Yet all the while Delafield's presence haunted her she could not forget him, and presently she addressed him. "Mr. Delafield!" He heard the low voice and came. "I have never thanked you for your goodness last night. I do thank you now most earnestly." "You needn't. You know very well what I would do to serve you if I could."
But when the wrestle with death began, Warkworth wrote but one last letter, uttered but one cry of the heart, and it lay now in Julie's bosom. A few days passed. Delafield's letters were short and full of sadness. Elmira still lived; but any day or hour might see the end. As for the father But the subject was too tragic to be written of, even to her.
He got unpardonably into debt; the old people's resources were lessening, not expanding; and ultimately the poor father died broken down by the terror of bankruptcy for himself and disgrace for Henry. The mother still survived, in very straitened circumstances. "His sister," said Delafield's informant, "married one of the big London tailors, whom she met first on the Ryde pier.
So looked the young German who had perhaps heard Melanchthon; so, in this middle nineteenth century, looked Jacob Delafield. No, anger makes obtuse; that, no doubt, was Lady Henry's case. At any rate, in Delafield's presence her theory did not commend itself. But if Delafield had not echoed them, the little Duchess had received Meredith's remarks with enthusiasm. "Regret! No, indeed!
The salutations between the young men were a little embarrassed on both sides; the face of George growing even paler than before, while the fine colour on Delafield's cheek mounted to his very temples. After regarding for a moment, with much inward dissatisfaction, the apparent ease with which George was maintaining possession of the apartment by himself, Mr.
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