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"Will you make affidavit," demanded he, in the tone of a country justice taking an examination, "that old Squire Higginbotham of Kimballton was murdered in his orchard the night before last, and found hanging on his great pear-tree yesterday morning?" "I tell the story as I heard it, mister," answered Dominicus, dropping his half-burnt cigar; "I don't say that I saw the thing done.
What shall I bring thee to eat?" "Why didst thou not waken me?" replied Victorine, petulantly; "I meant not to sleep." "I thought the sleep was better," replied her aunt. "Thou didst look tired, and it suits no woman's looks to be tired." Victorine was silent. She saw Willan walking up and down under the pear-tree. She leaned out of her window and moved one of the flower-pots.
Gyuri took a step toward her, and said, in a low, pleading voice: "Only one word, Miss Veronica!" then stood back under the shade of the pear-tree. "Oh! I am so ashamed!" said Veronica trembling, and bursting into tears. A breeze came up just then across the Brána, and shook the pear-tree, which shed its white petals, probably the last the old tree would bear, over Veronica's dress.
"I should like to have one more go at old mother Moncrief's pear-tree; that's all." "There are no pears on it this season, you fool." "I know. This is the last time we shall go this road, Cashy. Usen't it to be a lark? Eh?" "If you don't shut up, it won't be the last time; for you'll be caught. Now for it."
Now at the lower extremity of the court, and about twelve or fifteen feet distant from the garden wall, there grew a pear-tree, some of the branches of which overhung into the garden beyond.
"Well, now, my child, to go on with my parable, what nature was to this pear-tree, nature's God must be to you. We cannot find in nature nor in the happiest human love that which can satisfy our deep spiritual need; but we can find all in him who came from heaven in our behalf. Jesus Christ is the patient, helpful Friend you need.
I have for a sweetheart in all loyalty, the servant of the Lombard who is in the city near the house of our good uncle. Now I have just learned on sound information that this dear man has departed this morning into the country after having hidden under a pear-tree in his garden a good bushel of gold, believing himself to be seen only by the angels.
"I think I'll go home, if you'll take me," she said, in a half whisper, looking up at Tito with wide blue eyes, and with something sweeter than a smile with a childlike calm. "Come, then, little one," said Tito, in a caressing tone, putting her arm within his again. "Which way is it?" "Beyond Peretola where the large pear-tree is." "Peretola? Out at which gate, pazzarella?
She was standing in rapt contemplation of a pear-tree in full blossom, her hands tightly clasped behind the back, for greater safety from the temptation, when, hearing the shrubbery gate open, she turned, expecting to see her papa, but was frightened at the sight of two strangers, and began to run off at full speed. "Stop! Blanche! Blanche, don't you know me?"
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