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Updated: June 12, 2025
So it's another person for Mr. Whitford? You nod. And it is our Laetitia for Sir Willoughby? You smile. You would not deceive me? A very little, and I run about crazed and howl at your doors. And Dr. Middleton is made to play blind man in the midst? And the other person is now I see day! An amicable rupture, and a smooth new arrangement.
We both cancel and create, we extinguish and we illumine one another. The error may be in the choice of an object: it is not in the passion. Perfect confidence, perfect abandonment. I repeat, I claim it because I give it. The selfishness of love may be denounced: it is a part of us. My answer would be, it is an element only of the noblest of us! Love, Laetitia! I speak of love.
The result in him was, that Laetitia became humanly and avowedly beautiful. Her dark eyelashes on the pallor of her cheeks lent their aid to the transformation, which was a necessity to him, so it was performed. He received the waxen impression. His retinue of imps had a revel. We hear wonders of men, and we see a lifting up of hands in the world.
Willoughby walked the thoroughfares of the house to meet Clara and make certain of her either for himself, or, if it must be, for Vernon, before he took another step with Laetitia Dale. Clara could reunite him, turn him once more into a whole and an animated man; and she might be willing. Her willingness to listen to Vernon promised it. "A gentleman with a tongue would have a chance", Mrs.
It had not hurt him to sketch the project of the conjunction; benevolence assisted him; but he winced and smarted on seeing it take shape. It sullied his idea of Laetitia. Still, if, in spite of so great a change in her fortune, her spirit could be guaranteed changeless, he, for the sake of pacifying his bride, and to keep two serviceable persons near him, at command, might resolve to join them.
Both these women were examples of his power of forgiveness, and now a tender word to Clara might fasten shame on him such was her gratitude! And if he did not marry Laetitia, laughter would be devilish all around him such was the world's! Probably Vernon would not long be thankful for the chance which varied the monotony of his days. What of Horace?
"You are not aware of any reason?" "It cannot concern me." Clara was in rosy colour, but could meet a steady gaze. "And Crossjay has gone to bed?" "Long since. He was at dessert. He would not touch anything." "He is a strange boy." "Not very strange, Laetitia." "He did not come to me to wish me good-night." "That is not strange."
He was no way definitely committed to poor Laetitia. Was he more wrong if, now knowing his heart was otherwhere, he maintained and carried to its consummation the intimacy between Laetitia and himself, or if he stopped while yet he had not gone too far? He had decided to break while yet it might, be broken. There was an invitation from Mrs. Pyke Pounce he had accepted.
You have powers I did not credit you with." "You are mistaken in me, Sir Willoughby." Laetitia said feebly, outworn as she was. "A woman who can resist me by declining to be my wife, through a whole night of entreaty, has the quality I need for my house, and I will batter at her ears for months, with as little rest as I had last night, before I surrender my chance of her.
Still doubtful whether she was in a trap, Laetitia whispered to her father of the privacy and comforts of his home. He replied to her that he thought he would rather be in his own home. Dr Corney positively pronounced No to it. Laetitia breathed again of home, but with the sigh of one overborne. The ladies Eleanor and Isabel took the word from Willoughby, and said: "But you are at home, my dear.
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