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Updated: June 15, 2025
Augustine was sent to school at Madaura, and next to study at Carthage. His mother, Monica, early became an ardent Christian, and her saintly influence guided the youth towards the light; but entanglement in philosophic doubts constrained him to associate with the Manichæans, and then with the Platonists. His mental struggles lasted eleven years.
Redmayne insisted on coming, and escorted Monica from Cambridge, "without in any way compromising my honour and virtue," he said: "it must be plainly understood that I have no INTENTIONS." He made a charming speech at the subsequent luncheon, in which he said that, though he personally regretted the turn that affairs had taken, he could not honestly say that, if matrimony were to be regarded as advisable, his friends could have done better.
And now Cousin Monica grew silent again, and looking briskly around the room, like a lady in search of a subject, her eye rested on a small oval portrait, graceful, brightly tinted, in the French style, representing a pretty little boy, with rich golden hair, large soft eyes, delicate features, and a shy, peculiar expression.
He was at Bristol by a quarter past nine, and had to change for a slow train, which by ten o'clock brought him to Yatton, the little junction for Clevedon. It was a fine starry night, but extremely cold. For the few minutes of detention he walked restlessly about the platform. His chief emotion was now a fear lest all might not go well with Monica.
Bertha the younger had a smile or a sigh for the lovers, Monica the elder a frown or a shrug for the elders. Every night they talked over what they had seen, and their own dull, uneventful life took a warmth and a coloring from their neighbors as a blank wall reflects a beacon fire.
'Tell her to let us in, Cousin Monica, I whispered. 'She wishes to see him, my lady does she? enquired Mrs. Rusk, in an under-tone, and with a mysterious glance at me, as she softly fitted the key to the lock. 'Are you quite sure, Maud, dear? 'Yes, yes. But when Mrs.
I think I shall wait for her." "Oh, do!" cried the others. "We'll have a 'palaver' here under the trees." "What's a 'palaver', please? I hope it's something cool and fizzy to drink." "No, it's nothing of the sort. It's a kind of meeting, where everybody has to tell a story in turn." "But I'm rigidly truthful!" objected Monica, with a twinkle in her eye. "You naughty girl!
This air has never suited you; you have felt miserable, and couldn't be at peace in your home. Poor little girl! My poor darling! Through the evening he was in a state of transport, due partly to the belief that Monica really welcomed his decision, partly to the sense of having behaved at length like a resolute man.
The moment work was over, Lindsay and Cicely seized upon Kathleen Crawford, who was rather a friend of theirs among the monitresses. "Who's the new girl?" they asked. "We hadn't heard anybody was coming." "She's only a day pupil for a few classes," answered Kathleen. "Her name's Monica Courtenay. She lives here, but of course not just now." "What do you mean?" enquired Cicely.
I wonder what 'The Griffin' was warning him about. I hope they're not hatching a plot against Monica!" "It looks bad," said Lindsay, "decidedly bad. It's evidently something shady, or they wouldn't want to keep it so quiet. It may be a very good thing for Monica that we've taken the matter up." "What shall we do?"
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