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Updated: June 25, 2025
The scene was really delightful enlarged by full-length portraits with deep backgrounds, inserted in the cedar paneling surmounted by a ceiling that glowed with the rich colors of the coats of arms ranged between the sockets illuminated almost as much by the red fire of oak-boughs as by the pale wax-lights stilled by the deep-piled carpet and by the high English breeding that subdues all voices; while the mixture of ages, from the white-haired Lord and Lady Pentreath to the four-year-old Edgar Raymond, gave a varied charm to the living groups.
"There is another bait for those who hear her," said Deronda. "Her singing is something quite exceptional, I think. She has had such first-rate teaching or rather first-rate instinct with her teaching that you might imagine her singing all came by nature." "Why did she leave the stage, then?" said Lady Pentreath. "I'm too old to believe in first-rate people giving up first-rate chances."
I have not heard her myself yet; but I trust Daniel's recommendation. I mean my girls to have lessons of her." "Is it a charitable affair?" said Lady Pentreath. "I can't bear charitable music." Lady Mallinger, who was rather helpless in conversation, and felt herself under an engagement not to tell anything of Mirah's story, had an embarrassed smile on her face, and glanced at Deronda.
J.H. PEARCE. JACO TRELOAR. By J.H. PEARCE, Author of 'Esther Pentreath. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. The 'Spectator' speaks of Mr. Pearce as 'a writer of exceptional power'; the 'Daily Telegraph' calls the book 'powerful and picturesque'; the 'Birmingham Post' asserts that it is 'a novel of high quality. X.L. AUT DIABOLUS AUT NIHIL, and Other Stories. By X.L. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
Only ladies were assembled, and Lady Pentreath was amusing them with a description of a drawing-room under the Regency, and the figure that was cut by ladies and gentlemen in 1819, the year she was presented when Deronda entered. "Shall I be acceptable?" he said. "Perhaps I had better go back and look for the others. I suppose they are in the billiard-room."
"Wanting to pass off an obscurity on us as better than any celebrity," said Lady Pentreath "a pretty singing Jewess who is to astonish these young people. You and I, who heard Catalani in her prime, are not so easily astonished."
"The Arrowpoints have condoned the marriage, and he is spending the Christmas with his bride at Quetcham." "I suppose he will be glad of it for the sake of his wife, else I dare say he would not have minded keeping at a distance," said Deronda. "It's a sort of troubadour story," said Lady Pentreath, an easy, deep-voiced old lady; "I'm glad to find a little romance left among us.
He was standing near her husband, who, however, turned a shoulder toward him, and was being understood to listen to Lord Pentreath. How was it that at this moment, for the first time, there darted through Gwendolen, like a disagreeable sensation, the idea that this man knew all about her husband's life?
It seems, however, that the church was not so utterly destroyed as this might lead us to believe; much of the stonework survived, including the lofty granite tower. Most persons remember Paul as the burial-place of Dolly Pentreath, whose claim to be the last person speaking Cornish can hardly be maintained, though even she did not speak it habitually.
"The only one of its race now left alive," she said, with slow reflectiveness. "Like Dolly Pentreath, the last old woman who could speak Cornish! I wonder how long parrots ever live? Do you know at all, monsieur? You are the King of the Birds you ought to be an authority on their habits and manners." The Frenchman smiled a gallant smile.
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