Genre - Romance. You are on the page - 41
e had finished he would look out across the cultivated lands where the mission Kaffirs had their huts.But I knew it was not these he saw, but rather the grey English church, and the graves ranged side by side before the yew near the wicket gate. It was there on the stoep that he died. He had not been well, and one evening I was talking to him, and his mind went back to Oxfordshire and my mother. He spoke of her a good deal, saying that she had never been out of his mind for a single day during
th five brilliants in it. Dorothea immediately took up the necklace and fastened it round her sister's neck, where it fitted almost as closely as a bracelet; but the circle suited the Henrietta-Maria style of Celia's head and neck, and she could see that it did, in the pier-glass opposite."There, Celia! you can wear that with your Indian muslin. But this cross you must wear with your dark dresses." Celia was trying not to smile with pleasure. "O Dodo, you must keep the cross
inch shorter than the other."Well, there was nothing more to find, and now that the excitement was over, what between the heat, the exertion, and the smell of mummy dust and spices, I felt more dead than alive. "I am tired of writing, and this ship rolls. This letter, of course, goes overland, and I am coming by 'long sea,' but I hope to be in London within ten days after you get it. Then I will tell you of my pleasing experiences in the course of the ascent from the tomb- chamber,
er than beautiful, perhaps. Her face was lesschildish than when she had gone away; there was, in certain of herexpressions, an almost alarming maturity. But perhaps that wasfatigue."I couldn't have had Castle, mother. I didn't need anything. I'vebeen very happy, really, and very busy." "You have been very vague lately about your work." Lily faced her mother squarely. "I didn't think you'd much like having me do it, and I thought itwould drive grandfather crazy."
areful with her at home; or, at all events, she had not noticed it."About old Mr. Emerson--I hardly know. No, he is not tactful; yet, have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time--beautiful?" "Beautiful?" said Miss Bartlett, puzzled at the word. "Are not beauty and delicacy the same?" "So one would have thought," said the other helplessly. "But things are so difficult, I sometimes
well, and go to sleep, And I will lap thee with my cope, Softly to lye." It would seem that the manuscript is here imperfect, for we do not find the reasons which finally induce the curtal Friar to amend the King's cheer. But acknowledging his guest to be such a "good fellow" as has seldom graced his board, the holy man at length produces the best his cell affords. Two candles are placed on a table, white bread and baked pasties are displayed by the light, besides choice of