Poor Richard

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Macmillan and Company, 1885
 

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Page 185 - That each knew that she was being watched, however, made not a grain of difference in those little offices which they mutually rendered, or in the various household tasks which they performed in common. Neither flinched nor fluttered beneath the silent batteries of her sister's eyes. The only apparent change in their habits was that they had less to say to each other. It was impossible to talk about Mr. Lloyd, and it was ridiculous to talk about anything else. By tacit agreement they began to wear...
Page 208 - Before the chest, on her knees, the young man saw with amazement and horror the figure of his wife. In an instant he crossed the interval between them, bereft of utterance. The lid of the chest stood open, exposing, amid their perfumed napkins, its treasure of stuffs and jewels. Viola had fallen backward from a kneeling posture, with one hand supporting her on the floor and the other pressed to her heart.
Page 115 - The Count became, to my imagination, a dark efflorescence of the evil germs which history had implanted in his line. No wonder he was foredoomed to be cruel . Was not cruelty a tradition in his race...
Page 92 - His complexion was of a deep glowing brown, which no emotion would alter, and his large, lucid eyes seemed to stare at you like a pair of polished agates. He was of middle stature, and his chest was of so generous a girth that you half expected to hear his linen crack with its even respirations. And yet, with his simple human smile, he looked neither like a young bullock nor a gladiator. His powerful voice was the least bit harsh, and his large, ceremonious reply to my compliment had the massive...
Page 205 - I 'm glad to learn the value at which I 'm held. Great Heaven ! " she cried, " I 'ma happy woman. It 's an agreeable thing to feel one's self sacrificed to a caprice ! " And her eyes filled with tears of anger and disappointment. Lloyd had a good-natured man's horror of a woman's sobs, and he attempted — I may say he condescended — to explain. " It 's not a caprice, dear, it 'sa promise," he said, —
Page 169 - And he stopped before me, glaring through fiery tears. "Did she hope to keep it a secret? Did she hope to hide away her husband in a cupboard? Her husband! And I — I — I — what has she done with me? Where am I in this devil's game? Standing here crying like a schoolboy for a cut finger — for the bitterest of disappointments! She has blighted my life — she has blasted my rights. She has insulted me — dishonored me. Am I a man to treat in that fashion? Am I a man to be made light of? Brought...
Page 203 - ... respectful but ardent suitor. Viola heard him out with great humility, and accepted him with infinite modesty. It is hard to imagine that Mrs. Lloyd should have forgiven her husband ; but if anything might have disarmed her resentment, it would have been the ceremonious continence of this interview. Viola imposed upon her lover but a short probation. They were married, as was becoming, with great privacy, — almost with secrecy, — . in the hope, perhaps, as was waggishly! remarked at the time,...
Page 115 - The unholy passions of his forefathers revived, incurably, in his untaught nature and clamoured dumbly for an issue. What a heavy heritage it seemed to me, as I reckoned it up in my melancholy musings, the Count's interminable ancestry! Back to the profligate revival of arts and vices — back to the bloody medley of mediaeval wars — back through the long, fitfully glaring dusk of the early ages to its ponderous origin in the solid Roman state — back through all the darkness of history it stretched...
Page 198 - I've left to Viola; I've named them to my mother. I've given her that blue and silver; it was meant for her; I wore it only once, I looked ill in it. But the rest are to be sacredly kept for this little innocent. It's such a providence that she should be my color; she can wear my gowns; she has her mother's eyes. You know the same fashions come back every twenty years.

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