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    Software name: appdown
    Software type: Microsoft Framwork

    size: 323MB

    Lanuage:Englist

    Software instructions


      "Very much."


      What has she done! repeated Mr. Pinchook. The question would be easier to answer if it were What has she not done? Nothing very dreadful, from your point of view, I dare say, Lady Wyndover, but enough to drive a man of my ageerand quiet habits into a lunatic asylum. When I tell you that she had got all the men in the shipincluding the captainto fall in love with her, and that I lived in hourly dread of bloodshed; that she insists upon having her own way on every occasion, and that she has been spoiled by a whole camp full of the most fearful rowdies I have ever dreamed of, you will form some idea of what I have suffered during the last few weeks, and understand why I resign my charge with a profound sense of relief.Still Wusterhausen was but a hunting-lodge, which was occupied by the king only during a few weeks in the autumn. Fritz had many playmateshis brothers and sisters, his cousins, and the children of General Finkenstein. To most boys, the streams, and groves, and ponds of Wusterhausen, abounding with fish and all kinds of game, with ponies to drive and boats to row, with picturesque walks and drives, would have been full of charms. But the tastes of Fritz did not lie in that direction. He does not seem to have become strongly attached to any of his young companions, except to his sister Wilhelmina. The affection and confidence which united their hearts were truly beautiful. They encountered together some of the severest of lifes trials, but heartfelt sympathy united them. The nickname which these children gave their unamiable father was Stumpy.

      Trafford declined the proffered drink, and Lord Dunworthy swiftly consumed his, and sat himself down beside Trafford for a talk. He retailed the gossip of the day, but suddenly broke off to exclaim:"And how did the world use you, Isola?" he asked presently. "Was everybody kind?"

      "Is your book very interesting?" he asked, at last, exasperated by her calmness.


      "Yes," she cried, roused in an instant, and clasping her hands excitedly. "Did she go down?"

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      Bury the woman and keep the child here, said a man. Weve as much right to her as that blamed Dogs Ear. What do they want with an orphan? They cant keep themselves, the blanked one-hoss place!Why didnt you tell me she was soso beautiful? she exclaimed, with her flashing hands outstretched.

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      "I told him I did not like the rig of his boat, nor the name of his boat, and I reminded him how I saw the Eurydice off Portland with all her canvas spread the day she went down. I was with the Governor of the Prison, a naval man, who had been commander on my first ship, and we stood side by side on the cliff, and watched her as she went by. 'If this wind gets much stronger, that ship will[Pg 247] go down,' said my old captain, 'unless they take in some of their canvas.' And a few hours later these poor fellows had all gone to the bottom. I asked Lostwithiel why he called his boat the Eurydice. 'Fancy,' he said; he had a fancy for the name. 'I've never forgotten the old lines we used to hammer out when we were boys,' he said'Ah, miseram, Eurydicen! anima fugiente vocabat; Eurydicen toto referebant flumine rip?.'"

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      "Why? Because I could not give you back that card without some token of my passionwith only commonplace entries which Jones, Brown, and Robinson might write there. I want you to feel that you belong to me, somehow, in some way, as the spirits of the dead and the souls of the living belong to each other sometimes, by links which none can see. When I am at the other end of the earth I want to feel that there is something, if it were only a word, like a masonic sign, between us; if it were only a promise that in such or such a phase of the waning moon we would each look up and breathe the other's name."There was a thick chestnut copse upon one side, and the wide expanse of undulating turf, with an occasional clump of choice timber, upon the other. The house stood on higher ground than the park, but was hemmed in and hidden by shrubberies that had overgrown the intention of the landscape gardener who planned them. Only the old grey-stone gables, with their heavy slabs of slate, and the tall, clustered chimneys, showed above the copper beeches, and deodaras, the laurels, and junipers, and Irish yews, and the shining masses of arbutus with crimson berries gleaming amongst the green. Isola had never seen that old Manor House nearer than she saw it to-day, from the path, which was a public right of way through the park. She knew that the greater part of the building dated from the reign of Charles the Second, but that there were older bits; and that about the whole, and about those ancient rooms and passages most especially, there were legends and traditions and historical associations, not without the suspicion of ghosts. The Mount was not a show place, like the home of the Treffrys at Fowey, and of late years it had been very seldom inhabited, except by certain human fossils who had served the house of Hulbert for two generations. She had often looked longingly at those quaint old gables, those clustered stone chimneys, likening the house amidst its overgrown shrubberies to the Palace of the Sleeping Beauty, and had wished that she were on friendly terms with one of those drowsy old retainers.


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