“I am an orphan. My father was one of two brothers, sons of a small yeoman farmer in Devonshire. The farm was a poor one, and the elder brother, Andrew, emigrated to Australia, where he did very well indeed, and by means of successful speculation in land became a very rich man. The younger brother, Roger (my father), had no leanings towards the agricultural life. He managed to educate himself a little, and obtained a post as a clerk with a small firm. He married slightly above him; my mother was the daughter of a poor artist. My father died when I was six years old. When I was fourteen, my mother followed him to the grave. My only living relation then was my Uncle Andrew, who had recently returned from Australia and bought a small place, Crabtree Manor, in his native county. He was exceedingly kind to his brother’s orphan child, took me to live with him, and treated me in every way as though I was his own daughter.
“Where?” ses she in such a horty tone the man stared at her wid surprise.
“O, here’s where the fault was! What right had I ever to marry the child, not loving her? I bound her! I crushed her! I stifled her! If she lives, it is my sin; if she dies, I murder her!”
“It may be that a young heart is purer than one which has longer mingled with the world. Thou hast not yet travelled out of sight of the home which thy spirit left at birth; the memory of that pristine existence dimly remains with thee still. Therefore it is well with thee, Basil.”
“Oh ma’am,” ses I, “indade I wud cut me hed orf for Miss Claire, but indade,” ses I, “it’s sad I’d be to lave the child as such a time. Let me stay ma’am, if oanly till ye go to town in October.”
Some of Bragg’s men had been sent off to make a strike at Burn-side in East Ten-nes-see, so Grant saw that he had a good chance to make a move on the rear of Bragg’s ar-my.
“Heroism consists in hanging on, one minute longer.”
Peter, tucking his bat under his arm and burying his hands in his trouser pockets, drew still nearer. At a distance of four feet or thereabouts he stopped short and Oswald stopped short. Peter regarded this still incredible home-comer with his head a little on one side.
“He must have been an unusual sort of man, to have made such an impression on you. What was his name?”
Curiosity as to the three women must be satisfied with even a less personal account and description. Hall in his Harpe’s Head, merely says of them: “Two of them were coarse, sunburnt, and wretchedly attired and the other somewhat more delicate and better dressed.” Major Stewart, who had them in personal charge for some time and saved them from being lynched, says that Susan, Big Harpe’s first wife, was “rather tall, rawboned, dark hair and eyes, and rather ugly,” and was about twenty-five years old. Betsey, the “supplementary” wife, he described as “rather handsome, light hair and blue eyes and a perfect contrast with her sister.” Sally, the wife of Little Harpe, he records was “really pretty and delicate,” about twenty years old, but he gives no word of description. It is to be assumed that when Major Stewart saw them they had been restored to cleanliness and decent attire. [12F]
“Oh, he’s a regular philosopher. I’ve never seen him put out, have you?”
“Are you and Larry fighting again” ses she. “What can I do this time?” ses she, but she let me lead her along doon the stares, and thegither we cum to the bastemint. Me kitchin dure was open and I belave she seen Mr. Harry setting there befure shes cum into the room, fur all of a suddint she guv a turrible start and pulled away frum me arm, trying to go back oop the stares. At that I called:详情 ➢
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