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Yonge, Charlotte Mary, 1823-1901

"Chantry House"

What was the
use of being Christians, if such quarrels were to be remembered?
Anne knew nothing. Aunt Peggy had died before she could remember,
and even Martyn had been discreet. Clarence said no more after that
one conversation, and seemed to me engrossed between his necessary
business at the office, and the pleasant expeditions with the
Fordyces. Only when they were on the point of returning home, did
he tell me that the will had been pronounced utterly past
deciphering, and that he thought he saw a way of setting all
straight. 'So do I,' was my rejoinder, and there must have been a
foolishly sagacious expression about me that made him colour up, and
say, 'No such thing, Edward. Don't put that into my head.'
'Isn't it there already?'
'It ought not to be. It would be mere treachery in these sweet,
fresh, young, innocent, days of hers, knowing too what her mother
would think of it and of me. Didn't you observe in old Frank's
unguarded way of reading letters aloud, and then trying to suppress
bits, that Mrs. Fordyce was not at all happy at our being so much
about with them, poor woman. No wonder! the child is too young,' he
added, showing how much, after all, he was thinking of it. 'It
would be taking a base advantage of them NOW.'
'But by and by?'
'If she should be still free when the great end is achieved and the
evil repaired, then I might dare.


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