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Curtis, George William, 1824-1892 [1861], Trumps: a novel. Splendidly illustrated by Augustus Hoppin. (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf538T]. To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.
“Signor Pittore! what brings a bird into the barn-yard?” “The hope of some crumb of comfort.” “Do you dip from your empyrean to the cold earth—from Arthur Merlin looked only half sympathetic with his friend's “Why, Arthur, what is it?”
“Do you remember what Diana said?” replied the painter. Lawrence Newt gazed at him without speaking. “Come,” said Arthur, with a feeble effort at fun, “you have “My dear Arthur,” said Mr. Newt, gravely, “I told you The two men gazed steadfastly at each other without speaking. “Dead?” “Dead.” As Lawrence Newt spoke the word the air far off and near But his eye was calm and his face cheerful. “Arthur, sit down.” The young man seated himself, and the older one drawing a “I am older than you, Arthur, and I am your friend. What The young man's eyes glistened. “Go on,” he said. “When I first knew you I knew that you loved Hope A flush deepened upon Arthur's face, and his fingers played “I hoped that Hope Wayne would love you. I was sure Arthur turned and looked at him. “Could love any body else,” said Lawrence Newt, as his
“Suddenly, without the least suspicion on my part, I discovered “Yes,” said Arthur, “so did I.” “What could I do?” said the other, still abstractedly gazing; “You loved her?” cried Arthur Merlin, so suddenly and “Certainly I loved her,” replied Lawrence Newt, calmly, Arthur Merlin stole a glance at the face of his companion. “I was a child and she was a child—a boy and a girl. It To this astonishing revelation Arthur Merlin said nothing. “Arthur,” he said, in a low voice, “did I not say that, if “But does she know it?” asked the painter. “I believe she does now,” was the slow answer. “But she “Does Amy Waring know it?” “No,” replied Lawrence Newt, quietly, “but she will to-night.” The two men sat silently together for some time. The junior
The two men sat silently together, Lawrence Newt evidently “I wonder—” he began, at length, and stopped. A painful “Arthur, speak out.” “Well,” said the artist, with almost a girl's shyness in his He spoke very slowly, and stopped again. Before he resumed “Why, what?” asked Arthur, quickly. “I do not believe she ever will,” replied the other, as if the “Will what?” asked Arthur, his face burning with a bright Lawrence Newt waited a moment, to give his friend time “Shall I say what?” Arthur also waited for a little while; then he said, sadly, “No, it's no matter.” He seemed to have grown older as he sat looking from the
“No—no—it's no matter.” “But, Arthur, it's only my opinion,” said the other, kindly. “And mine too,” replied the artist, with an inexpressible Lawrence Newt was silent. After a few moments Arthur “Good-by!” he said. “We shall meet to-night.”
Curtis, George William, 1824-1892 [1861], Trumps: a novel. Splendidly illustrated by Augustus Hoppin. (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf538T]. |