"Yes; and if Raby will be as docile as you, and put himself in your place, he will tell me he was the one to blame. There's no such thing as 'the one to blame;' there very seldom is. You judged him as if he was a woman, he judged you as if you were a man. Enter an obese maniac, and applies the art of arts; the misunderstanding dissolves under it, and you are in each other's arms. But, stop"-- and his countenance fell again a little: "I am afraid there is a new difficulty. Henry's refusal to take the name of Raby and be his heir. Raby was bitterly mortified, and I fear he blames me and my crotchets; for he has never been near me since. To be sure you are not responsible for Henry's act."
"No, indeed; for, between you and me, it mortified me cruelly. And now things have taken a turn--in short, what with his love, and his jealousy, and this hopeless failure to make a fortune by inventing, I feel I can bring him to his senses. I am not pleased with Grace Carden about something; but no matter, I shall call on her and show her she must side with me in earnest. You will let my brother know I was always on his side in THAT matter, whatever other offense I may have given him years ago."
"And I am on your side, too. Your son has achieved a small independence. Bayne can carry on the little factory, and Henry can sell or lease his patents; he can never sink to a mere dependent. There, I throw my crotchets to the wind, and we will Raby your son, and marry him to Grace Carden."
"God bless you, my good and true friend! How can I ever thank you?" Her cheek flushed, and her great maternal eye sparkled, and half the beauty of her youth came back. Her gratitude gave a turn to the conversation which she neither expected nor desired.
"Mrs. Little," said Dr. Amboyne, "this is the first time you have entered my den, and the place seems transformed by your presence. My youth comes back to me with the feelings I thought time had blunted; but no, I feel that, when you leave my den again, it will be darker than ever, if you do not leave me a hope that you will one day enter it for good."
"For shame! At our age!--" said the widow.
But she spoilt the remonstrance by blushing like a girl of eighteen.
"You are not old in my eyes; and, as for me, let my years plead for me, since all those years I have lived single for your sake."
the sailors bought with a stick of tobacco, of the value
away on some mission, I think it was to Rustenberg, and
the guard of honour which met him in the veld and escorted
the party in power. Well, as Gunnar said in the immortal
a pound of sugar or an ordinary knife. No individual possessed
of State for the Colonies in 1880, and as even then Frere