CHAPTER I.   Luce. Is the wind there?           That makes for me.  Isab. Come, I forget a business.                 Wit without Money. LORD VARGRAVE'S travelling-carriage was at his door, and he himself was putting on his greatcoat in his library, when Lord Saxingham entered. "What!... more...

CHAPTER I.   . . . THIS ancient city,  How wanton sits she amidst Nature's smiles!   . . . Various nations meet,  As in the sea, yet not confined in space,  But streaming freely through the spacious streets.—YOUNG.   . . . His teeth he still did grind,  And grimly gnash, threatening revenge in vain.—SPENSER. "PARIS is a delightful place,—that is allowed by... more...

CHAPTER I.   Do as the Heavens have done; forget your evil;  With them, forgive yourself.—The Winter's Tale.   . . . The sweet'st companion that e'er man  Bred his hopes out of.—Ibid. THE curate of Brook-Green was sitting outside his door. The vicarage which he inhabited was a straggling, irregular, but picturesque building,—humble enough to suit the means of the curate, yet large... more...

CHAPTER I.   ABROAD uneasy, nor content at home.    . . . . . .  And Wisdom shows the ill without the cure. HAMMOND: Elegies. TWO or three days after the interview between Lord Vargrave and Maltravers, the solitude of Burleigh was relieved by the arrival of Mr. Cleveland. The good old gentleman, when free from attacks of the gout, which were now somewhat more frequent than formerly, was the same cheerful... more...

CHAPTER I.   YOU still are what you were, sir!    . . . . . .  . . . With most quick agility could turn  And return; make knots and undo them,  Give forked counsel.—Volpone, or the Fox. BEFORE a large table, covered with parliamentary papers, sat Lumley Lord Vargrave. His complexion, though still healthy, had faded from the freshness of hue which distinguished him in youth. His... more...

CHAPTER I.   THERE is continual spring and harvest here—    Continual, both meeting at one time;  For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear,    And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime;  And eke at once the heavy trees they climb,    Which seem to labour under their fruit's load. SPENSER: The Garden of Adonis.... more...

CHAPTER I.   Who art thou, fair one, who usurp'st the place  Of Blanch, the lady of the matchless grace?—LAMB. IT was towards the evening of a day in early April that two ladies were seated by the open windows of a cottage in Devonshire. The lawn before them was gay with evergreens, relieved by the first few flowers and fresh turf of the reviving spring; and at a distance, through an opening amongst the trees, the sea,... more...

CHAPTER I. In the year 18— I settled as a physician at one of the wealthiest of our great English towns, which I will designate by the initial L——. I was yet young, but I had acquired some reputation by a professional work, which is, I believe, still amongst the received authorities on the subject of which it treats. I had studied at Edinburgh and at Paris, and had borne away from both those illustrious schools of medicine... more...