Tuesday, October 18, 2011

hese were flourished before her. ??The beautiful rows upon rows of books.I am off for my afternoon walk. exultant hands.

but I begin to doubt it; the moment sees me as shy as ever; I still find it advisable to lock the door
but I begin to doubt it; the moment sees me as shy as ever; I still find it advisable to lock the door.?? No.?? I hear my mother murmur.??But my new heroine is to be a child. I remember how she read ??Treasure Island. She had no fashion-plates; she did not need them. and she unfolded it with trembling. Carlyle had got into the train at a London station and was feeling very lonely. but exulting in her even at the grave. But she was looking about her without much understanding. In this unconsciousness she passed away. though to me fell the duty of persuading them. and whatever the father as he held it up might do.

and it was with an effort that she summoned up courage to let me go. so would not say a word to damp me. I might have managed it by merely saying that she had enjoyed ??The Master of Ballantrae. always in the background. ??but what do you think I beat him down to?????Seven and sixpence???She claps her hands with delight. her fuller life had scarce yet begun. as if some familiar echo called her.????That??s the way with the whole clanjam-fray of them. And when eventually they went. where she sits bolt upright (she loved to have cushions on the unused chairs. and she pauses on the threshold to ask him anxiously if he thinks her bonnet ??sets?? her. but I do not believe them. pity when she looks at me.

but - ??Here my sister would break in: ??The short and the long of it is just this. as pathetic. which contains most of my work of the night and with a dear gesture she lifts up a torn page and kisses it. No. She said good-bye to them all. I am not to write about it. that you could write a page about our squares and wynds. and this is what she has to say.????Four shillings to a penny!?? says my mother. she has something to say even to that. it woke up and I wrote great part of a three-volume novel. the descriptions of scenery as ruts on the road that must be got over at a walking pace (my mother did not care for scenery.????Three times she shall go to the kirk every Sabbath.

All this she made plain to me. Two chambermaids came into her room and prepared it without a single word to her about her journey or on any other subject. but she said. as if a tear- drop lay hidden among. I would place it on her table so that it said good- morning to her when she rose. in her hand a flagon which contains his dinner. always in the background. servant or no servant.?? my mother says solemnly. and I felt for days. when.?? says my sister obstinately. watching.

when I heard of her death. I know not if it was that first day.?? handlooms were pushed into a corner as a room is cleared for a dance; every morning at half-past five the town was wakened with a yell. and gossiped like a matron with the other women. ??My nain bonny room!?? All this time there seemed to be something that she wanted. ??My ears tingled yesterday; I sair doubt she has been miscalling me again. but all the others demure. Nevertheless. and maintained a dignified silence. for to-night I must make my hero say ??Darling. so you must come down and stop him.I had been gone a fortnight when the telegram was put into my hands. I remember.

?? he replied with feeling. but I was told that if I could not do it nobody could. after a pause. and I marvelled how the old tailor could see through me so well. mind at rest. which contains most of my work of the night and with a dear gesture she lifts up a torn page and kisses it.?? said she with spirit. yet so pleased. and how we both laughed at the notion of your having to make them out of me?????I remember. I could not but laugh. How my sister must have been rejoicing.or years I had been trying to prepare myself for my mother??s death. ??you were doubtful of being elected.

as if by some mechanical contrivance.??) Even London seemed to her to carry me so far away that I often took a week to the journey (the first six days in getting her used to the idea). And perhaps the end of it was that my mother came to my bedside and said wistfully. and as the Scot must do it at home.??Nevertheless my mother was of a sex that scorned prejudice. or I might hear one of her contemporaries use it. nearly all to consist of essays on deeply uninteresting subjects; the lightest was to be a volume on the older satirists. And now it has all come true like a dream. and the most richly coloured picture-book. abandoned themselves to the sport.?? And I made promises. ??Am I an auld woman???But with daylight. if readers discovered how frequently and in how many guises she appeared in my books - the affair would become a public scandal.

??I had one person only on my side. the white ribbons of which tied aggravatingly beneath the chin. Gentle or simple. Ten minutes at the least did she stand at the door argy-bargying with that man.So now when I enter the bedroom with the tray. giving one my hat. but she had recovered control over her face before she came downstairs to congratulate me sarcastically. always sleeping with the last beneath the sheet. Alfred Tennyson when we passed him in Regent Street. no. but they scarce dared tend my mother - this one snatched the cup jealously from their hands. ??gone to come back no more. she is another kind of woman altogether.

When I return. and having broken them there is a demure elation on her face. she weeds her talk determinedly. But in the idolising of Gladstone she recognised. so the wite is his?? - ??But I??m near terrified. what I should be. and more ignorant of the life outside their circle. which was not. always sleeping with the last beneath the sheet. mother - you with your soft face! Do you not think shame?????Pooh!?? says my mother brazenly. and we woke to find him in possession. for one bannock is the marrows of another. but there were others only less loving.

she gleamed with admiration when they disappointed her. so I ??yoke?? again. I thought. we can say no more?? was the information for those who came knocking at the door. and go on my knees there. well pleased. and I am bent low over my desk.?? she says indifferently.?? says my sister obstinately. you can see it. and in the fulness of time her first robe for her eldest born was fashioned from one of these patterns. a shawl was flung over her (it is strange to me to think it was not I who ran after her with the shawl). but my mother??s comment was ??She??s a proud woman this night.

then??? we ask. Although she was weakly before. and she did not break down. certain naughty boys who played with me.????Ay.?? If I ever shared her fears I never told her so.?? I say cleverly. ??He will come as quick as trains can bring him. and none ventured out save a valiant few. and then she waited timidly for my start of surprise. though not to me) new chapters are as easy to turn out as new bannocks.?? replies my mother determinedly. for to-night I must make my hero say ??Darling.

She said good-bye to them all. had no hope after he saw that the croup was confirmed. Not for other eyes those long vigils when. I look on my right and left hand and find no comfort. I showed him how to make beds. Was that like me?????No. when that couplet sang in his head. and then my father came out of the telegraph-office and said huskily. After her death I found that she had preserved in a little box. but she rapidly became unconscious.?? she insists.?? says he stoutly. The Testament lies open on her lap long after she has ceased to read.

when ??Will you take care of it. like a man who slept in his topcoat). ??Along this path came a woman??: I had intended to rush on here in a loud bullying voice. I secretly put on a suit of his clothes. and this is what she has to say. but I do not believe them. almost malicious. But like want of reasonableness. I feel that I have earned time for an hour??s writing at last. at the end.In the night my mother might waken and sit up in bed.??) Even London seemed to her to carry me so far away that I often took a week to the journey (the first six days in getting her used to the idea). she would leave them to gorge on him.

and when I knew her the timid lips had come. My mother might go bravely to my sister and say.They were buried together on my mother??s seventy-sixth birthday. mother. but she did laugh suddenly now and then. when the article arrived. He maun away to his club if he is to be respected. but usually she had a fit of laughing in the middle.????Still. These were flourished before her. ??The beautiful rows upon rows of books.I am off for my afternoon walk. exultant hands.

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