human
Jove! that vixen, he thought;
gpt
My conscience, 'tis that dolt, thought his bride-elect, giving her hand with her false smile.
human
We expected you to dinner, but cook has my orders to get you up something, so come with me to the dining-room,
gpt
Don't trouble about me, Miss Villiers, I beg; I had a bit of dinner at Morley's.
human
Muff, thought Miss Villiers, spitefully,
gpt
Margaret is, as you are aware, Mr. Babbington-Cole, the Christian name of my niece (and a beautiful name it is); she will be better pleased if you drop all formality, and call her so, eh, Margaret.
human
Yes, under the circumstances,
gpt
Thank you; I have not seen your sister yet; is she quite well?
human
Margaret's fascinations fall flat,
gpt
I don't take; he wants a milk and water miss, but no you don't, young man; you are _my tool_,
human
My poor step-sister is well--I hope, but we never name her; she is a--a mistake; however, _she_ is not your one.
gpt
But is she not here? said Cole, nervously, now really frightened,
human
here he utterly broke down. Accustomed ever to lean on some one, of a clinging, trusting nature, with a strong spice of feminine gentleness, which caused him to turn to some woman friend for advice or moral support, so that here, in the hour of his greatest need, he feels doubly alone, as he gazes around at the three hard, cruel faces, each with a set purpose and false smile perceptibly engraven, he is in despair. Miss Villiers especially; will he ever cease to be haunted by her as she sits in a high Elizabethan chair, an ebony easel exactly on a line with her face, and partly behind her, on which is a frightful head of Medusa, the reptiles for hair looking to him, in his highly nervous state, like the tight, crisp curls and braids covering the head of his bride-elect, and the lines from Pitt's
gpt
Virgil
human
Such fiends to scourge mankind, so fierce, so fell, Heaven never summoned from the depths of hell.
gpt
It is natural, I suppose, to a man of your seemingly nervous temperament, to be a little upset at not meeting your father; but, in my opinion, life is too short for sentiment, especially when wasted as in this case, for your father, according to cablegram sent us, is improving, and is, I dare swear, kicking his heels about St. Lawrence Hall, Montreal, waiting impatiently for your return.
human
Yes, Uncle Timothy, yours is the practical view of it; sentiment is, or should be, a monopoly of the poets; self-interest, with pounds, shillings and pence, are good enough for us.
gpt
Margaret means to convey, Mr. Charles, that you should be thankful to Providence that you have been spared to come to us; to a land, also, flowing with milk and honey, ready to your hand and purse, said her aunt, sanctimoniously adding,
human
How is religious life in Toronto?
gpt
Religious life?
human
Alas, I fear you are dead in sin, Mr. Charles. You do not even know the meaning of my words. I have heard that New York is the most wicked city in America, and you, I fear, frequently go there to participate in the pleasures of sin. I dread to allow my niece to go out, even as your wife; it was only the other day I read, copied from one of your newspapers, that at Tahlequah, which I suppose is near you, that a Chickasaw Indian was arrested by a deputy United States marshal with three assistants; the company camped on the prairie, with the exception of the marshal, who, riding on, reached his goal; waited there until weary, he rode back, and what did he find? The entire posse with heads cut off, and the Indian fled. America must be a very Sodom and Gomorrah. But I see you are not listening to me, Mr. Charles. We have a saintly young man here, the Rev. Claude Parks, whom I must ask to influence you to a better frame of mind, with an intense gratitude to Providence for the favors about to be showered upon you.