5 edition of Ernest Maltravers found in the catalog.
With this is bound the authors Alice. New York [19--].Internet Archive - 2Internet Archive 2
|Statement||International Book Co.|
|Publishers||International Book Co.|
|The Physical Object|
|Pagination||xvi, 97 p. :|
|Number of Pages||41|
|2||Cover-title: Lord Lyttons works|
nodata File Size: 9MB.
Maltravers himself, alarmed and amazed, descended from the vehicle: he was in deep mourning. He himself would educate this charming girl—he would write fair and heavenly characters upon this blank page—he would act the Saint Preux to this Julie of Nature. Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank Lascelles became an earl; the lands did not go with the coronet; he was poor, and married an heiress. have you let him go? It was one sure to be known in a town not very distant from the residence of his father, a wealthy and long-descended country gentleman.
However, she consoled herself as she could; and strove to shorten the long Ernest Maltravers day by playing over all the airs he liked, and reading all the passages he had commended. She is taken to Ireland but manages to escape and make her way back to the village where she lived with her young lover.
The meerschaum is good for flowers, I fancy, so have no scruple.
At this moment, however, appeared the form of the gardener coming across the lawn. He was fond of pleasure, and had been already the darling of the sentimental German ladies. But you seem tired, you walk with pain; perhaps it will fatigue you to come—I mean, you had rather perhaps rest another day.
Your love,—I ask it no more! If Jack Walters would but come tonight, the job would be done charmingly.
Oh, I set up such a screetch; and young Dobbins was a-taking his cow out of the field, and he perked up over the hedge when he heard me; and the cow, too, with her horns, Lord bless her! She was looking her best—the slightest possible tinge of rouge gave a glow to her transparent complexion, and lighted up those large dark sparkling eyes with a latent softness beneath the sparkle seldom seen but in the French—and widely distinct from the unintellectual languish of the Spaniard, or the full and majestic fierceness of the Italian gaze.
Virtue is my lover, my pride, my comfort, my life of life.