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Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan, 1814-1873

"Uncle Silas A Tale of Bartram-Haugh"

They'll settle me nicely if
they do; and Governor knows all about it, and won't gi'e me a danged brass
farthin', an' me wi' bills to pay, an' lawyers--dang 'em--writing
letters. He knows summat o' that hisself, does Governor; and he might ha'
consideration a bit for his own flesh and blood, _I_ say. But he never does
nout for none but hisself. I'll sell his books and his jewels next fit he
takes--that's how I'll fit him.'
This amiable young man, glowering, with his elbows on the table and his
fingers in his great whiskers, followed his homily, where clergymen append
the blessing, with a muttered variety of very different matter.
'Now, Maud,' said he, pathetically, leaning back suddenly in his chair,
with all his conscious beauty and misfortunes in his face, 'is not it hard
lines?'
I thought the appeal was going to shape itself into an application for
money; but it did not.
'I never know'd a reel beauty--first-chop, of course, I mean--that
wasn't kind along of it, and I'm a fellah as can't git along without
sympathy--that's why I say it--an' isn't it hard lines? Now, _say_ it's
hard lines--_haint_ it, Maud?'
I did not know exactly what hard lines meant, but I said--
'I suppose it is very disagreeable.


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