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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

In this good work you
will, I have faith, afford me your best assistance, and the influence
of your high connection in the neighbourhood. Accept, dear aunt, the
assurance of my highest consideration, of the most sincere and the most
devoted, and allow me the honour of writing myself your most loving and
respectful nephew,
'CARYL CARNE.'

Now, Joshua, what do you think of that?"
"Fine words and no substance; like all French stuff. And he never even
mentions me, who gave him a top, when he should have had the whip. I
will not pretend to understand him, for he always was beyond me. Dark
and excitable, moody and capricious, haughty and sarcastic, and devoid
of love for animals. You remember his pony, and what he did to it, and
the little dog that crawled upon her stomach towards him. For your
sake I would have put up with him, my dear, and striven to improve his
nature, which is sure to be much worse at six-and-twenty, after so many
years abroad. But I confess it is a great relief to me that you wisely
prefer not to have him in this house, any more at least than we can help
it. But who comes here? What a hurry we are in! Lizzie, my darling, be
patient."
"Here's this plague of a door barred and bolted again! Am I not to have
an atom of breakfast, because I just happened to oversleep myself? The
mornings get darker and darker; it is almost impossible to see to dress
oneself."
"There is plenty of tinder in the house, Eliza, and plenty of good
tallow candles," Mrs.


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