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Little Lord Fauntleroy | Frances Hodgson Burnett | |
Chapter XII |
Page 4 of 6 |
"You say you are my eldest son's wife. If that is true, and if the proof you offer is too much for us, the law is on your side. In that case, your boy is Lord Fauntleroy. The matter will be sifted to the bottom, you may rest assured. If your claims are proved, you will be provided for. I want to see nothing of either you or the child so long as I live. The place will unfortunately have enough of you after my death. You are exactly the kind of person I should have expected my son Bevis to choose." And then he turned his back upon her and stalked out of the room as he had stalked into it. Not many days after that, a visitor was announced to Mrs. Errol, who was writing in her little morning room. The maid, who brought the message, looked rather excited; her eyes were quite round with amazement, in fact, and being young and inexperienced, she regarded her mistress with nervous sympathy. "It's the Earl hisself, ma'am!" she said in tremulous awe. When Mrs. Errol entered the drawing-room, a very tall, majestic-looking old man was standing on the tiger-skin rug. He had a handsome, grim old face, with an aquiline profile, a long white mustache, and an obstinate look. "Mrs. Errol, I believe?" he said. "Mrs. Errol," she answered. "I am the Earl of Dorincourt," he said. He paused a moment, almost unconsciously, to look into her uplifted eyes. They were so like the big, affectionate, childish eyes he had seen uplifted to his own so often every day during the last few months, that they gave him a quite curious sensation. "The boy is very like you," he said abruptly. |
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Little Lord Fauntleroy Frances Hodgson Burnett |
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