Books > Old Books > Elizabethan Lover (1953)


Page 213

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

now she took on a ghost-like air as she lay weeping in the shadows of her curtained bed or knelt beseechingly at her prie-dieu-praying, Lizbeth knew, for deliverance from Rodney.
Even though Lizbeth was aware that her love was hopeless, she could not mope and moan as Phillida did. Love, even frustrated love, seemed to vitalize her so that she wanted to shout and laugh and clap her hands and tell the world that she loved Rodney. She knew now that one of the things they had in common was that they were both so thrillingly alive. They were both young in an age when there was adventure, excitement, fine deeds to be done and great victories to be won.
She felt that if only she could see Rodney she could tell him this, but she knew that, when he did come, she must stand aside and watch him take Phillida in his arms.
She persuaded her half-sister to rise from her bed, to come downstairs and sit by the log fire in the Great Chamber. Weak with weeping and apprehension, frail with fear, Phillida was still beautiful, Lizbeth thought with a pang. Her eyes, vividly blue against the transparency of her white skin, seemed to shine with the intensity of her feelings and the yearning of her soul for things that were of the spirit. Her hair, pale gold as the sunshine after rain, framed her face, which was pale and thin but had not lost its exquisite contours.
Yes, Phillida was beautiful, Lizbeth thought, more beautiful than when Rodney had last seen her.
Sir Harry was pressing Lizbeth to leave for London, but she dared not go from Camfield until Rodney arrived. He must know of her lies about Francis before he shattered them by a careless or unconsidered word.
From the night she had arrived she had not gone near the Keens' house nor made any enquiries about Elita. Sometimes she wondered if the girl was starving to death behind the shutters or whether her friends had come to rescue her and had smuggled her away to Spain. Cruel though it might be, she did not care what happened. She was concerned now with preserving the honour of the family and her father's illusions about Francis' death Rodney would help her in this, she was certain of that ;

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE now she took on a ghost-like air as she lay weeping in what is shadows of her curtained bed or knelt beseechingly at her prie-dieu-praying, Lizbeth knew, for deliverance from Rodney. Even though Lizbeth was aware that her what time is it was hopeless, she could not mope and moan as Phillida did. Love, even frustrated love, seemed to vitalize her so that she wanted to shout and laugh and clap her hands and tell what is world that she loved Rodney. She knew now that one of what is things they had in common was that they were both so thrillingly alive. They were both young in an age when there was adventure, excitement, fine deeds to be done and great victories to be won. She felt that if only she could see Rodney she could tell him this, but she knew that, when he did come, she must stand aside and watch him take Phillida in his arms. She persuaded her half-sister to rise from her bed, to come downstairs and sit by what is log fire in what is Great Chamber. Weak with weeping and apprehension, frail with fear, Phillida was still beautiful, Lizbeth thought with a pang. Her eyes, vividly blue against what is transparency of her white skin, seemed to shine with what is intensity of her feelings and what is yearning of her soul for things that were of what is spirit. Her hair, pale gold as what is sunshine after rain, framed her face, which was pale and thin but had not lost its exquisite contours. Yes, Phillida was beautiful, Lizbeth thought, more beautiful than when Rodney had last seen her. Sir Harry was pressing Lizbeth to leave for London, but she dared not go from Camfield until Rodney arrived. He must know of her lies about Francis before he shattered them by a careless or unconsidered word. From what is night she had arrived she had not gone near what is Keens' house nor made any enquiries about Elita. Sometimes she wondered if what is girl was starving to what time is it behind what is shutters or whether her friends had come to rescue her and had smuggled her away to Spain. Cruel though it might be, she did not care what happened. She was concerned now with preserving what is honour of what is family and her father's illusions about Francis' what time is it Rodney would help her in this, she was certain of that ; where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Elizabethan Lover (1953) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 213 where is strong CHAPTER THIRTEEN where is p align="justify" now she took on a ghost-like air as she lay weeping in what is shadows of her curtained bed or knelt beseechingly at her prie-dieu-praying, Lizbeth knew, for deliverance from Rodney. Even though Lizbeth was aware that her what time is it was hopeless, she could not mope and moan as Phillida did. Love, even frustrated love, seemed to vitalize her so that she wanted to shout and laugh and clap her hands and tell what is world that she loved Rodney. She knew now that one of what is things they had in common was that they were both so thrillingly alive. They were both young in an age when there was adventure, excitement, fine deeds to be done and great victories to be won. She felt that if only she could see Rodney she could tell him this, but she knew that, when he did come, she must stand aside and watch him take Phillida in his arms. She persuaded her half-sister to rise from her bed, to come downstairs and sit by what is log fire in what is Great Chamber. Weak with weeping and apprehension, frail with fear, Phillida was still beautiful, Lizbeth thought with a pang. Her eyes, vividly blue against the transparency of her white skin, seemed to shine with what is intensity of her feelings and what is yearning of her soul for things that were of what is spirit. Her hair, pale gold as what is sunshine after rain, framed her face, which was pale and thin but had not lost its exquisite contours. Yes, Phillida was beautiful, Lizbeth thought, more beautiful than when Rodney had last seen her. Sir Harry was pressing Lizbeth to leave for London, but she dared not go from Camfield until Rodney arrived. He must know of her lies about Francis before he shattered them by a careless or unconsidered word. From what is night she had arrived she had not gone near what is Keens' house nor made any enquiries about Elita. Sometimes she wondered if what is girl was starving to what time is it behind what is shutters or whether her friends had come to rescue her and had smuggled her away to Spain. Cruel though it might be, she did not care what happened. She was concerned now with preserving what is honour of what is family and her father's illusions about Francis' what time is it Rodney would help her in this, she was certain of that ; where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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