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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"


My lordship had not the faintest.
'At the same time,' I said, 'I have had an accident: I have
unhappily lost my baggage, and am here in what I stand in. I don't
know if the doctor be a formalist, but it is quite impossible I
should appear at table as I ought.'
He begged me to be under no anxiety. 'We have been long expecting
you,' said he. 'All is ready.'
Such I found to be the truth. A great room had been prepared for
me; through the mullioned windows the last flicker of the winter
sunset interchanged with the reverberation of a royal fire; the bed
was open, a suit of evening clothes was airing before the blaze,
and from the far corner a boy came forward with deprecatory smiles.
The dream in which I had been moving seemed to have reached its
pitch. I might have quitted this house and room only the night
before; it was my own place that I had come to; and for the first
time in my life I understood the force of the words home and
welcome.
'This will be all as you would want, sir?' said Mr. Dawson. 'This
'ere boy, Rowley, we place entirely at your disposition. 'E's not
exactly a trained vallet, but Mossho Powl, the Viscount's
gentleman, 'ave give him the benefick of a few lessons, and it is
'oped that he may give sitisfection. Hanythink that you may
require, if you will be so good as to mention the same to Rowley, I
will make it my business myself, sir, to see you sitisfied.


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