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Ernest Maltravers
Contributor(s): Bulwer-Lytton, Edward (Author)
ISBN: 1481867350     ISBN-13: 9781481867351
Publisher: Createspace Independent Publishing Platform
OUR PRICE:   $17.05  
Product Type: Paperback - Other Formats
Published: December 2012
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Additional Information
BISAC Categories:
- Fiction | Classics
Dewey: FIC
Physical Information: 0.77" H x 5.98" W x 9.02" (1.12 lbs) 346 pages
 
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Excerpt: ...Maltravers is capable of-for I have seen him testify it to another. "But," added Lumley, quickly, and as if afraid he had said too much, "Lord Saxingham is looking out for me to make up his whist-table. I go to-morrow-when shall you be in town?" "In the course of the week," said poor Florence mechanically; and Lumley walked away. In another moment, Maltravers, who had been more observant than he seemed, joined her where she sat. "Dear Florence," said he, tenderly, "you look pale-I fear you are not so well this evening." "No affectation of an interest you do not feel, pray," said Florence, with a scornful lip but swimming eyes. "Do not feel, Florence " "It is the first time, at least, that you have observed whether I am well or ill. But it is no matter." "My dear Florence, -why this tone?-how have I offended you? Has Lumley said-" "Nothing but in your praise. Oh, be not afraid, you are one of those of whom all speak highly. But do not let me detain you here; let us join our host-you have left him alone." Lady Florence waited for no reply, nor did Maltravers attempt to detain her. He looked pained, and when she turned round to catch a glance, that she hoped would be reproachful, he was gone. Lady Florence became nervous and uneasy, talked she knew not what, and laughed hysterically. She, however, deceived Cleveland into the notion that she was in the best possible spirits. By and by she rose, and passed through the suite of rooms: her heart was with Maltravers-still he was not visible. At length she entered the conservatory, and there she observed him, through the open casements, walking slowly, with folded arms, upon the moonlit lawn. There was a short struggle in her breast between woman's pride and woman's love; the last conquered, and she joined him. "Forgive me, Ernest," she said, extending her hand, "I was to blame." Ernest kissed the fair hand, and answered touchingly: "Florence, you have the power to wound me, be forbearing in...