George forgot his. Too fiery a Southerner to
seek the advantages of Northern colleges, he had educated himself in
England, and had contracted while at Oxford the habit of eating opium.
Returning home at his majority, and remaining long enough to establish
his own ideas, which were peculiarly despotic, upon his
property,--through many subsequent travels, tasting in each an
experience of all the folly and madness the great capitals of the world
afford, through all his life, indeed, this habit was the only thing
Marlboro' had not mastered. One other thing, albeit, there was, of which
Marlboro' was the slave, and that was the Marlboro' temper.
Eloise returned his salutation cordially, and with a certain naughty
pleasure, since Mr. St. George was looking on, and since that person,
constituting himself her grim guardian, had in a manner warned her of
the other. Then she displayed her pretty little ink-stained hands, and
ran away.
Mr. Marlboro' looked after her, and then turned to survey St. George.
"Who would not be the Abelard to such an Eloise?" he said.
There was no answer. St. George was filling a pipe, and whistling the
while a melancholy old tune.
"I'll tell you what, St. George"----
Here he paused, and thrummed on the book in time to the tune.
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