H. B. Marriott Watson,
Diogenes of London (collection…
(1893)
“ I ran down to the water's edge, and exhibited my burden to my lady's sparkling eyes. 'I vow,' she said, 'you are the best of men. I am sorry I have used you badly. Begone, begone, sir,' she cried, laughing. 'I will give you thanks and to spare hereafter.' 'Softly,' I murmured, 'softly, my naiad. I have bought this wardrobe at a heavy price of lies; my conscience quails and shrivels at the recollection. ”
H. B. Marriott Watson,
Diogenes of London (collection…
(1893)
“ My Audrey slowly dropped behind the bush. 'And think again,' quoth I, fearful she was to fly off in her alarm; 'she has shivered in this cool stream for hours, and has gotten a cold to perish from. So fair a lady and so vile a death! Shall it comfort you, my little tender-heart, to reflect one day that but for this cold prudery she who now sleeps i' the grave might still be dancing in her royal beauty? Her fate lies in your hands. Be pitiful and she will live; refuse her and she must die.' I caught a whimper from behind the bush, and as I paused, a hand stole out, reluctant, with a gown. ”
H. B. Marriott Watson,
Diogenes of London (collection…
(1893)
“ Something in my manner may have alarmed her; it was as though she feared I would strip her perforce of her property; and she retired into the seclusion of the copse, peeping over a bush at me. 'Look you,' said I, 'let me speak plainly. I throw myself upon your mercy. For the better part of this day has she borne with this sorry plight; her eyes are wet with tears, not water; she hath wrung her hands until they weary; her heart is aching with despair and shame. ”
