Summary

Portrait of Henry Kingsley Henry Kingsley The Recollections of Geoffrey Hamlyn

It takes two to make a quarrel, Cecil, and I will not be one."
"Sam," said Cecil, "I love Alice Brentwood better than all the world besides."
"I know it."
"And you love her too, as well, were it possible, as I do."
"I know that too."
"Why," resumed Cecil hurriedly, "has this come to pass? Why has it been my unlucky destiny, that the man I love and honour above all others should become my rival? Are there no other women in the world? Tell me, Sam, why is it forced on me to choose between my best friend and the woman I love dearer than life?
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Henry Kingsley Henry Kingsley The Recollections of Geoffrey Hamlyn

They saw the miscreants swarming about the house, and heard a pistol-shot—only one.
"Who can they be firing at?" said Alice, in a subdued tone. They were both so utterly appalled by their late danger, that they spoke in whispers, though the enemy were a quarter of a mile off.
"Mere mischief, I should fancy," said Sam; "there is no one there. Oh! Alice, my love, can you realize that we are safe?"
"Hardly yet, Sam! But who could those men be we saw at such a distance on the plain? Could they have been cattle? I am seldom deceived, you know; I can see an immense distance."
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Henry Kingsley Henry Kingsley The Recollections of Geoffrey Hamlyn

Sam is about forty. There is not a wrinkle in that honest forehead, and the eyes beam upon you as kindly and pleasantly as ever they did; and when, after playing to the surgeon, he looks up and laughs, one sees that he is just the same old Sam that used to lie, as a lad, dreaming in the verandah at Garoopna. No trouble has left its shadow there. Alice, whose face is pressed against his, is now a calm, young matron of three or four-and-thirty, if it were possible, more beautiful than ever, only she has grown from a Hebe into a Juno.
Source: Gutenberg

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