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My Novel — Volume 11 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 71 of 157 (45%)
the restless activity of some founder of destined cities in a new
settlement, to lop the boughs that cumbered and obscured the others. For
truly, like a man in a vast Columbian forest, opening entangled space,
now with the ready axe, now with the patient train that kindles the
slower fire, this child of civilized life went toiling on against
surrounding obstacles, resolute to destroy, but ever scheming to
construct. And now Randal has reached Levy's dainty business-room, and
is buried deep in discussion how to secure to himself, at the expense of
his patron, the representation of Lansmere, and how to complete the
contract which shall reannex to his forlorn inheritance some fragments of
its ancient wealth.

Meanwhile, Chance fought on his side in the boudoir of May Fair. The
squire had found the marchesa at home, briefly introduced himself and his
business, told her she was mistaken if she had fancied she had taken in a
rich heir in his son; that, thank Heaven, he could leave his estates to
his ploughman, should he so please, but that he was willing to do things
liberally; and whatever she thought Frank was worth, he was very ready to
pay for.

At another time Beatrice would perhaps have laughed at this strange
address; or she might, in some prouder moment, have fired up with all a
patrician's resentment and a woman's pride; but now her spirit was
crushed, her nerves shattered: the sense of her degraded position, of her
dependence on her brother, combined with her supreme unhappiness at the
loss of those dreams with which Leonard had for a while charmed her
wearied waking life,--all came upon her. She listened; pale and
speechless; and the poor squire thought he was quietly advancing towards
a favourable result, when she suddenly burst into a passion of hysterical
tears; and just at that moment Frank himself entered the room. At the
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