Moreen and Ulick, who showed him the dim basilica as if it belonged to
them. Pemberton noted how much less, among its curiosities, Lord
Dorrington carried himself as a man of the world; wondering too whether,
for such services, his companions took a fee from him. The autumn at any
rate waned, the Dorringtons departed, and Lord Verschoyle, the eldest
son, had proposed neither for Amy nor for Paula.
One sad November day, while the wind roared round the old palace and the
rain lashed the lagoon, Pemberton, for exercise and even somewhat for
warmth--the Moreens were horribly frugal about fires; it was a cause of
suffering to their inmate--walked up and down the big bare sala with his
pupil. The scagliola floor was cold, the high battered casements shook
in the storm, and the stately decay of the place was unrelieved by a
particle of furniture. Pemberton's spirits were low, and it came over
him that the fortune of the Moreens was now even lower. A blast of
desolation, a portent of disgrace and disaster, seemed to draw through
the comfortless hall.
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