It was but a stone's-throw from where they stood.
This broke up the party.
"And my house is yours," said Colonel Clifford to Julia. "I did not
believe appearances against a Clifford." With these words he took two
steps toward his niece and held out his arm. She moved toward him. Percy
came forward radiant to congratulate her. She drew up with a look of
furious scorn that made him recoil, and she marched proudly away with
her uncle. He bestowed one parting glance of contempt upon the
discomfited Bartley, and marched his niece proudly off, more determined
than ever that she should be his daughter. But for once he was wise
enough not to press that topic: he let her indignation work alone.
Moreover, though he was a little wrong-headed and not a little
pig-headed, he was a noble-minded man, and nothing noble passed him
unobserved or unappreciated.
"_That_ Bartley's daughter!" said he to Julia. "Ay, when roses spring
from dunghills, and eagles are born of sparrow-hawks. Brave
girl!--brave girl!"
"Oh, uncle," said Julia, "I am so glad you appreciate her!"
"Appreciate her!" said the Colonel; "what should I be worth if I did not?
Why, these are the women that win Waterloo in the persons of their sons.
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