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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

Here Donal would
often wander, now with a book, now with Davie. The boy's presence
was rarely an interruption to his thoughts when he wanted to think.
Sometimes he would thrown himself on the grass and read aloud; then
Davie would throw himself beside him, and let the words he could not
understand flow over him in a spiritual cataract. On the river was
a boat, and though at first he was awkward enough in the use of the
oars, he was soon able to enjoy thoroughly a row up or down the
stream, especially in the twilight.
He was alone with his book under a beech-tree on a steep slope to
the river, the day after his affair with lord Forgue: reading aloud,
he did not hear the approach of his lordship.
"Mr. Grant," he said, "if you will say you are sorry you threw me
from my horse, I will say I am sorry I struck you."
"I am very sorry," said Donal, rising, "that it was necessary to
throw you from your horse; and perhaps your lordship may remember
that you struck me before I did so."
"That has nothing to do with it. I propose an accommodation, or
compromise, or what you choose to call it: if you will do the one, I
will do the other."
"What I think I ought to do, my lord, I do without bargaining. I am
not sorry I threw you from your horse, and to say so would be to
lie."
"Of course everybody thinks himself in the right!" said his lordship
with a small sneer.


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