Explore "Lavinia" by Rhoda Broughton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"If I depart from thee I cannot live; / And in thy sight to die, what were it else / But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?"
After all, Lavinia is not unrecognizable. Scarcely has she left Mrs. Prince, whose brow is still creased by the thought of an imminent son-in-law, when one and another claim greetings from her, and in half an hour she has shaken hands with three parts of the gathering; has been presented to the strange clergy -- St. Gengulpha's has a new vicar since last year -- and been cordially pressed by Christopher to feel the biceps of one of the East End curate's arms, which has shown its merits in the just-ended tug-of-war.