{"id":"01KG8AN0BY3ZJFBC4992TKACDZ","cid":"bafkreihciyejhb26glm6y3h6e25gmx4akakxyum2so4hxacv6juf7lz64u","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2708,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 11","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":2649,"text":"\"And you would be very stupid, brother Pierre, if you did not see\r\nsomething there,\" said his mother, still that way pursuing her own\r\ndifferent train of thought. \"The meaning thereof is this: Lucy has\r\ncommanded me to stay you; but in reality she wants you to go along with\r\nher. Well, you may go as far as the porch; but then, you must return,\r\nfor we have not concluded our little affair, you know. Adieu, little\r\nlady!\"\r\n\r\nThere was ever a slight degree of affectionate patronizing in the manner\r\nof the resplendent, full-blown Mrs. Glendinning, toward the delicate and\r\nshrinking girlhood of young Lucy. She treated her very much as she might\r\nhave treated some surpassingly beautiful and precocious child; and this\r\nwas precisely what Lucy was. Looking beyond the present period, Mrs.\r\nGlendinning could not but perceive, that even in Lucy's womanly\r\nmaturity, Lucy would still be a child to her; because, she, elated,\r\nfelt, that in a certain intellectual vigor, so to speak, she was the\r\nessential opposite of Lucy, whose sympathetic mind and person had both\r\nbeen cast in one mould of wondrous delicacy. But here Mrs. Glendinning\r\nwas both right and wrong. So far as she here saw a difference between\r\nherself and Lucy Tartan, she did not err; but so far--and that was very\r\nfar--as she thought she saw her innate superiority to her in the\r\nabsolute scale of being, here she very widely and immeasurably erred.\r\nFor what may be artistically styled angelicalness, this is the highest\r\nessence compatible with created being; and angelicalness hath no vulgar\r\nvigor in it. And that thing which very often prompts to the display of\r\nany vigor--which thing, in man or woman, is at bottom nothing but\r\nambition--this quality is purely earthly, and not angelical. It is\r\nfalse, that any angels fell by reason of ambition. Angels never fall;\r\nand never feel ambition. Therefore, benevolently, and affectionately,\r\nand all-sincerely, as thy heart, oh, Mrs. Glendinning! now standest\r\naffected toward the fleecy Lucy; still, lady, thou dost very sadly\r\nmistake it, when the proud, double-arches of the bright breastplate of\r\nthy bosom, expand with secret triumph over one, whom thou so sweetly,\r\nbut still so patronizingly stylest, The Little Lucy.\r\n\r\nBut ignorant of these further insights, that very superb-looking lady,\r\nnow waiting Pierre's return from the portico door, sat in a very\r\nmatronly revery; her eyes fixed upon the decanter of amber-hued wine\r\nbefore her. Whether it was that she somehow saw some lurking analogical\r\nsimilitude between that remarkably slender, and gracefully cut little\r\npint-decanter, brimfull of light, golden wine, or not, there is no\r\nabsolute telling now. But really, the peculiarly, and reminiscently, and\r\nforecastingly complacent expression of her beaming and benevolent\r\ncountenance, seemed a tell-tale of some conceit very much like the\r\nfollowing:--Yes, she's a very pretty little pint-decanter of a girl: a\r\nvery pretty little Pale Sherry pint-decanter of a girl; and I--I'm a\r\nquart decanter of--of--Port--potent Port! Now, Sherry for boys, and Port\r\nfor men--so I've heard men say; and Pierre is but a boy; but when his\r\nfather wedded me,--why, his father was turned of five-and-thirty years.\r\n\r\nAfter a little further waiting for him, Mrs. Glendinning heard Pierre's\r\nvoice--\"Yes, before eight o'clock at least, Lucy--no fear;\" and then the\r\nhall door banged, and Pierre returned to her.\r\n\r\nBut now she found that this unforeseen visit of Lucy had completely\r\nrouted all business capacity in her mercurial son; fairly capsizing him\r\nagain into, there was no telling what sea of pleasant pensiveness.\r\n\r\n\"Dear me! some other time, sister Mary.\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 11"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJS0JNVAGJYMWXV1594N5","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AN0BYR37AG0AW8BDMA26H","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AN0CCMY2F7XYKKC0QS4GP","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:55.678Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:07.988Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}