 Chapter 48 My uncle, after all, was not till that day, after the strange fashion of his malady, be it what it might. Old Wyatt repeated in her sour, laconic way, that there was nothing to speak of amiss with him. But there remained with me a sense of pain and fear. Dr. Briley, notwithstanding my uncle's sarcastic reflections, remained in my estimation a true and wise friend. I had all my life been accustomed to rely upon others, and here, haunted by many unavowed and ill-defined alarms and doubts, the disappearance of an active and able friend caused my heart to sink. Still there remained my dear cousin Monica and my pleasant and trusted friend, Lord Ilbury, and in less than a week arrived an invitation from Lady Mary to the Grange, for me and Millie, to meet Lady Nollis. It was a company, she told me, by a note from Lord Ilbury to my uncle, supporting her request, and in the afternoon I received a message to attend my uncle in his room. An invitation from Lady Mary Carersbrook, for you and Millie to meet Monica Nollis. Have you received it? Asked my uncle, so soon as I was seated. But in the affirmative, he continued, Now, Mordruthin, I expect the truth from you. I have been frank, so shall you. Have you ever heard me spoken ill of by Lady Nollis? I was quite taken aback. I felt my cheeks flushing, and I was returning his fierce cold gaze with a stupid stare, and remained dumb. Yes, Mord, you have. I looked down in silence. I know it. But it is right you should answer. Have you, or have you not? I had to clear my voice twice, or thrice. There was a kind of spasm in my throat. I am trying to recollect, I said at last. Do recollect, he replied, imperiously. There was a little interval of silence. I would have given the world to be, on any conditions, anywhere else in the world. Surely, Mord, you don't wish to deceive your guardian? Come, the question is a plain one, and I know the truth already. I ask you again, have you ever heard me spoken ill of by Lady Nollis? Lady Nollis, I said half articulately, speaks very freely and often half in jests, but I continued observing something menacing in his face. I have heard her express disapprobation of some things you have done. Come, Mord, you continued in a stern, though still a low, key. Did she not insinuate that charge, than, I suppose, in a state of incubation, the other day presented here, full-fledged, with beak and claws, by that scheming apothecary, the statement that I was defrauding you by cutting down timber upon the grounds? She certainly did mention the circumstance, but she also argued that it might have been through ignorance of the extent of your rights. Come, come, Mord, you must not prevaricate, girl. I will have it. Does she not habitually speak disparagingly of me, in your presence, and to you? Answer! I hung my head, yes or no? Well, perhaps so. Yes, I faltered and burst into tears. There, don't cry, may well shock you. Did she not, to your knowledge, say the same things in presence of my child, Millicent? I know it, I repeat, there is no use in hesitating, and I command you to answer. Sobbing, I told the truth, now sit still while I write my reply. He wrote, with the scowl and smile so painful to witness, as he looked down upon the paper, and then he placed the note before me, read that, my dear. It began, My dear Lady Nollis, you have favoured me with a note, adding your request to that of Lord Ilbury, that I should permit my ward and my daughter to avail themselves of Lady Mary's invitation. Being perfectly cognisant of the ill-feeling you have always and unaccountably cherished toward me, and also of the terms in which you have had the delicacy and the conscience to speak of me, before and to my child and my ward, I can only express my amazement at the modesty of your request, while peremptorily refusing it, and I shall conscientiously adopt effectual measures to prevent your ever again having an opportunity of endeavouring to destroy my influence and authority over my ward and my child by direct or insinuated slander. You're defamed and injured kinsmen, Silas Ruthin. I was stunned, yet what could I plead against the blow that was to isolate me? I wept aloud with my hands clasped, looking on the marble face of the old man. Without seeming to hear, he folded and sealed his note, and then proceeded to answer Lord Ilbury. When that note was written he placed it likewise before me, and I read it also through. It simply referred him to Lady Nollis, for an explanation of the unhappy circumstances which compelled him to decline in invitation, which it would have made his niece and his daughter so happy to accept. You see, my dear Maud, how frank I am with you, he said, waving the open note which I had just read, slightly before he folded it. I think I may ask you to reciprocate my candour. Dismissed from this interview I ran to Millie, who burst into tears from sheer disappointment, so we wept and wailed together. But in my grief I think there was more reason. I sat down to the dismal task of writing to my dear Lady Nollis. I implored her to make her peace with my uncle. I told her how frank he had been with me, and how he had shown me his sad reply to her letter. I told her of the interview to which he had himself invited me, with Dr. Briley, how little disturbed he was by the accusation, no sign of guilt, quite the contrary, perfect confidence. I implored of her to think the best, and remembering my isolation to accomplish a reconciliation with Uncle Silas. Only think, I wrote, I only nineteen, and two years of solitude before me. What a separation! No broken merchant ever signed the schedule of his bankruptcy with a heavier heart than did I this letter. The griefs of youth are like the wounds of the gods. There is an ickle which heals the scars from which it flows, and thus Millie and I can sold ourselves, and next day enjoyed our ramble, our talks and readings with a wonderful resignation to the inevitable. Millie and I stood in the relation of Lord Jubilee to Dr. Pangloss. I was to mend her cacology, and the occupation amused us both. I think at the bottom of our submission to destiny lurk to hope that Uncle Silas, the inexorable, would relent, or that Cousin Monica, that siren, would win and melt him to her purpose. Whatever comfort, however, I derived from the absence of Dudley, was not to be of very long duration, for one morning as I was amusing myself alone with a piece of woosted work, thinking, and just at that moment, not unpleasantly, of many things, my cousin Dudley entered the room. Back again, like a bad hatener, you see, and how you have been ever since, Lass. Purely I weren't, be you looks, I'm jolly glad to see you, I am, no cattle going like e-mourned. I think I must ask you to let go my hand, as I can't continue my work. I said very stiffly, hoping to chill his enthusiasm a little. I have been to Pleasie, Maud, tainting my heart to refuse you now. I have been to Wolf-Rampton, Lass, jolly rower, and ran over to Lemmington, who must broke my neck face through a borrowed horse out of the docks. You wouldn't care, Maud, if I broke my neck, would you, while up on just a little? He good-naturedly supplied, as I was silent. Little over a week since I left there, by George, and to me it's half an almanac-like. Can you guess the reason, Maud? Have you seen your sister Millie, or your father, since your return? I asked coldly. There'll keep Maud, never mind him. It'll be you I want to see, it'll be you I were thinking on all the time. I tell you, Lass, I'm always thinking on ye. I think you want to go and see your father, you have been away, you say, for some time. I don't think it is respectful, I said a little sharply. If you bid me go, I'd almost go, but I couldn't look quite. There's not on earth I wouldn't do for you, Maud, except leave in you. At that, I said with a petulant flush, it's the only thing on earth I would ask you to do. Blessed if you've been to blushing, Maud, he drawled with an odious grin. His stupidity was proof against everything. It is too bad, I muttered, with an indignant little pat of my foot, and stamp, where you lassies be queer cattle, you're angry with me now because you think I got into mischief you do, Maud. You know, you buck some little fool down there at Wolframpton, and just for that, you're ready to tear me off again in a minute, I'll come back, it isn't fair. I don't understand you, sir, and I beg that you'll leave me. Now, didn't I tell you about leaving you, Maud, to see only thing I can't compass for your sake? And just a child in your hands, I am, you know, I can lick a big fell at a pot as limp as a rag, but in George, his oaths were not really so mild. You see, some of that's how the day, well, don't be vexed, Maud, it was all along with you, you know, I were a bit jealous, Zappan, but anyhow I can do it, and look at me here, just a child I say in your hands. I wish you'd go away, have you nothing to do and no one to see, why can't you leave me alone, sir? Because I can't, Maud, that's just why, and I wonder, Maud, how can you be so ill-natured when you see me like this? How can you? I wish Milly would come, I said, peevishly looking toward the door. Well, I tell you how it is, Maud, I may as well have it out, I like you better than any lass the never I saw. A deal, you're nicer by chalks, there's none like you there isn't, I know we should have me, I haven't much tin, father's run through a deal, he's pretty well up a tree, you know, but though I've been so rich as some folk, I'm a better man, Appan, and if you take a tidy lad that likes you awful, then you die for your sake, why, here he is. What can you mean, sir? I exclaimed, rising in indignant bewilderment. I'm me, Maud, if you're marrying me, you'll never have caused a complain. I'll never let you want for now, not give you a rye word. Actually a proposal, I ejaculated like a person speaking in a dream. I stood with my hands on the back of a chair, staring at Dudley, and looking, I dare say, as stupefied as I felt. There's a good lass, you wouldn't deny me, said the odious creature, with one knee on the seat of the chair behind which I was standing, and attempting to place his arm lovingly round my neck. This effectually roused me, and starting back I stamped upon the ground with actual fury. What has there ever been, sir, in my conduct, words or looks to warrant this unparalleled audacity, but that you are as stupefied as you are impertinent, brutal, and ugly you must long ago, sir, have seen how I dislike you. How dare you, sir, don't presume to obstruct me. I'm going to my uncle. I had never spoken so violently to mortal before. He in turn looked a little confounded, and I passed his extended but motionless arm with a quick and angry step. He followed me a pace or two, however, before I reached the door, looking horribly angry, but stopped and only swore after me some of those rye words which I was never to have heard. I was myself too much in sense than moving at too rapid a pace to catch their import, and I had knocked at my uncle's door before I began to collect my thoughts. Come in, replied my uncle's voice, clear, thin and peevish. I entered and confronted him. Your son, sir, has insulted me. He looked at me with a cold curiosity, steadily for a few seconds, as I stood panting before him, with flaming cheeks. Insulted you, repeated he, eek, had you surprised me. The ejaculation savoured of the old man to borrow his scriptural phrase more than anything I had heard from him before. How, he continued, how has Dudley insulted you, my dear child? Come, you're excited, sit down, take time, and tell me all about it. I did not know that Dudley was here. I... He... It is an insult. He knew very well. He must know how I dislike him, and he presumed to make a proposal of marriage to me. Oh, exclaimed my uncle with a prolonged intonation, which plainly said, is that the mighty matter. He looked at me as he leaned back with the same steady curiosity, this time smiling, which somehow frightened me, and his countenance looked to me wicked, like the face of a witch with a guilt I could not understand. And that is the amount of your complaint. He made you a formal proposal of marriage. Yes, he proposed for me. As I cooled I began to feel just a very little disconcerted, and a suspicion was troubling me, that possibly an indifferent person might think that, having no more to complain of, my language was perhaps a little exaggerated, and my demeanour a little toot and pesterous. My uncle, I dare say, saw some symptoms in this misgiving, for, smiling still, he said, my dear Maude, however just you appear to me a little cruel, you don't seem to remember how much you are yourself to blame. You have one faithful friend at least whom I advise your consulting. I mean your looking-glass. The foolish fellow is young, quite ignorant in the world's ways. He is in love, desperately enamoured. Aimee c'est clandre, et cland c'est souffrire. And suffering prompts to desperate remedies, we must not be too hard on a rough but romantic young fool who talks according to his folly and his pain. End of chapter forty-eight. Chapter forty-nine of Uncle Silas by Joseph Sheridan Lafannou. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter forty-nine. An apparition. But, after all, he is suddenly resumed, as if a new thought had struck him. Is it quite such folly, after all? It really strikes me, dear Maude, that the subject may be worth a second thought. No, no, you won't refuse to hear me, he said, observing me on the point of protesting. I am, of course, assuming that you are fancy-free. I am assuming, too, that you don't care tuppence about Dudley, and even that you fancy you dislike him. You know in that pleasant play, poor Sheridan, delightful fellow, all our fine spirits are dead. He makes Mrs Malaprop say there is nothing like beginning with a little aversion. Now, though in matrimony, of course, that is only a joke, yet in love, believe me, it is no such thing. His own marriage with Miss Ogle, I know, was a case in point. She expressed the positive horror of him at their first acquaintance, and yet I believe she would a few months later have died rather than not have married him. I was again about to speak, but with a smile he beckoned me into silence. There are two or three points you must bear in mind. One of the happiest privileges of your fortune is that you may, without imprudence, marry simply for love. There are few men in England who could offer you an estate comparable with that you already possess, or in fact appreciably increase the splendour of your fortune. If, therefore, he were, in all other respects, eligible, I can't see that his poverty would be an objection to a way for one moment. He is quite a rough diamond. He has been, like many young men of the highest rank, too much given up to athletic sports, to that society which constitutes the aristocracy of the ring and the turf, and all that kind of thing. You see, I am putting all the worst points first, but I have known so many young men in my day after a mad cap career of a few years among prize fighters, wrestlers and jockeys, learning their slang and affecting their manners, take up and cultivate the graces and the distances. It was poor dear Newgate, many degrees lower in that kind of frolic, who, when he grew tired of it, became one of the most elegant and accomplished men in the House of Peers. But Newgate, he's gone, too, I could reckon up fifty of my early friends who all began like Dudley, and all turned out, more or less, like Newgate. At this moment came a knock at the door, and Dudley put in his head most inopportunely, for the vision of his future graces and accomplishments. My good fellow, said his father, with a sharp sort of playfulness, I happened to be talking about my son, and should rather not be overheard. You will, therefore, choose another time for your visit. Dudley hesitated gruffly at the door, but another look from his father dismissed him. And now, my dear, you are to remember that Dudley has fine qualities, the most affectionate son in his rough way, that ever father was blessed with, most admirable qualities, indomitable courage, and a sense of honour, and lastly, that he has the roughing blood, the purest blood I maintain it in England. My uncle, as he said this, drew himself up a little, unconsciously. His thin hand laid lightly over his heart with a little patting motion, and his countenance looked so strangely dignified and melancholy, that in admiring contemplation of it, I lost some sentences which followed next. Therefore, dear, naturally anxious that my boy should not be dismissed from home, as he must be, should you persevere in rejecting his suit, I beg that you will reserve your decision to this day fortnight, when I will, with much pleasure hear what you may have to say on the subject. But till then, observe me, not a word. That evening he and Dudley were closeted for a long time. I suspect that he lectured him on the psychology of ladies, for a bouquet was laid beside my plate every morning at breakfast, which it must have been troublesome to get, for the conservatory at Bartram was a desert. In a few days more, an anonymous green parrot arrived in a gilt cage with a little note in a clerk's hand addressed to Miss Roughing of Noel, Bartram Howe, etc. It contained only directions for caring green parrot, at the close of which, underlined, the words appeared, the bird's name is Maud. The bouquets I invariably left on the tablecloth where I found them, the bird I insisted on Millie's keeping as her property. During the intervening fortnight Dudley never appeared, as he used sometimes to do before, at luncheon, nor looked in at the window as we were at breakfast. He contented himself with one day placing himself in my way in the hall, in his shooting accoutrements, and with a clumsy, shuffling kind of respect, and hat in hand, he said, I think, Miss, I must have spoke uncivil to the day. I was so awful put about and didn't know no more nor a child what I was saying, and I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for it, and I beg your pardon, very humble I do. I did not know what to say. I therefore said nothing but made a grave inclination and passed on. Two or three times Millie and I saw him at a little distance in our walks. He never attempted to join us. Once only he passed so near that some recognition was inevitable, and he stopped and in silence lifted his hat with an awkward respect. But although he did not approach us, he was ostentatious with a kind of telegraphic civility in the distance. He opened gates, he whistled his dogs to heal, he drove away cattle, and then himself withdrew. I really think he watched us occasionally to render these services, but in this distant way we encountered him decidedly oftener than we used to do before his flattering proposal of marriage. You may be sure that we discussed, Millie and I, that occurrence pretty constantly in all sorts of moods. Limited as have been her experience of human society, she very clearly saw now how far below its presentable level was her hopeful brother. The fortnight sped swiftly, as time always does when something would dislike and shrink from awaits us at its close. I never saw Uncle Silas during that period. It may seem odd to those who merely read the report of our last interview, in which his manner had been more playful and his talk more trifling than it in any other. That from it I had carried away a profounder sense of fear and insecurity than from any other. It was with a foreboding of evil and an awful dejection that on a very dark day in Millie's room I awaited the summons which I was sure would reach me from my punctual guardian. As I looked from the window upon the slanting rain in leaden sky and thought of the hated interview that awaited me, I pressed my hand to my troubled heart and murmured, Oh, that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest. Just then the prattle of the parrot struck my ear. I looked round on the wire cage and remembered the words, the bird's name is Maud. Poor bird, I said, I dare say Millie, it longs to get out. If it were a native of this country would not you like to open the window and then the door of that cruel cage and let the poor thing fly away. Master once Miss Maud said why it's disagreeable tones at the half open door. I followed in silence with the pressure of a near alarm at my heart, like a person going to an operation. When I entered the room my heart beat so fast that I could hardly speak. The tall form of Uncle Silas rose before me and I made him a faltering reverence. He darted from under his brows a wild fierce glance at old Wyatt and pointed to the door imperiously with his skeleton finger. The door shut and we were alone. My chair, he said pointing to a seat. Thank you, uncle, I prefer standing, I faltered. He also stood, his white head bowed forward. The phosphoric glare of his strange eyes shone upon me from under his brows. His fingernails just rested on the table. You saw the luggage corded and addressed as it stands ready for removal in the hall, he asked. I had. Millie and I had read the card switch dangled from the chunk handles and gun case. The address was Mr. Dudley R. Ruffin, Paris via Dover. I am old, agitated, on the eve of a decision on which much depends. Pray relieve my suspense. Is my son to leave Bartram today in sorrow or to remain in joy? Pray answer quickly. I stammered, I know not what. I was incoherent, wild perhaps, but somehow I expressed my meaning, my unalterable decision. I thought his lips grew whiter and his eyes shone brighter as I spoke. When I had quite made an end, he heaved a great sigh and turning his eyes slowly to the right and the left, like a man in a helpless distraction he whispered. God's will be done. I thought he was upon the point of fainting. A clay tint darkened the white of his face and seeming to forget my presence, he sat down, looking with a despairing scow on his ashy old hand as it lay upon the table. I stood gazing at him, feeling almost as if I had murdered the old man. He is still gazing as scants with an imbecile scow upon his hand. Shall I go, sir? I at length found courage to whisper. Go, he said, looking up suddenly, and it seemed to me as if a stream of cold sheet lightning had crossed and enveloped me for a moment. Go. Oh, yes, yes, maude, go. I must see poor Dudley before his departure, he added, as it were, in soliloquy. Trembling lest he should revoke his permission to depart, I glided quickly and noiselessly from the room. Old Wyatt was prowling outside with a cloth in her hand, pretending to dust the carved door-case. She found a stare of inquiry over her shrunken arm on me as I passed. Millie, who had been on the watch, ran and met me. We heard my uncle's voice as I shut the door, calling Dudley. He had been waiting, probably in the adjoining room. I hurried into my chamber, with Millie at my side, and there my agitation found relief in tears, as that of girlhood naturally does. A little while after we saw from the window Dudley, looking, I thought, very pale, get into a vehicle, on the top of which his luggage lay, and drive away from Barchew. I began to take comfort. His departure was an inexpressible relief. His final departure, a distant journey. We have tea in Millie's room that night, firelight and candles are inspiring. In that red glow I always felt and feel more safe, as well as more comfortable than in daylight, quite irrationally, for we know the night is the appointed day of such as love the darkness better than light, and evil walks there by. But so it is. Perhaps the very consciousness of external danger enhances the enjoyment of the well-lighted interior, just as the storm does that roars and hurtles over the roof. While Millie and I were talking very cosily, a knock came to the room door, and without waiting for an invitation to enter, old Wyatt came in, and glowering at us with her brown claw upon the door handle, she said to Millie, You must leave your funding, Miss Millie, and take your turn in your father's room. Is he ill? I asked. She answered, addressing not me, but Millie. I wrought two hours in a fit, after Master Dudley went to be the death of him, I'm thinking poor old Fella. I was sorry myself when I saw Master Dudley going off in the moist today. Poor Fella. There's trouble enough in the family that of that, but won't be a family long, I'm thinking. No but trouble, now but trouble, since late changes came. Judging by the sour glance she threw on me as she said this, I concluded that I represented those late changes, to which all the sorrows of the house were referred. I felt unhappy under the ill will, even of this odious old woman, being one of those unhappily constructed mortals who cannot be indifferent when they reasonably ought, and always yearn after kindness, even that of the worthless. I must go, I wish you'd come with me more, I'm so afraid all alone, said Millie, imploringly. Certainly, Millie, I answered, not liking it, you may be sure. You shan't sit there alone. So together we went, old Wyatt, cautioning us for our lives to make no noise. We passed through the old man's sitting room, where that day had occurred his brief but momentous interview with me, and his parting with his only son, and entered the bedroom at the father-end. A low fire burned in the grate, the room was in a sort of twilight, a dim lamp near the foot of the bed at the father's side was the only light burning there. Old Wyatt whispered in injunction not to speak above our breaths, not to leave the fireside unless the sixth man called or showed signs of weariness. These were the directions of the doctor. So Millie and I sat ourselves down near the half, and old Wyatt left us to our resources. We could hear the patient breathe, but he was quite still. In whispers we talked, but our conversation flagged. I was, after my want, upbraiding myself for the suffering I had inflicted. After about half an hour's desultory whispering, and intervals growing longer and longer of silence, it was more difficult to understand. She strove against it, and I tried hard to keep her talking, but it would not do. Sleep overcame her, and I was the only person in that ghastly room in a state of perfect consciousness. There were associations connected with my last vigil there to make my situation very nervous and disagreeable. Had I not had so much to occupy my mind of a disagreeable situation, it would have been a disagreeable situation. I had felt very nervous and disagreeable. Had I not had so much to occupy my mind of a distinctly practical kind, Dudley's audacious suit, my uncle's questionable toleration of it, and my own conduct, throughout that most disagreeable period of my existence, I should have felt my present situation a great deal more. As it was, I thought of my real troubles, and something of cousin knowledge, and I confess, a good deal of Lord Ilbury. face, and I confess a good deal of Lord Ilbury. When looking towards the door I thought I saw a human face, about the most terrible my fancy could have called up, looking fixedly into the room. It was only a three-quarter, and not for whole figure. The door hid that in a great measure, and I fancied I saw too a portion of the fingers. The face gazed toward the bed, and in the imperfect light looked like a livid mask, with chalky eyes. I had so often been startled by similar apparitions formed by accidental lights and shadows disguising homely objects, that I stooped forward expecting, though tremulously, to see this tremendous one, in like manner dissolve itself into its harmless elements. And now, to my unspeakable terror, I became perfectly certain that I saw the countenance of Madame de la Rougière. With a cry I started back, and shook Millie furiously from her trance. Look, look! I cried, but the apparition or illusion was gone. I clung so fast to Millie's arm, cowering behind her, that she could not rise. Millie, Millie, Millie, Millie! I went on crying, like one struck with idiocy, and unable to say anything else. In a panic Millie, who had seen nothing, and could conjecture nothing of the cause of my terror, jumped up and clinging to one another, we huddled together into the corner of the room, I still crying wildly, Millie, Millie, Millie, and nothing else. What is it? Where is it? What do you see? cried Millie, clinging to me as I did to her. It will come again, it will come again, O Heaven! What? What is it, Maud? The face, the face! I cried, O Millie, Millie, Millie! We heard a step, softly approaching the open door, and in our horrible suave quipe, we rushed and stumbled together toward the light by Uncle Silas' bed, but told Wyatt's voice and figure reassured us. Millie, I said so soon, as pale and very faint, I reached my apartment. No power on earth shall ever tempt me to enter that room again, after dark. Why, Maud dear, what in Heaven's name did you see? said Millie, scarcely less terrified. Oh, I can't! I can't! I can't, Millie! Never ask me! It is haunted! The room is haunted horribly! Was it Jack? whispered Millie, looking over her shoulder, all aghast. No, no, don't ask me, a fiend in a worse shape. I was relieved at last by a long fit of weeping, and all night Good Mary Quint sat by me, and Millie slept by my side. Starting and screaming and drugged with salvoleteal, I got through that night of supernatural terror and saw the blessed light of Heaven again. Dr. Jokes, when he came to see my uncle in the morning, visited me also. He pronounced me very hysterical, made my newt inquiries respecting my hours and diet, asked what I had had for dinner yesterday. There was something a little comforting in his cool and comforting poo-pooing of the ghost story. The result was a regimen which excluded tea, and imposed chocolate and porter, earlier hours, and I forget all beside, and he undertook to promise that, if I should but observe his directions, I should never see a ghost again. CHAPTER 50 Millie's Farewell A few days' time saw me much better. Dr. Jokes was so contemptuously sturdy and positive on the point that I began to have comfortable doubts about the reality of my ghost, and having still a horror indescribable of the illusion, if such it were, the room in which it appeared, and everything concerning it, I would neither speak nor, so far as I could, think of it. So though Bartram Howe was gloomy as well as beautiful, and some of its associations awful, and the solitude that drained their sometimes almost terrible, yet early hours bracing exercise and the fine air that predominates that region soon restored my nerves to a healthier tone. But it seemed to me that Bartram Howe was to be to me avail of tears, or rather, in my sad pilgrimage, that valley of the shadow of death through which poor Christian feared alone, and in the dark. One day Millie ran into the parlour, pale with wet cheeks, and without saying a word, threw her arms about my neck, and burst into a paroxysm of weeping. What is it, Millie? What's the matter, dear? What is it? I cried aghast, but returning her close embrace heartily. Oh, Maud! Maud, darling! He's going to send me away. Away, dear! We're away! And leave me alone in this dreadful solitude, where he knows I shall die of fear and grief without you. Oh, no! No! It must be a mistake! I'm going to France, Maud, and going away. Mrs. Jokes is going to London day after tomorrow, and I'm to go where? And an old French lady, he says, from the school will meet me there, and bring me the rest of the way. Oh, oh, oh, oh! cried poor Millie, hugging me closer still, with her head buried in my shoulder, and swaying me about like a wrestler in her agony. I never were away from Homer's fore, except that little bit with you over there at Elverston, and you were with me then, Maud, and I love you better than Bartram, better than all. And I think I'll die, Maud, if they take me away. I was just as wild in my woe as poor Millie, and it was not until we had wept together for a full hour, sometimes standing, sometimes walking up and down the room, sometimes sitting and getting up in turns to fall on one another's necks, that Millie, plucking her handkerchief from her pocket, drew a note from it at the same time, which, as it fell upon the floor, she at once recollected to be one from Uncle Silas to me. It was to this effect. I wish to apprise my dear niece and ward of my plans. Millie proceeds to an admirable French school, as a pensionaire, and leaves this on Thursday next. If, after three months trial, she finds it in any way objectionable, she returns to us. If, on the contrary, she finds it in all respects the charming residence it has been presented to me, you, on the expiration of that period, join her there, until the temporary complication of my affairs shall have been so far adjusted, as to enable me to receive you once more at Bartram. Hoping for happier days, and wishing to assure you that three months is the extreme limit of your separation from my poor Millie, I have written this feeling, alas, unequal to seeing you at present. Bartram, Tuesday. P.S., I can have no objection to your apprising moniker knowledge of these arrangements. You will understand, of course, not a copy of this letter, but its substance. Over this document, scanning it, his lawyers do a new act of parliament, we took comfort. After all, it was limited, a separation not to exceed three months, possibly much shorter. On the whole, too, I pleased myself with thinking Uncle Silas's note, though peremptory, was kind. Our paroxysms subsided into sadness, a close correspondence was arranged, something of the bustle and excitement of change supervened. If it turned out to be, in truth, a charming residence, how very delightful our meeting in France with the interest of foreign scenery ways and faces would be. So, Thursday arrived, a new gush of sorrow, a new brightening up, and amid regrets and anticipations, we parted at the gate of the farther end of the windmill wood. Then, of course, were more goodbyes, more embraces and tearful smiles. Good Mrs. Jolks, who met us there, was in a huge fuss. I believe it was her first visit to the metropolis, and she was in proportion heated and important, and terrified about the train, so we had not many last words. I watched Paul Millie, whose head was stretched from the window, her hand waving many addures, until the curve of the road and the clump of old ashtrays, thick with ivy, hid-milly, carriage and all, from view. My eyes filled again with tears. I turned towards Bartram. At my side stood Honest Mary Quince. Don't take on so, Miss. Don't be no time-passing. Three months is nothing at all, she said, smiling kindly. I smiled through my tears and kissed the good creature, and so side-by-side we re-entered the gate. The live young man in Faustian, whom I had seen talking with beauty on the morning of our first encounter with that youthful Amazon, was awaiting our re-entrance with the key in his hand. He stood half behind the open wicket. One lean round cheek, one shy eye, at his sharp upturned nose I saw as we passed. He was treating me to a stealthy scrutiny, and seemed to shun my glance, for he shut the door quickly, and visit himself locking it, and then began stubbing up some thistles which grew close by, with the toe of his thick shoe. He's back to us all the time. It struck me that I recognized his features, and I asked Mary Quince, Have you seen that young man before, Quince? He brings up the game for your uncle sometimes, Miss, and lends a hand in the garden, I believe. Do you know his name, Mary? They call him Tom. I don't know what more, Miss. Tom, I called. Please, Tom, come here for a moment. Tom turned about, and approached slowly. He was more civil than the Bartram people usually were, for he plucked off his shapeless cap of rabbit-skin with a clownish respect. Tom, what is your other name? Tom, what, my good man, I asked. Tom Brice, ma'am, Haven't I seen you before, Tom Brice, I pursued, for my curiosity was excited, and with it much graver feelings, for there certainly was a resemblance in Tom's features to those of a pastillion who had looked so hard at me, as I pathed the carriage in the warren at Gnoll, on the evening of the outrage which had scared that quiet place. I can you may have, ma'am, he answered quite coolly, looking down the buttons of his gaiters. Are you a good whip? Do you drive well? I'll drive a plow, in most lads ear about, answered Tom. Have you ever been to Gnoll, Tom? Tom gaited very innocently. Anna, he said. Here, Tom, is half a crown. He took it readily enough. That'd be very good, said Tom, with a knot having glanced sharply at the coin. I can't say whether he applied that term to the coin, or to his luck, or to my generous self. Now, Tom, you'll tell me have you ever been to Gnoll? Might have been, ma'am, but I don't mind no such place, no. As Tom spoke this with great deliberation, like a man who loves truth, putting a strain upon his memory for its sake, he spun the silver coin two or three times into the air and caught it, staring at it the while, with all his might. Now, Tom, recollect yourself and tell me the truth, and I'll be a friend to you. Did you ride Prostylian to a carriage having a lady in it? And I think several gentlemen, which came to the grounds of Gnoll when the party had their luncheon on the grass, and there was a quarrel with the gamekeepers. Try, Tom, to recollect. You shall, upon my honour, have no trouble about it, and I'll try to serve you. Tom was silent, while with a vacant gate he watched the spin of his half crown twice, and then catching it with a smack in his hand, which he thrust into his pocket, he said, still looking in the same direction. I never rid Prostylian in my days, ma'am. I know now to sit your place, though up and I might have been there. No, you can't. I was nearer out to Derbyshire, but thrice to Warwick, fare with horses be rail, and twice to York. You're certain, Tom? Certain sure, ma'am. And Tom made another loutish salute, and cut the conference short by turning off the path and beginning to hello after some chess-bussing cattle. I had not felt anything like so nearly sure in this essay at identification as I had a net of Dudley. Even of Dudley's identity, with the church-garsdale man, I had daily grown less confident, and indeed had it been proposed to bring it to the test of a wager, I do not think I should, in the language of sporting gentlemen, have cared to back my original opinion. There was, however, a sufficient uncertainty to make me uncomfortable, and there was another uncertainty to enhance the unpleasant sense of ambiguity. On our way back we passed the bleaching trunks and limbs of several ranks of Barclays Oaks, lying side by side, some squared by the hatchet perhaps sold, for there were large letters and Roman numerals traced upon them in red chalk. On my side as I passed them by, not because it was wrongfully done, for I really rather leaned to the belief that Uncle Silas was well advised in point of law. But alas, here lay low the grand old family decorations of Bartram Howe, not to be replaced for centuries to come, under whose spreading boughs the roughings of three hundred years ago had hawked and hunted. On the trunk of one of these I sat down to rest, Mary Quince wondering about in unmeaning explorations. While thus listlessly seated, the girl Meg Hawkes walked by carrying a basket. Hish! she said quickly as she passed without altering her pace or raising her eyes. Don't you speak, no look! Feather's buys us. I'll tell you next turn. Next turn? When was that? Well, she might be returning, and as she could not then say more than she had said, in merely passing without a pause, I concluded to wait for a short time and see what would come of it. After a short time I looked about me a little and saw Dickon Hawkes, pegged up, as Millie used to call him, with an axe in his hand prowling luridly among the timber. Observing that I saw him he touched his hat sulkily, and by and by passed me muttering to himself. He plainly could not understand what business I could have in that particular part of windmill wood, and let me see it in his countenance. His daughter did pass me again, but this time he was near and she was silent. Her next transit occurred as he was questioning Mary Quince at some little distance, and as she passed precisely in the same way she said, Don't you be alone with Master Douglas, no way for the world's worth. The injunction was so startling that I was on the point of questioning the girl, but I recollected myself and waited in the hope that in her future transits she might be more explicit. But one word more she did not utter, and the jealous eye of old pectop was so constantly upon us that I refrained. There was fakeness and suggestion enough in the oracle to supply work for many an hour of anxious conjecture, and many a horrible vigil by night. Was I never to know peace at Bartram Howe? Ten days of poor Millie's absence and of my solitude had already passed when my uncle sent for me to his room. When Old Wyatt stood at the door mumbling and snarling her message my heart died within me. It was late, just that hour when dejected people feel their anxieties most, when the cold grey of twilight has deepened to its darkest shade and before the cheerful candles are lighted and the safe quiet of the night sets in. When I entered my uncle's sitting-room, though his window-shutters were open and the one streets of sunset visible through them, like narrow lakes in the chasms of the dark western clouds, a pair of candles were burning. One stood upon the table by his desk, the other on the chimney piece, before which his tall, thin figure stooped. His hand leaned on the mantelpiece and the light from the candle just above his bowed head touched his silvery hair. He was looking, as it seemed, into the subsiding embers of the fire and was a very statue of forsaken dejection and decay. Uncle, I ventured to say, having stood for some time, unperceived near his table, ah yes, Maud, my dear child, my dear child. He turned and with the candle in his hand smiling his silvery smile of suffering on me. He walked more feebly and stiffly, I thought, than I had ever seen him move before. Sit down, Maud, pray, sit there. I took the chair he indicated. In my misery and my solitude, Maud, I have invoked you like a spirit and you appear. With his two hands leaning on the table he looked across at me in a stooping attitude. He had not seated himself. I continued silent until it should be his pleasure to question or address me. At last he said, raising himself and looking upward with a wild adoration, his fingertips elevated and glimmering in the faint mixed light. No, I thank my creator. I am not quite forsaken. Another silence, during which he looked steadfastly at me and muttered as if thinking allowed. My guardian angel, my guardian angel, Maud, you have a heart. He addressed me suddenly. Listen for a few moments to the appeal of an old and broken-hearted man, your guardian, your uncle, your suppliant. I had resolved never to speak to you more on this subject, but I was wrong. It was pride that inspired me, mere pride. I felt myself growing pale and flushed by turns during the pause that followed. I'm very miserable, very desperate. What remains for me, what remains? Fortune has done her worse, thrown in the dust. Her wheels rolled over me in the servile world, who follow her chariot like a mob, stamp upon the mangled wretch. This has passed over me and left me scarred and bloodless in the solitude. It was not my fault, Maud. I say it was no fault of mine. I have no remorse, no more regrets than I can count and all scored with fire. As people passed by Bartram and looked upon its neglected grounds and smokeless chimneys, they thought my plight, I dare say, about the worst a proud man could be reduced to. I could not imagine one-half its misery. But this old hectic, this old epileptic, this old spectre of wrongs, calamities and follies had still one hope. My manly though untutored son, the last male scion of the Ruffins. Maud, have I lost him? His fate, my fate. I may say Millie's fate. We all await your sentence. He loves you as none but the very young can love, and that once only in a life. He loves you desperately, the most affectionate nature, a ruffin of Beth's blood in England, the last man of the race and I. If I lose him, I lose all. And you will see me in my coffin, Maud, before many months. I stand before you in the attitude of a supplient. Shall I kneel? His eyes were fixed on me with the light of despair. His knotted hands clasped, his whole figure bowed toward me. I was inexpressibly shocked and pained. Oh, uncle, uncle, I cried, and from very excitement I burst into tears. I saw that his eyes were fixed on me with a dismal scrutiny. I think he devised the nature of my agitation, but he determined, notwithstanding, to press me while my helpless agitation continued. You see my suspense. You see my miserable and frightful suspense. You are kind, Maud. You love your father's memory. You pity your father's brother. You would not say so and place a pistol at his head. Oh, I must, I must, I must say no. Oh, spare me, uncle, for heaven's sake. Don't question me. Don't press me. I could not, I could not do what you ask. I yield, Maud. I yield, my dear. I will not press you. You shall have time, your own time, to think. I will accept no answer now, no none, Maud. He said this, raising his thin hand to silence me. There, Maud, enough I have spoken, as I always do to you, frankly, perhaps too frankly, but agony and despair will speak out and plead, even with the most obdurate and cruel. With these words, Uncle Silas entered his bed-chamber and shut the door, not violently, but with a resolute hand, and I thought I heard a cry. I hastened to my own room. I threw myself on my knees and thanked heaven for the firmness vouchsaved me. I could not believe it to have been my own. I was more miserable in consequence of this renewed suit than half of my odious cousin and I can describe. My uncle had taken such a line of impunity that it became a sort of agony to resist. I thought of the possibility of my hearing of his having made away with himself and was every morning relieved when I heard that he was still, as usual. I have often wondered since at my own firmness. In that dreadful interview with my uncle I had felt in the whirl and horror of my mind on the very point of submitting, just as nervous people are said to throw themselves over precipices through sheer dread of falling. End of chapter 50 Chapter 51 of Uncle Silas by Joseph Sheridan LaFannou This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 51 Sarah Matilda Comes to Light Some time after this interview one day as I sat, sad enough in my room looking listlessly from the window with good Mary Quince, whom, whether in the house or in my melancholy rambles I always had by my side, I was startled by the sound of a loud and shrill female voice in violent hysterical action dabbling with great rapidity, sobbing and very news screaming in a sort of fury. I started up staring at the door. Lord bless us! cried honest Mary Quince with round eyes and mouth agape staring in the same direction. Mary, Mary, what can it be? Are they beating someone down yonder? I don't know where it comes from, gasped Quince. I will, I will. I'll see her. It's what I want. Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh! Miss Vaud Russin of Knoll! Miss Russin of Knoll! Oh, oh, oh! It be! I exclaimed in great bewilderment and terror. It was now plainly very near indeed and I heard the voice of our mild and shaky butler evidently remonstrating with the distressed damsel. I'll see her. She continued pouring a torrent of vile abuse upon me, which dung me with a sudden sense of anger. What had I done to be afraid of anyone? How dared anyone in my uncle's house, in my house, nicked my name up with her detestables, gorilities? For heaven's sake, Miss, don't you go out! cried poor Quince. It's some drunken creature. But I was very angry and, like a fool as I was, I threw open the door, exclaiming in a loud and haughty key. Here is Miss Russin of Knoll, who wants to see her. A pink and white young lady with black tresses, violent, weeping, shrill, voluble, was flouncing up the last stair and shook her dress out on the lobby. And poor old Giblets, as Millie used to call him, was following in her wake with many small remonstrances and entreaties perfectly unheeded. The moment I looked at this person, it struck me that she was the identical lady whom I had seen in the carriage at Knoll-Warren. The next moment I was in doubt, the next still more so. She was decidedly thinner and dressed by no means in such ladylike taste. Perhaps she was hardly like her at all. I began to distrust all these resemblances and to fancy with a shudder that they originated perhaps only in my own sick brain. On seeing me, this young lady, as it seemed to me a good deal of the barmaid or ladiesmaid species, dried her eyes fiercely and with a flaming countenance called upon me peremptorily to produce her lawful husband. Her loud, insolent, outrageous attack had the effect of enhancing my indignation and I quite forget what I said to her, but I well remember that her manner became a good deal more decent. She was plainly under the impression that I wanted to appropriate her husband or at least that he wanted to marry me and she ran on at such a pace and her hurran was so passionate, incoherent and unintelligible that I thought her out of her mind. She was far from it, however. I think if she had allowed me even a second for reflection I should have hit upon her meaning. As it was, nothing could exceed my perplexity until, plucking a soiled newspaper from her pocket, she indicated a particular paragraph already sufficiently emphasised by double lines of red ink at its sides. It was a Lancashire paper of about six weeks since and very much worn and soiled for its age. I remember in particular a circular stain from the bottom of a vessel, either of coffee or brand stout. The paragraph was, as follows, recording an event a year or more anterior to the date of the paper. Marriage on Tuesday, August the 7th, 18 blank at Leatherwick Church by the Reverend Arthur Hughes, Dudley R. Ruffin Esquire, only son and heir of Silas Ruffin Esquire, Bartram Howe, Derbyshire, to Sarah Matilda, second daughter of John Mangles Esquire of Wigan in this county. At first I read nothing but amazement in this announcement, but in another moment I felt how completely I was relieved and showing I believe my intense satisfaction in my countenance, for the young lady eyed me with considerable surprise and curiosity, I said, This is extremely important. You must see Mr. Silas Ruffin this moment. I am certain he knows nothing of it. I will conduct you to him. No more he does, I know that myself, she replied, following me with a self-asserting swagger and a great rustling of cheap silk. As we entered, Uncle Silas looked up from his sofa and closed his revue des Dermond. What is all this? he inquired, dryly. This lady has brought with her a newspaper containing an extraordinary statement which affects our family, I answered. Uncle Silas raised himself and looked with a hard, narrow scrutiny at the unknown young lady. A libel, I suppose, in the paper, he said extending his hand for it. No, Uncle, no. Only a marriage, I answered. Not Monica, he said as he took it. It smells all over of tobacco and beer, he added throwing a little odour cologne over it. He raised it with a mixture of curiosity and disgust, saying again, as he did so. He read the paragraph and as he did his face changed from white all over to lead colour. He raised his eyes and looked steadily for some seconds at the young lady who seemed a little awed by his strange presence. And you are, I suppose, the young lady, Sarah Matilda, name Angles, mentioned in this little paragraph, he said, in a tone you would have to call a sneer. Were it not that it trembled? Sarah Matilda assented. My son is, I dare say, within reach. It so happens that I wrote to arrest his journey and summon him here some days since. Some days since. Some days since, he repeated slowly, like a person whose mind has wandered far away from the theme on which he is speaking. He had wrung his bell and old Wyatt, always hovering about his rooms, entered. I want my son, immediately, if not in the house sent Harry to the stables, if not there let him be followed instantly. Bryce is an active fellow and will know where to find him. If he is in Feltrum or at a distance, let Bryce take a horse and Master Dudley can ride it back. He must be here without the loss of one moment. They intervened nearly a quarter of an hour during which, whenever he recollected her, Uncle Silas treated the young lady with a hyper-refined and ceremonious politeness which appeared to make her uneasy and even a little shy and certainly prevented a renewal of those lamentations and invectives which he had heard faintly from the stair-head. But for the most part Uncle Silas seemed to forget us and his book and all that surrounded him, lying back in the corner of his sofa, his chin upon his breast, and such a fearful shade and carving on his features as made me prefer looking in any direction but his. At length we heard the tread of Dudley's thick boots on the oak boards and faint and muffled the sound of his voice as he cross-examined old Wyatt before entering the chamber of audience. I think he suspected quite another visitor and had no expectation of seeing the particular young lady who rose from her chair as he entered in an opportune flood of tears crying, oh Dudley, Dudley, oh Dudley could you, oh Dudley, your own poor soul, you could not, you would not, your lawful wife. This, and a good deal more, with cheeks that streamed like a windowpane in a thundershower, spoke Sarah Matilda with all her oratory working his arm, which she clung to up and down all the time like the handle of a pump. But Dudley was manifestly confounded and dumbfounded. He stood for a long time gaping at his father and stole just one sheepish glance at me and with red face and forehead looked down at his boots and then again at his father, who remained just in the attitude I have described and with the same forbidding and dreary intensity in his strange face. Like a quarrelsome man worried in his sleep by a noise Dudley suddenly woke up as it were with a start, in a half suppressed exasperation and shook her off with a jerk and a muttered curse as she whisked involuntarily into a chair with more violence than could have been pleasant. Judging by your looks and demeanour, sir, I can almost anticipate your answers, said my uncle, addressing him suddenly. Will you be good enough? Pray madame, parenthetically to our visitor, command yourself for a few moments. Is this young person the daughter of a Mr. Mangles and is her name Sarah Matilda? I dare say, answered Dudley hurriedly. Is she your wife? Is she my wife? repeated Dudley, ill at ease. Yes, sir, it is a plain question. All this time Sarah Matilda was perpetually breaking into talk and with difficulty silenced by my uncle. Well happened, she says, I am, does she? replied Dudley. Is she your wife, sir? Mayhaps she so considers it after a fashion, he replied, with an impudent swagger, seating himself as he did so. What do you think, sir? persisted Uncle Silas. I don't think not about it, replied Dudley, sir Lily. Is that account true, said my uncle, handing him the paper? They wish us to believe so at any rate. Answered directly, sir. We have our thoughts upon it. If it be true it is capable of every proof. For expeditions sake, I ask you, there is no use in provaricating. Who wants to deny it? It is true, there. There, I knew he would, screamed the young woman hysterically with a laugh of strange joy. Shout out, will you? growled Dudley savagely. Oh, Dudley, Dudley darling, what have I done? Been and ruined me just that sore. Oh, no, no, no, Dudley. You know I wouldn't. I could not. Could not hurt she, Dudley. No, no, no. He grinned at her and, with a sharp side-nord, said, Wait a bit. Oh, Dudley, don't be vexed here. I did not mean it. I would not hurt she for all the world, never. Well, never mind. You and yours tricked me finally, and now you've got me. That's all. My uncle laughed a very odd laugh. I knew it, of course, and upon my word, madame, you and he make a very pretty couple. Sneered Uncle Silas. Dudley made no answer, looking, however, very savage. And with his poor young wife so recently wedded, the low villain had actually solicited me to marry him. I'm quite certain that my uncle was as entirely ignorant as I of Dudley's connection, and had, therefore, no participation in his appalling wickedness. And I have to congratulate you, my good fellow, on having secured the affections of a very suitable and vulgar young woman. And they, on the first of their family, as had done the same, retorted Dudley. At this taunt, the old man's fury for a moment overpowered him. In an instant he was on his feet, quivering from head to foot. I never saw such a countenance, like one of those demon grotesques we see in the gothic side aisles and groinings. A dreadful grimace, monkey-like and insane, and his thin hand caught up his ebony stick and shook it, paralytically, in the air. If you touch me with that, I'll smash you by blank, shouted Dudley. Furious, raising his hands and hitching his shoulder, just as I had seen him when he fought Captain Oakley. For a moment this picture was suspended before me, and I screamed, I know not what, in my terror, but the old man, the veteran of many a scene of excitement, when men disguised their ferocity in calm tones, and varnished their fury with smiles, had not quite lost his self-command. He turned to walk me and said, Does he know what he's saying? And with an icy laugh of contempt, his high, thin forehead still flushed. He sat down, trembling, If you want to say ought, I'll hear ye. You may draw me all ye like, and I'll stan it. No, I may speak, thank you, sneered Uncle Silas, glancing slowly round at me and breaking into a cold laugh. Aye, I don't mind cheap, not I, but you must not go for to do that, you know. Come on, I won't stand at blow, I won't for no one. Well, sir, availing myself of your permission to speak, I may remark, without offence to the young lady, that I don't happen to recollect the name Mangles, among the old families of England. I presume you have chosen her chiefly for her virtues and her graces. Mrs. Sarah Matilda, not apprehending this compliment quite as Uncle Silas meant it, dropped a curtsy, notwithstanding her agitation, and wiping her eyes, said, with a blubbered smile, You're very kind, sure. I hope, for both your sake, she has got a little money. I don't see how you are to live else. You're too lazy for a game-keeper, and I don't think you could keep a pot-house. You're so addicted to drinking and quarrelling. The only thing I am quite clear upon is that you and your wife must find some other abode than this. You shall depart this evening. And now, Mr. and Mrs. Dudley-Ruthin, you may quick this room, if you please. Uncle Silas had risen and made them one of his old courtly bows, smiling a death-like sneer, and pointing to the door with his trembling fingers. Come, will ye, said Dudley, grinding his teeth, You're pretty well done here. Not half-understanding the situation, but looking woefully bewildered, she dropped a farewell curtsy at the door. Will ye, cat! barked Dudley, in a tone that made her jump, and suddenly, without looking about, he strode after her from the room. Maud, how shall I recover this? The vulgar villain! The fool! What an abyss were we approaching. And for me, the last hope gone. And for me, utter, utter, irretrievable ruin. He was passing his fingers tremulously back and forward along the top of the mantelpiece, like a man in search of something, and continued so, looking along it, feebly and vacantly, although there was nothing there. I wish, Uncle, you do not know how much I wish. I could be of any use to you. Maybe I can. He turned and looked at me sharply. Maybe you can, he echoed slowly. Yes, maybe you can. He repeated more briskly. Let us, let us see. Let us think. That dear fellow! My head! You're not well, Uncle? Oh yes, very well. We'll talk in the evening, I'll send for you. I found Wyatt in the next room and told her to hasten as I thought he was ill. I hope it was not very selfish, but such had grown to be my horror of seeing him in one of his strange seizures, that I hastened from the room precipitantly, partly to escape the risk of being asked to remain. The walls of Bartram House are thick and the recess at the doorway deep. As I closed my Uncle's door, I heard Dudley's voice on the stairs. I did not wish to be seen by him or by his lady, as his poor wife called herself, who was engaged in vehement dialogue with him as I emerged, and not caring either to re-enter my Uncle's room, I remained quietly ensconced within the heavy door-case in which position I overheard Dudley say with a savage snarl, you just go back the way you came. I'm not going with you, if that's what you'll be driving at, down your impotence. Oh Dudley dear, what have I done? What have I done? You hate me so. What have you done, you vicious little beastie? You've gone asterned out and disinherited with your did-bush, that's all, don't you think it's enough? I could only hear her sobs and shrill tones in reply, for they were descending the stairs, and Mary Quince reported to me, in a horrified sort of way, that she saw him bundle her into the fly at the door, like a chuss of hay into a hay-loft, and he stood with his head in at the window, scolding her till it drove away. I knew he was drawing her poor thing, by the way he kept wagging his head, and he had his fist inside, as shaken in her face. I'm sure he looked wicked enough for anything, and she are crying like a babby, and looking back and waving her wet handkerchief to him, put a thing, and she's so young, to say pity, dear me, I often think mist is well for me, I never was married, and see how we all would like to get husbands for all that, though so few is happy together, it is a queer world, a name that single is maybe the best of, after all. End of Chapter 51 Chapter 52 of Uncle Silas by Joseph Sheridan LaFannou This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 52 The Picture of a Wolf I went down that evening to the sitting-room, which had been assigned to Millie and me, in search of a book. My good Mary Quince always attending me. The door was a little open, and I was startled by the light of a candle proceeding from the fire-side, together with a considerable aroma of tobacco and brandy. On my little work-table, which he had drawn beside the hearth, lay Dudley's pipe, his brandy flask, and an empty tumbler, and he was sitting with one foot on the fender, his elbow on his knee, and his head resting in his hand, weeping, his back being a little toward the door he did not perceive us, and we saw him rub his knuckles in his eyes and heard the sounds of his selfish lamentation. Mary and I stole away quietly, leaving him in possession, wondering when he was to leave the house, according to the sentence which I had heard pronounced upon him. I was delighted to see old Jublitz quietly strapping his luggage in the hall, and heard from him in a whisper that he was to leave that evening by rail. He did not know wither. About half an hour afterwards Mary Quince, going out to reconnoiter, heard from old Wyatt in the lobby that he had just started to meet the train. Blessed be heaven for that deliverance, an evil spirit had been cast out, and the house looked lighter and happier. It was not until I sat down in the quiet of my room that the scenes and images of that agitating day began to move before my memory in orderly procession, and for the first time I appreciated with a stunning sense of horror and a perfect rapture of thanksgiving the value of my escape and the immensity of the danger which had threatened me. It may have been miserable weakness, I think it was, but I was young, nervous and afflicted with a troublesome sort of conscience which occasionally went mad and insisted in small things as well as great upon sacrifices which my reason now assures me were absurd. Of Dudley I had a perfect horror and yet had that system of solicitation that dreadful and direct appeal to my compassion, that placing of my feeble girlhood in the seat of the arbiter of my aged uncle's hope or despair been long persisted in, my resistance might have been worn out, who can tell, and I self-sacrificed. Just as criminals in Germany are teased and watched and cross-examined year after year, incessantly, into a sort of madness and worn out with the suspense, the iteration, the self-restraint and insupportable fatigue they at last cut all short, accuse themselves and go infinitely relieved to the scaffold. You may guess then, for me, nervous, self-difident and alone, how intense was the comfort of knowing that Dudley was actually married and the harrowing impotunity which had just commenced for ever silenced. That night I saw my uncle, I pitted him, though I feared him, I was longing to tell him how anxious I was to help him if only he could point out the way. It was in substance what I had already said, but now strongly urged. He brightened. He sat up perpendicularly in his chair with accountants not weak or fatuous now, but resolute in searching and which contracted into dark thought or calculations as I talked. I daresay I spoke confusedly enough. I was always nervous in his presence. There was, I fancy, something mesmeric in the odd sort of influence which, without effort, had sized over my imagination. Sometimes this grew into a dismal panic and Uncle Silas, polished, mild, seemed unaccountably horrible to me. Then it was no longer an accidental fascination of electrobiology. It was something more. His nature was incomprehensible by me. He was without the nobleness, without the freshness, without the softness, without the frivolities of such human nature either within myself or in other persons. I instinctively felt that appeals to sympathies or feelings could no more affect him than a marble monument. He seemed to accommodate his conversation to the moral structure of others, just as spirits are said to assume the shape of mortals. There were the sensualities of the gourmet for his body and there ended his human nature as it seemed to me. Through that semi-transparent structure I thought I could now and then discern the light or the glare of his inner life, but I understood it not. He never scoffed at what was good or noble. His hardest critic could not nail him to one such sentence and yet it seemed somehow to me that his unknown nature was a systematic blasphemy against it all. If fiend he was he was yet something higher and garrulous and with all feeble demon of Goethe. He assumed the limbs and features of our mortal nature. He shrouded his own and was a profoundly reticent mephistopheles. Gentle he had been to me, kindly he had nearly always spoken, but it seemed like the mild talk of one of those goblins of the desert whom Asiatic superstition tells of, who appear in friendly shapes to stragglers from the caravan beckon to them from afar, call them by their names and lead them where they are found no more. Was then all his kindness but a phosphoric radiance covering something colder and more awful than the grave. It is very noble of you, Maud. It is angelic, your sympathy with a ruined and despairing old man, but I fear you will recoil I tell you frankly that less than 20,000 pounds will not extricate me from the quag of ruin in which I am entangled. Lost Recoil far from it I'll do it, there must be some way. Enough, my fair young protectress, celestial enthusiast enough. Though you do not, yet I recoil I could not bring myself to accept this sacrifice, what signifies even to me my extrication. I lie a mangled wretch with 50 mortal wounds on my crown. What avails a healing of one wound, when there are so many beyond all cure. Better to let me perish where I fall and reserve your money for the worthy objects whom perhaps hereafter may avail to save. But I will do this I must, I cannot see you suffer with the power in my hands unemployed to help you I exclaimed. Enough, dear Maud the will is here enough. There is balm in your compassion and good will leave me ministering angel for the presence I cannot if you will we can talk of it again, good night. And so we parted. The attorney from Feltrum I afterward heard was with him nearly all that night trying in vain to devise by their joint ingenuity any means by which I might tie myself up. But there were none I could not bind myself I was myself full of the hope of helping him. What was this sum to me great as it seemed, truly nothing I could have spared it and never felt the loss. I took up a large quarter of my prince, one of the few books I had brought with me from dear old Noel too much excited to hope for sleep in bed, I opened it and turned over the leaves my mind still full of Uncle Silas and the sum I hoped to help him with unaccountably one of those coloured engravings arrested my attention it represented the solitude of a lofty forest a girl in Swiss costume was flying in terror and as she fled flinging a piece of meat behind her which she had taken from a little market basket hanging upon her arm through the glade a pack of wolves were pursuing her the narrative told that on her return homeward with her marketing she had been chased by wolves and barely escaped by flying at her utmost speed from time to time retarding as she did so the pursuit by throwing piece by piece the contents of her bed in her wake to be devoured and fought for by the famished beasts of prey this print had seized my imagination I looked with a curious interest on the print something in the disposition of the trees their great height and rude bowels interlacing and the awful shadow beneath reminded me of a portion of the windmill wood where Millie and I had often rambled then I looked at the figure of the poor girl flying for her life and glancing terrified over her shoulder then I gazed on the gaping murderous pack and the hoary brook that led the van and then I leaned back in my chair and I thought perhaps some latent association suggested what seemed a thing so unlikely of a fine print in my portfolio from Van Dyke's noble picture of Belisarius idly I chased with my pencil as I leaned back on an envelope that lay upon the table this little inscription it was mere fiddling and absurd as it looked there was nothing but an honest meaning in it twenty thousand pounds darte obolum belisario my dear father had translated the little Latin inscription for me and I had written it down as a sort of exercise of memory and also perhaps as expressive of that sort of compassion which my uncles fall and miserable fate excited invariably in me so I threw this queer little memorandum upon the open leaf of the book and again the flight, the pursuit and the bait to stay it engaged my eye and I heard a voice near the half-stone as I thought say in a stern whisper fly the fans of Belisarius what's that? said I turning sharply to Mary Quince Mary rose from her work at the fireside staring at me with that odd sort of frown that accompanies fear and curiosity you spoke, did you speak? I said catching her by the arm very much frightened myself no miss, no dear she answered plainly thinking that I was a little wrong in my head there could be no doubt it was a trick of the imagination and yet to this hour I could recognize that clear stern voice among a thousand were it to speak again jaded after a night of broken sleep and much agitation I was summoned next morning to my uncle's room he received me oddly I thought his manner had changed and made an uncomfortable impression upon me he was gentle kind, smiling submissive as usual but it seemed to me that he experienced henceforth toward me the same half superstitious repulsion which I had always felt for him dream or voice or vision which had done it there seemed to be an unconscious antipathy and fear when he thought I was not looking his eyes were sometimes grimly fixed for a moment upon me when I looked at him his eyes were upon the book before him and when he spoke a person not heeding what he uttered from it there was nothing tangible but this shrinking from the encounter of our eyes I said he was kind as usual he was even more so but there was this new sign of our silently repellent nature dislike it could not be he knew I longed to serve him was it shame was there not a shade of horror in it I have not slept said he for me the night has passed I have been thought and the fruit of it is this I cannot moor accept your noble offer I am very sorry exclaimed I in all honesty I know it my dear niece and appreciate your goodness but there are many reasons none of them I trust ignoble and which together render it impossible no it would be misunderstood my honour shall not be impugned but sir that could not be you have never proposed it it would be all from first to last my doing true true moored but I know alas more of this evil and slanderous world than your happy inexperience can do who will receive our testimony none no not one the difficulty the insuperable moral difficulties this that I should expose myself to the plausible imputation of having worked upon you unduly for this end and more that I could not hold myself quite free from blame it is your voluntary goodness moored but you are young inexperienced and it is I hold it my duty to stand between you and any dealing with your property at so unripe an age some people may call this quixotic in my mind it is an imperious mandate of conscience and I parametrially refuse to disobey it although within three weeks an execution will be in this house I did not quite know what an execution meant but from two harrowing novels with whose distresses I was familiar I knew that it indicated some direful process of legal torture and spoliation oh uncle I oh sir you cannot allow this to happen what will people say of me and and there is poor milli and everything think what it will be it cannot be helped you cannot help it moored listen to me there will be an execution here I cannot say exactly how soon but I think in a little more than a fortnight I must provide for your comfort you must leave I have arranged that you shall join Millie for the present in France till I have time to look about me you are better I think right to your cousin Lady Nullis she with all her oddities has a heart can you say moored that I have been kind you have never been anything but kind I exclaimed that I've been self denying when you made me a generous offer he continued that I now act to spare you pain you may tell her not as a message from me but as a fact that I am seriously thinking of vacating my guardianship that I feel I have done her an injustice and that so soon as my mind is a little less tortured I shall endeavour to effect a reconciliation with her and would wish ultimately to transfer the care of your person and education to her you may say I have no longer an interest even in vindicating my name my son has wrecked himself by a marriage I forgot to tell you he stopped at Felcham and this morning wrote to pray a parting interview if I grant it it shall be the last I shall never see him or correspond with him more the old man seemed much overcome and held his handkerchief to his eyes why far I understand about to emigrate the sooner the better he resumed bitterly deeply moored I regret having tolerated his suit to you even for a moment had I thought it over as I did the whole case last night nothing could have induced me to permit it but I have lived for so long like a monk in his cell my wants and observation limited to the narrow compass of this chamber the world has died out with my youth and my hopes and I did not as I ought to have done consider many objections therefore dear moored on this one subject I entreat be silent its discussion can effect nothing now I was wrong and frankly asked you to forget my mistake I have been on the point of writing to Lady Nollis on this odious subject when happily it was set at rest by the closure of yesterday and being so I could have no difficulty in exceeding to my uncle's request he was conceding so much that I could not withhold so trifling a concession in return I hope Monica will continue to be kind to poor Millie after I am gone here there were a few seconds of meditation moored you will not I think refuse to convey the substance of what I have just said in a letter to Lady Nollis and perhaps you would have no objection to let me see it when it is written it will prevent the possibility of its containing any misconception of what I have just spoken and moored you won't forget to say whether I have been kind it will be a satisfaction to me to know that Monica was assured that I never either teased or bullied my young ward with these words he dismissed me and forthwith I completed such a letter as would quite embody what he had said and in my own glowing terms being in high good humour with Uncle Silas recorded my estimate of his gentleness and good nature and when I submitted it to him he expressed his admiration of what he was pleased to call my cleverness in so exactly conveying what he wished and his gratitude for the handsome terms in which I had spoken of my old guardian End of Chapter 52 Chapter 53 of Uncle Silas by Joseph Sheridan LaFannou this Livrovux recording is in the public domain Chapter 53 an odd proposal as I and Mary Quince returned from our walk that day and had entered the hall I was surprised most disagreeably by Dudley's emerging from the vestibule at the foot of the great staircase he was I suppose in his travelling costume a white sur-to a great coloured muffler in folds about his throat his chimney-pot on and his fur cap sticking out from his pocket he had just descended I suppose from my uncle's room on seeing me he stepped back and stood with his shoulders to the wall like a mummy in a museum I pretended to have a few words to say to Mary before leaving the hall in the hope that as he seemed to wish to escape me I had the opportunity of getting quickly off the scene but he had changed his mind it was seem in the interval for when I glanced in that direction again he had moved towards us and stood in the hall with his hat in his hand I must do him the justice to say he looked horribly dismal sulky and frightened you'll give me a word miss only a thing I ought to say for your good by blank mind it's for your goodness Dudley stood a little way off viewing me with his hat in both hands and a glooming countenance I detested the idea of either hearing or speaking to him but I had no resolution to refuse and the only saying I can't imagine what you can wish to speak to me about I approached him wait there at the banister quints there was a fragrance of alcohol about the flushed face and gaudy muffler of this odious cousin which heightened the effect of his horribly dismal features he was speaking besides a little thickly but his manner was dejected and he was treating me with an elaborate and discomfited respect which reassured me I'm a bit up a tree miss he said shuffling his feet on the oak floor I behaved at the full but I bent one of those sort I'm a fellow as he'll fight his man and stand up to him fair don't you see I bent one of those sort no dang it I bent that Lee delivered his puzzling harangue with a good deal of undertoned vehemence and was strangely agitated he too had got an unpleasant way of avoiding my eye and glancing along the floor from corner to corner as he spoke which gave him a very hand dog air he was twisting his fingers in his great sandy whisker and pulling it roughly enough to speak about by that savage purchase and with his other hand he was crushing and rubbing his hat against his knee your boy above there be half crazed I think he don't mean half as he says though not he but I'm in a bad fix anyhow a regular cell it's been and I can't get a tizzy out of him so you see I'm up a tree miss and he's such a one he'll make a wasmal if I let him he's as sharp with me there's one of them lawyer chap Stangham and he's a lot of IOs and rubbish of mine and Brierley writes to me he can't give me my legacy because he's got a notice from Archer and Slayer warning him not to give me as much as a bob for I signed it away to Governor he says which I believe is a lie I may assign some writing up and I did but when I was a bit cut one night and that's no way to catch a gentleman and won't stand he had and won't stand I say and I'm not in his hands that way though if I may be a bit up the spout too I don't deny only a bainter gun the whole hog all at once I'm none of they thought you'll find a bainter here Mary Quince coughed to muley from the foot of the stair to remind me that the conversation was protracted I don't very well understand and I am now going upstairs don't just a minute miss it's only a word you see we'll be going to Australia Sarah Mangles and me aboard the CMU on the 5th I'm for Liverpool tonight and she'll meet me there and please God Almighty you'll never see me more and I'd rather give you a lift more before I go if you'll just give me your written promise you'll give me that 20,000 you were offering to the Governor I'll take you cleverly out about him take me away from your cousin Nollis or anywhere you like best take me from Bartram for 20,000 pounds take me away from my Guardian you seem to forget sir my indignation rising as I spoke that I can visit my cousin Lady Nollis whenever I please well that is as maybe he said with a sulky deliberation scraping about a little piece of paper that lay on the floor with the toe of his boot and that is as I say sir and considering how you have treated me your mean, treacherous and infamous suit and your cruel treason to your poor wife I am amazed that you're a frontier I turned to leave him being in truth in one of my passions don't be a flying out he said peremptrally and catching me roughly by the wrist I've been to go and to vex you what a mouth you be as can't see your way quick common sense like a woman dang it for once and not keep brawling like a brat can't you see what I'm saying I'll take you out of all this and put you with your cousin or wherever you list if you give me what I say he was for the first time looking me in the face but with contracted eyes and accountants very much agitated money said I with a prompt disdain honor off he replied with an unpleasant sort of effort you asked my promise for twenty thousand pounds and you shan't have it my cheeks were flaming and I stamped on the ground as I spoke if he had known how to appeal to my better feelings I'm sure I should have done perhaps not quite that all at once at least but something handsome to assist him but this application was so shabby and insolent what could he take me for that I should suppose he's placing me with cousin Monica constituted her my guardian why he must fancy me the merest baby there was a kind of stupid cunning in this that disgusted my good nature and outraged my self-importance you won't give me that then he said looking down again with a frown and working his mouth and cheeks about as I could fancy a man rolling a piece of tobacco in his jaw certainly not sir I replied take it then he replied still looking down very black and discontented I joined Mary Quince extremely angry as I passed under the carved oak arch of the vestibule I saw his figure in the deepening twilight the picture remains in its murky halo fixed in memory standing where he last spoke in the centre of the hall not looking after me but downward and as well as I could see with a countenance of a man who has lost a game and a ruinous wager too that is black and desperate I did not utter a syllable on the way up when I reached my room I began to reconsider the interview more at my leisure I was, such were my ruminations to have agreed at once to his preposterous offer and to have been driven while he smirked and grimaced behind my back at his acquaintances through fulcrum in his dog-cart and then to the just indignation of my uncle to have been delivered up to Lady Nollis's guardianship and to have handed my driver as I alighted the handsome fare of twenty thousand pounds it required the impudence of Tony Lumpkin without either his fun or his shrewdness to have conceived such a prodigious practical joke maybe you'd like a little teemis insinuated Mary Quince what impertinence I exclaimed with one of my angry stamps on the floor not you dear old Quince I added no, no tea just now and I resumed my ruminations which soon led me to this train of thought stupid and insulting as Studley's proposition was it yet involved a great treason against my uncle should I be weak enough to be silent may he not wishing to forestall me misrepresent all that have passed so as to throw the blame altogether upon me this idea seized upon me with a force which I could not withstand and on the impulse of the moment I obtained admission to my uncle and related exactly what had passed when I had finished my narrative which he listened to without once raising his eyes my uncle cleared his throat once or twice as if to speak he was smiling I thought with an effort and with elevated brows when I concluded he hummed one of those sliding notes which a less refined man might have expressed by a whistle of surprise and contempt and again he assayed to speak but continued silent the fact is he seemed to me very much disconcerted he rose from his seat and shuffled about the room in his slippers I believe affecting only to be in search of something chatting two or three draws and turning over some books and papers and at length taking up some loose sheets of manuscript he appeared to have found what he was looking for and began to read them carelessly with his back towards me and with another effort to clear his voice he said at last and pray what could the fool mean by all that I think he must have taken me for an idiot sir I answered not unlikely he has lived in a stable among horses and oslo's he has always seemed to me something like a centaur that is a centaur composed not of man and horse but of ape and an ass and upon this stripe he laughed not coldly and sarcastically as was his want but I thought floridly and continuing to look into his papers he said his back still toward me as he read and did he not favour you with an exposition of his meaning which except insofar as it estimated his desserts at the modest sum you have named appears to me too irracula to be interpreted without a kindred inspiration and again he laughed he was growing more like himself as you're visiting your cousin lady knowledge the stupid rogue had only five minutes before heard me express my wish that you should do so before leaving this I'm quite resolved you shall that is unless the amour you should yourself object but of course we must wait for an invitation which I conjecture will not be long incoming in fact your letter will naturally bring it about and I trust open the way to a permanent residence with her the more I think it over the more I am convinced dear niece that as things are likely to turn out my roof would be no desirable shelter for you and that under all circumstances hers would such were my motives moored in opening through your letter a door of reconciliation between us I felt that I ought to have kissed his hand that he had indicated precisely the future that I most desired and yet there was within me a vague feeling akin to suspicion akin to dismay which chilled and overcast my soul but moored he said I'm disquieted to think of that stupid jaconates presuming to make you such an offer a creditable situation truly arriving in the dark at Elverston under the solitary escort of that wild young man with whom you would have fled from my guardianship and moored I tremble as I ask myself the question would he have conducted you to Elverston at all when you have lived so long in the world as I you will appreciate its wickedness more justly here there was a little pause I know my dear that were he convinced of his legal marriage with that young woman he resumed perceiving how startled I look such an idea of course would not have entered his head but he does not believe any such thing contrary to fact and logic he does honestly think that his hand is still at his disposal and I certainly do suspect that he would have employed that excursion in endeavoring to persuade you to think as he does be that how it may however it is satisfactory to me to know that you shall never more be troubled by one word from that ill-regulated young man I make him my adures such as they were this evening and never more shall he enter the walls of Bartram Howe while we too live Uncle Silas replaced the papers which had ostensibly interested him so much and returned there was a vein which was visible near the angle of his lofty temple and in moments of agitation stood out against the surrounding pallor in a notched blue cord and as he came back smiling as scants I saw this sign of inward tumult we can however afford to despise the follies and navours of the world more as long as we act as we have hitherto done with perfect confidence in each other heaven bless you dear Mord your report troubled me I believe more than it need troubled me a good deal but reflection assures me it is nothing he is gone in a few days time he will be on the sea I will issue my orders tomorrow morning and he will never more during his brief stay in England gain admission to Bartram Howe good night my good niece I thank you and so I returned to Mary Quintz all happier than I had left her but still with the confused and jarring vision I could not interpret perpetually rising before me and as from time to time shapeless anxieties agitated me relieving them by appeals to him who alone is wise and strong next day brought me a good natured gossiping letter from dear Millie written in compulsory French which was in some places very difficult to interpret she gave me a very pleasant account of the place and her opinion of the girls who were inmates and mentioned some of the nuns with high commendation her language plainly cramped poor Millie's genius but although there was by no means so much fun as an honest English letter would have brought me there could be no mistake about her liking the place and she expressed her honest longing to see me in the most affectionate terms this letter came in closing one to my uncle from the proper authority in the convent and as there was neither address within nor postmark without I was as much in the darkest ever as to poor Millie's whereabouts pencils across the envelope of this letter in my uncle's hand were the words let me have your answer when sealed and I will transmit it as are when accordingly some days later I did place my letter to Millie in my uncle's hands he told me the reason of his reserves on the subject I thought it best dear Maud not to plague you with the secret and Millie's present address is one it will in a few weeks become the rallying point of our diverse roots when you shall meet her and I join you both nobody until the storm shall have blown over must know where I am to be found except my lawyer and I think you will prefer ignorance to the trouble of keeping a secret on which you depend this being reasonable and even considerate I acquiesced in that interval there reached me such a charming gay and affectionate letter a very long letter too though the writer was scared the seven miles away from dear cousin Monica full of pleasant gossip and rose coloured and golden castles in the air and the kindest interest in poor Millie and the warmest affection for me one other incident varied that interval if possible more pleasantly the nose it was the announcement in a Liverpool paper of the departure of the CMU bound for Melbourne and among the passengers were reported Dudley Ruffin the squire of Bartram H and Mrs D Ruffin and now I began to breathe freely I plainly saw the end of my probation approaching a short excursion to France a happy meeting with Millie and then a delightful residence with cousin Monica for the remainder of my knowledge you will say then that my spirits and my serenity were quite restored not quite how marvelously lie our anxieties in filmy layers one over the other take away that which has lain on the upper surface for so long the care of cares the only one as it seemed to you between your soul and the radiance of heaven and straight you find a new stratum there as physical science tells us no fluid is without its skin so does it seem with this fine medium of the soul and these successive films of care that form upon its surface on mere contact with the upper air and light what was my new trouble a very fantastic one you will say the illusion of a self tormenter it was the face it was the face of Uncle Silas which haunted me notwithstanding the old pale smile there was a shrinking grimness and the always averted look sometimes I fancied his mind was disordered I could not account for the eerie lights and shadows that flickered on his face except so there was a look of shame and fear of me amazing as that seems in the sheen of his peeped smile I thought he blames himself for having tolerated Dudley's suit for having urged it on grounds of personal distress for having altogether lowered though under sore temptation both himself and his office and he thinks that he has forfeited my respect such was my analysis but in the coup d'etre of that white face that dazzled me in darkness and haunted my daily reveries with a faded light there was an intangible character of the insidious and the terrible End of chapter 53