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| 1 | It was some time now, since I had left the Doctor. Living in his
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| 2 | neighbourhood, I saw him frequently; and we all went to his house
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| 3 | on two or three occasions to dinner or tea. The Old Soldier was in
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| 4 | permanent quarters under the Doctor's roof. She was exactly the
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| 5 | same as ever, and the same immortal butterflies hovered over her
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| 6 | cap.
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| 7 | Like some other mothers, whom I have known in the course of my
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| 8 | life, Mrs. Markleham was far more fond of pleasure than her
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| 9 | daughter was. She required a great deal of amusement, and, like a
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| 10 | deep old soldier, pretended, in consulting her own inclinations, to
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| 11 | be devoting herself to her child. The Doctor's desire that Annie
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| 12 | should be entertained, was therefore particularly acceptable to
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| 13 | this excellent parent; who expressed unqualified approval of his
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| 14 | discretion.
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| 15 | I have no doubt, indeed, that she probed the Doctor's wound without
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| 16 | knowing it. Meaning nothing but a certain matured frivolity and
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| 17 | selfishness, not always inseparable from full-blown years, I think
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| 18 | she confirmed him in his fear that he was a constraint upon his
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| 19 | young wife, and that there was no congeniality of feeling between
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| 20 | them, by so strongly commending his design of lightening the load
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| 21 | of her life.
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| 22 | 'My dear soul,' she said to him one day when I was present, 'you
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| 23 | know there is no doubt it would be a little pokey for Annie to be
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| 24 | always shut up here.'
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| 25 | The Doctor nodded his benevolent head. 'When she comes to her
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| 26 | mother's age,' said Mrs. Markleham, with a flourish of her fan,
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| 27 | 'then it'll be another thing. You might put ME into a Jail, with
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| 28 | genteel society and a rubber, and I should never care to come out.
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| 29 | But I am not Annie, you know; and Annie is not her mother.'
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| 30 | 'Surely, surely,' said the Doctor.
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| 31 | 'You are the best of creatures - no, I beg your pardon!' for the
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| 32 | Doctor made a gesture of deprecation, 'I must say before your face,
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| 33 | as I always say behind your back, you are the best of creatures;
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| 34 | but of course you don't - now do you? - enter into the same
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| 35 | pursuits and fancies as Annie?'
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| 36 | 'No,' said the Doctor, in a sorrowful tone.
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| 37 | 'No, of course not,' retorted the Old Soldier. 'Take your
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| 38 | Dictionary, for example. What a useful work a Dictionary is! What
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| 39 | a necessary work! The meanings of words! Without Doctor Johnson,
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| 40 | or somebody of that sort, we might have been at this present moment
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| 41 | calling an Italian-iron, a bedstead. But we can't expect a
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| 42 | Dictionary - especially when it's making - to interest Annie, can
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| 43 | we?'
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| 44 | The Doctor shook his head.
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| 45 | 'And that's why I so much approve,' said Mrs. Markleham, tapping
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| 46 | him on the shoulder with her shut-up fan, 'of your thoughtfulness.
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| 47 | It shows that you don't expect, as many elderly people do expect,
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| 48 | old heads on young shoulders. You have studied Annie's character,
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| 49 | and you understand it. That's what I find so charming!'
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| 50 | Even the calm and patient face of Doctor Strong expressed some
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| 51 | little sense of pain, I thought, under the infliction of these
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| 52 | compliments.
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| 53 | 'Therefore, my dear Doctor,' said the Old Soldier, giving him
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| 54 | several affectionate taps, 'you may command me, at all times and
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| 55 | seasons. Now, do understand that I am entirely at your service.
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| 56 | I am ready to go with Annie to operas, concerts, exhibitions, all
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| 57 | kinds of places; and you shall never find that I am tired. Duty,
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| 58 | my dear Doctor, before every consideration in the universe!'
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| 59 | She was as good as her word. She was one of those people who can
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| 60 | bear a great deal of pleasure, and she never flinched in her
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| 61 | perseverance in the cause. She seldom got hold of the newspaper
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| 62 | (which she settled herself down in the softest chair in the house
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| 63 | to read through an eye-glass, every day, for two hours), but she
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| 64 | found out something that she was certain Annie would like to see.
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| 65 | It was in vain for Annie to protest that she was weary of such
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| 66 | things. Her mother's remonstrance always was, 'Now, my dear Annie,
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| 67 | I am sure you know better; and I must tell you, my love, that you
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| 68 | are not making a proper return for the kindness of Doctor Strong.'
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| 69 | This was usually said in the Doctor's presence, and appeared to me
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| 70 | to constitute Annie's principal inducement for withdrawing her
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| 71 | objections when she made any. But in general she resigned herself
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| 72 | to her mother, and went where the Old Soldier would.
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| 73 | It rarely happened now that Mr. Maldon accompanied them. Sometimes
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| 74 | my aunt and Dora were invited to do so, and accepted the
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| 75 | invitation. Sometimes Dora only was asked. The time had been,
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| 76 | when I should have been uneasy in her going; but reflection on what
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| 77 | had passed that former night in the Doctor's study, had made a
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| 78 | change in my mistrust. I believed that the Doctor was right, and
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| 79 | I had no worse suspicions.
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| 80 | My aunt rubbed her nose sometimes when she happened to be alone
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| 81 | with me, and said she couldn't make it out; she wished they were
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| 82 | happier; she didn't think our military friend (so she always called
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| 83 | the Old Soldier) mended the matter at all. My aunt further
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| 84 | expressed her opinion, 'that if our military friend would cut off
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| 85 | those butterflies, and give 'em to the chimney-sweepers for
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| 86 | May-day, it would look like the beginning of something sensible on
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| 87 | her part.'
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| 88 | But her abiding reliance was on Mr. Dick. That man had evidently
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| 89 | an idea in his head, she said; and if he could only once pen it up
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| 90 | into a corner, which was his great difficulty, he would distinguish
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| 91 | himself in some extraordinary manner.
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| 92 | Unconscious of this prediction, Mr. Dick continued to occupy
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| 93 | precisely the same ground in reference to the Doctor and to Mrs.
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| 94 | Strong. He seemed neither to advance nor to recede. He appeared
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| 95 | to have settled into his original foundation, like a building; and
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| 96 | I must confess that my faith in his ever Moving, was not much
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| 97 | greater than if he had been a building.
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| 98 | But one night, when I had been married some months, Mr. Dick put
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| 99 | his head into the parlour, where I was writing alone (Dora having
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| 100 | gone out with my aunt to take tea with the two little birds), and
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| 101 | said, with a significant cough:
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| 102 | 'You couldn't speak to me without inconveniencing yourself,
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| 103 | Trotwood, I am afraid?'
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| 104 | 'Certainly, Mr. Dick,' said I; 'come in!'
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| 105 | 'Trotwood,' said Mr. Dick, laying his finger on the side of his
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| 106 | nose, after he had shaken hands with me. 'Before I sit down, I
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| 107 | wish to make an observation. You know your aunt?'
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| 108 | 'A little,' I replied.
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| 109 | 'She is the most wonderful woman in the world, sir!'
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| 110 | After the delivery of this communication, which he shot out of
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| 111 | himself as if he were loaded with it, Mr. Dick sat down with
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| 112 | greater gravity than usual, and looked at me.
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| 113 | 'Now, boy,' said Mr. Dick, 'I am going to put a question to you.'
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| 114 | 'As many as you please,' said I.
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| 115 | 'What do you consider me, sir?' asked Mr. Dick, folding his arms.
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| 116 | 'A dear old friend,' said I.
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| 117 | 'Thank you, Trotwood,' returned Mr. Dick, laughing, and reaching
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| 118 | across in high glee to shake hands with me. 'But I mean, boy,'
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| 119 | resuming his gravity, 'what do you consider me in this respect?'
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| 120 | touching his forehead.
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| 121 | I was puzzled how to answer, but he helped me with a word.
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| 122 | 'Weak?' said Mr. Dick.
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| 123 | 'Well,' I replied, dubiously. 'Rather so.'
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| 124 | 'Exactly!' cried Mr. Dick, who seemed quite enchanted by my reply.
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| 125 | 'That is, Trotwood, when they took some of the trouble out of
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| 126 | you-know-who's head, and put it you know where, there was a -' Mr.
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| 127 | Dick made his two hands revolve very fast about each other a great
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| 128 | number of times, and then brought them into collision, and rolled
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| 129 | them over and over one another, to express confusion. 'There was
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| 130 | that sort of thing done to me somehow. Eh?'
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| 131 | I nodded at him, and he nodded back again.
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| 132 | 'In short, boy,' said Mr. Dick, dropping his voice to a whisper, 'I
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| 133 | am simple.'
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| 134 | I would have qualified that conclusion, but he stopped me.
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| 135 | 'Yes, I am! She pretends I am not. She won't hear of it; but I
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| 136 | am. I know I am. If she hadn't stood my friend, sir, I should
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| 137 | have been shut up, to lead a dismal life these many years. But
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| 138 | I'll provide for her! I never spend the copying money. I put it
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| 139 | in a box. I have made a will. I'll leave it all to her. She
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| 140 | shall be rich - noble!'
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| 141 | Mr. Dick took out his pocket-handkerchief, and wiped his eyes. He
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| 142 | then folded it up with great care, pressed it smooth between his
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| 143 | two hands, put it in his pocket, and seemed to put my aunt away
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| 144 | with it.
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| 145 | 'Now you are a scholar, Trotwood,' said Mr. Dick. 'You are a fine
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| 146 | scholar. You know what a learned man, what a great man, the Doctor
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| 147 | is. You know what honour he has always done me. Not proud in his
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| 148 | wisdom. Humble, humble - condescending even to poor Dick, who is
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| 149 | simple and knows nothing. I have sent his name up, on a scrap of
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| 150 | paper, to the kite, along the string, when it has been in the sky,
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| 151 | among the larks. The kite has been glad to receive it, sir, and
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| 152 | the sky has been brighter with it.'
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| 153 | I delighted him by saying, most heartily, that the Doctor was
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| 154 | deserving of our best respect and highest esteem.
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| 155 | 'And his beautiful wife is a star,' said Mr. Dick. 'A shining
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| 156 | star. I have seen her shine, sir. But,' bringing his chair
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| 157 | nearer, and laying one hand upon my knee - 'clouds, sir - clouds.'
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| 158 | I answered the solicitude which his face expressed, by conveying
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| 159 | the same expression into my own, and shaking my head.
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| 160 | 'What clouds?' said Mr. Dick.
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| 161 | He looked so wistfully into my face, and was so anxious to
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| 162 | understand, that I took great pains to answer him slowly and
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| 163 | distinctly, as I might have entered on an explanation to a child.
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| 164 | 'There is some unfortunate division between them,' I replied.
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| 165 | 'Some unhappy cause of separation. A secret. It may be
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| 166 | inseparable from the discrepancy in their years. It may have grown
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| 167 | up out of almost nothing.'
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| 168 | Mr. Dick, who had told off every sentence with a thoughtful nod,
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| 169 | paused when I had done, and sat considering, with his eyes upon my
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| 170 | face, and his hand upon my knee.
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| 171 | 'Doctor not angry with her, Trotwood?' he said, after some time.
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| 172 | 'No. Devoted to her.'
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| 173 | 'Then, I have got it, boy!' said Mr. Dick.
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| 174 | The sudden exultation with which he slapped me on the knee, and
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| 175 | leaned back in his chair, with his eyebrows lifted up as high as he
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| 176 | could possibly lift them, made me think him farther out of his wits
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| 177 | than ever. He became as suddenly grave again, and leaning forward
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| 178 | as before, said - first respectfully taking out his
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| 179 | pocket-handkerchief, as if it really did represent my aunt:
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| 180 | 'Most wonderful woman in the world, Trotwood. Why has she done
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| 181 | nothing to set things right?'
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| 182 | 'Too delicate and difficult a subject for such interference,' I
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| 183 | replied.
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| 184 | 'Fine scholar,' said Mr. Dick, touching me with his finger. 'Why
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| 185 | has HE done nothing?'
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| 186 | 'For the same reason,' I returned.
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| 187 | 'Then, I have got it, boy!' said Mr. Dick. And he stood up before
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| 188 | me, more exultingly than before, nodding his head, and striking
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| 189 | himself repeatedly upon the breast, until one might have supposed
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| 190 | that he had nearly nodded and struck all the breath out of his
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| 191 | body.
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| 192 | 'A poor fellow with a craze, sir,' said Mr. Dick, 'a simpleton, a
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| 193 | weak-minded person - present company, you know!' striking himself
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| 194 | again, 'may do what wonderful people may not do. I'll bring them
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| 195 | together, boy. I'll try. They'll not blame me. They'll not
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| 196 | object to me. They'll not mind what I do, if it's wrong. I'm only
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| 197 | Mr. Dick. And who minds Dick? Dick's nobody! Whoo!' He blew a
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| 198 | slight, contemptuous breath, as if he blew himself away.
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| 199 | It was fortunate he had proceeded so far with his mystery, for we
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| 200 | heard the coach stop at the little garden gate, which brought my
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| 201 | aunt and Dora home.
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| 202 | 'Not a word, boy!' he pursued in a whisper; 'leave all the blame
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| 203 | with Dick - simple Dick - mad Dick. I have been thinking, sir, for
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| 204 | some time, that I was getting it, and now I have got it. After
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| 205 | what you have said to me, I am sure I have got it. All right!' Not
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| 206 | another word did Mr. Dick utter on the subject; but he made a very
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| 207 | telegraph of himself for the next half-hour (to the great
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| 208 | disturbance of my aunt's mind), to enjoin inviolable secrecy on me.
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| 209 | To my surprise, I heard no more about it for some two or three
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| 210 | weeks, though I was sufficiently interested in the result of his
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| 211 | endeavours; descrying a strange gleam of good sense - I say nothing
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| 212 | of good feeling, for that he always exhibited - in the conclusion
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| 213 | to which he had come. At last I began to believe, that, in the
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| 214 | flighty and unsettled state of his mind, he had either forgotten
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| 215 | his intention or abandoned it.
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| 216 | One fair evening, when Dora was not inclined to go out, my aunt and
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| 217 | I strolled up to the Doctor's cottage. It was autumn, when there
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| 218 | were no debates to vex the evening air; and I remember how the
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| 219 | leaves smelt like our garden at Blunderstone as we trod them under
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| 220 | foot, and how the old, unhappy feeling, seemed to go by, on the
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| 221 | sighing wind.
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| 222 | It was twilight when we reached the cottage. Mrs. Strong was just
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| 223 | coming out of the garden, where Mr. Dick yet lingered, busy with
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| 224 | his knife, helping the gardener to point some stakes. The Doctor
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| 225 | was engaged with someone in his study; but the visitor would be
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| 226 | gone directly, Mrs. Strong said, and begged us to remain and see
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| 227 | him. We went into the drawing-room with her, and sat down by the
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| 228 | darkening window. There was never any ceremony about the visits of
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| 229 | such old friends and neighbours as we were.
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| 230 | We had not sat here many minutes, when Mrs. Markleham, who usually
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| 231 | contrived to be in a fuss about something, came bustling in, with
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| 232 | her newspaper in her hand, and said, out of breath, 'My goodness
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| 233 | gracious, Annie, why didn't you tell me there was someone in the
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| 234 | Study!'
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| 235 | 'My dear mama,' she quietly returned, 'how could I know that you
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| 236 | desired the information?'
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| 237 | 'Desired the information!' said Mrs. Markleham, sinking on the
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| 238 | sofa. 'I never had such a turn in all my life!'
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| 239 | 'Have you been to the Study, then, mama?' asked Annie.
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| 240 | 'BEEN to the Study, my dear!' she returned emphatically. 'Indeed
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| 241 | I have! I came upon the amiable creature - if you'll imagine my
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| 242 | feelings, Miss Trotwood and David - in the act of making his will.'
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| 243 | Her daughter looked round from the window quickly.
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| 244 | 'In the act, my dear Annie,' repeated Mrs. Markleham, spreading the
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| 245 | newspaper on her lap like a table-cloth, and patting her hands upon
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| 246 | it, 'of making his last Will and Testament. The foresight and
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| 247 | affection of the dear! I must tell you how it was. I really must,
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| 248 | in justice to the darling - for he is nothing less! - tell you how
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| 249 | it was. Perhaps you know, Miss Trotwood, that there is never a
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| 250 | candle lighted in this house, until one's eyes are literally
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| 251 | falling out of one's head with being stretched to read the paper.
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| 252 | And that there is not a chair in this house, in which a paper can
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| 253 | be what I call, read, except one in the Study. This took me to the
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| 254 | Study, where I saw a light. I opened the door. In company with
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| 255 | the dear Doctor were two professional people, evidently connected
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| 256 | with the law, and they were all three standing at the table: the
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| 257 | darling Doctor pen in hand. "This simply expresses then," said the
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| 258 | Doctor - Annie, my love, attend to the very words - "this simply
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| 259 | expresses then, gentlemen, the confidence I have in Mrs. Strong,
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| 260 | and gives her all unconditionally?" One of the professional people
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| 261 | replied, "And gives her all unconditionally." Upon that, with the
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| 262 | natural feelings of a mother, I said, "Good God, I beg your
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| 263 | pardon!" fell over the door-step, and came away through the little
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| 264 | back passage where the pantry is.'
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| 265 | Mrs. Strong opened the window, and went out into the verandah,
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| 266 | where she stood leaning against a pillar.
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| 267 | 'But now isn't it, Miss Trotwood, isn't it, David, invigorating,'
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| 268 | said Mrs. Markleham, mechanically following her with her eyes, 'to
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| 269 | find a man at Doctor Strong's time of life, with the strength of
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| 270 | mind to do this kind of thing? It only shows how right I was. I
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| 271 | said to Annie, when Doctor Strong paid a very flattering visit to
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| 272 | myself, and made her the subject of a declaration and an offer, I
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| 273 | said, "My dear, there is no doubt whatever, in my opinion, with
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| 274 | reference to a suitable provision for you, that Doctor Strong will
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| 275 | do more than he binds himself to do."'
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| 276 | Here the bell rang, and we heard the sound of the visitors' feet as
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| 277 | they went out.
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| 278 | 'It's all over, no doubt,' said the Old Soldier, after listening;
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| 279 | 'the dear creature has signed, sealed, and delivered, and his
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| 280 | mind's at rest. Well it may be! What a mind! Annie, my love, I
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| 281 | am going to the Study with my paper, for I am a poor creature
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| 282 | without news. Miss Trotwood, David, pray come and see the Doctor.'
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| 283 | I was conscious of Mr. Dick's standing in the shadow of the room,
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| 284 | shutting up his knife, when we accompanied her to the Study; and of
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| 285 | my aunt's rubbing her nose violently, by the way, as a mild vent
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| 286 | for her intolerance of our military friend; but who got first into
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| 287 | the Study, or how Mrs. Markleham settled herself in a moment in her
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| 288 | easy-chair, or how my aunt and I came to be left together near the
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| 289 | door (unless her eyes were quicker than mine, and she held me
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| 290 | back), I have forgotten, if I ever knew. But this I know, - that
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| 291 | we saw the Doctor before he saw us, sitting at his table, among the
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| 292 | folio volumes in which he delighted, resting his head calmly on his
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| 293 | hand. That, in the same moment, we saw Mrs. Strong glide in, pale
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| 294 | and trembling. That Mr. Dick supported her on his arm. That he
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| 295 | laid his other hand upon the Doctor's arm, causing him to look up
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| 296 | with an abstracted air. That, as the Doctor moved his head, his
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| 297 | wife dropped down on one knee at his feet, and, with her hands
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| 298 | imploringly lifted, fixed upon his face the memorable look I had
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| 299 | never forgotten. That at this sight Mrs. Markleham dropped the
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| 300 | newspaper, and stared more like a figure-head intended for a ship
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| 301 | to be called The Astonishment, than anything else I can think of.
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| 302 | The gentleness of the Doctor's manner and surprise, the dignity
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| 303 | that mingled with the supplicating attitude of his wife, the
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| 304 | amiable concern of Mr. Dick, and the earnestness with which my aunt
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| 305 | said to herself, 'That man mad!' (triumphantly expressive of the
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| 306 | misery from which she had saved him) - I see and hear, rather than
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| 307 | remember, as I write about it.
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| 308 | 'Doctor!' said Mr. Dick. 'What is it that's amiss? Look here!'
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| 309 | 'Annie!' cried the Doctor. 'Not at my feet, my dear!'
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| 310 | 'Yes!' she said. 'I beg and pray that no one will leave the room!
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| 311 | Oh, my husband and father, break this long silence. Let us both
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| 312 | know what it is that has come between us!'
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| 313 | Mrs. Markleham, by this time recovering the power of speech, and
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| 314 | seeming to swell with family pride and motherly indignation, here
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| 315 | exclaimed, 'Annie, get up immediately, and don't disgrace everybody
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| 316 | belonging to you by humbling yourself like that, unless you wish to
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| 317 | see me go out of my mind on the spot!'
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| 318 | 'Mama!' returned Annie. 'Waste no words on me, for my appeal is to
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| 319 | my husband, and even you are nothing here.'
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| 320 | 'Nothing!' exclaimed Mrs. Markleham. 'Me, nothing! The child has
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| 321 | taken leave of her senses. Please to get me a glass of water!'
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| 322 | I was too attentive to the Doctor and his wife, to give any heed to
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| 323 | this request; and it made no impression on anybody else; so Mrs.
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| 324 | Markleham panted, stared, and fanned herself.
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| 325 | 'Annie!' said the Doctor, tenderly taking her in his hands. 'My
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| 326 | dear! If any unavoidable change has come, in the sequence of time,
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| 327 | upon our married life, you are not to blame. The fault is mine,
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| 328 | and only mine. There is no change in my affection, admiration, and
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| 329 | respect. I wish to make you happy. I truly love and honour you.
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| 330 | Rise, Annie, pray!'
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| 331 | But she did not rise. After looking at him for a little while, she
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| 332 | sank down closer to him, laid her arm across his knee, and dropping
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| 333 | her head upon it, said:
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| 334 | 'If I have any friend here, who can speak one word for me, or for
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| 335 | my husband in this matter; if I have any friend here, who can give
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| 336 | a voice to any suspicion that my heart has sometimes whispered to
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| 337 | me; if I have any friend here, who honours my husband, or has ever
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| 338 | cared for me, and has anything within his knowledge, no matter what
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| 339 | it is, that may help to mediate between us, I implore that friend
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| 340 | to speak!'
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| 341 | There was a profound silence. After a few moments of painful
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| 342 | hesitation, I broke the silence.
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| 343 | 'Mrs. Strong,' I said, 'there is something within my knowledge,
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| 344 | which I have been earnestly entreated by Doctor Strong to conceal,
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| 345 | and have concealed until tonight. But, I believe the time has come
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| 346 | when it would be mistaken faith and delicacy to conceal it any
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| 347 | longer, and when your appeal absolves me from his injunction.'
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| 348 | She turned her face towards me for a moment, and I knew that I was
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| 349 | right. I could not have resisted its entreaty, if the assurance
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| 350 | that it gave me had been less convincing.
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| 351 | 'Our future peace,' she said, 'may be in your hands. I trust it
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| 352 | confidently to your not suppressing anything. I know beforehand
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| 353 | that nothing you, or anyone, can tell me, will show my husband's
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| 354 | noble heart in any other light than one. Howsoever it may seem to
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| 355 | you to touch me, disregard that. I will speak for myself, before
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| 356 | him, and before God afterwards.'
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| 357 | Thus earnestly besought, I made no reference to the Doctor for his
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| 358 | permission, but, without any other compromise of the truth than a
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| 359 | little softening of the coarseness of Uriah Heep, related plainly
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| 360 | what had passed in that same room that night. The staring of Mrs.
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| 361 | Markleham during the whole narration, and the shrill, sharp
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| 362 | interjections with which she occasionally interrupted it, defy
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| 363 | description.
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| 364 | When I had finished, Annie remained, for some few moments, silent,
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| 365 | with her head bent down, as I have described. Then, she took the
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| 366 | Doctor's hand (he was sitting in the same attitude as when we had
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| 367 | entered the room), and pressed it to her breast, and kissed it.
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| 368 | Mr. Dick softly raised her; and she stood, when she began to speak,
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| 369 | leaning on him, and looking down upon her husband - from whom she
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| 370 | never turned her eyes.
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| 371 | 'All that has ever been in my mind, since I was married,' she said
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| 372 | in a low, submissive, tender voice, 'I will lay bare before you.
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| 373 | I could not live and have one reservation, knowing what I know
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| 374 | now.'
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| 375 | 'Nay, Annie,' said the Doctor, mildly, 'I have never doubted you,
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| 376 | my child. There is no need; indeed there is no need, my dear.'
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| 377 | 'There is great need,' she answered, in the same way, 'that I
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| 378 | should open my whole heart before the soul of generosity and truth,
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| 379 | whom, year by year, and day by day, I have loved and venerated more
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| 380 | and more, as Heaven knows!'
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| 381 | 'Really,' interrupted Mrs. Markleham, 'if I have any discretion at
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| 382 | all -'
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| 383 | ('Which you haven't, you Marplot,' observed my aunt, in an
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| 384 | indignant whisper.)
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| 385 | - 'I must be permitted to observe that it cannot be requisite to
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| 386 | enter into these details.'
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| 387 | 'No one but my husband can judge of that, mama,' said Annie without
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| 388 | removing her eyes from his face, 'and he will hear me. If I say
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| 389 | anything to give you pain, mama, forgive me. I have borne pain
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| 390 | first, often and long, myself.'
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| 391 | 'Upon my word!' gasped Mrs. Markleham.
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| 392 | 'When I was very young,' said Annie, 'quite a little child, my
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| 393 | first associations with knowledge of any kind were inseparable from
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| 394 | a patient friend and teacher - the friend of my dead father - who
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| 395 | was always dear to me. I can remember nothing that I know, without
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| 396 | remembering him. He stored my mind with its first treasures, and
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| 397 | stamped his character upon them all. They never could have been,
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| 398 | I think, as good as they have been to me, if I had taken them from
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| 399 | any other hands.'
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| 400 | 'Makes her mother nothing!' exclaimed Mrs. Markleham.
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| 401 | 'Not so mama,' said Annie; 'but I make him what he was. I must do
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| 402 | that. As I grew up, he occupied the same place still. I was proud
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| 403 | of his interest: deeply, fondly, gratefully attached to him. I
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| 404 | looked up to him, I can hardly describe how - as a father, as a
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| 405 | guide, as one whose praise was different from all other praise, as
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| 406 | one in whom I could have trusted and confided, if I had doubted all
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| 407 | the world. You know, mama, how young and inexperienced I was, when
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| 408 | you presented him before me, of a sudden, as a lover.'
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| 409 | 'I have mentioned the fact, fifty times at least, to everybody
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| 410 | here!' said Mrs. Markleham.
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| 411 | ('Then hold your tongue, for the Lord's sake, and don't mention it
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| 412 | any more!' muttered my aunt.)
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| 413 | 'It was so great a change: so great a loss, I felt it, at first,'
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| 414 | said Annie, still preserving the same look and tone, 'that I was
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| 415 | agitated and distressed. I was but a girl; and when so great a
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| 416 | change came in the character in which I had so long looked up to
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| 417 | him, I think I was sorry. But nothing could have made him what he
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| 418 | used to be again; and I was proud that he should think me so
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| 419 | worthy, and we were married.'
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| 420 | '- At Saint Alphage, Canterbury,' observed Mrs. Markleham.
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| 421 | ('Confound the woman!' said my aunt, 'she WON'T be quiet!')
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| 422 | 'I never thought,' proceeded Annie, with a heightened colour, 'of
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| 423 | any worldly gain that my husband would bring to me. My young heart
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| 424 | had no room in its homage for any such poor reference. Mama,
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| 425 | forgive me when I say that it was you who first presented to my
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| 426 | mind the thought that anyone could wrong me, and wrong him, by such
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| 427 | a cruel suspicion.'
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| 428 | 'Me!' cried Mrs. Markleham.
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| 429 | ('Ah! You, to be sure!' observed my aunt, 'and you can't fan it
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| 430 | away, my military friend!')
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| 431 | 'It was the first unhappiness of my new life,' said Annie. 'It was
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| 432 | the first occasion of every unhappy moment I have known. These
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| 433 | moments have been more, of late, than I can count; but not - my
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| 434 | generous husband! - not for the reason you suppose; for in my heart
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| 435 | there is not a thought, a recollection, or a hope, that any power
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| 436 | could separate from you!'
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| 437 | She raised her eyes, and clasped her hands, and looked as beautiful
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| 438 | and true, I thought, as any Spirit. The Doctor looked on her,
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| 439 | henceforth, as steadfastly as she on him.
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| 440 | 'Mama is blameless,' she went on, 'of having ever urged you for
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| 441 | herself, and she is blameless in intention every way, I am sure, -
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| 442 | but when I saw how many importunate claims were pressed upon you in
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| 443 | my name; how you were traded on in my name; how generous you were,
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| 444 | and how Mr. Wickfield, who had your welfare very much at heart,
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| 445 | resented it; the first sense of my exposure to the mean suspicion
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| 446 | that my tenderness was bought - and sold to you, of all men on
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| 447 | earth - fell upon me like unmerited disgrace, in which I forced you
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| 448 | to participate. I cannot tell you what it was - mama cannot
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| 449 | imagine what it was - to have this dread and trouble always on my
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| 450 | mind, yet know in my own soul that on my marriage-day I crowned the
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| 451 | love and honour of my life!'
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| 452 | 'A specimen of the thanks one gets,' cried Mrs. Markleham, in
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| 453 | tears, 'for taking care of one's family! I wish I was a Turk!'
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| 454 | ('I wish you were, with all my heart - and in your native country!'
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| 455 | said my aunt.)
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| 456 | 'It was at that time that mama was most solicitous about my Cousin
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| 457 | Maldon. I had liked him': she spoke softly, but without any
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| 458 | hesitation: 'very much. We had been little lovers once. If
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| 459 | circumstances had not happened otherwise, I might have come to
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| 460 | persuade myself that I really loved him, and might have married
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| 461 | him, and been most wretched. There can be no disparity in marriage
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| 462 | like unsuitability of mind and purpose.'
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| 463 | I pondered on those words, even while I was studiously attending to
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| 464 | what followed, as if they had some particular interest, or some
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| 465 | strange application that I could not divine. 'There can be no
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| 466 | disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose' -'no
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| 467 | disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose.'
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| 468 | 'There is nothing,' said Annie, 'that we have in common. I have
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| 469 | long found that there is nothing. If I were thankful to my husband
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| 470 | for no more, instead of for so much, I should be thankful to him
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| 471 | for having saved me from the first mistaken impulse of my
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| 472 | undisciplined heart.'
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| 473 | She stood quite still, before the Doctor, and spoke with an
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| 474 | earnestness that thrilled me. Yet her voice was just as quiet as
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| 475 | before.
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| 476 | 'When he was waiting to be the object of your munificence, so
|
| 477 | freely bestowed for my sake, and when I was unhappy in the
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| 478 | mercenary shape I was made to wear, I thought it would have become
|
| 479 | him better to have worked his own way on. I thought that if I had
|
| 480 | been he, I would have tried to do it, at the cost of almost any
|
| 481 | hardship. But I thought no worse of him, until the night of his
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| 482 | departure for India. That night I knew he had a false and
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| 483 | thankless heart. I saw a double meaning, then, in Mr. Wickfield's
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| 484 | scrutiny of me. I perceived, for the first time, the dark
|
| 485 | suspicion that shadowed my life.'
|
| 486 | 'Suspicion, Annie!' said the Doctor. 'No, no, no!'
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| 487 | 'In your mind there was none, I know, my husband!' she returned.
|
| 488 | 'And when I came to you, that night, to lay down all my load of
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| 489 | shame and grief, and knew that I had to tell that, underneath your
|
| 490 | roof, one of my own kindred, to whom you had been a benefactor, for
|
| 491 | the love of me, had spoken to me words that should have found no
|
| 492 | utterance, even if I had been the weak and mercenary wretch he
|
| 493 | thought me - my mind revolted from the taint the very tale
|
| 494 | conveyed. It died upon my lips, and from that hour till now has
|
| 495 | never passed them.'
|
| 496 | Mrs. Markleham, with a short groan, leaned back in her easy-chair;
|
| 497 | and retired behind her fan, as if she were never coming out any
|
| 498 | more.
|
| 499 | 'I have never, but in your presence, interchanged a word with him
|
| 500 | from that time; then, only when it has been necessary for the
|
| 501 | avoidance of this explanation. Years have passed since he knew,
|
| 502 | from me, what his situation here was. The kindnesses you have
|
| 503 | secretly done for his advancement, and then disclosed to me, for my
|
| 504 | surprise and pleasure, have been, you will believe, but
|
| 505 | aggravations of the unhappiness and burden of my secret.'
|
| 506 | She sunk down gently at the Doctor's feet, though he did his utmost
|
| 507 | to prevent her; and said, looking up, tearfully, into his face:
|
| 508 | 'Do not speak to me yet! Let me say a little more! Right or
|
| 509 | wrong, if this were to be done again, I think I should do just the
|
| 510 | same. You never can know what it was to be devoted to you, with
|
| 511 | those old associations; to find that anyone could be so hard as to
|
| 512 | suppose that the truth of my heart was bartered away, and to be
|
| 513 | surrounded by appearances confirming that belief. I was very
|
| 514 | young, and had no adviser. Between mama and me, in all relating to
|
| 515 | you, there was a wide division. If I shrunk into myself, hiding
|
| 516 | the disrespect I had undergone, it was because I honoured you so
|
| 517 | much, and so much wished that you should honour me!'
|
| 518 | 'Annie, my pure heart!' said the Doctor, 'my dear girl!'
|
| 519 | 'A little more! a very few words more! I used to think there were
|
| 520 | so many whom you might have married, who would not have brought
|
| 521 | such charge and trouble on you, and who would have made your home
|
| 522 | a worthier home. I used to be afraid that I had better have
|
| 523 | remained your pupil, and almost your child. I used to fear that I
|
| 524 | was so unsuited to your learning and wisdom. If all this made me
|
| 525 | shrink within myself (as indeed it did), when I had that to tell,
|
| 526 | it was still because I honoured you so much, and hoped that you
|
| 527 | might one day honour me.'
|
| 528 | 'That day has shone this long time, Annie,' said the Doctor, and
|
| 529 | can have but one long night, my dear.'
|
| 530 | 'Another word! I afterwards meant - steadfastly meant, and
|
| 531 | purposed to myself - to bear the whole weight of knowing the
|
| 532 | unworthiness of one to whom you had been so good. And now a last
|
| 533 | word, dearest and best of friends! The cause of the late change in
|
| 534 | you, which I have seen with so much pain and sorrow, and have
|
| 535 | sometimes referred to my old apprehension - at other times to
|
| 536 | lingering suppositions nearer to the truth - has been made clear
|
| 537 | tonight; and by an accident I have also come to know, tonight, the
|
| 538 | full measure of your noble trust in me, even under that mistake.
|
| 539 | I do not hope that any love and duty I may render in return, will
|
| 540 | ever make me worthy of your priceless confidence; but with all this
|
| 541 | knowledge fresh upon me, I can lift my eyes to this dear face,
|
| 542 | revered as a father's, loved as a husband's, sacred to me in my
|
| 543 | childhood as a friend's, and solemnly declare that in my lightest
|
| 544 | thought I have never wronged you; never wavered in the love and the
|
| 545 | fidelity I owe you!'
|
| 546 | She had her arms around the Doctor's neck, and he leant his head
|
| 547 | down over her, mingling his grey hair with her dark brown tresses.
|
| 548 | 'Oh, hold me to your heart, my husband! Never cast me out! Do not
|
| 549 | think or speak of disparity between us, for there is none, except
|
| 550 | in all my many imperfections. Every succeeding year I have known
|
| 551 | this better, as I have esteemed you more and more. Oh, take me to
|
| 552 | your heart, my husband, for my love was founded on a rock, and it
|
| 553 | endures!'
|
| 554 | In the silence that ensued, my aunt walked gravely up to Mr. Dick,
|
| 555 | without at all hurrying herself, and gave him a hug and a sounding
|
| 556 | kiss. And it was very fortunate, with a view to his credit, that
|
| 557 | she did so; for I am confident that I detected him at that moment
|
| 558 | in the act of making preparations to stand on one leg, as an
|
| 559 | appropriate expression of delight.
|
| 560 | 'You are a very remarkable man, Dick!' said my aunt, with an air of
|
| 561 | unqualified approbation; 'and never pretend to be anything else,
|
| 562 | for I know better!'
|
| 563 | With that, my aunt pulled him by the sleeve, and nodded to me; and
|
| 564 | we three stole quietly out of the room, and came away.
|
| 565 | 'That's a settler for our military friend, at any rate,' said my
|
| 566 | aunt, on the way home. 'I should sleep the better for that, if
|
| 567 | there was nothing else to be glad of!'
|
| 568 | 'She was quite overcome, I am afraid,' said Mr. Dick, with great
|
| 569 | commiseration.
|
| 570 | 'What! Did you ever see a crocodile overcome?' inquired my aunt.
|
| 571 | 'I don't think I ever saw a crocodile,' returned Mr. Dick, mildly.
|
| 572 | 'There never would have been anything the matter, if it hadn't been
|
| 573 | for that old Animal,' said my aunt, with strong emphasis. 'It's
|
| 574 | very much to be wished that some mothers would leave their
|
| 575 | daughters alone after marriage, and not be so violently
|
| 576 | affectionate. They seem to think the only return that can be made
|
| 577 | them for bringing an unfortunate young woman into the world - God
|
| 578 | bless my soul, as if she asked to be brought, or wanted to come! -
|
| 579 | is full liberty to worry her out of it again. What are you
|
| 580 | thinking of, Trot?'
|
| 581 | I was thinking of all that had been said. My mind was still
|
| 582 | running on some of the expressions used. 'There can be no
|
| 583 | disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose.'
|
| 584 | 'The first mistaken impulse of an undisciplined heart.' 'My love
|
| 585 | was founded on a rock.' But we were at home; and the trodden
|
| 586 | leaves were lying under-foot, and the autumn wind was blowing.
|