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When Marcus Harding's steps died away down the street I remained here. Since that shock I have spoken of, I felt that I was again Henry Chichester, changed, as I had long been changed charged with new force, new knowledge, new discrimination, new power over others, gifted with a penetrating vision into the very soul of the man I had worshiped, yet Henry Chichester.
It it simply ate me away, Malling! It simply ate me away!" The last words came from Mr. Harding's lips almost in a cry. "And how long did you continue the sittings?" Very quietly Malling spoke, and he just touched the rector's arm. "For a long while." "Had you ceased from them when I first met you?" "On Westminster Bridge? No." "Have you ceased from them now?"
It was by no means difficult to turn the conversation to Mr Slope. That gentleman had become so famous at Barchester, had so much to do with all clergymen connected with the city, and was so specially concerned in the affairs of Mr Harding, that it would have been odd if Mr Harding's daughters had not talked about him.
Dey ain't no guy on board dis man's ship dat can hand Billy Byrne dat kin' o' guff an' get away with it see?" and before Theriere knew what had happened a heavy fist had caught him upon the point of the chin and lifted him clear off the deck to drop him unconscious at Miss Harding's feet.
And the others I fear have had but a sorry life of it there. Poor Bunce, poor old Bunce!" Bunce was one of the surviving recipients of Hiram's charity, an old man, now over ninety, who had long been a favourite of Mr. Harding's. "How happy old Bunce will be," said Mrs. Bold, clapping her soft hands softly. "How happy they all will be to have you back again.
The birds, which during the fire had taken refuge on the waters of the lake, had already returned to their accustomed spot, and were dabbling on the banks. Everything would have to be reconstructed. Cyrus Harding's face, which was paler than usual, expressed an internal anger which he commanded with difficulty, but he did not utter a word.
He sat thinking for a while till he determined that it would be best to tell her at once what it was that he was about: it must be done sooner or later. "I fear I cannot go to Mr Harding's house any more as a friend, just at present." "Oh, John! Why not? Ah, you've quarrelled with Eleanor!" "No, indeed," said he; "I've no quarrel with her as yet."
Yet Malling had hinted at no mystery, and had come without saying he was coming. "You know a clergyman called Marcus Harding?" said Malling. "Of St. Joseph's. To be sure, I do." "Do you know also his senior curate, Henry Chichester?" "No." "Have you heard of him?" "Oh dear, yes. And I fancy I've seen him at a distance." "You heard of him from Harding, I suppose." "Exactly, and Harding's wife."
The relative inferiority which it proved was of a nature to wound a haughty spirit. A generosity evinced in such a manner as to elude all tokens of gratitude, implied a sort of disdain for those on whom the obligation was conferred, which in Cyrus Harding's eyes marred, in some degree, the worth of the benefit.
Crow Wing had spoken with some confidence the year before of being able to find, even at this late day, some sign which should disprove the generally accepted belief in the manner of Jonas Harding's death.
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