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As she uttered the last word, she fell back with a dull thud, and Bernardine saw ah, she knew that the patient heart of this poor creature who had loved faithless, cruel Jasper Wilde to the bitter end had slowly broken at last. Reverently covering the white, staring face with her apron, and breathing a sobbing prayer for her, Bernardine fled from the room.
He admitted at once that he did not express his disapproval of it; it was beneath him "to concern himself with the effusions of an illiterate undergraduate." "Did Mr. Wilde ever consider the effect in his writings of inciting to immorality?" Oscar declared that he aimed neither at good nor evil, but tried to make a beautiful thing.
They gave vs whatsoeuer they had, not keeping any thing, so that they were constrained to go back againe naked, and made signes that the next day they would come againe, and bring more skinnes with them. How that we hauing sent two of our men on land with wares, there came about 300. wilde men with great gladnesse.
Everyone assumed that Oscar Wilde was guilty of the worst that had ever been alleged against him; the very people who received him in their houses condemned him pitilessly and, as I approached the fountain-head of information, the charges became more and more definite; to my horror, in the Public Prosecutor's office, his guilt was said to be known and classified.
Lady Wilde sat enthroned behind the tea-table looking like a sort of female Buddha swathed in wraps a large woman with a heavy face and prominent nose; very like Oscar indeed, with the same sallow skin which always looked dirty; her eyes too were her redeeming feature vivacious and quick-glancing as a girl's. She "made up" like an actress and naturally preferred shadowed gloom to sunlight.
About this time one heard of a dinner which Oscar Wilde had given at a restaurant in Soho, which was said to have degenerated into a sort of Roman orgy. I was told of a man who tried to get money by blackmailing him in his own house.
You ain't been an' took up with Oliver again, after all's said an' done?" Isabel laughed, but her voice shook a little, and not with mirth. "I'm all right, mother. Don't you say anything to anybody. That's all. Here comes father. Take care your dress. You'll get wheel-grease on it." Her strong hands were lifting the little creature, and Mrs. Wilde found herself driven away.
The steps beat him; he leaned on the rail at the bottom, and called out piteously, "My wife! my wife! my wife!" three times. Mrs. Wilde ran down to him, and caught hold of his hand, and said, "Whatever is to do?" When she took his hand the pain made him groan, and she felt something drip on to her hand. It was blood from his wounded arm.
I could fill this page with sayings from the scene in question, all perfectly comprehensible without any account of the situation. Among them would be one of those; profound sayings which Wilde now and then threw off in his lightest moods, like opals among soap-bubbles. "In the world," says Dumby, "there are two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."
And then the crowd, moving onwards, parted them from each other. "Do not forget to meet me at the Bath," she called out to him as he went. "Oh, to be sure! I had forgotten. I will be there just before the dancing begins." And then Denis Wilde took his place by her side. If Mrs. Kynaston surpassed herself in looks and animation that day, Vera, on the contrary, had never looked less well.
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