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As time went on Baxendale's nerves grew worse, and it was thought he must have been badly hit financially by the War, till Peter Knott told us that he had invested most of his wife's and his own money in shipping companies and coal-mine debentures which had done nothing but rise ever since the War began.
That made us suppose he had a brother or some near relative at the Front, and for some days we were rather apologetic in our attitude towards him, as, what with the War and our own anxieties, we had shown some indifference to Baxendale's nerves.
A ship-building yard was established, where all the boats, flying and slow, required to carry on the business, were constructed at Mr. Baxendale's expense. The carrying business required a great deal of personal supervision. Only a man of determined spirit and indomitable energy could have done it.
She says that something has happened which makes it impossible for her ever to fulfil her promise, something which must always remain her secret, which I may not hope to understand. And with such dreadful appearance of sincerity such a face of awful suffering His voice failed. The grave concern on Mrs. Baxendale's visage was not encouraging.
His speech hung in mid-air, and he stood nervously tapping his fingers with his eyeglass. 'No, please remain, exclaimed Beatrice. 'Aunt, you are not against me? Mrs. Birks, you won't refuse to believe what I have told you? The two ladies glanced at each other. In Mrs. Baxendale's look there was appeal. 'Indeed, I believe you implicitly, my dear Beatrice, said Mrs. Birks.
I mentioned your name in a letter to her; the result was this complete ending of our correspondence. Now, will not even that satisfy you? He did not doubt what he was told; Mrs. Baxendale's character for veracity stood high. It was solely out of regard for Wilfrid that she allowed herself to mislead him, for by this time it seemed obvious that Beatrice was drawing near to her reward, and Mrs.
Somehow he didn't enjoy his food and couldn't get a proper night's sleep. He'd tried Benger's Food last thing at night and Quaker Oats for breakfast, but nothing seemed to do him any good. The curious part of Baxendale's illness was that he continued to look perfectly well, but he seemed to get offended if people said so; what really touched him was pity.
You saw the rings round his eyes, but he was able to discuss the latest electioneering intelligence, and even to utter one or two more of those shrewd remarks by which he had lately been proving that politics were not unlikely to demand more of his attention some day. But he was glad when he could get away to the drawing-room, to await Mrs. Baxendale's coming.
You haven't quarrelled with her about the prayer-meetings? 'No. It's a fancy of hers, that's all. Come along; she's only twenty minutes to catch the train. When they reached the drawing-room, Beatrice was not there. Upon Mrs. Baxendale's withdrawal she had gone to Wilfrid's door and knocked at it. Wilfrid was pacing about in thought.
It smiled and still smiled; the eyes looked searchingly. 'You do not remember me, Miss Hood? 'Indeed, I remember you your face, your voice. But your name ? You are Mrs. Baxendale's niece. 'Yes; Miss Redwing. 'O, how could I forget! Emily became silent. The eyes that searched her so were surely kind, but it was the time of fears.
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