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Updated: June 2, 2025
Argemone felt herself needless, lonely, and out of tune with herself and nature. She sat in the window, and listlessly read over to herself a fragment of her own poetry: She lay among the myrtles on the cliff; Above her glared the moon; beneath, the sea.
'And a curse upon the Lavingtons, sighed Argemone to herself in an undertone. Lancelot heard what she said. The vicar entered, but he was too late. The old man's strength was failing, and his mind began to wander. 'Windy, he murmured to himself, 'windy, dark and windy birds won't lie not old Harry's fault. How black it grows! We must be gone by nightfall, squire. Where's that young dog gone?
'But I never spoke a word to you on such subjects. 'There are those, Miss Lavington, to whom a human face can speak truths too deep for books. Argemone was silent; but she understood him. Why did she not withdraw her arm a second time? In a moment more the colonel hailed them from the dog-cart and behind him came the britschka with a relay of servants.
Instead of moving on, as he had hoped, the party stood looking over the bridge, and talking he took for granted, poor thin-skinned fellow of him. And for once his suspicions were right; for he overheard Argemone say 'I wonder how Mr. Smith can be so rude as to sit there in my presence over his stupid perch! Smoking those horrid cigars, too! How selfish those field-sports do make men!
He often treated her and Honoria to that style of oratory. At Argemone he had never sworn but once since she left the nursery, and was so frightened at the consequences, that he took care never to do it again. But there they were fast, with a broken wheel, plunging horses, and a drunken coachman. Luckily for them, the colonel and Lancelot were following close behind, and came to their assistance.
He hardly spoke or looked at a soul; he felt that he was there on an errand which none understood; that he was moving towards Argemone through a spiritual world, in which he and she were alone; that, in his utter poverty and hopelessness, he stood above all the luxury, even above all the sorrow, around him; that she belonged to him, and to him alone; and the broken-hearted beggar followed the weeping Honoria towards his lady's chamber, with the step and bearing of a lord.
Lavington, in fear and wonder, let her daughter go her own way. She could not have done better, perhaps; for Providence had found for Argemone a better guide than her mother could have done, and her new pupil was rapidly becoming her teacher.
She spoke in the simplicity of her heart, but he chose to think she was patronising him she had not talked commonplaces to the vicar. He tried to say something smart and cutting, stuttered, broke down, blushed, and shrank back again to the wall, fancying that every eye in the room was on him; and for one moment a flash of sheer hatred to Argemone swept through him. Was Argemone patronising him?
'What do you want, in Heaven's name? asked Argemone, half terrified. 'I want YOU to tell me that. Here I am, with youth, health, strength, money, every blessing of life but one; and I am utterly miserable. I want some one to tell me what I want. 'Is it not that you want religion? 'I see hundreds who have what you call religion, with whom I should scorn to change my irreligion. 'But, Mr.
He tore it open; it contained a letter from Argemone, which, it is needless to say, he read before her mother's: 'My beloved! my husband! Yes though you may fancy me fickle and proud I will call you so to the last; for were I fickle, I could have saved myself the agony of writing this; and as for pride, oh! how that darling vice has been crushed out of me!
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