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Updated: June 2, 2025
He was in the world, but not of it. He was groping about amongst familiar scenes, over which time had thrown the pall of unfamiliarity. What manner of place would he find what manner of place did he desire to find? It was here that the real interest of the situation culminated. At least, so Aynesworth thought then.
Aynesworth held the girl's hands for a moment, but his manner was sufficient evidence of the spirit in which he had come. He drew a little breath, and he looked from one to the other anxiously. "Is this your mysterious guardian, Juliet?" he asked hoarsely. She glanced at Wingrave questioningly. His expression was ominous, and the light faded from her own face. While she hesitated, Wingrave spoke.
He laughed. "Why, when I come back, little woman," he answered, "you will be almost grown up. Come, dry your eyes now, and I tell you what we will do. You shall come back with me to breakfast, and then drive up to the station and see us off." "I should like to come," she whispered, "but I am afraid of the other gentleman." "Very likely we sha'n't see him," Aynesworth answered.
"You are very unfeeling, Mr. Aynesworth." "I hope not," he answered, and looked away towards the orchestra. He did not wish to meet her eyes. "You are!" she murmured. "I have no one to whom I dare speak of this. I dare not mention his name to my husband. It was my evidence which convicted him, and I can see, I know, that he is vindictive. And he has those letters! Oh!
"In case you should feel any curiosity on the subject," Wingrave remarked, "I may tell you that I have those letters which she was so anxious to know about, and I shall keep them safe even from you! You can amuse yourself with her if you like. You will never be able to tell her more than I care for her to know." Aynesworth continued his dinner in silence.
"There's nothing very special on," he remarked. "Do you want me to go with you?" "It is not necessary," Wingrave answered. "I am going," he added, after a moment's pause, "to Cornwall." Aynesworth was immediately silent. The one time when Wingrave had spoken to him as an employer, was in answer to some question of his as to what had eventually become of the treasures of Tredowen.
He is impregnable to sentiment. Ask him and I believe that he would admit it!" She smiled and regarded him with the mild pity of superior knowledge. "You do not understand Mr. Wingrave," she remarked. Aynesworth sighed. He realized that every word he had spoken had been wasted upon this pale, pretty woman, who sat with her eyes now turned seawards, and the smile still lingering upon her lips.
I know what no one else breathing knows. He is a man who never forgives; a man who was brutally deceived, and who for years has had no other occupation than to brood upon his wrongs. He is very wealthy indeed, still young, he has marvelous tenacity of purpose, and he has brains. Tomorrow he will be free!" Aynesworth drew a little breath. "I wonder," he murmured, "if anything will happen."
Aynesworth," she said, in a low tone, "for a young man you are very unsympathetic." "My position," Aynesworth answered, "does not allow me the luxury of considering my personal feelings." She looked hurt. "I forgot," she said, looking for a moment upon the floor; "you have probably been prejudiced against me. You have heard only one story.
Something of his ordinary confidence of bearing and demeanor had certainly deserted him. His manner, too, was nervous. He had the air of being altogether ill at ease. "I must apologize further, Mr. Aynesworth," he continued, "for an apparently ill-timed visit. You are, I see, on the eve of a journey." "I am leaving for America tomorrow," Aynesworth answered. "With Sir Wingrave Seton, I presume?"
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