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Updated: June 11, 2025
It is taking the right step towards securing the independence of his family, after he, the bread-winner, has been called away. This right investment of the pennies is the best proof of practical virtue, and of the honest forethought and integrity of a true man. The late Joseph Baxendale was the constant friend of the working people who co-operated with him in the labours of his life.
Though it was clear that Beatrice firmly believed all she said, Mrs. Baxendale could not accept this as positive assurance; before taking upon herself to announce such a piece of news she felt the need of some further testimony.
Baxendale knew she was in London, but it seemed better to suppress the question. 'Have you been there long? he asked instead. 'Half a year. As he kept silence, Emily continued with a question, the first she had put. 'What have you chosen for your life's work? Wilfrid could not overcome the tendency of blood to his cheeks. He was more than half ashamed to tell her the truth.
Baxendale seemed to be finding amusement in observing him. The lady appealed to plucked for a moment at her sleeve. 'May I make a guess? Beatrice pursued. 'It had something to do with the private circumstances of the lady Mr. Wilfrid Athel has married? 'Yes, Beatrice, it had. 'Then let me help you over that obstacle, dear Mrs. Birks.
Good; I prove to him that they are damned absurdities. At times Wilfrid managed to lead the talk to other subjects, such as were suggested by the books around the room. Baxendale had read not a little, and entirely in the spheres of fact and speculation. Political economy and all that appertained to it was his speciality, but he was remarkably strong in metaphysics.
During the racing season Baxendale generally managed to avoid golf and go down to Sandown or Kempton or Gatwick instead; he said he got just as much air and exercise there, and there was always a chance of paying your expenses. Sometimes he succeeded, as he was very careful; but whenever he failed he would say he'd chuck it up altogether, the game wasn't worth the candle.
Her face went white to the lips; for a moment she quivered. 'Beatrice, stay with me, said Mrs. Baxendale. 'Stay 'with me here for a day or two. 'Willingly. I wished it. Mrs. Birks is all kindness, but I find it hard to talk, and she won't let me be by myself. Don't think I am ill no, indeed no! It's only rest that I want. It seems a long time since Sunday. But you haven't yet promised me, aunt.
Wilfrid looked at her in astonishment. 'I told you, Mrs. Baxendale pursued, 'that she had not been altogether well just before it happened, but it now appears that the dreadful incident of her entering the room just when the body was brought in must have taken place when she was delirious.
She knew her daughter, and, when Emily kissed her, the muscles of her haggard face contracted in what was meant for a smile; but she could not use her voice above a whisper, and her words were seldom consequent. Two days later Mrs. Baxendale again paid a visit. Emily was sitting in her bed-room, unoccupied, on her countenance the sorrow-stricken gravity which never quitted it.
The tone between them returned before long to the friendliness never previously interrupted. Mr. Athel shortly wrote a letter to Mr. Baxendale of Dunfield, whom he only knew by name as Beatrice Redwing's uncle, and begged for private information regarding Emily's family.
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