Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
'Where was she last when you last heard from her? Wilfrid asked, in surprise at an answer so unanticipated. Mrs. Baxendale named a town in Yorkshire. She had begun with a calculated falsehood, and had no scruple in backing it up by others. 'What can it concern you, Wilfrid? she continued. 'Shall I confess my weakness?
'Only, she says, in consequence of a letter my father addressed to Mr. Baxendale. The lady smiled again. 'I ask because Beatrice is now and then a little mysterious to me. I spoke to her of that letter in the full belief that she must have knowledge of the circumstances. She denied it, yet, I thought, as if it were a matter of conscience to do so.
'Something happened? the latter repeated, in low-toned astonishment. 'Does she offer no kind of explanation? 'None none, he added, 'that I can bring myself to believe. Mrs. Baxendale could only look at him questioningly. 'She said, Wilfrid continued, pale with the effort it cost him to speak, 'that she has no longer any affection for me.
It was all the more strange, seeing that the girl's show of easy friendliness with Wilfrid had not lasted beyond the day; she had become as distant and self-centred as before. But on the morning of the following Tuesday, as Mrs. Baxendale sat reading not long after breakfast, Beatrice entered the room in her light travelling garb, and came forward, buttoning her glove. 'You are going out? Mrs.
Handsome, pleasing, not quite thirty, he was well received in such semblance of society as his town offered, and, in spite of his defects as a suitor, he won for his wife a certain Miss Baxendale, the daughter of a well-to-do manufacturer. She brought him at once a few hundreds a year, and lie pursued his college work in improved spirits.
The news was affecting her strongly, but only in the way in which she now received every impression; physical weakness had the effect of reducing outward demonstration of feeling, and her spiritual condition favoured passiveness. 'He has asked me to give you a letter, Emily, pursued Mrs. Baxendale, saddened by the sight of such intense sadness.
But it had not happened to Baxendale; for Freddy Catchpole, who has managed to get a job at the War Office, dined one evening with Mrs. Baxendale, and she told him poor Gilbert had got so bad with his nerves that he had to go to a nursing-home in the country to take a cure. And there, for all I know, he will stay till the War is over.
Baxendale would feel any obligation to keep his secret from her husband, and it was not in his character to play the knight of the dolorous visage.
Emily requested that the visitor should be introduced. Not Mrs. Baxendale, but a face at first barely remembered, then growing with suggestiveness upon Emily's gaze until all was known save the name attached to it. A face which at present seemed to bear the pale signs of suffering, though it smiled; a beautiful visage of high meanings, impressive beneath its crown of dark hair.
'I need not explain myself to you, Beatrice, he said, finding at last a natural tone, and calling her by her Christian name because he had much need of friendly sympathy. 'You appear to know why I have come. She answered rather hurriedly. 'I should not have known but for something that Mrs. Baxendale told me. Mr. Athel wrote a short time ago to ask for information about them about the Hoods.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking