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Updated: June 16, 2025
But at length she lifted her lids again, and her lips stirred. "He will be...long...coming?" "Some days." "How...many?" "We can't tell yet." Silence again. Bessy's features seemed to shrink into a kind of waxen quietude as though her face were seen under clear water, a long way down.
There was something very likeable about Bowfort, to whom Amherst was attracted by the fact that he was one of the few men of Bessy's circle who knew what was going on in the outer world.
"Ah, that's because you know you are!" broke from the depths of the other's bitterness. The tone smote Justine, and she dropped into the seat at her friend's side, silently laying a hand on Bessy's feverishly-clasped fingers. "Oh, don't let us talk about me," complained the latter, from whose lips the subject was never long absent.
At last he took Bessy's hand, for he wanted to say something to her that he was afraid might vex her, and yet that he thought he ought to say. "Bessy!" said he, "when mother went away, you planned to do all things right at home, and to make us all happy. I know you did. Now may I tell you how I think you went wrong? Don't be angry, Bessy."
"Aren't you glad?" asked she, as her mother moved uneasily, but did not speak. "Yes, dear, I'm very thankful to you; but your sudden coming in has made my heart flutter so, I'm ready to choke." Poor Bessy's eyes filled with tears: but, it must be owned, they were tears half of anger.
The state of Bessy's nerves necessitated frequent visits from her physician, but Justine, on these occasions, could usually shelter herself behind the professional reserve which kept even Wyant from any open expression of feeling. One day, however, they chanced to find themselves alone before Bessy's return from her ride.
Tredegar drew Bessy's arm through his; but as he began to move away she turned and laid her hand on Mrs. Dillon's shoulder. "You must not stay here you must go back to the children. I will make it right with Mr. Truscomb," she said in a reassuring whisper; then, through her tears, she smiled a farewell at the lingering knot of operatives, and followed her companions to the door.
Pullet's remarkable memory furnished some items; and while aunt Pullet pitied poor Bessy's bad luck with her children, and expressed a half-formed project of paying for Maggie's being sent to a distant boarding-school, which would not prevent her being so brown, but might tend to subdue some other vices in her, aunt Glegg blamed Bessy for her weakness, and appealed to all witnesses who should be living when the Tulliver children had turned out ill, that she, Mrs.
The day was no better, for each hour brought him nearer to the next night-school; and Bessy's illness made his mother so busy that he never could find the right moment to ask her sympathy for his fears, and still less could he feel himself able to overcome them.
"And you'll write me if anything if Bessy should not be well?" "I will write you," she promised; and a few weeks after his return to Hanaford he had, in fact, received a short note from her. Its ostensible purpose was to reassure him as to Bessy's health, which had certainly grown stronger since Dr. Langhope and Mrs.
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