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Updated: June 17, 2025
It was not pleasant for Hilda Caresfoot to have to pass as Mrs. Roberts, and to be careful not to show herself in public places in the daytime, where there was a possibility of her being seen by any one who might recognize in her striking figure the lady who had lived with Miss Lee in Marlshire.
"The first thing I have to call your attention to is this Arthur Heigham plot. At first it may appear that I am involved with you; I am not. There is not, now that George Caresfoot is dead, one tittle of evidence against me except your own, and who will believe you?
He briefly told him what he had just seen, and what, in his opinion, Lady Bellamy's fate must be one of living death. The clergyman's remark was characteristic. "And yet," he said, "there are people in the world who say that there is no God." "How is Mrs. Caresfoot?" asked the doctor. "She had a dreadful fit of raving this morning, and we had to tie her down in bed. She is quieter now, poor dear.
"I shall be very glad, Mr. Caresfoot." "Thank you; and perhaps till then you will not, unless he happens to ask you, mention the subject of our conversation to Philip. I want to have a talk with him first." Maria assented, and the squire took his leave with the same magnificence of mien that had marked his arrival.
At its head was placed a white marble cross, on which Arthur could just distinguish the words "Hilda Caresfoot," and the date of death. He was about to speak, but she stopped him with a gentle movement, and then, stepping forward to the head of the railing, she buried her face in her hands, and remained motionless. Arthur watched her with curiosity.
Caresfoot took his victim at his word, and, ceasing his ocular experiments, laid into the less honourable portion of his form with the gold-headed malacca cane in a way that astonished the prostrate Jim, though he was afterwards heard to declare that the squire's cane "warn't not nothing compared with the squire's eye, which wore a hot coal, it wore, and frizzled your innards as sich."
She found Philip pacing up and down the gravel in front of the grey old place, which had that morning added one more to the long list of human tragedies its walls had witnessed. His face was pale, and contorted by mental suffering, and, as soon as he recognized Lady Bellamy, he made an effort to escape. She stopped him. "I suppose it is here, Mr. Caresfoot?" "It! What?" "The body." "Yes."
Caresfoot, possessed by the evident intention of taking her down in the full face of all the married ladies and people of title present. She prayed that the floor might open and swallow her; indeed, of the two, she would have preferred that way of going down to dinner.
I say, do you know all this, Philip Caresfoot, and, knowing it, do you still ask me to forgive you? Do you think it possible that I can forgive?" He had never heard her speak like this before, and did not remember that intense feeling is the mother of eloquence. He gazed at her for a moment in astonishment; then he dropped his face into his hands again and groaned, making no other answer.
Arthur" and she came up to him, and put her hands upon his shoulders, looking, with wild and sorrowful eyes, straight into his face "tell me now, dear do not palter, or put me off with any courteous falsehood tell me as truly as you will speak upon the judgment-day, do you still love Angela Caresfoot as much as ever?"
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