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Updated: May 6, 2025
She approached. They met; Vernon soon left them. "You have not seen Crossjay?" Willoughby inquired. "No," said Clara. "Once more I beg you to pardon him. He spoke falsely, owing to his poor boy's idea of chivalry." "The chivalry to the sex which commences in lies ends by creating the woman's hero, whom we see about the world and in certain courts of law."
"Remember that you please her by speaking truth," Vernon added, and laid himself open to questions upon the truth, by which he learnt, with a perplexed sense of envy and sympathy, that the boy's idea of truth strongly approximated to his conception of what should be agreeable to Miss Middleton. He was lonely, bereft of the bard, when he had tucked Crossjay up in his bed and left him.
"Perhaps you had better not say anything at present, dear boy." "But what am I to do with this money?" Crossjay held the gold pieces out as things that had not yet mingled with his ideas of possession. "I listened, and I told of him," he said. "I couldn't help listening, but I went and told; and I don't like being here, and his money, and he not knowing what I did. Haven't you heard?
I am sure he likes Crossjay; he could not otherwise be so forbearing; it is wonderful what he endures and laughs at." Sir Willoughby entered. The presence of Miss Dale illuminated him as the burning taper lights up consecrated plate.
He walked fast up the road, not perspicuously conscious that his motive was to be well in advance of Vernon Whitford: to whom, after all, the knowledge imparted by Crossjay would be of small advantage. That fellow would probably trot of to Willoughby to row him for breaking his word to Miss Middleton! There are men, thought De Craye, who see nothing, feel nothing.
"But you didn't go to the back door, and Sir Willoughby's private door: you came out by the hall door; and I know what you want, Miss Middleton, you want not to pay what you've lost." "What have I lost, Crossjay?" "Your wager." "What was that?" "You know." "Speak." "A kiss." "Nothing of the sort. But, dear boy, I don't love you less for not kissing you.
Considering her influence with Vernon, he renewed the discourse upon young Crossjay; and, as he was addicted to system, he took her into his confidence, that she might be taught to look to him and act for him. "Old Vernon has not spoken to you again of that lad?" he said. "Yes, Mr. Whitford has asked me." "He does not ask me, my dear!" "He may fancy me of greater aid than I am."
Clara was shaking her head to express a denial. "I am not at all unwell," she said, when she came near. "I guessed Crossjay's business in running up to you; he's a good-for-nothing, officious boy. I was tired, and rested for a moment." Crossjay peered at her eyelids. Vernon looked away and said: "Are you too tired for a stroll?" "Not now." "Shall it be brisk?" "You have the lead."
She bent her head as if she were stepping into a cave. So frigid was she, that a ridiculous dread of calling Mr. Whitford Mr. Oxford was her only present anxiety when Sir Willoughby had closed the window on them. "I prepare Miss Dale." Sir Willoughby thought of his promise to Clara. He trifled awhile with young Crossjay, and then sent the boy flying, and wrapped himself in meditation.
"I want to know whether I ought to take to my heels like Crossjay, and shun the Professor," he said. They spoke in under-tones, furtively watching the door. "I wish what she wishes, I am sure; but it will go badly with the boy," said Laetitia. "Oh, well, then I'll take him," said Vernon, "I would rather. I think I can manage it." Again the laboratory door opened.
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