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Updated: June 11, 2025
It was long before she heard them go to their room; they whispered together in passing her door. And now the solemn hours shed about her guardian silence, and she could listen to the voice of her soul. It was incredible that the morning of the day which was not yet dead had witnessed that scene between her and Dagworthy on the Castle Hill; long spaces of featureless misery seem to stretch between.
I was thinking of something quite different. 'Oh! exclaimed the girl, blankly. There was a longer silence. Jessie let her eyes stray about the room, stealing a glance at Dagworthy occasionally. Presently he rose, poked the fire with violence, and drank his own wine, which had been waiting so long.
He did not specify his route, merely said that he was going far from England. They shook hands, and Mrs. Baxendale was left with a musing expression on her face. She turned her eyes to the counter; the purchase for which Dagworthy had just paid was a box of ladies' gloves. The shopman put them aside, to be made into a parcel and sent away.
Dagworthy had never, since the years of early manhood, cared much for any of the various kinds of society open to him in Dunfield, and his failure to show himself at the houses of his acquaintance for weeks together occasioned no comment; but during these past three months he had held so persistently aloof that people had at length begun to ask for an explanation at all events, when the end of the political turmoil gave them leisure to think of minor matters once more.
She began to advise other remedies, but Dagworthy speedily checked her. 'Get me some hot water, I tell you, and go to bed yourself. What are you doing up at this hour? He went to business at the usual time next morning, and it seemed as if the worst had blown over; at home he was sullen, but not violent.
Dagworthy, exclaimed the mother of the family, with her usual lack of reticence. 'Jessie can't or won't learn by herself, so she has to bother Emily to come and teach her. It's too bad, I call it, just in her holiday time. She looks as if she wanted to run about and get colour in her cheeks, don't you think so?
The death of this poor man has distressed me more than I can tell you; it does seem such a monstrously cruel thing. There's his employer, a man called Dagworthy, who never knew what it was to be without luxuries, I'm not in the habit of listening to scandal, but I believe there's a great deal of truth in certain stories told about his selfishness and want of feeling. I consider Mr.
In some manner Dagworthy had learned what had happened to her father in Hebsworth, and had risked everything on the terror he could inspire in her. The coming of her father's friend was salvation. She found herself clasping his hand warmly.
This was not yielding on Dagworthy's part; it merely occurred to him as a way of protecting himself if there should be future need. Hood was standing with bent head; he seemed unable either to speak or to depart. 'You may go, Dagworthy said. 'Sir, I may refer to you? asked the wretched man, roused by the bidding. 'No, I think not, was the calm reply.
Why, you were coming from the Heath, Emily, in the night air, and you so ill! 'I have been to ask Mr. Dagworthy, Emily said in a tired voice. 'He knows nothing of him. Her strength bore her into the parlour, then she sank upon the couch and closed her eyes. Mrs. Hood summoned the help of her friends. Unresisting, with eyes still closed, silent, she was carried upstairs and laid in her bed.
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