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Updated: June 11, 2025
Why, you couldn't give your word and keep it for two years. Through this extraordinary scene Dagworthy was utterly unlike himself. It was as if a man suffering physical agony should suddenly begin to jest and utter wild mirth; there was the same unreality in his behaviour. Throughout it all the lines of his face never lost their impress of gloom.
'Nothing; nothing. 'Then I need not put off reading it. I have borne the worst. As Mrs. Baxendale left the house, she was passed at a short distance along the road by a man on horseback. This rider gave a sign to the coachman to stop, and a moment after presented himself at the window of the brougham. It was Dagworthy; he wished to have news of Mrs. and Miss Hood.
If the man slept, his body was strangely distorted; one arm seemed to be beneath him, the other was extended stiffly; the face looked at the sky. A few steps, and Dagworthy, gazing upon the face, knew it. A cold shudder thrilled him, and he drew back. His foot struck against something; it was a bottle. He picked it up, and read a word in large print on the white label.
A pity for it flatters us poor mortals to discern instances of the soul's independence of the body. I would it had been otherwise with Dagworthy; I have but to relate the facts. It was no dark angel that had whispered to him through the hours of his waiting for Emily's surrender. High aims, pure ambitions, were stronger in him than they ever had been; stronger than they ever would be again.
'One can't be sorry that it's over, Jessie went on, 'only it's so dreadful, her father and mother dead almost at the same time. I'm sure it would have killed me. 'What is she going to do? Dagworthy asked, slowly, almost as if speaking to himself. 'Oh, I daresay it 'll be all right as soon as she gets over it, you know. She's a lucky girl, in one way. 'Lucky? He raised his head to regard her.
She was not unconscious of the power of reprisal which so gross a plot put into her hands, though it was true that the secrecy Dagworthy had maintained in his intercourse with her left but her bare assertion for evidence against him. Yet the thought was profitless.
He rose from his seat, seized a ruler, and began a species of sword-play about Hood's head, keeping up a grotesque dance the while. Hood bore it with his wonted patience, smiling faintly. 'Mr. Dagworthy out? he repeated, as soon as he was free from apprehension of a chance crack on the crown. 'He is, my boy. And what's more, there's a chance of your having a spree in Hebsworth.
After the first few months of their marriage, the two lived, as far as possible, separate lives; Mrs. Dagworthy spent the days with her mother and sister, Richard at the mill, and the evenings were got through with as little friction as might be between two people neither of whom could speak half a dozen words without irritating or disgusting the other.
Jessie fumbled a moment at her dress; then, succeeding in getting her handkerchief out, began to press it against her eyes furtively. Strangely, there was real moisture to be removed. 'What's the matter with you? Dagworthy asked with surprise. She no longer attempted concealment, but began to cry quietly. 'What the deuce has come to you, Jessie? 'You you speak very unkindly to me, she sobbed.
Her knowledge of life was insufficient to allow her to deal justly with love as exhibited in Dagworthy; its gross side was too offensively prominent; her experience gave her no power of rightly appreciating this struggle of the divine flame in a dense element. Living, and having ever lived, amid idealisms, she was too subjective in her interpretation of phenomena so new to her.
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