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Updated: April 30, 2025
As for Jael Dence, she had no great reason to be happy either: the man she loved loved another. Still he was kind to HER, and they belonged to the same class; she had a chance, and gleams of hope. And, after all, the future was uncertain, but the present certain: she had him to herself for the day.
Jael Dence sat beside him, sewing; and Grace saw, in a moment, she was sewing complacently. It was more than Grace could bear. She pulled the check-string, and the carriage stopped. Henry Little, at this moment, was in very low spirits.
Coventry, and wound her way like a serpent through the crowd, and found Jael Dence at the door. She caught her by the arm, and pinched her. She was all trembling. Jael drew her up the stairs a little way. "You have seen him out there?" "Yes; and I oh!" "There! there. Think of the folk. Fight it down." "I will. Go to him, and say I can't bear it.
And then f Then they trust to some divine interposition, some accident, to put things to rights again. The success of the English is largely built up on such accidents on the mistakes of other people. Provi dence has favoured them so far, on the whole; but one day it may leave them in the lurch, as it did the anti-scientific Russians in their war with the Japanese.
Carden went up to her. He stayed with her an hour, and came down looking much dejected; he asked Mr. Coventry to take a turn in the garden with him. When they were alone, he said, gravely, "Mr. Coventry, that unfortunate conversation of ours has quite upset my poor girl. She tells me now she will not believe he is dead until months and months have passed without his writing to Jael Dence."
He ceased to doubt, or vacillate, directly; he whispered Jael Dence to stand near Grace, and watch her closely. He had seen a woman start up and throw herself, in one moment, out of a window, for less than this a woman crushed apparently, and more dead than alive, as Grace Carden was. Then he took out his own letter, and read it in a low voice to Mr.
Amboyne thanked him it was dusk by this time and was soon seated at that hospitable table, with a huge wood fire blazing genially. Meantime Jael Dence sat crouched upon her father's grave, stupefied with grief. When she had crouched there a long time she got up, and muttered, "Dead and gone! dead and gone!"
He eyed it with a strange mixture of feelings. It had saved his life and hers, after all. He fell into another mood, and began to laugh at himself for allowing himself to be disturbed by such a rival. But what is this? Jael Dence comes in sight again: she is making for the old church. Coventry watched her unseen.
Hang me, if he has not read it, and restored it!" "So he has. And where's the wonder? Let me read this resuscitated record. 'Edith Little, daughter of Robert Raby, by Leah Dence his wife: why here's a hodge-podge! What! have the noble Rabys intermarried with the humble Dences?" "So it seems. A younger son." "And a Raby, daughter of Dence, married a Little three hundred years ago?" "So it seems."
At one o'clock he would be flying south with his bride. He left the villa to dress for dinner. During this interval Jael Dence called. The housemaid knocked at Grace's door she was dressing and told her Jael wished to see her. Grace was surprised, and much disturbed. It flashed on her in a moment that this true and constant lover of Henry Little had come to enjoy her superiority.
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