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Updated: June 4, 2025
The village folk, however, knew that he was confoundedly dipped; that he was sometimes alarmingly pestered by duns, and had got so accustomed to hear that his uncle, the earl, was in his last sickness, and his cousin, the next heir, dead, when another week disclosed that neither one nor the other was a bit worse than usual, that they began to think that Devereux's turn might very possibly never come at all.
"Through with him, you know got to the bottom of him sick of him. I believe he bores her, you know." Mrs. Devereux looked at him, more in sorrow than in anger, and then walked slowly away. Most eloquent comment. Whatever may have been the net result upon Mrs. Devereux's mind of the explanatory revelations made upon the river bank, two things became clear as day succeeded day.
"I thought perhaps you had a good many dull hours now Vansittart is so much away." "How do you know that he is much away?" asks Virginia, feeling vaguely hurt at his words and tone. "Because I so often meet him out." "Where do you meet him?" "Oh, at different places. Chiefly at Mrs. Devereux's."
So now the doctor looked down upon the table-cloth, for Devereux's breakfast china and silver were still upon the table, and he marshalled some crumbs he found there, sadly, with his finger, in a row first, and then in a circle, and then, goodness knows how; and he sighed profoundly over his work. Devereux was in his mood. He was proud he had no notion of apologising.
So he rambled on, and from one tale to another, till little Lily's early bed-hour came. I don't know whether it was Doctor Walsingham's visit in the morning, and the chance of hearing something about it, that prompted the unquiet Tom Toole to roll his cloak about him, and buffet his way through storm and snow, to Devereux's lodgings.
But even now, even as I mutely worshipped her thus, something in the voluptuous beauty of her troubled me. Memory waked, Imagination burst its shackles and began its fell work: Other eyes than mine had seen her thus ... other hands ... other lips.... Before me flashed a vision of Devereux's evil features hatefully triumphant. And yet ... Great God, was this indeed the face of a wanton?
The result of this was that the girl who had rehearsed Patricia Devereux's part, an ambitious, well-equipped young woman who would have added much-needed strength to the cast, delivered an ultimatum during the last rehearsal but one, and on having her very reasonable demands rejected, walked out. Olga Larson, who had understudied Patricia ever since the Chicago opening, was given the part.
Devereux's thin hand sprinkle the drops over the brow of the child, and heard him say, 'Robert, I baptize thee' words which she had heard in dreams, and then awakened to remember that the parish was at enmity with the pastor, the child unbaptized, and herself, in part, the cause.
Father never believed a word about it, when we recited it again to him. "So Faith 'a come into her fortune, has she?" said he. "Pretty child! She 'a'n't had so much before sence she fell heir to old Miss Devereux's best chany, her six silver spoons, and her surname." So the days passed, and the greater part of every one Mr. Gabriel was dabbling in the water somewhere.
Dan's got a good place, I can tell you travelling tutor to the hopeful young lord that is to be Devereux's cousin. By all the Graces, Ma'am, 'tis the blind leading the blind. I don't know which of the two is craziest. Hey, diddle-diddle by Jupiter, such a pair the dish ran away with the spoon; but Dan's a good creature, and we'll we'll miss him.
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