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Updated: June 13, 2025
Consequently I had reason to suppose that this was the first time she had played, if not the first time she had seen or heard of the game. Did I dare approach her? Would my feelings get the better of me and lead to my betraying who I was? Though I had not been identified by people who knew me, would Dulcie's perception be keener and lead to her seeing through my disguise?
Dulcie's mother had died just after the birth of Dick, and Sir Roland had tried to make up the loss to Dulcie by getting his only and elderly sister Hannah "Aunt Hannah" as she was inevitably called by all who stayed at Holt Manor, and in fact by everybody who had seen her more than twice to come and live with him.
The first effect of Will and Dulcie's exploit was extremely prejudicial to the second case on the books. Uncle Barnet, a flourishing London barrister, a man with strong lines about his mouth, a wart on his forehead, and great laced flaps at his coat pockets, and who was supposed to be vehemently irresistible in the courts, hurried down to Redwater on purpose to overhaul Clary.
I had dismounted, loosened my mare's girths, and turned her nose to the light breeze. Sweat was pouring off her, and she was still blowing hard. "Shall I unmount you, Dulcie?" I asked. She nodded, and presently she stood beside me while I attended to her horse. "Ah, Mrs. Stapleton!" I heard her exclaim suddenly. I had loosened the girths of Dulcie's horse, and now I looked up.
It's a long walk for you, though, Richard, and there's no moon." "Oh, I'll take a lantern!" said the curate, and accordingly he started off that afternoon on his six-miles walk thus provided. Biddy and her mistress spent the evening together, talking softly over their needlework, so as not to disturb Dulcie's sleep in the cradle near.
In the end Dulcie was humble and almost awed in Will Locke's presence. Now here comes the sign of Dulcie's innate beauty of character. Had Dulcie been a commonplace, coarse girl, she would have been wearied, aggrieved, fairly disgusted by Will Locke in three days.
Then Will Locke was so sorry, stroked the fingers so daintily, hung upon Cambridge so beseechingly, imploring her to prepare a cool mash for Mistress Dulcie's finger points, the moment they were all gone that Dulcie could have cried for his tenderness of heart, and quickness and keenness of remorse.
Mills was on his knees beside Dulcie's chair, kissing her hands. The fire lighted them. It was like a play, with Mary a forlorn spectator in the blackness of the pit. "Let me go now, Mills." "Wait till Mary comes we'll tell her." "No, oh, poor Mary!" Poor Mary indeed!
Several of them would have fought till they couldn't see out of their eyes if it would have given them the least chance of obtaining favour in Dulcie's sight, and they all envied Dick, who was the only boy that was not unmercifully snubbed by their capricious little princess. Paul alone was blind to the splendour of his privileges.
"Ah, you're afraid to say what you were going to say now I'm here," said the amiable Tipping, nettled by Dulcie's little air of haughty disdain. "You're a coward; you know you are. You pretend to think such a lot of Dulcie here, but you daren't fight!" "Fight!" said Mr. Bultitude. "Eh, what for?" "Why, for her, of course. You can't care much about her if you daren't fight for her.
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