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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Evil can't come out of good, can it? And this is good, as good as anything in the world can be. . . . There, look into my eyes that way just that way." "Are you happy very, very happy, Philip?" she asked, lingering on the words. "Perfectly happy, Guida," he answered; and in truth he seemed so, his eyes were so bright, his face so eloquent, his bearing so buoyant.
Perhaps, indeed, the singular and painful shyness chill almost with which Guida had received the fifty pounds now communicated itself to him by the intangible telegraphy of the mind and spirit. All at once that bare, glacial fact of having sent her fifty pounds acted as an ironical illumination of his real position.
Of the true relations between Guida and Philip he knew nothing, but from that last day in Jersey he did know that Philip had roused in her emotions, perhaps less vital than love but certainly less equable than friendship. Now in his fear that Guida might suffer, the more he thought of the Comtesse Chantavoine as the chosen wife of Philip the more it troubled him.
The Governor sat with hands clinched upon his chairarm. The crowd breathed in gasps of excitement. The Comtesse Chantavoine looked at Philip, looked at Guida, and knew that here was the opening of the scroll she had not been able to unfold. Now she should understand that something which had made the old Duc de Bercy with his last breath say, Don't be afraid!
Clac-clac! clac-clac! a strange, uncanny footstep. It seemed to be hurrying away clac-clac! clac-clac! "Ah, I know," whispered Guida: "it is Dormy Jamais. How foolish of me to be afraid!" "Of course, of course," said Philip "Dormy Jamais, the man who never sleeps." "Philip if he saw us!" "Foolish child, the garden wall is too high for that. Besides " "Yes, Philip?"
The little world of Jersey no longer pointed the finger of scorn at Guida Landresse de Landresse, but bent the knee to Princess Guida d'Avranche. Detricand wrote many letters to the Chevalier, and they with their cheerful and humorous allusions were read aloud to Guida all save one concerning Philip.
Both arms went round Guida, and hugged her awkwardly. Her voice came up but once more that morning. As she left Guida in the doorway, she said with a last effort: "I will have one bead to pray for you, trejous." She showed her rosary, and, Huguenot though she was, Guida touched the bead reverently. "And if there is war, I will have two beads, trejous. A bi'tot good-bye!"
Understanding then the meaning of their laughter, and the implied insult to Guida, Maitresse Aimable's voice came ravaging out of the silence where it lay hid so often and so long, and the signalmen went their ways shamefacedly. She could not make head or tail of her thoughts now, nor see an inch before her nose; all she could feel was an aching heart for Guida.
"Hold it tight, hold it tight, my little friend, for it is your very own," he said to the child with cheerful kindliness. Then stepping back a little, and looking earnestly at Guida, he added with a motion of the hand towards the child: "You must learn the truth from him." "Oh, what can you mean what can you mean?" she exclaimed.
The records had been exact enough, but the system was not canonical, and it rested too largely upon the personal ubiquity of the itinerary priest, and the safety of his journal and of his life. Guida, after the instincts of her nature, had at once sought the highest point on the rocky islet, and there she drank in the joy of sight and sound and feeling.
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