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Updated: May 23, 2025
Sarah Gurridge, who had been a silent observer of the scene, had heard the sound too, but she was absorbed in what was being enacted about her. Her eyes were upon Hervey. She saw him start, and his great haunting eyes were turned upon the window. Suddenly he rushed forward towards it. He had to pass round the table, close to where Prudence was now standing.
The shock to Prudence's nervous system had been a terrible one, and a breakdown, closely bordering upon brain fever, had followed. The girl's condition had demanded the utmost care, and, in this matter, Sarah Gurridge had proved herself a loyal friend. Dr.
Malling was sitting bolt upright, and her plump, rather rough hands were folded in her broad lap. Mrs. Gurridge was leaning towards the stove, gazing into the fire through the mica sides of the fire-box. "I trust they will be happy," said Mrs. Gurridge, with a sigh. Then as an afterthought: "He seems all right." "Yes," Mrs. Malling said, with a responsive exhalation, "I think so.
"Nothing to what I've done in my time," replied Hervey. "Besides, mother, I've got further to go yet. And as for sister Prudence's marriage, I'm afraid I can't stay for that." "Not stay?" exclaimed his mother. "Do you mean it?" asked his sister incredulously. Sarah Gurridge contented herself with looking her dismay. "You see, it's like this," said Hervey.
"Hervey must be tired and hungry." "Well, I must confess I am utterly worn out," the man replied with a laugh. "Yes, mother, if tea is ready let's come along. We can talk during the meal." They passed into the parlour. As they seated themselves at the table, Sarah Gurridge joined them from her place beside the stove.
"What about the farm?" "Well, I wasn't just thinking of the farm." The two ladies smiled into each other's faces. "She is a good child," observed Mrs. Gurridge affectionately, after awhile. "Or she wouldn't be her father's child." "Or your daughter, Hephzibah," said Sarah Gurridge sincerely. The two relapsed into silence.
It is probable that this was the first caress the dog had ever known in all his savage life. Hervey looked on and scratched his beard thoughtfully, but he said nothing more. Mrs. Malling went back to the kitchen. Sarah Gurridge alone had anything to say. "Poor creature," she observed, in tones of deep pity. "I wonder how he lost his foot. Is he always fighting? A poor companion, I should say."
'Though the tempest of life will oft shut out the past, The thoughts of our school-days remain to the last." "Glad to see you, Mrs. Gurridge. No, I haven't forgotten you," the man replied. A slight pause followed. The women-folk had so much to say that they hardly knew where to begin. That trifling hesitation might have been accounted for by this fact.
Such things could not enter her simple mind and be in any way associated with her boy. Hephzibah Malling loved her son; to her he was the king who could do no wrong. She continued to gaze blankly in the man's direction. Sarah Gurridge alone of the trio allowed herself sidelong, speculative glances at the man's face.
But beyond that she noticed nothing; she did not even see the plump figure of Sarah Gurridge approaching the house from the direction of Leonville. Once in her own little room she flung herself into an arm-chair and sat staring straight in front of her. Her paramount feeling was one of awful horror. The mystery was solved, and George Iredale was the murderer.
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