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Updated: June 23, 2025
'I never mind what he tells me, for I think he likes to mislead everybody; and I have been two often duped by him to trust what he says. I only know that his visit to Gylingden must have been made with some serious purpose, and his ideas are all so rash and violent. 'He was at Donnyston for ten days, I think, when I was there, and seemed clever. They had charades and proverbes dramatiques.
Bleak and wintry that ungenial month set in at Gylingden; and in accord with the tempestuous and dismal weather the fortunes of the Rev. William Wylder were darkened and agitated. This morning a letter came at breakfast, by post, and when he had read it, the poor vicar grew a little white, and he folded it very quietly and put it in his waistcoat pocket, and patted little Fairy on the head.
'God bless you, Rachel! And he hurriedly kissed the hand she had placed in his, and without a word more, or looking back, he walked swiftly down the wooded road towards Gylingden. So, then, it had come and gone gone for ever. 'Margery, bring the basket in; I think a shower is coming.
But I am making up my mind to a great and bold step, and when I am better able, I will talk it over with you my only friend, Rachel. And she kissed her. The time had now arrived when our friend Jos. Larkin was to refresh the village of Gylingden with his presence. He had pushed matters forward with wonderful despatch.
It was rather a marked thing as lean Mrs. Loyd, of Gylingden, who had two thin spinsters with pink noses under her wing, remarked this long walk of Lord Chelford and Miss Lake in the park; and she enjoined upon her girls the propriety of being specially reserved in their intercourse with persons of Lord Chelford's rank; not that they were much troubled with dangers from any such quarter.
But though the good folk of Gylingden, in general, cared very little how Mark Wylder might have disposed of himself, there was one inhabitant to whom his absence was fraught with very serious anxiety and inconvenience. This was his brother, William, the vicar.
Old Tamar holding her candle to lighten his path, as she stood, white and cadaverous, in the porch. 'She's a little bit noisy to-night, thought the attorney, as he descended the road to Gylingden; 'but she'll be precious sober by to-morrow morning and I venture to say we shall hear nothing more of that scheme of hers.
'So I was; but I arrived here this morning; I'm staying for a few days at the Lodge Larkin's house; you're going home, I suppose, Radie? 'Yes oh, yes but I don't know that I'll go this way. You say you must return to Gylingden now, Mr. Wylder; I think I'll turn also, and go home that way.
'And it seems to me, that sitting here, you fancy yourself examining some vagrant or poacher at Gylingden sessions. And pray, Sir, have you no evidence in the letters you speak of but the insertion of dates, and the posting them in inverse order, to lead you to that strong conclusion?
She was glad the die was cast, and that it was out of her power to retract. She kneeled at her bedside, and wept and prayed, and then went down and talked with old Tamar, who was knitting in the shade by the porch. Then the young lady put on her bonnet and cloak, and walked down to Gylingden, with an anxious, but still a lighter heart, to see her friend, Dolly Wylder.
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