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Updated: June 11, 2025
Goddard herself felt that it was a relief when the hour came for going home. The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it had not rained for two days and the roads were dry.
The habit of bearing great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account of what had happened. "You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously.
Here met Creed, and, about noon, he and I, and Sir P. Neale to the Quaker's, and there dined with a silly Executor of Bishop Juxon's, and cozen Roger Pepys. Business of money goes on slowly in the House.
Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was disturbed.
Juxon's face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel. Here we are." The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young scholar whom she understood to be full of genius.
Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's fate.
"I am justice of the peace here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position will protect you." Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word of the altercation had been heard within.
"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard. "Really, Mr.
"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!" "Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr. Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed and was glad of the diversion.
For many hours it continued unabated and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him even to rest awhile in the next room.
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