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Updated: June 24, 2025
They hide behind the folds of every apostle's cloak, peer into the Magdalen's jar of precious ointment, cling to the leg of Saint Joseph, make faces at Saint Bernard, attend in a body at the "Annunciation" as if it were any of their business hover everywhere at the "Betrothal," and look on wonderingly from the rafters, or make fun of the Wise Men in the Stable.
The passionate strength of Magdalen's love clung desperately to the sinking wreck of its own delusion-clung, until she tore herself from it, by plain force of will.
"Yes, you would," said Magdalen with sudden intensity. "That is where peace lies." Fay raised herself to her knees and looked into Magdalen's eyes. The dawn had come up long ago, and in its austere light Magdalen's face showed very sharp and white in a certain tender fixity and compassion. She had seen that look once before in her husband's dying eyes.
The face she turned to him was perplexed, half-sad, fond, a little pleased, and strangely compassionate. It was Kathleen Eppes who sat beside him; the six years were as utterly forgotten as the name of Magdalen's first lover. She was a girl again, listening with a heart that fluttered, I dare say to the wild talk, the mad dithyrambics of a big, blundering boy.
The penitent wife of Captain Hunsden did not long survive to enjoy her new home. Two weeks after their arrival she lay upon her death-bed. Nothing could save her. She had been doomed for months life gave way when the excitement that had buoyed her up was gone. By night and day Harriet watched by her bedside, and the repentant Magdalen's last hours were the most blessed she had ever known.
She placed a chair for herself exactly on a line with Magdalen's, and sat so close to the wall as to force her visitor either to turn her head a little further round toward the window, or to fail in politeness by not looking at the person whom she addressed. "Yes," said Mrs. Lecount, with a confidential little c ough. "And to what circumstances am I indebted for the honor of this visit?"
There was a soft, underlying tenderness in Magdalen's assumed gayety of manner there was a sudden thoughtfulness in her face, a confidential readiness in her hand, as she took Frank's arm and went out to the carriage. What did it mean? Had her passing interest in him as her stage-pupil treacherously sown the seeds of any deeper interest in him, as a man?
He had more than once seriously contemplated revoking the concession which had been extorted from him, and removing his wife, at his own sole responsibility, out of harm's way; and he had only abandoned the idea on discovering that Magdalen's resolution to keep Mrs. Wragge in her own company was really serious. While the two were together, his main anxiety was set at rest.
Clarke rose with a smile, for the twilight was falling, and he spoke his farewells to one after another of the doctor's family. Magdalen's eyes looked longest into his, as his dwelt with a dreamy softness upon her face. "Are you really going to London? Will it be safe?" "As safe as Oxford, sweet mistress. I apprehend no peril either there or here.
They therefore began to form a separate body, became subject to taxes, and had their statutes and judges. They were called femmes amoureuses, filles folles de leur corps, and, on St. Magdalen's day, they were accustomed to form annually a solemn procession. Particular streets were assigned to them for their abode; and a house in each street, for their commerce.
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