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Updated: April 30, 2025
She was meditating on these things with a hopeless sense of confusion a sense that her married life was like some dreadful labyrinth, into which she had strayed unawares, and from which there was no hope of escape when she was startled by an approaching footstep, and, looking up suddenly, saw George Fairfax coming slowly towards her, just as she had seen him in Marley Wood that summer day.
"Oh, please do, please come for just a wee turn," urged the other, smiling and displaying a pair of marvellous dimples. And Elsie Marley surprised herself by yielding. Possibly she was too indolent to hold out; perhaps she felt something in the stranger that wouldn't take no for an answer, and didn't care to struggle against it.
But I didn't call you up to tell you this. We have been making inquiries at Walen's, Marley and myself. The time has come now to let Marley behind the scenes a bit." "Did Walen's people know anything about the tall American?" "Oh, yes.
Crawley could mount without awkwardness; he had learned enough for that, and he knew what length of stirrup suited him, and could trot along the road or canter over the grass without attracting attention; so all went well till they reached Marley Farm, where the meet was. But directly Sir Robert saw the hounds he got excited and wanted a gallop a thing the frost had debarred him of for weeks.
"But the car'll be awfully hot, too, standing right in the sun. I know I'll get an umbrella." She rushed off at full speed lest the other should remonstrate something that Elsie Marley didn't think of doing. She accepted the favor as a matter of course, and they walked on slowly, the one restraining her eager feet with difficulty. "Oh, dear, I suppose you're going to New York, too?" she asked.
I rested here an hour, and after dark started for Buckland's, where I arrived without a mishap and only three and a half hours behind schedule time. I found Mr. Marley at Buckland's, and when I related to him the story of the Cold Springs tragedy and my success, he raised his previous offer of fifty dollars for my ride to one hundred.
In the same reticent fashion Marley proceeded to unlock a safe in the corner, and from thence he produced what appeared to be the identical cause of all this talk. He pulled the electric table lamp over to him and proceeded to examine the inside carefully. "You are quite right," he said, at length. "Your initials are here."
So you see, don't you, that if either of us was wicked it was me? Only I didn't feel wicked; I really felt awfully good. I don't see how you're to tell what's right if God doesn't let you know and people talk nonsense." "It's not," agreed Miss Marley, dryly, "particularly easy to know." "And his wife doesn't care for him," Claire went on. "Fancy Winn's wife not caring for him! Poor woman!"
Sartin explained, "but it's nice to be together in the same 'ouse, and one couldn't want a kinder gentleman than Mr. X. to do with. I've been there ten years and never 'ad a cross word with 'im. And 'e was that good when Marley was took, and never turned me off as some of 'em do." She stopped suddenly under the stress of Sam's lowering countenance.
You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail. Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner.
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