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Updated: June 5, 2025
"S'pose you'd calculate on comin' in for some of the fool's money, if he should give it up," remarked a dry and unexpected voice at his elbow. The man looked around and saw Ozias Lamb. "Ye don't think he'll do it, do ye?" he cried, eagerly. "'Ain't got nothin' to say," replied Ozias. "I s'pose when a fool does part with his money, there's always wise men 'nough to take it."
And as the key rattled in the door she laid her lips on his brow. The key rattled, and the door swung open but the black-cassocked gentleman who stepped in, though a priest indeed, was no votary of idolatrous rites, but that sound orthodox divine, the Reverend Ozias Mounce, looking very much perturbed at his surroundings, and very much on the alert for the Scarlet Woman.
There were scarcely enough shoes finished to take to Dale, only a half-lot, but Jerome announced his intention of going, to Ozias Lamb, with assumed carelessness. "Why don't ye wait till the lot is finished?" asked Ozias. "Guess I'll take a half-lot this time," replied Jerome. Ozias eyed him sharply, but said nothing.
"Uncle Ozias, I want to know what is the matter?" he said, then started, for suddenly Ozias raised his face and looked at him, his eyes wild under his shaggy grizzle of hair, his mouth twisted in a fierce laugh. "Want to know, do ye?" he cried "want to know? Well, I'll tell ye. Look at me hard; I'm a sight. Look at me.
"Twice a year," Midwinter pursued, "I must sign my own name to get my own income. At all other times, and under all other circumstances, I may hide my identity under any name I please. As Ozias Midwinter, Mr. Armadale first knew me; as Ozias Midwinter he shall know me to the end of my days.
And then Judith went into her oratory, and arrayed her with her precious clothing and adornments, and took unto her handmaid certain victuals such as she might lawfully eat, and when she had made her prayers unto God she departed in her most noble array toward the gate, whereas Ozias and the priests abode her, and when they saw her they marvelled of her beauty.
"What on earth have I got to give, I'd like to know?" Ozias Lamb tapped his head. "How about that?" he asked. "How about the strength you're puttin' into algebry an' Latin? You don't expect ever to learn enough to teach, do ye?" Jerome shook his head. "Well, then it's jest to improve your own mind. Improve your mind what's that? What good is that goin' to do your fellow-bin's?
Will you wait, and rest a little while, or shall I tell it you now?" "Now," said Mr. Brock, still as far away as ever from knowing the real character of the man before him. Everything Ozias Midwinter said, everything Ozias Midwinter did, was against him. He had spoken with a sardonic indifference, almost with an insolence of tone, which would have repelled the sympathies of any man who heard him.
With that Ozias Lamb gave a quick glance, pointed with driest humor, from under his bent brows at Simon Basset's great jumble of gray hair and Doctor Prescott's spidery sprawl of red wig. A subdued and half-alarmed chuckle ran through the company. Simon Basset chewed imperturbably, but Doctor Seth Prescott's handsome face was pale with controlled wrath.
"Come quick, J'rome!" "Where to?" "Speak up, can't ye?" cried Ozias, shaking the boy by his small shoulder. "To Basset's!" screamed the boy, shrilly, jerked away from Ozias, and was off, clearing the ground like a hound, with long leaps. "Lord," said Ozias, looking at the deed, "it's killed him!" Jerome had freed the horse from the plough, and now sprang upon his back.
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