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Updated: May 23, 2025
When Pierston went downstairs from that assembly at a quarter to one, and passed under the steaming nostrils of an ambassador's horses to a hansom which waited for him against the railing of the square, he had an impression that the Beloved had re-emerged from the shadows, without any hint or initiative from him to whom, indeed, such re-emergence was an unquestionably awkward thing.
'Avice, my dear, she said, advancing to where the girl mused in the window-gap, 'what do you think of Mr. Pierston paying his addresses to you coming courting, as I call it in my old-fashioned way. Supposing he were to, would you encourage him? 'To ME, mother? said Avice, with an inquiring laugh. 'I thought he meant you! 'O no, he doesn't mean me, said her mother hastily.
'Because she's the only one I ought to have cared for. That's just the fool I have always been. 'But if she's dead and buried, you can go to her grave at any time as well as now, to keep up the sentiment. 'I don't know that she's buried. 'But to-morrow the Academy night! Of all days why go then? 'I don't care about the Academy. 'Pierston you are our only inspired sculptor.
The skipper nodded confirmation. 'You are safer ashore than afloat, said Pierston, 'especially in the Channel, with these winds and those heavy blocks of stone. 'Well, said Cap'n Kibbs, after privately clearing something from his mouth, 'as to the winds, there idden much danger in them at this time o' year. 'Tis the ocean-bound steamers that make the risk to craft like ours.
And though there was this time no doubt about her reality, the isolation of her position in the silent house lent her a curiously startling aspect. Divining the explanation he waited for footsteps, and in a few moments a quarryman passed him on his journey home. Pierston inquired of the man concerning the spectacle. 'O yes, sir; that's poor Mrs.
Essentially she was perhaps of no tangible substance; a spirit, a dream, a frenzy, a conception, an aroma, an epitomized sex, a light of the eye, a parting of the lips. God only knew what she really was; Pierston did not. She was indescribable.
Pierston drew it sufficiently forth to observe by the post-mark that it came from his natal isle. Having hardly a correspondent in that part of the world now he began to conjecture on the possible sender.
Pierston went back to Budmouth, but dimly seeing how curiously, through his being a rich suitor, ideas of beneficence and reparation were retaining him in the course arranged by her mother, and urged by his own desire in the face of his understanding.
She assented to his proposal, without, however, showing any marks of gratitude; and when she had gone Pierston despatched her the light supper promised by the sleepy girl who was 'night porter' at this establishment. He felt ravenously hungry himself, and set about drying his clothes as well as he could, and eating at the same time.
One person only followed the corpse into the church as chief mourner, Jocelyn Pierston fickle lover in the brief, faithful friend in the long run. No means had been found of communicating with Avice before the interment, though the death had been advertised in the local and other papers in the hope that it might catch her eye.
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