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Updated: June 19, 2025
At the same time she shrunk from Wingfold as hard and unsympathetic. True he had been most kind, even tender, to her brother, but to him he had taken a fancy, having found in him one whom he could work upon and fashion to his own liking: poor Poldie had never been one of the strongest of men.
She had received, and sheltered, and shielded him, doubtless, and would have done so with her life, yet, when it came to the test, she had loved herself better than him, and would have doomed him to agony rather than herself to disgrace. Oh Poldie! Poldie! But he could not hear!
How shall I know when to begin to look for you? What o'clock is it? My watch has never been since . Ugh! the light will be here soon. Helen, I know now what hell is. Ah! Yes." As he spoke he had been feeling in one of his pockets. "I will not be taken alive. Can you whistle, Helen?" "Yes, Poldie," answered Helen, trembling. "Don't you remember teaching me?" "Yes, yes.
She seemed one of Poldie's friends, and Poldie had come back to her heart if he might never more to her arms, and she was now on her way to one of his best friends, whom, as more worthy, he had loved even better than her, and whom she had not honoured as they deserved or as he must have desired. To get near them, would be to get nearer to Poldie.
So when Leopold came in the holidays, the place was one of their favoured haunts, and they knew every cubic yard in the house. "Here," said Helen to her cousin, as she opened the door in a little closet, and showed a dusky room which had no window but a small one high up in the wall of a back staircase, "here is one room into which I never could get Poldie without the greatest trouble.
Twelve o'clock the next day was the hour appointed for their visit to Mr. Hooker, and at eleven he was dressed and ready restless, agitated, and very pale, but not a whit less determined than at first. Ramshorn's carriage. "Why is Mr. Wingfold not coming?" asked Lingard, anxiously, when it began to move. "I fancy we shall be quite as comfortable without him, Poldie," said Helen.
His head was raised from the floor and his hands were stretched out, while his face entreated her, as plainly as if he had spoken, not to leave him. She knelt and would have kissed him, but he turned his face from her with an expression which seemed of disgust. "Poldie," she said, "I MUST go and get you something. Don't be afraid. They are all sound asleep."
At least she would be with those whom he had loved, and who, she did not doubt, still loved him, believing him still alive. She could not go to the curate, but she could go to the Polwarths; no one would blame her for that-except indeed George. But even George should not come between her and what mere show of communion with Poldie was left her!
But the next moment the love of the sister, the tender compassion of the woman, returned in full tide, and swallowed up the unsightly thing. The more abject he was, the more was he to be pitied and ministered to. "Here, Poldie," she said, "you carry the bread, and I will take the wine. You must eat something, or you will be ill." As she spoke she locked the door again.
You ain't half as bad as you make yourself out." "You had better tell that to the jury, Helen, and see how they will take it," said Leopold contemptuously. "The jury!" Helen almost screamed. "What do you mean, Poldie?" "Well!" returned Leopold, in a tone of justification, but made no further answer to her question.
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