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Updated: June 19, 2025
O my God! my God!" cried the poor youth, and stared at his thin wasted hand, through which the light shone red, as at a conscious evil thing that had done the deed, and was still stained with its signs. "God CAN'T be very angry with you, Poldie," sobbed Helen, feeling about blindly in the dark forest of her thoughts for some herb of comfort, and offering any leaf upon which her hand fell first.
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.
Poldie! but somehow it seemed fresh to him, and he made it look fresh to me, for I felt as if it hadn't been intended for preaching about at all, but for going straight into people's hearts its own self, without any sermon.
Oh! oh! wouldn't it be grand? Wouldn't it be lovely to be at peace again, Poldie? If there should be somebody somewhere who could take this gnawing serpent from my heart!" She pulled wildly at her dress. "'Come unto me, he said, 'all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. That's what he said: oh! if it could be true!"
"What sort of thing, Poldie?" she faltered, growing sick at heart. Was this what came of praying! she thought bitterly. "Something or other I don't know what exactly," returned Leopold. "Oh Helen!" he broke out with a cry, stifled by the caution that had grown habitual to both of them, "is there no help of any kind anywhere? Surely Mr.
Poor Poldie was so easily led by any show of nobility anything that looked grand or self-sacrificing! Helen's only knowledge of guilt came from the pale image of it lifted above her horizon by the refraction of her sympathy. She did not know, perhaps never would understand the ghastly horror of conscious guilt, besides which there is no evil else.
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.
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.
"I can't think why Mr. Wingfold did not come yesterday," resumed Leopold. "I made sure he would." "Now, Poldie, you mustn't talk," said Helen, "or you'll be exhausted before we get to Mr. Hooker's." "She did not wish the non-appearance of the curate on Monday to be closely inquired into. His company at the magistrate's was by all possible means to be avoided.
Helen clasped his face between her hands, and gathering courage from despair, if indeed that be a possible source of courage, and it is not gathered rather from the hidden hope of which I speak, and the love that will cleave and not forsake, she set her teeth, and said: "Let her come then, Poldie! I am with you, and I defy her!
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