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Updated: June 4, 2025
He to whom the faith of Agnes obliged her to lay open her whole soul, who had a right with probing-knife and lancet to dissect out all the finest nerves and fibres of her womanly nature, was a man who had been through all the wild and desolating experiences incident to a dissipated and irregular life in those turbulent days.
She looked at the pile of her school-books on the table. She had been studying hard all summer. The thirst for knowledge was as intense in her as the thirst for stimulants in a drunkard. "I ought to give up going to college, and go to work in the shop," Ellen said to herself, and she said it as one might drive a probing-knife into a sore. "I ought to," she repeated.
"Are you going down to Hartledon?" "Hartledon!" with a perceptible shiver. "In the mind I am in, I shall never visit Hartledon again; there are some in its vicinity I would rather not insult by my presence. Why do you bring up disagreeable subjects?" "You will have to get over that feeling," observed Mr. Carr, disregarding the hint, and taking out his probing-knife.
I was cured! The probing-knife of the world's cynicism had found its way to the musically throbbing centre of divine disquietude in my brain, and had there cut down the growth of fair imaginations for ever.
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