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Updated: May 29, 2025
Not a letter had reached me since I came to Shoxford, neither had I written any, except one to Uncle Sam; and keeping to this excellent rule, I arrived at Castlewood without notice. In doing this I took no liberty, because full permission had been given me about it; and indeed I had been expected there, as Stixon told me, some days before.
Stixon, so far as he would go, not asking him any thing that the very worst-minded person could call "inquisitive," but allowing him to talk, as he seemed to like to do, while he waited upon me, and alternately lamented my hapless history and my hopeless want of taste. "Ah, your father, the Captain, now, he would have knowed what this is!
So I durst not even ask, though desiring much to do so, how young Mr. Stixon was getting on with his delightful Polly. It would have been thought a thing beneath me to put any nice little questions now, and I was obliged to take up the tone which others used toward me. But all the while I longed for freedom, Uncle Sam, Suan Isco, and even Martin of the Mill.
It was true enough that Stixon now had nothing more to tell, but what he had told already seemed of very great importance, confirming strongly, as it did, the description given me by Jacob Rigg. And even the butler's concluding words that I seemed born to hear it all comforted me like some good omen, and cheered me forward to make them true.
The cause of my good friend's silence not to use that affected word "reticence" was quite unknown to me, and disturbed my spirit with futile guesses. Resolute, therefore, to pierce the bottom of every surviving mystery, I made claim upon "Mr. Stixon, junior" as "Stixon's boy" had now vindicated his right to be called, up to supper-time and he with high chivalry responded.
The less they heard of me, the more they imagined in their rich good-will, and the surer they became that, after all, there was something in my ideas. But how could I know this, without any letters from them, since letters were a luxury forbidden me at Shoxford? I knew it through one of the simplest and commonest of all nature's arrangements. "You there, Mr. Stixon! Oh my!
The fair nymph fixed him with a penetrating gaze through tresses full of salt curliness, while her cheeks were conscious of an unclad dip. But William Stixon's eyes were firm with pure truth, gently toning into shy reproach and tenderness. "Then you are a gentleman!" Polly Hopkins cried; "and indeed, Mr. Stixon, these are slippery things."
I shall not be able to see you again until to-morrow morning. Do not go; they will arrange all that. Send a note to Major Hockin by Stixon's boy. Stixon and Mrs. Price will see to your comfort, if those who are free from pain require any other comfort. Forgive me; I did not mean to be rude. Sometimes I can not help giving way."
"So then, Miss Erma, if I must go on," resumed the well-coaxed Stixon, "if my duty to the family driveth me to an 'arrowing subjeck, no words can more justly tell what come to pass than my language to my wife.
My old lord was up to every word of English; but his present lordship is the hopposite extreme." "Is that all you have to tell me, Stixon? Did you never see that fearful man again? Did you never even hear of him?" "Never, miss, never! And to nobody but you have I ever told all as I told now. But you seems to be born to hear it all."
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