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Updated: May 9, 2025
The old woman held my hand in hers; but by its motion I knew that she wanted something; and guessing what it was from what she had said before, I made her husband sit on the bed on the other side of her and take hold of her other hand, while I took his place on the chair by the bedside. This seemed to content her. So I went and whispered to Mr Stoddart, who had stood looking on disconsolately:
To succeed in the wrong is the most dreadful punishment to a man who, in the main, is honest. But I beg to assure my reader I could write a long treatise on the matter between Mr Stoddart and myself; therefore, if he is not yet interested in such questions, let him be thankful to me for considering such a treatise out of place here.
I heard of your brother's return, for the first time, on Monday last, the day on which your letter is dated, from Stoddart. Had it rained on my naked skin I could not have felt more strangely.
But in another moment, either from Judy's awkwardness, or from the gradual decay and final fracture of some cord, down came the whole shelf with a thundering noise, and the books were scattered hither and thither in confusion about the floor. Ethelwyn was gazing in dismay, and Judy had built up her face into a defiant look, when the door of the inner room opened and Mr Stoddart appeared.
"Every woman seems an angel at the water-side," said "that good old angler, now with God," Thomas Todd Stoddart, and so "the long and listless boy" found it to be. It is no wonder that the mother was "SLOWLY brought to yield consent to my desire." The domestic affections, in fact, do not adapt themselves so well to poetry as the passion, unique in Tennyson, of Fatima.
Aunt Emmy drank some tea, and remarked that I made it better than she did. "Your Uncle Tom has a very kind heart," she said, looking a little pugnaciously at me. "It is so like him, just when he might naturally be taken up with his own affairs, to be anxious about me." We each knew the other was not deceived. I longed to say, "Why not marry Colonel Stoddart?" I had only seen him on horseback.
Yet you will confess you have to wait till, somehow, you know not how, it comes back again of itself, as it were." "Yes, I confess. To my sorrow, I find it so." "Let me tell you the truth, Mr Stoddart. You seem to me to have been hitherto only a dilettante or amateur in spiritual matters. Do not imagine I mean a hypocrite. Very far from it.
Mr Stoddart sat drumming silently with his fingers, a half-smile on his face, and his eyes raised at an angle of forty-five degrees. I felt that the enthusiasm with which I had spoken was thrown away upon him. But I was not going to be ashamed therefore. I would put some faith in his best nature.
"The cold weather, which makes so many invalids creep into bed, seems to have brought you out into the air, Mr Stoddart," I said. "It has revived me, certainly." "Indeed, one must believe that winter and cold are as beneficent, though not so genial, as summer and its warmth. Winter kills many a disease and many a noxious influence.
But now he is quite anxious for it, so long as I don't leave him. He wants me to promise Colonel Stoddart, but to tell him that I could not leave my father during his lifetime, which of course I couldn't." "Won't Colonel Stoddart wait?" I said, waxing bolder. I had slipped down on the floor beside her and was stroking her white hand. I hoped I was saying the right thing.
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