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Updated: June 26, 2025
The reader has been already made aware how, by an impulse of womanhood and humanity, Arabella Crane had been converted from a persecuting into a tutelary agent in the destinies of Waife and Sophy. That evolution in her moral being dated from the evening on which she had sought the cripple's retreat, to warn him of Jasper's designs.
"No," cried Waife, roughly. "No! Your illustration destroys your argument. The judge knows nothing of the prisoner. There are the circumstances; there is the law. By these he generalizes, by these he judges, right or wrong. But of the individual at the bar, of the world- the tremendous world within that individual heart, I repeat, he knows nothing.
"I am so confused," faltered Lionel, still quivering with emotion, "that I can scarcely answer you scarcely recollect myself. But but while you were describing this poor William Losely, his talent for mimicry and acting, I could not help thinking that I had seen him." Lionel proceeded to speak of Gentleman Waife. "Can that be the man?" Alban shook his head incredulously.
Speechless and breathless with resentwent, Sophy struggled, and in vain, when Waife, seizing the man by the collar, swung him away with a "How dare you, sir," that was echoed back from the hillocks summoned Sir Isaac at full gallop from the lake scared Fairthorn back to his buttresses roused Mrs.
WAIFE. "Is it not because all our ideas would run wild if not concentrated on a definite pursuit? Fortune and Nature are earnest females, though popular beauties; and they do not look upon coquettish triflers in the light of genuine wooers." The Oxonian, who, in venting his previous remark, had thought it likely he should be above his listener's comprehension, looked surprised.
But Waife could not be long forgetful of his darling nor his anxiety on her account. The expression in his varying face changed suddenly. Not half an hour before, Lionel Haughton was the last man in the world to whom willingly he would have consigned his grandchild. Now, of all men in the world Lionel Haughton would have been his choice.
The apology was made in the Comedian's grandest style: it imposed greatly on the young scholar. Waife might have been a duke in disguise; but I will do the angler the justice to say that such discovery of rank would have impressed him little more in the vagrant's favour.
You would make a fortune on the stage; but " "But no, no, never! not the stage!" WAIFE. "I don't wish you to go on the stage, as you know. "Thank Heaven! that is over now; and you'll not be in want of money for a long, long time! Dear Sir Isaac!" She began caressing Sir Isaac, who received her attentions with solemn pleasure.
Hartopp, therefore, had taken, from the first moment, to Waife, the staid, respectable, thriving man, all muffled up from head to foot in the whitest lawn of reputation, to the wandering, shifty, tricksome scatterling, who had not seemingly secured, through the course of a life bordering upon age, a single certificate for good conduct.
But Waife had already formed his plan; in London, and in London alone, could he be sure to learn where Rugge was now exhibiting; in London there were places at which that information could be gleaned at once. The last train to the metropolis was not gone. He would slink round the town to the station: he and Sir Isaac at that hour might secure places unnoticed.
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