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Updated: June 17, 2025
Oldbuck alone curled up his nose, and observed, that Miss Wardour's skill was something like that of the alchemists, for she had contrived to extract a sound and valuable moral out of a very trumpery and ridiculous legend. "It is the fashion, as I am given to understand, to admire those extravagant fictions for me, I bear an English heart, Unused at ghosts and rattling bones to start."
The least thing bearing the look of plot, or intrigue, or secret to be discovered or heard, was enough for Mr. Redmain. What he had of pride was not of the same sort as Wardour's: it made no pretense to dignity, and was less antagonistic, so long at least as there was no talk of good motive or righteous purpose.
Wardour, and, although he had so simply responded to her exclamation, he did not even know who she was. The friendship which now drew Mary to Thornwick, Godfrey Wardour's place, was not one of long date.
Frank is dreaming, and murmuring in his dream. A woman's name passes his lips. Frank is in England again at the ball whispering to Clara the confession of his love. Over Richard Wardour's face there passes the shadow of a deadly thought. He rises from the fire; he takes the wood back to the boat. His iron strength is shaken, but it still holds out.
They have only to do as they are told, and they may be sure of this, that friendship and respect depend much more on what people are in themselves than on what they call one another. This lady was the widow of Mr. Wardour's brother, and lived among a great clan of his family in a distant county, where Mary and her father had sometimes made visits, but the younger ones never.
So long as you don't actually know that Frank is dead, and that he has died by Wardour's hand, deny what she says mislead her for her own sake dispute all her conclusions as I dispute them. Help me to raise her to the better and nobler belief in the mercy of God!" She stopped, and looked round nervously at the doorway. "Hush!" she whispered. "Do as I have told you. Clara is here."
Oldbuck came up. "I wished to ask you a question, Mr. Oldbuck, concerning the date of these interesting ruins." It would be doing injustice to Miss Wardour's savoir faire, to suppose she was not aware that such a question would lead to an answer of no limited length.
"What opportunities have you had of judging? You and Wardour have always belonged to different ships. I have never seen you in Wardour's society for five minutes together. How can you form a fair estimate of his character?" "I take the general estimate of his character," Frank answered. "He has got his nickname because he is the most unpopular man in his ship.
"He can try," said Crayford, quietly "when his friend asks him." Wardour's manner softened. "That's true," he said. "I will try. Do you remember the first night at sea when we sailed from England in the Wanderer?" "As well as if it was yesterday." "A calm, still night," the other went on, thoughtfully. "No clouds, no stars.
Yet, howsoever uninteresting this piebald jargon might seem, it was obviously Miss Wardour's purpose to give it her attention, in preference to yielding Captain M'Intyre an opportunity of renewing their private conversation.
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