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Updated: June 13, 2025
Whittridge had tried to detain her afterward, she had pleaded some pressing business at home, though chancing to look out of her window a little later, Soeur Angélique was almost sure that through the closed shutters in Phebe's room, she saw a dim shadow of the girl's head laid down listlessly on her folded arms on the sill.
"Ah, what a relief! It seemed as if I should never hear. She is really in no danger then?" "None." "Thank God! As you came in you looked so distressed I feared " "When it was all over and there was nothing to cry about, I cried," interrupted Gerald. "Women are always fools. I'll except Mrs. Whittridge, however. She has been the greatest comfort to Phebe."
Pray, who is Gerald?" inquired Mrs. Whittridge. Her brother lifted his hands in mock amazement. "Is it possible you know Miss Phebe so long and need ask who Gerald is? I will tell you. Gerald is perfection individualized. Gerald has all the qualities, mental, physical, and spiritual, that it is possible to compress into the limited compass of even an overgrown human frame.
"Yes, I know; but I went to Galilee to meet her as she passed through there." "Would she have gone as far as that to meet you, Miss Phebe?" "That is very different, Mr. Halloway," answered Phebe, simply. "I am not worth going so far for. Besides, I don't expect people ever to do as much for me as I would for them." "Denham, you are cruel," said Mrs. Whittridge.
Whittridge proceeded to draw down the shades, straighten the chairs, smooth the bedclothes and rearrange the pillows, all with the noiseless, graceful movements peculiar to her. Then she drew a low chair up to the bedside, and laid her cool hand soothingly on Phebe's forehead. A great peace seemed suddenly to fill the room. "Now, my darling, you must sleep.
We arrived there in time to go into the exhibition of the works of the artists, which is open all summer. I don't know how good a specimen it is, but I thought it rather indifferent. There were some few paintings that interested me, but nothing equal to those. I have seen in the Dusseldorf gallery at home. Whittridge lives there, but, unfortunately, was gone for eight days.
I can't get at them. Oh! Mr. Halloway is quite right. In all Joppa I haven't a single friend except just you and him." "We are indeed your friends," said Mrs. Whittridge. "You need never doubt that." The girl turned and threw her arms impulsively around the other's neck. "Oh, no, no!" she said. "I could not doubt it. I know it. I feel it! Oh, you can't guess what it is to me to know it!
It seems to have put all my soul in tune. Oh, dear Mrs. Whittridge, what a beautiful world this is, when only there are no discords in one's own heart!" A day or two went by, and Phebe, though rapidly convalescing, was still a prisoner to her room.
"I believe I need that more than any thing else." "Well, I will, immediately, after supper, that is. I am exhausted now with ministerial duties. You have asked Miss Phebe to tea have you not, Soeur Angélique? You cannot stay? Oh, but of course you must." "Of course she will," said Mrs. Whittridge, with her tender smile. "Phebe only lives to give pleasure to others.
The winged word had hit the mark that time. We passed the night in an agreeable hotel, Roi de Prusse, at Cassel. By the way, it occurred to us that this was where the Hessians came from in the old revolutionary times. Tuesday, August 16. A long, dull ride from Cassel to Dusseldorf. Wednesday, August 17. Whittridge came at breakfast.
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