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Updated: May 25, 2025
And in that same crucible, too, Anthony Wilding's nature had undergone a transmutation; his love for Ruth had been purified of that base alloy of desire which had driven him into the unworthiness of making her his own at all costs; there was no carnal grossness in his present passion; it was pure as a religion the love that takes no account of self, the love that makes for joyous and grateful martyrdom.
He paused on the threshold, measuring the tall disordered stranger who stood there, his figure a black silhouette against the window by which he had entered. "What seek you here, sir, in this house of desolation?" asked the voice of Mr. Wilding's old servant. He answered but one word. "Walters!" The musket dropped with a clatter from the old man's hands.
And his eye, glittering between cruelty and mockery, fixed itself upon the merchant's ashen face. "It... it shall be forthcoming by morning," stammered Newlington. "By morning?" cried Grey, who, with the others, watched Mr. Newlington what time they all wondered at Mr. Wilding's question and the manner of it. "You knew that I march to-night," Monmouth reproached the merchant.
Half-a-dozen questions had scarcely extracted as much to the purpose from any one else. The voice dwelt so agreeably on Mr. Wilding's ear as he made his note, that he was rather long about it. When he looked up again, Mrs. Goldstraw's glance had naturally gone round the room, and now returned to him from the chimney-piece.
With a gasp of dismay young Richard twisted in his chair to confront this fresh and unsuspected antagonist. What danger was this that he had overlooked? Then, even as he turned, Wilding's voice fell on his ear, and each word of the few he spoke was like a drop of icy water on Westmacott's overheated brain. "I protest you are vastly kind, Nick.
Meanwhile Mr. Wilding moved serene and smiling on his way. Daily there were great armfuls of flowers deposited at Lupton House his lover's offering to his mistress and no day went by but that some richer gift accompanied them. Now it was a collar of brilliants, anon a rope of pearls, again a priceless ring that had been Mr. Wilding's mother's.
But Wilding's stern spirit scorned this all too sudden friendliness of Monmouth's as much as he scorned the accolade at Monmouth's hands. "There are more pressing matters to demand Your Majesty's attention," said Mr. Wilding coldly, advancing to the table as he spoke, and taking up a napkin to wipe his blade, "than the reward of an unworthy servant."
A foolish, worldly woman, who never probed beneath life's surface, nor indeed dreamed that anything existed in life beyond that to which her five senses testified, she was content placidly to contemplate the advantages that must accrue to her niece from this alliance. And so mother and daughter in Mr. Wilding's absence pleaded his cause with his refractory bride-elect.
"Ruth!" he cried, and came quickly forward. Trenchard, behind him, looked on and scowled with sudden impatience. Mr. Wilding's philanderings with this lady had never had the old rake's approval. Too much trouble already had resulted from them. "I must speak with you at once. At once!" she urged him, her tone fearful. "Are you in need of me?" he asked concernedly. "In very urgent need," said she.
That rising should have taken place, and it would have taken place had Your Majesty been more ably represented there." "You were there, Mr. Wilding," said Grey with heavy sarcasm. "Would it no' be better to leave Mr. Wilding's affair until afterwards?" suggested Ferguson at that moment.
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