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Updated: May 4, 2025
One day, when they were all three sitting together in the twilight before the lamp was lit for Helen Wingfold was one of those happy women able to let their hands lie in their laps he said to his pupil, "Now, pray, Miss Wylder, don't try by argument to convince the young man of anything. That were no good, even if you succeeded.
Wingfold, for talking about myself, but you looked so miserable! and I knew it was your kind heart feeling for me. But I need not, for that, have gone on at such a rate. I am ashamed of myself!" "On the contrary, I am exceedingly obliged to you for honouring me by talking so freely," said Wingfold. "It is a great satisfaction to find that suffering is not necessarily unhappiness.
Wingfold was almost as different from the clergyman of Richard's idea, as was Richard's imagined God from any believable idea of God. The two men had never yet met, for what should bring a working-man and the clergyman of the next parish together?
If I had behaved better to her she might never have left me, and your poor young friend would now be well and happy." "Perhaps consuming his soul to a cinder with that odious drug," said Wingfold. "'Tis true, as Edgar in King Lear says: The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us;
His manner, which, in the shop, had been of the shop, that is, more deferential and would-be pleasing than Wingfold liked, settled as he took his seat into one more resembling that of a country gentleman. It was courteous and friendly, but clouded with a little anxiety. An uncomfortable pause following, Wingfold stumbled in with the question, "I hope Mrs.
"That we should," said both men at once. "I will fetch it you then," said Polwarth, "if you will tell me where to find it." Rachel gave him the needful directions, and presently he brought a few sheets of paper, and handed them to her. "This is no dream, Mr. Wingfold," he said. "It is something I thought fairly out before I began to dictate it.
One or two more in the congregation were weeping, and here and there shone a face in which the light seemed to prevent the tears. Polwarth shone and Rachel wept. For the rest, the congregation listened only with varying degrees of attention and indifference. The larger portion looked as if neither Wingfold nor any other body ever meant anything at least in the pulpit.
Without a word he left the chamber, and went into the drawing-room. He had been hardly a moment there, when Wingfold entered. It was almost dark, but the doctor stood against the window, and the curate knew him. "Ah, Faber!" he said, "it is long since I saw you. But each has been about his work, I suppose, and there could not be a better reason."
If you had told me a year ago, the day would come when I should call an atheist a fine fellow, I should almost have thought you must be one yourself! Yet here I am saying it and never in my life so much in earnest to be a Christian! How is it, Wingfold, my boy?" "He who has the spirit of his Master, will speak the truth even of his Master's enemies," answered the curate.
Polwarth did not speak once, feeling that a dying man must be allowed to ease his mind after his own fashion, and take as much time to it as he pleased. Helen and Wingfold both would have told him he must not tire himself, but that Polwarth never did. The dying should not have their utterances checked, or the feeling of not having finished forced upon them.
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