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Updated: June 8, 2025
The even, steady thump of the rocking-chair in the room overhead stopped suddenly, and Viola's quick tread was heard crossing the floor. She closed a window. Then, after a moment, the sound of the rocking-chair again. Rachel left her chair and walked over to the window to peer out into the night. "It is coming from the west," she said, as if to test the steadiness of her voice.
He had listened with rigid attention, marvelling at the calm, dispassionate, unflinching manner in which she stated her case and Viola's, indeed, she had stated his own case for him. Apparently she had not even speculated on the outcome of her revelations; she was sure of her ground before she took the first step. "There is no other course open to me," he said, taking up his hat. He was very pale.
The conviction grew upon Jane that the irresponsible, beautiful youth was covertly amusing himself at her, at Viola's, at everybody's expense. Perhaps he included himself. He talked incessantly, not in reality brilliantly, but with an effect of sparkling effervescence which was fairly dazzling. Viola's servants restrained with difficulty their laughter at his sallies.
In truth every step towards his own door removed him an emotional league from the scene in the hall, and as the throb of Viola's agonized voice died out of his ears the crisis in her life grew hysteric, unsubstantial, and at last unreal. Her gestures, her plea for help, her descent of the stairway, came to seem like the climaxes in a singular drama powerfully acted.
The two prisoners of Sotillo, with their heads nearly touching, began to exchange confidences. "Yes," the doctor related in a low tone to Captain Mitchell's vehement curiosity, "we have been nabbed in old Viola's place. It seems that one of their pickets, commanded by an officer, pushed as far as the town gate.
When he dwelt on Viola's delight in her own vindication, and remembered her serene, sweet, trustful glance, a shiver of awe went over him, and the work of saving her, of healing her, seemed greater than the discovery of any new principle; but whenever his keen, definite, analytic mind took up the hit-or-miss absurd caperings of "the spirits" he paced the floor in revolt of their childish chicanery.
It must be awful for the poor little chap, when you come to think of it, living on the edge, never knowing when he's going to do something that'll make Viola's blood run cold." "It must be still more awful for Viola." To that she said, "It isn't. You don't know how Viola feels about Jimmy. None of my people do. They simply don't understand it."
I couldn't feel that they had gone to Christ. But now the tomb is but a portal to the light. The spirit-plane is as real as the earth-plane, and filled with joyous souls. I can hear them sing sometimes when I hold Viola's hand, and the sound is very beautiful and very comforting." "I can understand that," he answered, but quietly, critically, still studying her face.
I believe it was from that grain of perversity in Viola's high-spirited nature, as well as the having grown up without confidence towards her mother, which forbade her to mourn visibly among unsympathising watchers; and when her hope was gone led her in her dull despair to do as they pleased, try to distract her thoughts, let herself be hunted hither and thither, and laugh at and play with Pigou St.
I don't know whether I was glad or sorry. I believe I was both. I was glad that Jevons the ugly element was disposed of. I was sorry sorry, indeed, is hardly the word for what I felt when I thought of the impression Viola's family had of me now; of the terms on which I should be received into it if I were received into it at all.
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