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Updated: June 5, 2025
Clendon wrote the letter "W" on the paper, folded it and handed it to her. "Will you give him this, my dear? If he cannot read it, you may open it and tell him what is written on it." Celia went up to the sick-room.
"Oh? Who is this?" he demanded. "A friend of your father's, Lord Heyton," said Mr. Clendon, before Celia could speak. "So old and so dear a friend that he is warranted in intruding, even at such a moment." "Well, you are intruding, right enough, though you may be an old friend," said Heyton, thickly. "My father is very ill, dangerously ill, as you may have heard. This is no time for for visitors."
Clendon, quietly, "I am convinced. I could not tell you why; let us say that it is because your lover's face is not that of a guilty man. Besides," he added, with the ghost of a smile, "a man does not walk about a wood with a stolen jewel-case under his arm if he himself is the thief." "Of course!" cried Celia, stopping short, her face lighting up.
Clendon; and looking over her shoulder till Derrick had disappeared, Celia went with Mr. Clendon, her hand in his. "Do you think you can tell me all you know about this terrible business?" he said, when she had yielded to the relief of tears and was calmer and more composed. Celia told him all she knew, and Mr. Clendon listened with attention and in silence.
Clendon assured him calmly. The Marquess sighed heavily. "Then you must let me how shall I put it? provide for you, take care of your future. You must want money. Oh, it's absurd; it drives me mad! To think that nearly every penny I possess is yours. But tell me what I'm to do, Wilfred." "Nothing for me that is directly," said Mr. Clendon. "Don't say any more about myself.
He unlocked the door as he put the question, and waving his long, white hand towards the room, added, "Will you not come in?" Derrick stepped into the plain, meagrely-furnished room, and took the seat to which Mr. Clendon motioned him. The old man set the parcel and violin-case on the table and, taking a chair, sat with his back to the light and waited in silence.
I should think he scarcely knows what he is saying to you." "Very likely," assented Mr. Clendon gravely, and without any sign of resentment. "I will go up now," said Celia; "and I will come down again to you directly." "One moment," he said, staying her with a gesture. "Will you give me a sheet of paper and a pen and ink?" Celia did so. Mr.
I am going back to the grave again." The Marquess stretched out his hand, as if to detain him; but, with a gesture, full of dignity and command, as well as imploration, the bent figure passed out. Four days after Mr. Clendon had rescued her from the Wolf, Celia, who had been listening daily for his footsteps, heard them on the stairs. She ran down, and caught the old man by the hand.
"And you, sir? Shall you go there soon?" Mr. Clendon shook his head. "No," he responded. "The chasm between us is too wide, has divided us for too long a time. But it shall be as your mother wishes. You will talk to her We will leave her future and mine on the knees of the gods. But yours, thank God! is assured. How strangely Fate works!
Clendon, with a faint smile, "though it is probable that many men have wanted to marry her." "I've been thanking God that she is free, ever since I gleaned the fact from your words," said Derrick. "I'm going down to her at once. May I tell her that I have seen you, that you gave me her address?" "You may," said Mr. Clendon.
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