l rules physical or medical,
lives by sheer force of will--it's a miracle of the power of a human
creature to .... I have it from doctors, friends, attendants, they
can't guess what she holds on, to keep her breath. All the happiness in
life!--if only it could benefit her. But it 's the cause of death to us.
Do you see, dear friend;--you are a friend, proved friend,' he took her
hand, and held and pressed it, in great need of a sanguine response to
emphasis; and having this warm feminine hand, his ideas ran off with
it. 'The friend I need! You have courage. My Nataly, poor dear--she can
endure, in her quiet way. A woman of courage would take her place beside
me and compel the world to do her homage, help;--a bright ready smile
does it! She would never be beaten. Of course, we could have lived under
a bushel--stifled next to death! But I am for light, air-battle, if you
like. I want a comrade, not a--not that I complain. I respect, pity,
love--I do love her, honour: only, we want something else--courage--to
face the enemy. Quite right, that she should speak to Dudley Sowerby. He
has to know, must know; all who deal closely with us must know. But see
a moment: I am waiting to see the impediment dispersed, which puts
her at an inequality with the world: and then I speak to all whom it
concerns--not before: for her sake. How is it now? Dudley will ask...
you understand. And when I am forced to confess, that the mother,
the mother of the girl he seeks in marriage, is not yet in that state
herself, probably at that very instant the obstacle has crumbled
to dust! I say, probably: I have information--doctors, friends,
attendants--they all declare it cannot last outside a week. But you are
here--true, I could swear! a touch of a hand tells me. A woman's hand?
Well, yes: I read by the touch of a woman's hand:--betrays more than her
looks or her lips!' He sank his voice. 'I don't talk of condoling: if
you are in grief, you know I share it.' He kissed her hand, and laid it
on her lap; eyed it, and met her eyes; took a header into her eyes, and
lost himself. A nip of his conscience moved his tongue to say: 'As for
guilt, if it were known... a couple of ascetics--absolutely!' But this
was assumed to be unintelligible; and it was merely the apology to his
conscience in communion with the sprite of a petticoated fair one who
was being subjected to tender little liberties, necessarily addressed
in enigmas. He righted immediately, under a