His fits, too--his hoverings between life and death--between
intellect and insanity--a dubious, marsh-fire existence, horrible to look
on!
I was puzzled even to comprehend his feelings toward his children.
Sometimes it seemed to me that he was ready to lay down his soul for them;
at others, he looked and spoke almost as if he hated them. He talked as if
the image of death was always before him, yet he took a terrible interest
in life, while seemingly dozing away the dregs of his days in sight of his
coffin.
Oh! Uncle Silas, tremendous figure in the past, burning always in memory in
the same awful lights; the fixed white face of scorn and anguish! It
seems as if the Woman of Endor had led me to that chamber and showed me a
spectre.
Dudley had not left Bartram-Haugh when a little note reached me from Lady
Knollys. It said--
'DEAREST MAUD,--I have written by this post to Silas, beseeching a loan of
you and my Cousin Milly. I see no reason your uncle can possibly have for
refusing me; and, therefore, I count confidently on seeing you both at
Elverston to-morrow, to stay for at least a week.
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