We are very good
old friends, Mr. Ruthyn and I,' she said with a leer which I did not
understand, and which yet frightened me.
I never could quite understand why these Jezebels like to insinuate the
dreadful truth against themselves; but they do. Is it the spirit of
feminine triumph overcoming feminine shame, and making them vaunt their
fall as an evidence of bygone fascination and existing power? Need we
wonder? Have not women preferred hatred to indifference, and the reputation
of witchcraft, with all its penalties, to absolute insignificance? Thus, as
they enjoyed the fear inspired among simple neighbours by their imagined
traffic with the father of ill, did Madame, I think, relish with a cynical
vainglory the suspicion of her satanic superiority.
Next morning Uncle Silas sent for me. He was seated at his table, and spoke
his little French greeting, smiling as usual, pointing to a chair opposite.
'How far, I forget,' he said, carelessly laying his newspaper on the table,
'did you yesterday guess Dudley to be?'
'Eleven hundred miles I thought it was.'
'Oh yes, so it was;' and then there was an abstracted pause.
Pages:
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681