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Utworzony przez junjun, 27 lipca 2013 o 10:06
Judging by my experience of women,remarked Bashwood the younger, overhearing him, “I should say she probably tried to drown herself. But that’s only guess-work again: it’s all guess-work at this part of her story. You catch me at the end of my evidence, dad, when you come to Miss Gwilt’s proceedings in the spring and summer of the present year. She might, or she might not, have been desperate enough to attempt suicide; and she might, or she might not, have been jordans 9 at the bottom of those inquiries that I made for Mrs. Oldershaw. I dare say you’ll see her this morning; and perhaps, if you use your influence, you may he able to make her finish her own story herself.Mr. Bashwood, still looking out of the cab window, suddenly laid his hand on his son’s armHush! hush!he exclaimed, in violent agitationWe have got there at last. Oh, Jemmy, feel how my heart beats! Here is the hotel. Bother your heart,said Bashwood the youngerWait here while I make the inquiries. I’ll come with you!cried his fatherI can’t wait! I tell you, I can’t wait!They went into the hotel together, and asked for “Mr. Armadale.The answer, after some little hesitation and delay, was that Mr. Armadale had gone away six days since. A second waiter added that Mr. Armadale’s friend Mr. Midwinter had only left that morning. Where had Mr. Armadale gone? Somewhere into the country. Where had Mr. Midwinter gone? Nobody knew. Mr. Bashwood looked at his son in speechless and helpless dismayStuff and nonsense!said Bashwood the younger, pushing his father back roughly into the cabHe’s safe enough. We shall find him at Miss Gwilt’s.The old man took his son’s hand and kissed itThank you, my dear,he said, gratefullyThank you for comforting me.The cab was driven next to the second lodging which Miss Gwilt had occupied, in the neighborhood of Tottenham Court RoadStop here,said the spy, getting out, and shutting his father into the cabI mean to manage this part of the business myself.He knocked at the house doorI have got a note for Miss Gwilt,he said, walking into the passage, the moment the door was openedShe’s gone,answered the servantShe went away last night.Bashwood the younger wasted no more words with the servant. He insisted on seeing the mistress. The mistress confirmed the announcement of Miss Gwilt’s departure on the previous evening. Where had she gone to? The woman couldn’t say. How had she left? On foot. At what hour? Between nine and ten. What had she done with her luggage? She had no luggage. Had a gentleman been to see her on the previous day? Not a soul, gentle or simple, had come to the house to see Miss Gwilt. The father’s face, pale and wild, was looking out of the cab window as the son descended the house stepsIsn’t she there, Jemmy?he asked, faintly “isn’t she there? Hold your tongue,cried the spy, with the native coarseness of jordan shoes 2 his nature rising to the surface at lastI’m not at the end of my inquiries yet.He crossed the road, and entered a coffee-shop situated exactly opposite the house he had just left. In the box nearest the window two men were sitting talking together anxiouslyWhich of you was on duty yesterday evening, between nine and ten o’clock?asked Bashwood the younger, suddenly joining them, and putting his question in a quick, peremptory whisperI was, sir,said one of the men, unwillinglyDid you lose sight of the house?Yes! I see you did. Only for a minute, sir. An infernal blackguard of a soldier came in That will do,said Bashwood the youngerI know what the soldier did, and who sent him to do it. She has given us the slip ag Part 4 Chapter 1 Miss Gwilt’s Diary NAPLES, October 10th.It is two months to-day since I declared that I had closed my Diary, never to open it againWhy have I broken my resolution? Why have I gone back to this secret friend of my wretchedest and wickedest hours? Because I am more friendless than ever; because I am more lonely than ever, though my husband is sitting writing in the next room to me. My misery is a woman’s misery, and it will speak here, rather than nowhere; to my second self, in this book, if I have no one else to hear meHow happy I was in the first days that followed our marriage, and how happy I made him ! Only two months have passed, and that time is a by-gone time already! I try to think of anything I might have said or done wrongly, on my side of anything he might have said or done wrongly, on his; and I can remember nothing unworthy of my husband, nothing unworthy of myself. I cannot even lay my finger on the day when the cloud first rose between usI could bear it, if I loved him less dearly than I do. I could conquer the misery of our estrangement, if he only showed the change in him as brutally as other men would show itBut this never has happened never will happen. It is not in his nature to inflict suffering jordan shoes uk on others. Not a hard word, not a hard look, escapes him. It is only at night, when I hear him sighing in his sleep, and sometimes when I see him dreaming in the morning hours, that I know how hopelessly I am losing the love he once felt for me. He hides, or tries to hide, it in the day, for my sake. He is all gentleness, all kindness; but his heart is not on his lips when he kisses me now; his hand tells me nothing when it touches mine. Day after day the hours that he gives to his hateful writing grow longer and longer; day after day he becomes more and more silent in the hours that he gives to meAnd, with all this, there is nothing that I can complain of nothing marked enough to justify me in noticing it. His disappointment shrinks from all open confession; his resignation collects itself by such fine degrees that even my watchfulness fails to see the growth of it. Fifty times a day I feel the longing in me to throw my arms round his neck, and say: For God’s sake, do anything to me, rather than treat me like this and fifty times a day the words are forced back into my heart by the cruel considerateness of his conduct; which gives me no excuse for speaking them. I thought I had suffered the sharpest pain that I could feel when my first husband laid his whip across my face. I thought I knew the worst that despair could do on the day when I knew that the other villain, the meaner villain still, had cast me off. Live and learn. There is sharper pain than I felt under Waldron’s whip; there is bitterer despair than the despair I knew when Manuel deserted meAm I too old for him? Surely not yet! Have I lost my beauty? Not a man passes me in the street but his eyes tell me I am as handsome as everAh, no! no! the secret lies deeper than that ! I have thought and thought about it till a horrible fancy has taken possession of me. He has been noble and good in his past life, and I have been wicked and disgraced. Who can tell what a gap that dreadful difference may make between us, unknown to him and unknown to me? It is folly, it is madness; but, when I lie awake by him in the darkness, I ask myself whether any unconscious disclosure of the truth escapes me in the close intimacy that now unites us? Is there an unutterable Something left by the horror of my past life, which clings invisibly to me still? And is he feeling the influence of it, sensibly, and yet incomprehensibly to himself? Oh me! is there no purifying power in such love as mine? Are there plague-spots of past wickedness on my heart which no after-repentance can wash outWho can tell? There is something wrong in our married life I can only come back to that. There is some adverse influence that neither he nor I can trace which is parting us further and further from each other day by day. Well! I suppose I shall be hardened in time, and learn to bear itAn open carriage has just driven by my window, with a nicely dressed lady in it. She had her husband by her side, and her children on the seat opposite. At the moment when I saw her she was laughing and talking in high spirits a cheap jordans uk sparkling, light-hearted, happy woman. Ah, my lady, when you were a few years younger, if you had been left to yourself, and thrown on the world like me “October 11th.The eleventh day of the month was the day (two months since) when we were married. He said nothing about it to me when we woke, nor I to him. But I thought I would make it the occasion, at breakfast-time, of trying to win him backI don’t think I ever took such pains with my toilet before. I don’t think I ever looked better than I looked when I went downstairs this morning. He had breakfasted by himself, and I found a little slip of paper on the table with an apology written on it. The post to England, he said, went out that day and his letter to the newspaper must be finished. In his place I would have let fifty posts go out rather than breakfast without him. I went into his room. There he was, immersed body and soul in his hateful writing! Can’t you give me a little time this morning?’ I asked. He got up with a start. Certainly, if you wish it.’ He never even looked at me as he said the words. The very sound of his voice told me that all his interest was centered in the pen that he had just laid down. I see you are occupied,’ I said; I don’t wish it.’ Before I had closed the door on him he was back at his desk. I have  
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