Was it the embodied second self of Jethro Fawe, doing the evil
that Jethro Fawe, the visible corporeal man, wished to do? She shuddered,
then bent her head and fixed her mind on Ingolby, whose house was not far
away. She felt strangely, miserably alone this morning. She was in that
fluttering state which follows a girl's discovery that she is a woman,
and the feeling dawns that she must complete herself by joining her own
life with the life of another.
She showed no agitation, but her repression gave an almost statuesque
character to her face and figure. The adventurous nature of her early
life had given her a power to meet shock and danger with coolness, and
though the news of Ingolby's tragedy had seemed to freeze the vital
forces in her, and all the world became blank for a moment, she had
controlled herself and had set forth to go to him, come what might.
As she entered the street where Ingolby lived, she suddenly realized the
difficulty before her. She might go to him, but by only one right could
she stay and nurse him, and that right she did not possess. He would, she
knew, understand her, no matter how the world babbled. Why should the
world babble? What woman could have designs upon a blind man? Was not
humanity alone sufficient warrant for staying by his side? Yet would he
wish it? Suddenly her heart sank; but again she remembered their last
parting, and once more she was sure he would be glad to have her with
him.
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