Christian fiction; Medical fiction; Scotland -- Fiction; Surgeons -- Fiction; Wingfold, Thomas (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
"It would indeed," answered Juliet with a sigh, which rose from an
undefined feeling that if some hidden virtue would come up in her, it
would be welcome. How many people would like to be good, if only they
might be good without taking trouble about it! They do not like goodness
well enough to hunger and thirst after it, or to sell all that they have
that they may buy it; they will not batter at the gate of the kingdom of
Heaven; but they look with pleasure on this or that aerial castle of
righteousness, and think it would be rather nice to live in it! They do
not know that it is goodness all the time their very being is pining
after, and that they are starving their nature of its necessary food.
Then Polwarth's idea turned itself round in Juliet's mind, and grew
clearer, but assumed reference to weeds only, and not flowers. She
thought how that fault of hers had, like the seed of a poison-plant,
been buried for years, unknown to one alive, and forgotten almost by
herself--so diligently forgotten indeed, that it seemed to have
gradually slipped away over the horizon of her existence; and now here
it was at the surface again in all its horror and old reality! nor that
merely, for already it had blossomed and borne its rightful fruit of
dismay--an evil pod, filled with a sickening juice, and swarming with
gray flies.--But she must speak, and, if possible, prevent the odd
creature from going and publishing in Glaston that he had seen Mrs.
Faber, and she was at the Old House.
"How did you know I was here?" she asked abruptly.
"How do you know that I knew, ma'am?" returned Polwarth, in a tone which
took from the words all appearance of rudeness.
"You were not in the least surprised to see me," she answered.
"A man," returned the dwarf, "who keeps his eyes open may almost cease
to be surprised at any thing. In my time I have seen so much that is
wonderful--in fact every thing seems to me so wonderful that I hardly
expect to be surprised any more."
He said this, desiring to provoke conversation. But Juliet took the
answer for an evasive one, and it strengthened her suspicion of Dorothy.
She was getting tired of her! Then there was only one thing left!--The
minor prophet had betaken himself again to his work, delving deeper, and
throwing slow spadeful after spadeful to the surface.
"Miss Drake told you I was here!" said Juliet.
"No, indeed, Mrs. Faber. No one told me," answered Polwarth. "I learned
it for myself. I could hardly help finding it out."
"Then--then--does every body know it?" she faltered, her heart sinking
within her at the thought.
"Indeed, ma'am, so far as I know, not a single person is aware you are
alive except Miss Drake and myself. I have not even told my niece who
lives with me, and who can keep a secret as well as myself."
Juliet breathed a great sigh of relief.
"Will you tell me why you have kept it so secret?" she asked.
"Because it was your secret, ma'am, not mine."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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