CHAPTER THE FIFTIETH. The End of the Journey A LITTLE interval of time elapsed. Her first exquisite sense of the recognition by touch had passed away. Her mind had recovered its balance. She separated herself from Oscar, and turned to me, with the one inevitable question which I knew must follow the joining of their hands. "What does it mean?" The exposure of Nugent's perfidy; the revelation of the fatal secret of Oscar's face; and, last not least, the defence of my own conduct towards her, were all comprehended in the answer for which that question called. As carefully, as delicately,...
Long Stories - Post by : mindout - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 3715
CHAPTER THE FORTY-NINTH. On the Way to the End. Third Stage ON former occasions of doubt or difficulty, it had always been Oscar's habit to follow the opinions of others. On this occasion he was the first to speak, and to assert an opinion of his own. "It seems needless to waste time in discussing our different views," he said. "There is only one thing to be done. I am the person principally concerned in this matter. Wait here, while I go to the house." He spoke without any of his usual hesitation; he took up his hat without looking either...
Long Stories - Post by : mindout - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 3580
CHAPTER THE FORTY-EIGHTH. On the Way to the End. Second Stage EARLY riser as I was, I found that Oscar had risen earlier still. He had left the rectory and had disturbed Mr. Gootheridge's morning slumbers by an application at the inn for the key of Browndown. On his return to the rectory, he merely said that he had been to see after various things belonging to him, which were still left in the empty house. His look and manner as he gave us this brief explanation were, to my mind, more unsatisfactory than ever. I made no remark; and, observing...
Long Stories - Post by : mindout - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 3653
CHAPTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH. On the Way to the End. First Stage You will perhaps expect me to give some account of how Oscar bore the discovery of his brother's conduct. I find it by no means easy to do this. Oscar baffled me. The first words of any importance which he addressed to me were spoken on our way to the station. Rousing himself from his own thoughts, he said very earnestly---- "I want to know what conclusion you have drawn from Mrs. Finch's letter." Naturally enough, under the circumstances, I tried to avoid answering him. He was not to be...
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CHAPTER THE FORTY-SIXTH. The Italian Steamer LUCILLA'S Journal has told you all that Lucilla can tell. Permit me to reappear in these pages. Shall I say, with your favorite English clown, reappearing every year in your barbarous English pantomime, "Here I am again: how do you do?" No--I had better leave that out. Your clown is one of your national institutions. With this mysterious source of British amusement let no foreign person presume to trifle. I arrived at Marseilles, as well as I can remember, on the fifteenth of August. You cannot be expected to feel any interest in good Papa....
Long Stories - Post by : mindout - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 3083
CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIFTH. Lucilla's Journal, concluded _September 4th _(continued). ARRIVED in the drawing-room, Grosse placed me in a chair near the window. He leaned forward, and looked at me close; he drew back, and looked at me from a distance; he took out his magnifying glass, and had a long stare through it at my eyes; he felt my pulse; dropped my wrist as if it disgusted him; and, turning to the window, looked out in grim silence, without taking the slightest notice of any one in the room. My aunt was the first person who spoke, under these discouraging circumstances....
Long Stories - Post by : mindout - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 4024
CHAPTER THE FORTY-FOURTH. Lucilla's Journal, continued _September 4th. I MARK this day as one of the saddest days of my life. Oscar has shown Madame Pratolungo to me, in her true colors. He has reasoned out this miserable matter with a plainness which it is impossible for me to resist. I have thrown away my love and my confidence on a false woman: there is no sense of honor, no feeling of gratitude or of delicacy in her nature. And I once thought her--it sickens me to recall it! I will see her no more. (Note.--Did it ever occur to you...
Long Stories - Post by : mindout - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 3601
CHAPTER THE FORTY-THIRD. Lucilla's Journal, continued _September 1st. I AM composed enough to return to my Journal, and to let my mind dwell a little on all that I have thought and felt since Oscar has been here. Now that I have lost Madame Pratolungo, I have no friend with whom I can talk over my little secrets. My aunt is all that is kind and good to me; but with a person so much older than I am--who has lived in such a different world from my world, and whose ideas seem to be so far away from mine--how can...
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CHAPTER THE FORTIETH. Traces of Nugent "MADAME PRATOLUNGO!" "Herr Grosse?" He put his handkerchief back into his pocket, and turned round to me from the window with his face composed again, and his tea-caddy snuff-box in his hand. "Now you have seen for your own self," he said, with an emphatic rap on the box, "do you dare tell that sweet girls which of them it is that has gone his ways and left her for ever?" It is not easy to find a limit to the obstinacy of women--when men expect them to acknowledge themselves to have been wrong. After...
Long Stories - Post by : dopom9 - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 2427
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH. She Learns to See WITH the new morning, certain reflections found their way into my mind which were not of the most welcome sort. There was one serious element of embarrassment in my position towards Lucilla, which had not discovered itself to me when Nugent and I parted at the rectory gate. Browndown was now empty. In the absence of both the brothers, what was I to say to Lucilla when the false Oscar failed to pay her his promised visit that day? In what a labyrinth of lies had the first fatal suppression of the truth involved...
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CHAPTER 38. Is there no Excuse for Him? OSCAR'S dismissed servant (left, during the usual month of warning, to take care of the house) opened the door to me when I knocked. Although the hour was already a late one in primitive Dimchurch, the man showed no signs of surprise at seeing me. "Is Mr. Nugent Dubourg at home?" "Yes, ma'am." He lowered his voice, and added, "I think Mr. Nugent expected to see you to-night." Whether he intended it, or not, the servant had done me a good turn--he had put me on my guard. Nugent Dubourg understood my character...
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CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH. The Brothers change Places I VAINLY believed I had prepared myself for any misfortune that could fall on us. The man's last words dispelled my delusion. My gloomiest forebodings had never contemplated such a disaster as had now happened. I stood petrified, thinking of Lucilla, and looking helplessly at the servant. Try as I might, I was perfectly incapable of speaking to him. He felt no such difficulty on his side. One of the strangest peculiarities in the humbler ranks of the English people, is the sort of solemn relish which they have for talking of their own...
Long Stories - Post by : rahul - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 4293
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH. The Brothers Meet A FAINT sound of crying found its way to my ears from the lower end of the room, and reminded me that the rector and his wife had been present among us. Feeble Mrs. Finch was lying back in her chair, weeping and wailing over what had happened. Her husband, with the baby in his arms, was trying to compose her. I ought perhaps to have offered my help--but, I own, poor Mrs. Finch's distress produced only a passing impression on me. My whole heart was with another person. I forgot the rector and his...
Long Stories - Post by : rahul - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 3043
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH. Lucilla tries her Sight SHE was sitting alone in the dim light, with the bandage over her eyes, with her pretty hands crossed patiently on her lap. My heart swelled in me as I looked at her, and felt the horrid discovery that I had made still present in my mind. "Forgive me for leaving you," I said in as steady a voice as I could command at the moment--and kissed her. She instantly discovered my agitation, carefully as I thought I had concealed it. "You are frightened too!" she exclaimed, taking my hands in hers. "Frightened, my...
Long Stories - Post by : rahul - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 2559
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH. Nugent shows his Hand I CLOSED the First Part of my narrative on the day of the operation, the twenty-fifth of June. I open the Second Part, between six and seven weeks later, on the ninth of August. How did the time pass at Dimchurch in that interval? Searching backwards in my memory, I call to life again the domestic history of the six weeks. It looks, on retrospection, miserably dull and empty of incident. I wonder when I contemplate it now, how we got through that weary interval--how we bore that forced inaction, that unrelieved oppression of...
Long Stories - Post by : rahul - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 2822
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD. The Day Between THE interval-day before the second appearance of Herr Grosse, and the experiment on Lucilla's sight that was to follow it, was marked by two incidents which ought to be noticed in this place. The first incident was the arrival, early in the morning, of another letter addressed to me privately by Oscar Dubourg. Like many other shy people, he had a perfect mania any embarrassing circumstances were concerned, for explaining himself, with difficulty, by means of his pen, in preference to explaining himself, with ease, by means of his tongue. Oscar's present communication informed...
Long Stories - Post by : rahul - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 1643
CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. Herr Grosse SEVERAL circumstances deserving to be mentioned here, took place in the early part of the day on which we expected the visit of the two oculists. I have all the will to relate them--but the capacity to do it completely fails me. When I look back at that eventful morning, I recall a scene of confusion and suspense, the bare recollection of which seems to upset my mind again, even at this distance of time. Things and persons all blend distractedly one with another. I see the charming figure of my blind Lucilla, robed in rose-color...
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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH. Parliamentary Summary OH, the welcome interruption! After the agitation that we had suffered, we all stood equally in need of some such relief as this. It was absolutely a luxury to fall back again into the common-place daily routine of life. I asked to whom the letter was addressed? Nugent answered, "The letter is addressed to me; and the writer is Mr. Finch." Having read the letter, he turned to Lucilla. "I sent a message to your father, asking him to join us here," he said. "Mr. Finch writes back to say that his duties keep him at...
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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. He crosses the Rubicon I WAS still in doubt, whether to enter the room, or to wait outside until she left Browndown to return to the rectory--when Lucilla's keen sense of hearing decided the question which I had been unable to settle for myself. The door of the room opened; and Oscar advanced into the hall. "Lucilla insisted that she heard somebody outside," he said. "Who could have guessed it was you? Why did you wait in the hall? Come in! come in!" He held open the door for me; and I went in. Oscar announced me to...
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CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. He finds a Way out of it WE sat down at the piano, as Lucilla had proposed. She wished me to play first, and to play alone. I was teaching her, at the time, one of the _Sonatas of Mozart; and I now tried to go on with the lesson. Never before, or since, have I played so badly, as on that day! The divine serenity and completeness by which Mozart's music is, to my mind, raised above all other music that ever was written, can only be worthily interpreted by a player whose whole mind is given...
Long Stories - Post by : rahul - Date : May 2012 - Author : Wilkie Collins - Read : 1852
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Poor Miss Finch - Chapter 50. The End Of The Journey
