'
'Father--Oh, if I had my face again! If I had my own face!'
A great anguish shook her; she lay hi his arms and sobbed. It was
the farewell, even in her fulness of heart and deep sense of
consolation, to all she had most vehemently desired, Gratitude and
self-pity being indivisible in her emotions, she knew not herself
whether the ache of regret or the soothing restfulness of
deliverance made her tears flow. But at least there was no conscious
duplicity, and for the moment no doubt that she had found her haven.
It is a virtuous world, and our frequent condemnations are
invariably based on justice; will it be greatly harmful if for once
we temper our righteous judgment with ever so little mercy?
CHAPTER XXXIII
A FALL FROM THE IDEAL
Joseph Snowdon waxed daily in respectability. He was, for one thing,
clothing himself in flesh, and, though still any. thing but a portly
man, bore himself as becomes one who can indulge a taste for eating
and drinking; his step was more deliberate, he no longer presented
the suppleness of limb that so often accompanies a needy condition
in the man of wits, he grew attentive to his personal equipment, he
was always well combed and well shaven, and generally, in hours of
leisure, you perceived a fragrance breathing from his handkerchief.
Pages:
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592