"As soon as Mrs. Faringfield read
the letters, which I had taken over at once, Fanny and Mr. Cornelius
started running for the wharves. But when they got there, the _Phoebe_
wasn't in sight. It had sailed immediately their trunks were aboard, I
suppose. Oh, to think of pretty Madge--what will become of her in that
great, bad London?"
"She has made her plans, no doubt, and knows what she is doing," said
I, with a little bitterness. "Poor Phil! Her father is much to blame."
When I told Tom, as soon as I reached the outpost, he gave a sudden,
ghastly, startled look; then collected himself, and glanced at the
sword with which he meant to fight that night.
"Why, I was afraid she would go," said he, in a strained voice; and
that was all.
Whenever I saw him during the rest of the evening, he was silent,
pale, a little shaky methought. He was not as I had been before my
maiden duel: blustering and gay, in a trance-like recklessness;
assuming self-confidence so well as to deceive even myself and carry
me buoyantly through. He seemed rather in suspense like that of a
lover who has to beg a stern father for a daughter's hand. As a slight
hurt will cause a man the greatest pain, and a severe injury produce
no greater, so will the apprehensions of a trivial ordeal equal in
effect those of a matter of life and death; there being a limit to
possible sensation, beyond which nature leaves us happily numb.
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