But her heart, at first bubbling over with
gladness, soon grew calmer, when she came to perceive how very ill James
was. And before long she began to fear she must part with her child, whose
lack of love hitherto made the threatened separation the more frightful to
her. She turned even from the thought of Isy's restoration, as if that were
itself an added wrong. From the occasional involuntary association of the
two in her thought, she would turn away with a sort of meek loathing. To
hold her James for one moment in the same thought with any girl less
spotless than he, was to disgrace herself!
James was indeed not only very ill, but growing slowly worse; for he lay
struggling at last in the Backbite of Conscience, who had him in her
unrelaxing jaws, and was worrying him well. Whence the holy dog came we
know, but how he got a hold of him to begin his saving torment, who shall
understand but the maker of men and of their secret, inexorable friend!
Every beginning is infinitesimal, and wrapt in the mystery of creation.
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