It was very cruel of him to show himself so
proud, and tell her that he would never consent to marry a beggar. But,
if he were proud, she was determined to be proud too. He should see that
she would not conduct herself like a slighted maiden, and that, though
he could reject her, it was not in his power to break her heart. At
another time she imagined she saw Mr. Tyrrel and his engine Grimes,
their hands and garments dropping with blood: and the pathetic
reproaches she vented against them might have affected a heart of stone.
Then the figure of Falkland presented itself to her distracted fancy,
deformed with wounds, and of a deadly paleness, and she shrieked with
agony, while she exclaimed that such was the general hardheartedness,
that no one would make the smallest exertion for his rescue. In such
vicissitudes of pain, perpetually imagining to her self unkindness,
insult, conspiracy, and murder, she passed a considerable part of two
days.
On the evening of the second Mr. Falkland arrived, accompanied by Doctor
Wilson, the physician by whom she had previously been attended.
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