Farquhar.
Miss Benson occasionally thought--and what she thought she was in
the habit of saying--that Jemima might have come herself to
announce such an event to old friends; but Mr. Benson decidedly
vindicated her from any charge of neglect, by expressing his
strong conviction that to her they owed Mr. Farquhar's calls--his
all but out-spoken offers of service--his quiet, steady interest
in Leonard; and, moreover (repeating the conversation he had had
with her in the street, the first time they met after the
disclosure), Mr. Benson told his sister how glad he was to find
that, with all the warmth of her impetuous disposition hurrying
her on to rebellion against her father, she was now attaining to
that just self-control which can distinguish between mere wishes
and true reasons--that she could abstain from coming to see Ruth
while she would do but little good, reserving herself for some
great occasion or strong emergency.
Ruth said nothing, but she yearned all the more in silence to see
Jemima. In her recollection of that fearful interview with Mr.
Bradshaw, which haunted her yet, sleeping or waking, she was
painfully conscious that she had not thanked Jemima for her
generous, loving advocacy; it had passed unregarded at the time
in intensity of agony--but now she recollected that by no word,
or tone, or touch, had she given any sign of gratitude. Mr.
Benson had never told her of his meeting with Jemima; so it
seemed as if there were no hope of any future opportunity for it
is strange how two households, rent apart by some dissension, can
go through life, their parallel existences running side by side,
yet never touching each other, near neighbours as they are,
habitual and familiar guests as they may have been.
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