And
the strangest thing of all, in Mr. Twemlow's opinion, was her curious
persistence about Queen Mabonga. Could any black woman--and she supposed
she must be that--be considered by white people to be beautiful? Had
Captain Southcombe ever even seen her; and if not, how could he be in
such raptures about her attractions? She did not like to say a word,
because he had been so kind and so faithful to those poor soldiers, whom
it was his duty to bring home safe; but if it had not been for that, she
might have thought that with so many children and a wife at Limehouse,
he should not have allowed his mind to dwell so fondly on the personal
appearance of a negress!
The Rector was astonished at this injustice, and began to revise his
opinion about Faith as the fairest and sweetest girl in all the world;
but Mrs. Twemlow smiled, when she had left off crying, and said that
she liked the dear child all the better for concluding that Ponga--or
whatever her name was--must of necessity and at the first glance fall
desperately in love with her own Erle. Then the Rector cried, "Oh, to
be sure, that explained it! But he never could have thought of that,
without his wife's assistance."
Two years now, two years of quiet patience, of busy cheerfulness now and
then, and of kindness to others always, had made of Faith Darling a lady
to be loved for a hundred years, and for ever. The sense of her sorrow
was never far from her, yet never brought near to any other by herself;
and her smile was as warm, and her eyes as bright, as if there had never
been a shadow on her youth.
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