Falchion because she was the
shadow. I felt that trouble was at hand. In this trouble I knew that I
was to play a part; for, if Roscoe had his secret and Mrs. Falchion had
the key to it, I also held a secret which, in case of desperate need, I
should use. I did not wish to use it, for though it was mine it was also
another's. I did not like the look in Mrs. Falchion's eyes as she glanced
at Ruth: I was certain that she resented Roscoe's regard for Ruth and
Ruth's regard for Roscoe; but, up to that moment, I had not thought it
possible that she cared for him deeply. Once she had influenced me, but
she had never cared for me.
I could see a change in her. Out of it came that glance at Ruth, which
seemed to me the talon-like hatred that shot from the eyes of Goneril and
Regan: and I was sure that if she loved Roscoe there would be mad trouble
for him and for the girl. Heretofore she had been passionless, but there
was a dormant power in her which had only to be wickedly aroused to wreck
her own and others' happiness. Hers was one of those volcanic natures,
defying calculation and ordinary conceptions of life; having the fullest
capacity for all the elementary passions--hatred, love, cruelty, delight,
loyalty, revolt, jealousy.
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