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and in this he was considered by the Black Lion； who had been his
familiar for some years； quite to surpass and go beyond himself；
and outrun the expectations of his most admiring friends。
The subject that worked in Mr Willet’s mind； and occasioned
these demonstrations； was no other than his son’s bodily
disfigurement； which he had never yet got himself thoroughly to
believe； or comprehend。 Shortly after their first meeting； he had
been observed to wander； in a state of great perplexity； to the
kitchen； and to direct his gaze towards the fire； as if in search of
his usual adviser in all matters of doubt and difficulty。 But there
being no boiler at the Black Lion； and the rioters having so beaten
and battered his own that it was quite unfit for further service； he
wandered out again； in a perfect bog of uncertainty and mental
confusion； and in that state took the strangest means of resolving
his doubts： such as feeling the sleeve of his son’s greatcoat as
deeming it possible that his arm might be there； looking at his own
arms and those of everybody else； as if to assure himself that two
and not one was the usual allowance； sitting by the hour together
in a brown study； as if he were endeavouring to recall Joe’s image
in his younger days； and to remember whether he really had in
those times one arm or a pair； and employing himself in many
other speculations of the same kind。
Finding himself at this supper； surrounded by faces with which
he had been so well acquainted in old times； Mr Willet recurred to
the subject with uncommon vigour； apparently resolved to
understand it now or never。 Sometimes； after every two or three
mouthfuls； he laid down his knife and fork； and stared at his son
with all his might—particularly at his maimed side； then； he
looked slowly round the table until he caught some person’s eye；
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when he shook his head with great solemnity； patted his shoulder；
winked； or as one may say—for winking was a very slow process
with him—went to sleep with one eye for a minute or two； and so；
with another solemn shaking of his head； took up his knife and
fork again； and went on eating。 Sometimes； he put his food into his
mouth abstractedly； and； with all his faculties concentrated on Joe；
gazed at him in a fit of stupefaction as he cut his meat with one
hand； until he was recalled to himself by symptoms of choking on
his own part； and was by that means restored to consciousness。 At
other times he resorted to such small devices as asking him for the
salt； the pepper； the vinegar； the mustard—anything that was on
his maimed side—and watching him as he handed it。 By dint of
these experiments； he did at last so satisfy and convince himself；
that； after a longer silence than he had yet maintained； he laid
down his knife and fork on either side his plate； drank a long
draught from a tankard beside him （still keeping his eyes on Joe）；
and leaning backward in his chair and fetching a long breath； said；
as he looked all round the board：
‘It’s been took off！’
‘By George！’ said the Black Lion； striking the table with his
hand； ‘he’s got it！’
‘Yes； sir；’ said Mr Willet； with the look of a man who felt that he
had earned a compliment； and deserved it。 ‘That’s where it is。 It’s
been took off。’
‘Tell him where it was done；’ said the Black Lion to Joe。
‘At the defence of the Savannah； father。’
‘At the defence of the Salwanners；’ repeated Mr Willet； softly；
again looking round the table。
‘In America； where the war is；’ said Joe。
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‘In America； where the war is；’ repeated Mr Willet。 ‘It was took
off in the defence of the Salwanners in America where the war is。’
Continuing to repeat these words to himself in a low tone of voice
（the same information had been conveyed to him in the same
terms； at least fifty times before）； Mr Willet arose from table；
walked round to Joe； felt his empty sleeve all the way up； from the
cuff； to where the stump of his arm remained； shook his hand；
lighted his pipe at the fire； took a long whiff； walked to the door；
turned round once when he had reached it； wiped his left eye with
the back of his forefinger； and said； in a faltering voice： ‘My son’s
arm—was took off—at the defence of the—Salwanners—in
America—where the war is’—with which words he withdrew； and
returned no more that night。
Indeed； on various pretences； they all withdrew one after
another； save Dolly； who was left sitting there alone。 It was a great
relief to be alone； and she was crying to her heart’s content； when
she heard Joe’s voice at the end of the passage； bidding somebody
good night。
Good night！ Then he was going elsewhere—to some distance；
perhaps。 To what kind of home could he be going； now that it was
so late！
She heard him walk along the passage； and pass the door。 But
there was a hesitation in his footsteps。 He turned back—Dolly’s
heart beat high—he looked in。
‘Good night！’—he didn’t say Dolly； but there was comfort in his
not saying Miss Varden。
‘Good night！’ sobbed Dolly。
‘I am sorry you take on so much； for what is past and gone；’ said
Joe kindly。 ‘Don’t。 I can’t bear to see you do it。 Think of it no
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longer。 You are safe and happy now。’
Dolly cried the more。
‘You must have suffered very much within these few days—and
yet you’re not changed； unless it’s for the better。 They said you
were； but I don’t see it。 You were—you were always very
beautiful；’ said Joe； ‘but