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'Where shall we drive to? 'Say Clapham Junction. They entered the four-wheeler, and, as soon as it began to move out of the station, Mrs. Maskell leaned back.
Poor old Bill Maskell was in a strangely agitated condition for some time after the occurrence of these events, being alternately in a state of the greatest hilarity at Bob's return home, and despondency at the reflection that henceforth the remainder of their lives must be spent apart.
"Ay, ay," responded old Bill Maskell from his favourite corner under the tall old-fashioned clock-case, "Bob's gone across the creek and up to the tower, as usual.
A man such as Redgrave, wealthy and a bachelor; a woman such as Sibyl, beautiful, fond of luxurious living; her husband in an embarrassed position how was it that he, a man of the world, had never seen things in this light? Doubtless his anxiety had blinded him; that, and his absolute faith in Sibyl, and Redgrave's frank friendliness. Maskell could still dare him to take a step against her.
As a further illustration of the utter incompetency of the Establishment to perform this primary duty, we may call to mind the strikingly instructive correspondence that was published some years ago between his Grace Archbishop Sumner and Mr. Maskell, who very naturally and very rightly sought direction from his Ordinary concerning certain points of doctrine, of which he was in doubt.
Has Maskell delved and Neale translated and Littledale compiled in vain? In the whole history of liturgies there is no record of a wiser step. To be sure, the General Convention spoiled all this by insisting on retaining certain duplicated formularies which the Committee had very properly dropped in order to find room for fresh material.
'I know that! Hugh shouted rather than spoke. 'She was there with Mrs Fenimore Redgrave's sister and several other people. 'Yes; last summer. I caught sight of her as she was sitting in the veranda, and it amused me to think how little she suspected who was looking at her. But she has been there since. 'When? Mrs. Maskell consulted her memory, and indicated a day in the past winter.
"Well, you see, mister, the way of it is just this," explained old Maskell, who considered the question as addressed more especially to him: "Bob was took off a wrack on the Maplin when he was a mere babby, the only one saved; found him wrapped up warm and snug in one of the bunks on the weather side of the cabin with the water surging up to within three inches of him; so ever since he's been old enough to understand he've always insisted as it was his duty, by way of returning thanks, like, to take the look-out when a wrack may be expected.
The next day found him closeted for a full hour with old Bill Maskell, after which, to everybody's profound astonishment, the pair left for London. Only to return next day, however, accompanied by a fine tall soldierly-looking old man, to whom Bob was speedily introduced, and by whom he was claimed, to his unqualified amazement, as an only and long- lost son.
'I don't think I can be mistaken, were his low, cautiously-spoken words, whilst he gazed into her face with stern fixedness. 'You remember me, Mrs. Maskell, no doubt. 'I do not, sir. You certainly are mistaken. She replied in a voice which so admirably counterfeited a French accent that Hugh could not but smile, even whilst setting his teeth in anger at her impudence. 'Oh! that settles it.
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