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And, mother, he will find all ready to own what a priceless treasure he sent before him in his wife." There was the old note of pain in the comparison. Julius's heart was wrung as he thought of Sirenwood, with the sense that the victim was dying, the author of the evil recovering.
Cecil's errand was a council about the bazaar; and driving round by Sirenwood, Lady Tyrrell became her companion in the carriage. The quick eyes soon perceived that something had taken place, and confidence was soon drawn forth. "The ice is broken; and by whom do you think?" "By la belle mere? Skilful strategy to know when the position is not tenable." "She wants to retreat to Church-house."
It will never cease to haunt me." He sat in deep despondency, while Mrs. Poynsett overlooked her resources; but presently he started up, saying, "There's one shadow of a hope. I'll go over to Sirenwood, insist on seeing one her and having an explanation. I have a right, whatever I did yesterday; and you have forgiven me for that, mother!" "I think it is the most hopeful way.
Julius insisted on taking home with him his curate, who had been at work from ten o'clock that morning till six, when as Julius resigned the pony's reins to him, he begged that they might go round and inquire at Sirenwood, to which consent was the more willingly given because poor Frank's few gleams of consciousness were spent in sending his indefatigable nurse Anne to ask whether his mother had 'had that letter, and in his delirium he was always feeling his watch-chain for that unhappy pebble, and moaning when he missed it.
My father would never let it stand so near the house." "It is too near, but it was planted at the birth of my mother's brother." "Who died?" "Yes, at seven years old. It was her first grief." "Then it would vex her if you cut it." Raymond laughed. "It is hers, not mine." "I forgot." There was a good deal in the tone; but she added, "What is that place opposite?" "Sirenwood.
Whether this constant occupation, furnishing, repairing, planning, beautifying her model cottages, her school chapel, and all the rest, were lessening the heartache, no one knew, but the sharp black eyes looked as dry and hard, the lines round the mouth as weary as ever; and Rosamond sometimes thought if Sirenwood were not full of ghosts to her, she was much like a ghost herself who came
But it was not to Miles, but to Rosamond, that she brought an earnest question, walking in one autumn morning to the Rectory, amid the falling leaves of the Virginian-creeper, and amazing Rosamond, who was writing against time for the Indian mail, by asking "Rosamond, will you find out if Mrs. Poynsett would mind my coming to live at Sirenwood?" "You, Cecil!" "Yes, I'm old enough.
"There was a place I saw from the line, but Raymond didn't hear when I asked whose it was. Close to the station, I mean." "That is Sirenwood," said Charles. "Sir Harry Vivian's. He is just come back there with his two daughters." "I thought Emily Vivian was dead," said Julius. "You don't mean that women!" "That woman?" laughed his wife. "What has she done to be a that woman?"
In three years' time Sirenwood was in perfect order, the once desolate garden blazed with ribbons, triangles and pattipans of verbena, scarlet geranium and calceolaria, with intervals of echiverias, pronounced by Tom to be like cabbages trying to turn into copper kettles; her foliage plants got all the prizes at horticultural shows, her poultry were incomparable at their exhibitions, her cottages were models, her school machinery perfect, and if a pattern in farming apparatus were wanted, people went to Mrs.
Indeed, they all felt glad that her views of etiquette did not bind them to their places; for Frank was burning to be off to Sirenwood, forgetting that it was far easier to be too early than too late for Sir Harry Vivian, who was wont to smoke till long after midnight, and was never visible till the midday repast. And thus it was Lady Tyrrell who came to Frank alone.
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