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Updated: April 30, 2025
Molyneux had started, with Mrs. de Noël as her companion as far as the station, and all the rest of the party had gone out to sun themselves in the brightness of the afternoon, I worked through a long arrears of correspondence: and I was just finishing a letter, when Atherley, whom I supposed to be far distant, came into the library. "I thought you had gone to pay calls with Lady Atherley?"
"But how annoying about the ceiling," said Lady Atherley. "Over the new carpet, too! What can make the plaster fall in this way?" "It is the quality of the climate," said Atherley. "It is horribly destructive.
"Which I looked down my nose, and it were like a corpse's." "Very alarming," said Atherley, "but easily explained. Directly you opened the door there was, of course, a draught from the open window. That draught blew the candle out and knocked something over, probably a screen." "La' bless you, Sir George, it was more like paving-stones than screens a-falling." And indeed Mrs.
"What on earth is the matter now?" said Atherley, rising and making for the door. He opened it just in time for us to see Mrs. Mallet go by Mrs. Mallet bathed in tears and weeping as I never have heard an adult weep before or since in a manner which is graphically and literally described by the phrase "roaring and crying." "Why, Mrs. Mallet! What on earth is the matter?"
Then Lady Atherley returned and gave me tea; and afterwards, in the library, I worked at accounts till it was nearly too dark to write.
"I make it out," said Atherley; "I make out that he was a little the worse for drink. Have we not a plasterer in the village?" "I think there is one. I fancy the Jacksons did not wish us to employ him, because he is a dissenter; but after all, giving him work is not the same as giving him presents."
Supported by a stick on one side, and by Atherley on the other, I crawled down the long gallery at home and halted before a high wide-open window to see the sunlit view of park and woods and distant downland.
During the afternoon he was confided to me by his little masters while they made an expedition to the stables, and I was sitting reading by the library fire with the invalid beside me when Lady Atherley came in to propose I should go into the drawing-room and talk to Mrs. Molyneux, who had just come down. "Did she ask to see me?" "No; but when I proposed your going in, she did not say no."
For instance, I have myself heard it said that it was only a kind of spiritualism. On the contrary, it is very much opposed to it, and has quite convinced me for one of the wickedness and danger of spiritualism." "Well, that is so much to its credit," Atherley generously acknowledged. "And then, people said it was very immoral.
Besides, we must just plant our flame-flower first." I dropped my knife and fork and gazed at her open-mouthed. "Plant your WHAT?" I managed to say at last. "Flame-flower. Do you know it? John brought one down last night it looks so pretty growing up anything." "It won't take a moment," said Miss Atherley, "and then I'll beat you."
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