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Updated: June 4, 2025
Deep distress reigned meanwhile in the nursery at Atherstone. Vic, the much-beloved, the stoat pursuer, the would-be church-goer, Vic was dead, and Molly's soul refused comfort. In vain nurse conveyed a palpitating guinea-pig into the nursery in a bird-cage, on the narrow door of which remains of fur showed an unwilling entrance; Molly could derive no comfort from guinea-pigs.
As it was, she never dreamed how near she was to loving Aikenside's young heir; and while talking with Jessie of the grand times they should have at school, she marveled at that little round spot of pain which was burning at her heart, or why she should wish that Guy would not speak of her in his letter to Lucy Atherstone.
She could not for a moment associate him with herself when she so constantly thought of him as the husband of another, and that other Lucy Atherstone. Not for worlds would Maddy have wronged the gentle creature who wrote to her so confidingly of Guy, envying her in that she could so often see his face and hear his voice, while his betrothed was separated from him by many thousand miles.
Arthur was acquainted with those strange people the Atherstones?" he said, in a tone of easy interrogation, looking for his hat. Lady Coryston was a little surprised by the remark. "I suppose an M.P. must be acquainted with everybody to some extent," she said, smiling. "I know very well what his opinion of Mr. Atherstone is." "Well, good-by, Lady Coryston.
But her father did not notice it. He lifted his head to listen. "I think I hear the motor." "You look tired," said Marion to her guest. The first bout of conversation was over, and Dr. Atherstone had gone back to his letters. Enid Glenwilliam took off her hat, accepted the cushion which her hostess was pressing upon her, and lay at ease in her cane chair.
The younger brother was there Atherstone perfectly understood simply because Miss Glenwilliam was their guest; not for his own beaux yeux or his daughter's. But having ventured on to hostile ground, for a fair lady's sake, he might look to being kindly treated. Arthur, on his side, however, played his part badly.
He jogged on more happily after his meeting with Ruth, and only remembered half an hour later that he had completely forgotten to order the dog-cart to meet Charles, who was coming to Atherstone for a night before he went on to kill the Slumberleigh pheasants the following morning. Ruth set out at once over the pale stubble fields, glad of an object for a walk.
Had Guy then been asked the question, he would, in all probability, have acknowledged that in his heart there was a feeling of superiority to Maddy Clyde; that she was not quite the equal of Aikenside's heir, nor yet of Lucy Atherstone.
Yes, he greatly preferred Lucy Atherstone, as she was, to a wife like the stately Margaret, or like Agnes, his pretty stepmother, who only thought how she could best attract attention; and as it had never occurred to him that there might be a happy medium, that a woman need not be brainless to be feminine and gentle, he was satisfied with his choice, as well he might be, for a fairer, sweeter flower never bloomed than Lucy Atherstone, his affianced bride.
"I don't know whether I do or not I don't know enough about it." "You mustn't," he said, eagerly "you mustn't disagree with me!" Then, after a pause, "Do you know that I'm always hearing about you, Miss Atherstone, down in those villages?" Marion blushed furiously, then laughed. "I can't imagine why." "Oh yes, you can. I hate charity generally. It's a beastly mess.
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