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Updated: June 21, 2025
If you can spare me a few minutes, come into the library. Some time since," he resumed, when the door was closed, "I think I mentioned that my friends had been speaking to me on a subject of some importance the subject of opening my picture gallery occasionally to the public." "I remember," said Father Benwell. "Has your lordship decided what to do?" "Yes.
"I am not sufficiently well acquainted with you, Father Benwell, to express an opinion." With that answer, she took her mother's arm and left the room. The moment they were alone, Romayne turned to the priest, trembling with anger. Father Benwell, smiling indulgently at the lady's little outbreak, took him by the hand, with peace-making intentions, "Now don't pray don't excite yourself!"
"Let me get you a glass of wine," he said. She consented she really felt the need of it. As he turned away to ring the bell, she put the question which had been in her mind from the moment when she had seen Winterfield. "How did you become acquainted with this gentleman?" "Through Father Benwell."
"No, indeed!" "A lady is not in love for the first time when she is between twenty and twenty-five years old that is my experience," said Father Benwell. "If I can find a person capable of informing me, I may make some valuable discoveries in the earlier history of Miss Eyrecourt's life. No more, now. We had better return to our friends."
Winterfield, living with you in adultery. If you regret your conversion " "I don't regret it, Father Benwell." "If you renounce the holy aspirations which you have yourself acknowledged to me, return to your domestic life. But don't ask us, while you are living with that lady, to respect you as a member of our communion." Romayne was silent.
"Five o'clock tea on Wednesdays, Father Benwell. Don't forget!" The moment he was gone, she drew her daughter into a quiet corner. "Don't be frightened, Stella. That sly old person has some interest in trying to find out about Winterfield. Do you know why?" "Indeed I don't, mamma. I hate him!" "Oh, hush! hush! Hate him as much as you like; but always be civil to him.
Lord Loring, unable himself to give the required information, suggested the right person to consult. "Father Benwell will be here later in the day," he said. "If you will write to Penrose at once, he will add the address. Are you sure, before the letter goes, that the book you want is not in my library?"
"Say the day after to-morrow," Father Benwell hospitably suggested. "Do me a great favor. Come and eat your bit of mutton at my lodgings. Six o'clock, if you like and some remarkably good claret, a present from one of the Faithful. You will? That's hearty! And do promise me to think no more of our little domestic comedy. Relieve your mind.
There isn't a place on the habitable globe that I am not ready to feel interested in, except detestable Devonshire. I am so sorry you went there. The next time you have a holiday, take my advice. Try the Continent." "I should like it of all things," said Father Benwell. "Only I don't speak French. Allow me to get Miss Eyrecourt a glass of wine."
"No horrors!" she cried. "The bare idea of a madhouse distracts me with terror. Oh, fie, fie! I won't listen to you I won't look at you I positively refuse to be frightened out of my wits. Matilda! wheel me away to the furthest end of the room. My vivid imagination, Father Benwell, is my rock ahead in life. I declare I can smell the odious madhouse.
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