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Updated: June 28, 2025
Lord Blandamer glanced at the architect, and answered for him that Mr Westray had not seen it. Then he explained with a composure that shed a calm through the room: "It was turned to the wall. It is a pity to show it unhung, and without a frame. We must get it framed at once, and decide on a position for it. I think we shall have to shift several paintings in the gallery."
There will be another shorter green line lower down." It was as he said, and in a minute more there shone out the silver field and the three sea-green bars of the nebuly coat, and below it the motto Aut Fynes aut finis, just as it shone in the top light of the Blandamer window.
"He asked me whether anyone had ever approached the old lord about the restoration, and I said the Rector had written, and never got an answer." "It wasn't to the old lord he wrote," Mr Sharnall cut in; "it was to this very man. Didn't you know it was to this very man? No one ever thought it worth ink and paper to write to old Blandamer. I was the only one, fool enough to do that.
This was no doubt the case, for, after they had settled before the fire, and the lambent blue flames of the driftwood had been properly admired, Mr Sharnall began with a hesitating cough: "A rather curious thing happened this afternoon. When I got back here after evening-service, who should I find waiting in my room but that Blandamer fellow.
And he pointed to a shapeless heap of turf and gravestones and churchyard mould against the base of the tower. "Where is Mr Westray?" Lord Blandamer said. "Ask him to speak to me for a minute." He looked round about for the architect; he wondered now that he had not seen him among the crowd. The people standing near had listened to Lord Blandamer's words.
He was in the mean little streets, he was within five minutes of his goal, when he heard singing. He was passing the same little inn which he had passed the first night that Westray came. The same voice was singing inside which had sung the night that Westray came. Westray had brought discomfort; Westray had brought Lord Blandamer.
"Let me see," his wife said, making a show of reckoning Cullerne respectability with the fingers of one hand on the fingers of the other. "There is " She broke off as a sudden idea seized her. "Why, of course, we must ask Lord Blandamer. He has shown such marked interest in ecclesiastical matters that he is sure to wish to meet the Bishop." "A most fortunate suggestion admirable in every way.
"I am afraid it is useless to ask you to stop the night with us," he said; and Westray had his rejoinder ready: "No; I must leave Lytchett by the seven five train. I have ordered the fly to wait." He had named the last train available for London, and Lord Blandamer saw that his visitor had so arranged matters, that the interview could not be prolonged for more than an hour.
You will laugh when I tell you that I sometimes think I hear them crying for repair, and especially that one on the south with the jagged crack in the wall above it. Now and then, when I am alone in the church or the tower, I seem to catch their very words. `The arch never sleeps, they say; `we never sleep." "It is a romantic idea," Lord Blandamer said.
"A letter from Lord Blandamer?" she said in unconcealed amazement "a letter from Lord Blandamer to Mr Westray!"
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