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Updated: May 13, 2025
The letter was a reply to a vehement entreaty from Lady Blandish for him to come up to Richard and forgive him thoroughly: Richard's name was not mentioned in it. "He tries to be more than he is," thought the lady: and she began insensibly to conceive him less than he was.
"It was," Adrian put in his word, "the exact thing he wanted. His spirits have returned miraculously." "Something amused him," said the baronet, with an eye on the puffing train. "Probably something his uncle said or did," Lady Blandish suggested, and led off at a gallop. Her conjecture chanced to be quite correct. The cause for Richard's laughter was simple enough.
Now the Scientific Humanist had, of course, nothing to reproach himself with. But where was Richard? Adrian positively averred he was not with his wife. "If he had gone," said the baronet, "he would have anticipated me by a few hours." This, when repeated to Lady Blandish, should have propitiated her, and shown his great forgiveness. She, however, sighed, and looked at him wistfully.
"And he was in quest of the San Greal?" "If you like." "And showed his good taste by turning aside for the more tangible San Blandish?" "Of course you consider it would have been so," sighed the lady, ruffling. "I can only judge by our generation," said Sir Austin, with a bend of homage. The lady gathered her mouth. "Either we are very mighty or you are very weak." "Both, madam."
"The stupid fellow took it away with him by mischance, I am bound to believe." Lady Blandish turned over the leaves, and came upon the later jottings. She read: "A maker of Proverbs what is he but a narrow mind with the mouthpiece of narrower?" "I do not agree with that," she observed. He was in no humour for argument. "Was your humility feigned when you wrote it?"
"You hit mortal hard when you're in earnest, you know." Richard averred he would forgive anything but that, and told Tom to be within hail to-morrow night he knew where. By the hour of the appointment it was out of the lover's mind. Lady Blandish dined that evening at Raynham, by Adrian's pointed invitation. According to custom, Richard started up and off, with few excuses.
This is not the first time you have been attendant on Apollo and Miss Dryope? You have written to headquarters?" "I did my duty, Mr. Hadrian." The wise youth returned to Lady Blandish, and informed her of Benson's zeal. The lady's eyes flashed. "I hope Richard will treat him as he deserves," she said. "Shall we home?" Adrian inquired. "Do me a favour;" the lady replied.
The other letter was from Lady Blandish, a lady's letter, and said: "I have fulfilled your commission to the best of my ability, and heartily sad it has made me. She is indeed very much above her station pity that it is so! She is almost beautiful quite beautiful at times, and not in any way what you have been led to fancy. The poor child had no story to tell.
He wrote as pathetically of the break of habit as men feel at the death of love, and when we are old and have no fair hope tossing golden locks before us, a wound to this our second nature is quite as sad. I know not even if it be not actually sadder. Day by day Richard visited his mother. Lady Blandish and Ripton alone were in the secret. Adrian let him do as he pleased.
But Lady Blandish knew the difference between the two. She understood why the baronet did not speak; excused, and respected him for it. She was content, since she must love, to love humbly, and she had, besides, her pity for his sorrows to comfort her. A hundred fresh reasons for loving him arose and multiplied every day.
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