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Updated: May 6, 2025
"I don't know. I find it very attractive," he said, instinctively on the defensive because of Rosamund, who had not been attacked. "The coziness and the peace of it are very delightful after all the well, of course, it was a pretty stiff life in South Africa." Again he looked at Brayfield's letter. He wanted to tell Mrs. Clarke about Brayfield, but it seemed she had no interest in the dead man.
Miss Bigelow ordered a valuable wedding-present, and resolved to live until over the marriage day at least. And Brayfield gossiped and gloried in possessing a legitimate cause for excitement. As for Lily, she was strangely happy with a happiness far different from that of the usual betrothed young girl. She loved Maurice deeply.
In the big hall, as he passed out, he saw Lord Brayfield standing in front of the bureau speaking to the hall porter. "Some day, perhaps, I shall tell you what they are, in a caique on the sweet waters of Asia or among the cypresses of Eyub." Dion smiled as he recalled Mrs. Clarke's words, which had been spoken fatalistically. Then his face became very grave.
It was a great occasion for Brayfield. The church was elaborately decorated by the many young ladies who had secretly longed to be the brides of the interesting doctor. Crowds assembled within and without the building. Miss Bigelow rose from her fourteenth death-bed in a purple satin gown and a bonnet prodigious with feathers and testified to the possibility of modern resurrection in a front pew.
"I don't know why when so many much better fellows " He broke off, and then he plunged into the matter of Brayfield. He could not go without telling her, though hearing, perhaps, would not interest her. All the time he was speaking she remained standing by the fire, with her lovely little head slightly bending forward and her profile turned towards him.
But, at first, this apparent pathos was a great success in Brayfield. It was only at a later period that it was the cause of unkind tittle-tattle. In the beginning of Maurice's residence at Brayfield eulogy attended it and applause was never far off.
Towards dawn he went back into his house again, and on the threshold, just as a pallor glimmered up as if out of the grass at his feet, he heard the cry again. And he knew that it came from within the house. Then the sweat stood on his forehead, and he said to himself, with pale lips, "It is the cry of the child!" All the people of Brayfield by the sea were agreed on one point.
It got about that his father was an Honourable, and all the young ladies of Brayfield trembled at the thought that he was a bachelor. His looks were also in his favour. Maurice was pale and tall, with black, smooth hair parted in the middle, regular features, and large black eyes. The expression he assumed suited him. It was curiously sad.
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