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Updated: June 17, 2025
But the jealous pang roused by the thought of Buntingford, once felt, persisted. He could recall moreover one or two quite recent indications on Buntingford's part very slight and guarded which seemed to point in the same direction. All very well: Buntingford himself might be quite heart-whole and might remain so.
Always supposing that it suited the boy Arthur Philip the names under which, according to Zélie, he had been christened in the church of the hill village near Lucca where he was born. For the care of this innocent, suffering creature became, from the moment of his mother's death, the dominating thought of Buntingford's life.
And now here she was in Lord Buntingford's house Miss Helena Pitstone's chaperon. As she stood before her looking-glass, fastening her little black dress with shaking fingers, the first impression of Helena's personality was upon her, running through her, like wine to the unaccustomed. She supposed that now girls were all like this all such free, wild, uncurbed creatures, a law to themselves.
Georgina might be certain that in Buntingford's case the woman of forty had nothing to fear from the girl of nineteen. Cynthia was by no means so certain; and she shivered at the risks to come. For it was soon evident that the question of his ward's immediate future was now much on Philip's mind.
"But you asked him to stay in Lord Buntingford's house and without consulting " "Well and it's going to be my house, too, for two years if I can possibly bear it. When Mummy begged me, I told Buntingford my conditions. And he's broken them!"
"There now let's forget my tiresome guardian. I promised to tell you about my 'boys. Well, there are two of them coming and Geoffrey French, besides a nephew of Buntingford's, who'll have this property and most of the money some day, always supposing this tyrant of mine doesn't marry, which of course any reasonable man would.
Four o'clock! In another hour the Whitsuntide party for which the house stood ready would have arrived. Helena's particular "pals" were all coming, and various friends and kinsfolk of Lord Buntingford's; including Lady Mary Chance, a general or two, some Admiralty officials, and one or two distinguished sailors with the halo of Zeebrugge about them. The gathering was to last nearly a week. Mrs.
Slowly the child moved it forward dropped it then, with help, raised it again and, finally, with only the very slight guidance from Cynthia, put it on top of the other. Another followed, and another, his hand growing steadier with each attempt. Then breathing deeply, flushed, and with a puckered forehead the boy looked up at his father. Tears of indescribable joy had rushed to Buntingford's eyes.
"I am to say that you always believed she was dead?" Under what name to speak of the woman lying at the Rectory puzzled him. The mere admission of the thought that however completely in the realm of morals she might have forfeited his name, she was still Buntingford's wife in the realm of law, seemed an outrage.
They were both Buntingford's kinswomen, Helena on his father's side, Cynthia on his mother's, and had been more or less acquainted with each other since Helena left the nursery. But there was nearly twenty years between them, and a critical spirit on both sides. Conversation very soon languished.
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