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Updated: June 26, 2025
Without more discussion on either side, it was agreed that Elizabeth should accompany her mistresses. Even Mrs. Hand seemed to be pleased thereat, her only doubt being lest her daughter should meet and be led astray by that bad woman, Mrs. Cliffe, Tommy Cliffe's mother, who was reported to have gone to London.
Cliffe's hand had gone instinctively to his mustache. Mary had dropped his arm, and now stood quietly beside him, pale and somewhat jaded, her fine eyes travelling between the speakers. "Why? Because the heresies have no martyrs. The halo is for the true Church!" "H'm!" said Cliffe, with a reflective sneer. "I suppose you mean for the successful?" "Do I?" said Ashe, with nonchalance.
Alcot showed herself equally well informed. It was commonly reported, at any rate, that the old Duke of Morecambe, the head of Lady Eleanor Cliffe's family, the great Tory evangelical of the north, who was a sort of patriarch in English political and aristocratic life, had been induced by some undefined pressure to speak very plainly to his kinsman on the subject of Lady Kitty Ashe.
In the shaded drawing-room, where every detail pleased his taste, Cliffe's harsh voice thundered or murmured verse which was beyond dispute the verse of a poet, and thereby sensuous and passionate.
His ruddy face had yellowed and the firm flesh had loosened and sagged. I had never noticed that his stubbly hair was so grey. He could scarcely sit still on the chair by my bedside. I told him of Cliffe's suspicions. We were a pair of conspirators with unavowable things on our minds which were driving us to nervous catastrophe. Edith, said I, was more suspicious even than Cliffe.
He knew that his power with Kitty came largely from a certain stoicism, a certain hardness, mingled, as he would prove to her, with a boundless devotion. Let him carry it through without fears and so enlarge her being and his own! And as to responsibilities beyond, as to their later lives let time take care of its own births. For the modern determinist of Cliffe's type there is no responsibility.
Kitty bent over the side of the boat staring towards the dim spot he showed her where was the mouth of the sea. "Kitty!" said Cliffe's voice beside her, hoarse and hurried "one word, and I tell these fellows to set their helm for Trieste. This boat will carry us well and the wind is with us." She turned and looked him in the face. "And then?" "Then? We'll think it out together, Kitty together!"
Into Cliffe's feeling towards Ashe there entered, indeed, a number of evil things, determined by quite other relations between the two men the relation of the man who wants to the man who has, of the man beaten by the restlessness of ambition to the man who possesses all that the other desires, and affects to care nothing about it of the combatant who fights with rage to the combatant who fights with a smile.
To this loathsome world Harry, who had been her lover for two years, had left her and her divine child. She looked up at Peacey and laughed. His eyes dwelt on her with what might have been forgiveness. "You'd best come into Cliffe's cottage," he said, and went before her.
Ashe had time to think over the latest phase of the negotiations with America, and to go over in his mind the sentences of a letter he had addressed to the Times in answer to one of great violence from Geoffrey Cliffe. His own letter had appeared that morning. Ashe was proud of it. He made bold to think that it exposed Cliffe's exaggerations and insincerities neatly, and perhaps decisively.
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