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Updated: July 5, 2025
Newsham was concluding a sentence with these words: "If ever you leave Crown Anstey." I saw Coralie d'Aubergne look up at her with a quiet smile. "I shall never leave Crown Anstey," she said, "under any possible circumstances." Mrs. Newsham laughed. "You may be married, or Lady Trevelyan may not like the place and wish it closed a thousand things may happen to prevent you remaining here always."
It seems an unmanly thing to write of a woman my own face flushes hotly as I write the words but to make my story plain the truth must be told. I could not help seeing that Coralie d'Aubergne was growing to like me very much. To describe how a man woos a woman is a task pleasant enough.
She has a girl's figure and a girl's face, but a woman's heart, Edgar, I am sure of it." "She is thirty, you say, and has been here for five years; that would make her a woman of twenty-five before she left France. A French woman of twenty-five has lived her life." "That is just what I mean," she replied. "Rely upon it, for all her girlish face and girlish ways, Coralie d'Aubergne has lived hers."
But I saw Coralie d'Aubergne shake her head, while she replied, calmly: "No, Mrs. Newsham, I shall never leave Crown Anstey." I cannot tell how the words impressed me. I found myself repeating them over and over again "I shall never leave Crown Anstey." Yet she must have known that when my young wife came home, Crown Anstey would be no place for her.
I think, but I am not sure, that once upon a time he was fond of her himself. My mother married a French gentleman, Monsieur d'Aubergne, and at her death Sir Barnard kindly offered me a home here, since I had no other." "Is your father living?" I asked. "Alas! no; he died when I was a child.
"And next year I hope to be returned for Anstey, so that, of all men, I shall probably find him the most useful of acquaintances." She turned away, and a sudden conviction came over me that, for some reason or other, Coralie d'Aubergne did not like the Thesigers. I rode over to Harden Manor on the day following, and found Sir John at home.
God bless them, one and all they are the chief comfort in life! Still even I, who love and respect them so much, am compelled to own that there are women wanting in purity and goodness, in modesty and reserve. I grieve to say Coralie d'Aubergne was one of them. She pursued me, and yet it was all so quietly done that she left me no room to speak no ground on which to interfere.
It would have been profanation to have lighted a cigar, so I went out on the Queen's Terrace and walked under the whispering lime trees, thinking of all that had passed in those few days. Slowly but surely the conviction gained upon me that I did not like Coralie d'Aubergne. I ought, according to all authentic romances, to have fallen in love with her on the spot, but I was far from doing so.
"That is right; she is of the siren order; some people would find her irresistible. Now, pardon me if I say one word. I have known the lady for five years, and know nothing against her, still mistrust her without knowing why. You are young, new to the world; new, perhaps, to the influence of great womanly beauty; keep your heart safe. Do not let Mademoiselle d'Aubergne take it from you."
"Have you a child here in your charge?" he repeated. "I have," she repeated. "Who is it? Tell us in your own words, if you please." "He is the son of the late Mr. Miles Trevelyan and his wife, who was Mademoiselle d'Aubergne." "Where were they married?" he asked. "They were married at the Church of St. Helen's, Edgerton. I was one witness; the other was Arthur Ireton, the head game-keeper."
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