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Updated: May 15, 2025
If any of these dreadful rumours had reached Dorycote House, Mrs. Guthrie must surely be very much upset. Her kind thought was rewarded by a sight of the letter Major Guthrie had left to be posted to his mother on the 18th of August, that is, on the day when was to be published the news that the Expeditionary Force had landed safely in France.
He looked puzzled. "Is he a gentleman of the garrison? surely not?" "No, no. He has nothing to do with the garrison!" exclaimed Anna. "But you must have very often seen him, for he is constantly in the town. And he speaks German, Mr. Hegner. I should have thought he would have been in to see you." "You mean the son of the old lady who lives at Dorycote?
Guthrie; but the two ladies seldom had occasion to meet the Guthries lived in a pretty old house in Dorycote, a village two miles from Witanbury. Also Mrs. Guthrie was more or less chair-ridden, and Mrs. Otway had no carriage. The bells of the cathedral suddenly broke across her troublesome, disconnected thoughts. Mrs.
Guthrie, after she had had her pleasant little after-luncheon nap, established herself, with the help of her maid, under a great beech tree in the beautiful garden which had been one of the principal reasons why Major Guthrie had chosen this house at Dorycote for his mother.
But if you dislike the idea of going to Miss Forsyth, then I think I can arrange for you to come out to Dorycote " But even as she said the words she knew that such an arrangement would never work. "No, no," said Anna, in German. "It does not matter where I go for a few days. If I am in Miss Forsyth's house I can see my gracious young lady from time to time.
Often she would walk to Dorycote and back, feeling that the darkened streets for Witanbury had followed the example of London and, even more, the country roads beyond, were haunted, in a peaceful sense, by the presence of the man who had so often taken that same way from his house to hers.
It was the more odd as he very often had written to her during former visits of his to London. Sometimes they had been quite amusing letters. She put on a cool, dark-grey linen coat and skirt, and a shady hat, and then she started off for the mile walk to Dorycote. It was a very warm afternoon. Old Mrs.
Guthrie's death he could not of course tell which they intended to make one of those middle-aged marriages which often, strange to say, turn out more happily than earlier marriages are sometimes apt to do. The lawyer naturally kept his views to himself during the afternoon he spent at Dorycote House, and he simply treated Mrs. Otway as though she had been a near relation of the deceased lady.
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