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She had an old-fashioned prejudice against trained nurses. Hugh Elwyn helped his mother into the house; then, in the hall, he bent down and just touched her cheek with his lips. "Won't you come up into the drawing-room?
As he saw in the half-darkness the outlines of the delicately pure profile, framed in grey bands of hair covering the ears as it had been worn when Mrs. Elwyn was a girl upwards of forty years ago, he felt stirred with an unwonted tenderness, added to the respect with which he habitually regarded her. Since leaving Cavendish Square they had scarcely spoken the one to the other.
Fanny hates my being up there she thinks it upsets the boy. He's such a jolly little chap, Hugo. You know we called him Peter after Fanny's father?" Elwyn moved towards the door. He felt dreadfully moved by the other's pain. He told himself that after all he could do no good by staying, and he felt so ashamed, such a cur "You don't want to go away yet?"
In the matter of the broken engagement, Hugh Elwyn was more fairly treated by the men and women whom the matter concerned, or who thought it concerned them, than are the majority of recusant lovers.
There was sharp chagrin, reproachful dismay, in Bellair's voice. Elwyn remembered that in old days Jim had always hated being alone. "Won't you stay and hear what Pixton says? Or or are you in a hurry?" Elwyn turned round. "Of course I'll stay," he said briefly. Bellair spared him thanks, but he began walking about the room restlessly. At last he went to the door and set it ajar.
Elwyn remembered with a pang that Jim had always been like that always believed, that is, that the best would come to pass. When left alone, Elwyn began walking restlessly up and down, much as his friend had walked up and down a few minutes ago.
When he and Bellair by chance met alone, all the old cordiality and even the old affection seemed to come back, if not to Elwyn then to the other man. And now the child, to whom it seemed not only Fanny but Jim Bellair also was so devoted, was ill, and he, Hugh Elwyn, had been the last to hear of it. He felt vaguely remorseful that this should be so.
A great doctor, with whose face he was vaguely acquainted, had stepped out accompanied by Bellair Bellair with ruffled hair and red-rimmed eyes, but looking if tired then content, even more, triumphant. Elwyn had heard him say the words, "Thanks awfully. I shall never forget how kind you have been, Sir Joseph. Yes, I'll go to bed at once. I know you must have thought me rather stupid."
The carriage was nearly opposite the homestead, when the lady exclaimed, "Oh, Richard, I must stop at my old home once more. Only see how beautiful it is looking!" In a moment the carriage was standing before the gate, and the gentleman, who was Margaret Hamilton's husband a Mr. Elwyn, from the city assisted his young wife to alight, and then followed her to the house.
Surely if ever work not in the sacred Canon might suggest a belief of inspiration, of something more than human, this it is. When Mr. Elwyn made this assertion, I took it as the hyperbole of affection: but now I subscribe to it seriously, and bless the hour that introduced me to the knowledge of the evangelical, apostolical Archbishop Leighton. April 1814.
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