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Updated: June 15, 2025
"What delightful gardens," said Lady Esmondet returning "beside this fountain, under the shade of olive trees, it must be delightfully cool the hottest of summer days, and a favourite spot, if one may judge from the number of seats about."
"What a restful pair of women you are," said the Colonel, earnestly. "I feel as if I had taken a narcotic, my nerves have become so quiet; they have been going at race-horse speed. Ah!, how much I have needed you!" "In meeting, one feels what one has lost by parting," said Lady Esmondet, gently. "True, Alice, I am at one with you, and feel your words to the last degree of bitterness."
"They are the Duchess of Wyesdale and her daughter, the Lady Eveline Northingdon," answered Trevalyon, as Lady Esmondet bowed to other acquaintances. "The little Duchess, who is insane enough to think Lionel in love with her," thought his friend, remembering gay Mrs.
"I am more than glad, Vaura, ma chere, that Dame Fortune is playing so smilingly into dear Lionel's hands," said Lady Esmondet, as she read aloud the letter she had received from Trevalyon on the morning of the 30th.
Bertram, and tell me where you are?" said Lady Esmondet, as she leaned back and placed her feet on the softest of fender stools; "we came to dine with a bachelor in something of bachelor, live-by-myself style, and we find ourselves in a noble mansion."
And so putting spurs to his horse he is nearer the pure lofty mountains on whose breast he hopes to find peace. While at the villa, the woman he loves, after a somewhat sleepless night in which she is haunted by the faces of her Spanish admirer and the hero of her early girlhood, descends from her room to find Lady Esmondet not yet up, though it is luncheon hour, and Trevalyon away for the day.
With a whispered "may I?" his arm is around her in guiding her steps; no word is spoken and we all know the silent ecstasy of such moments. "I wonder if they will admit us," said Lady Esmondet. "I can try," answered Lionel, and moving down the few natural steps to the iron gate of the garden, rang the bell.
"Only a pleasure, dear Lady Esmondet. Someone told me you and Miss Vernon were due," and turning to his servant, "Here, Sims, are the checks; get the luggage stowed safely away until to-morrow morning, and send the maids on to Park Lane." "Yes, sir; all right, sir." "You look tired, poor fellow," said Vaura, sympathetically, as they were driven to Park Lane. "Tired, yes, waiting for you.
"And now that we are alone, let me tell you, you will do anything but admire this painting." "Is it not true?" asked Lady Esmondet. "Yes, in every detail; it's not that you will see." "What will you do, god-mother mine? Rest here awhile, go to the dining-room and refresh the inner-woman? See, Madame, I protest against; you are too fatigued." "I am, dear, and prefer to go to my room.
"What a gifted couple they would have been," observed Lady Esmondet. "Brother Thomas has lived and knows what life is, and I cannot help thinking the cloister, will not bring him peace," said Lionel. "What a power in the church the nuns are," said Vaura; "not in her grand ceremonial, not in her unity, not in her much gold dwelleth her greatest and most powerful arm, but in her gentle sisterhood."
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