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Updated: May 25, 2025
"I feel dull, and want a change." "You shall have a change, darling," was the soothing but evasive answer. For Olive had a tincture of the old Rothesay pride, and had formed a somewhat disagreeable idea of the position the struggling artist and her blind mother would fill as charity-guests at Farnwood Hall. So, after a little conversation with Mrs.
Perhaps here it would be as well to observe, that, close and intimate friends as they were, the tie was such that none of their two households, no, not even the most tattling gossips of Farnwood and Harbury, ever dreamed of saying that Harold Gwynne was "in love" with Miss Rothesay.
Gwynne often said, no daughter of a long illustrious line was ever prouder than Christal Manners. She indulged the party with a brilliant account of Mrs. Fludyer's anticipations of pleasure at Brighton, whither the whole family at the Hall were bound. "Really, we shall be quite desolate without a single soul left at Farnwood, shall we not, Olive?" observed Mrs. Gwynne.
Olive's answer was stopped by the appearance of Christal, followed by one of the young Fludyer boys, with whom she had become a first-rate favourite. Her fearless frankness, her exuberant spirits, tempered only by her anxiety to appear always "the grand lady," made her a welcome guest at Farnwood Hall.
Lyle put on his favourite sentimental air, and muttered something about "not liking gaiety, and never being happy away from Farnwood." "Miss Rothesay is scarcely of your opinion; at all events, she is going to try the experiment by leaving us for a while." "Miss Rothesay leaving us!" "It is indeed true, Lyle.
"Please, papa, grandmamma wants to see you before she goes out. She is going to John Dent's, and to Farnwood, and" "Hush, little chatterbox! this lady cannot be interested in our family revelations. Bid her 'good-afternoon' and come!" He tried to speak playfully, but it was a rigid playfulness. Though a father, it was evident he did not understand children.
Therefore, every little incident of conversation in that first walk was carefully put by in her hidden nooks of memory, to amuse her mother with, and perhaps also to speculate thereupon herself. They reached Farnwood Dell, and Olive's conscience began to accuse her of having left her mother for so many hours. Therefore her adieux and thanks to Mr. Gwynne were somewhat abrupt.
It was to be a long walk, the appointed goal being a beacon that could be seen for miles, a church on the top of a hill. Olive quite longed to go thither, because it had been the first sight at Farnwood on which her eyes had rested. Looking out from her chamber-window, at the early morning, she had seen it gleaming goldenly in the sunrise. All was so new, so lovely!
Something of this mournfulness felt Olive Rothesay. It was dreary enough to reach her journey's end alone, and have to wait some hours at the small railway station; and then, tired and worn, to be driven for miles across the country through the gloomiest of all gloomy November days. Still, the dreariness passed, when she saw, shining from afar, the light from the windows of Farnwood Dell.
Rothesay would bring her down to Farnwood, Olive demurred a little, lest the intrusion of a constant inmate might burden her mother: but the plan was at last decided upon Christal's own entreaties having no small influence in turning the scale. Thus, all things settled, there came the final parting of the two little families who for so many years had lived together in peace and harmony.
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