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Updated: May 25, 2025
Mr. discovered this fact in an old memoir of the ancient and once famous family to which the young knight Albert belonged, and which came, alas! to so shameful an end, the Fletwodes, Barons of Fletwode and Malpas. What a triumph over pretty Lily Mordaunt, who always chose to imagine that the tomb must be that of some heroine of her own romantic invention!
They dwelt in a house near to it, built about Elizabeth's time, which you could not see, for it lies in a hollow behind the tower, a moderate-sized, picturesque, country gentleman's house. Our family intermarried with them, the portrait you saw was a daughter of their house, and very proud was any squire in the county of intermarriage with the Fletwodes." "Fletwode, that was their name?
How ends it all! Could I sit but for twelve hours in the innermost heart of that Alfred Fletwode; could I see how, step by step from his childhood, the dishonest son was avariciously led on by the honest father to depart from the old vestigia of Fletwodes of Fletwode, scorning The Enough to covet The More, gaining The More to sigh, 'It is not The Enough, I think I might show that the age lives in a house of glass, and had better not for its own sake throw stones on the felon!"
How could he escape except through death? death by his own guilty deed?" Almost as much overpowered by emotion as Mrs. Cameron herself, Kenelm covered his bended face with one hand, stretching out the other blindly to clasp her own, but she would not take it. A dreary foreboding. Again before his eyes rose the old gray tower, again in his ears thrilled the tragic tale of the Fletwodes.
His wife's brother was to have married the felon's sister; and though, of course, that marriage was tacitly broken off by the terrible disgrace that had befallen the Fletwodes, yet I don't think my poor uncle ever recovered the blow to his hopes. He went abroad, and died in Madeira of a slow decline." "And the felon's sister, did she die too?" "No; not that I know of. Mrs.
How could he escape except through death? death by his own guilty deed?" Almost as much overpowered by emotion as Mrs. Cameron herself, Kenelm covered his bended face with one hand, stretching out the other blindly to clasp her own, but she would not take it. A dreary foreboding. Again before his eyes rose the old gray tower, again in his ears thrilled the tragic tale of the Fletwodes.
And the last of the Fletwodes, doubtless the most ambitious of all, the most bent on restoring and regilding the old lordly name, dies a felon; the infamy of one living man is so large that it can blot out the honour of the dead."
His wife's brother was to have married the felon's sister; and though, of course, that marriage was tacitly broken off by the terrible disgrace that had befallen the Fletwodes, yet I don't think my poor uncle ever recovered the blow to his hopes. He went abroad, and died in Madeira of a slow decline." "And the felon's sister, did she die too?" "No; not that I know of. Mrs.
Mr. discovered this fact in an old memoir of the ancient and once famous family to which the young knight Albert belonged, and which came, alas! to so shameful an end, the Fletwodes, Barons of Fletwode and Malpas. What a triumph over pretty Lily Mordaunt, who always chose to imagine that the tomb must be that of some heroine of her own romantic invention!
And the last of the Fletwodes, doubtless the most ambitious of all, the most bent on restoring and regilding the old lordly name, dies a felon; the infamy of one living man is so large that it can blot out the honour of the dead."
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