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Updated: May 3, 2025
They fought hard and breathlessly, everybody listening partly for the amusement of the game, partly for the pleasure of watching the good looks of the young creatures playing it. At last the man turned on his heel with a cry of victory. "Beaten! beaten! by a hair. But you're wonderful, Miss Fox-Wilton.
But if Queen Victoria could be a queen at eighteen, I don't see why I shouldn't be fit at eighteen to manage my own wretched affairs! Anyway I am not going to Paris unless I want to go. So I don't advise you to promise that lady just yet. If she keeps her room empty, you might have to pay for it!" "Hester, you are really the plague of my life!" cried Lady Fox-Wilton helplessly.
But John Broad is a very simple fellow has no enmity against Meynell, quite the contrary. He vows that he never knew why his mother went abroad with Lady Fox-Wilton, or why she went to America; and though she talked a lot of what he calls 'queer stuff' in the few hours he had with her before my visit, he couldn't make head or tail of a good deal of it, and didn't trouble his head about it.
He sat down to write to Alice Puttenham, and to scribble a note to Lady Fox-Wilton asking her to see him as soon as possible. Then Anne forced some luncheon on him, and he had barely finished it when a step outside made itself heard. He looked up and saw Hugh Flaxman. "Come in!" said the Rector, opening the front door himself. "You are very welcome."
Lady Fox-Wilton of course had been seen, and the clamour of her most unattractive offspring allayed as much as possible. And now, emerging from this tangle of personal claims and small interests, in the silence and freedom of the night hours, Meynell was free to give himself once more to the intellectual and spiritual passion of the Reform Movement.
We who are defending her must think first of the Church!" "Naturally," said Stephen. His father looked at him in silence for a moment, at the mild pliant figure, the downcast eyes. "There is, however, one thing for which I have cause we all have cause to be grateful to Meynell," he said, with emphasis. Stephen looked up. "I understand he refused to sanction your engagement to Hester Fox-Wilton."
Meanwhile Alice Puttenham lay upstairs in one of the little white rooms of Burwood, so ill that the doctors would not hear of her being moved. Edith Fox-Wilton had proposed to come and nurse her, in spite of "this shocking business which had disgraced us all." But Catharine at Alice's entreaty had merely appealed to the indisputable fact that the tiny house was already more than full.
"Dear Hester! we are sending a telegram as soon as the post-office is open to Lady Fox-Wilton." Hester moved her hand impatiently. "She's not my mother, and I'm glad. Where is my mother?" She laid a strange, deep emphasis on the word, opening her eyes wide and threateningly. Catharine understood at once that, in some undiscovered way, she knew what they had all been striving to keep from her.
Her thin cheeks were much redder than usual; she constantly looked round as though expecting or dreading some interruption; and in a hand which shook she held a just opened letter. "What is the matter, mamma?" asked Hester, a sharp challenging note in her gay voice. "You look as though something had happened." "Nothing has happened," said Lady Fox-Wilton hastily.
The story had become the common talk of the Markborough district; and all that Meynell, and "your poor mother," and the Fox-Wilton family could do, was to attempt, on the one hand, to meet the rush of scandal by absence and silence; and on the other to keep the facts from Hester herself as long as possible. The girl had listened to him with wide, startled eyes.
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