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Updated: July 5, 2025
It is the cruelty of wicked selfishness. Somehow, I forget that I am talking to his nephew. But we all know Ian Belward at least, all women do." "And at least one man does," he answered gravely. The next minute Gaston walked down the room with Delia Gasgoyne on his arm. The girl delicately showed her preference, and he was aware of it. It pleased him pleased his unconscious egoism.
Never before had Peppingham drawing-room heard a song like this; never before, never after, did any of Delia Gasgoyne's friends hear her sing as she did that night. And Lady Gravesend whispered for a week afterwards that Delia Gasgoyne sang a wild love song in the most abandoned way with that colonial Belward. Really a song of the most violent sentiment! There had been witchery in it all.
She awoke near the landing-place, her father beside her. Meanwhile Andree had read the riddle. As Mr. Gasgoyne bathed Delia's face, and Gaston her wrists, and gave her brandy, she sat still and intent, watching. Tears and fainting! Would she Andree-have given way like that in the same circumstances? No. But this girl Delia was of a different order: was that it? All nerves and sentiment!
In the past he and Jock had been in more than one scrape together. He had learned from Mrs. Cawley that Gaston had known Jock in Canada. When Cawley had gone, Gaston turned to the other gentlemen present. "An original speech, upon my word, Belward," said Captain Maudsley. Mr. Warren Gasgoyne came. "You are expected to lunch or something to-morrow, Belward, you remember? Devil of a speech that!
He stopped presently on the pavement. "But it wouldn't hold good, I fancy, after all these years. Yet Law is a queer business. Anyhow, I've got it." An hour later he called on Mrs. Gasgoyne and Delia. Mrs. Gasgoyne was not at home.
Sir William and Mr. Gasgoyne got the whole tale from the landlord, whom they asked to say nothing publicly. Lady Belward drove down each day, and sat beside him for a couple of hours-silent, solicitous, smoothing his pillow or his wasting hand. The brain had been injured, and recovery could not be immediate.
She awoke near the landing-place, her father beside her. Meanwhile Andree had read the riddle. As Mr. Gasgoyne bathed Delia's face, and Gaston her wrists, and gave her brandy, she sat still and intent, watching. Tears and fainting! Would she Andree-have given way like that in the same circumstances? No. But this girl Delia was of a different order: was that it? All nerves and sentiment!
But in a day or two there came a letter-unusually long for Gaston to Mrs. Gasgoyne herself. It was simple, descriptive, with a dash of epigram. It acknowledged that he had felt the curb, and wanted a touch of the unconventional. It spoke of Ian Belward in a dry phrase, and it asked for the date of the yacht's arrival at Gibraltar. "Warren, the man is still sensible," she said.
Gaston enjoyed talking with Mrs. Gasgoyne as to no one else. Other women often flattered him, she never did. Frankly, crisply, she told him strange truths, and, without mercy, crumbled his wrong opinions. He had a sense of humour, and he enjoyed her keen chastening raillery. Besides, her talk was always an education in the fine lights and shadows of this social life.
Now he understood: his promise to his grandmother and grandfather. So, they had spoken! He was sure that Mrs. Gasgoyne had objected. He knew that behind her playful treatment of the subject there was real scepticism of himself. It put him on his mettle, and yet he knew she read him deeper than any one else, and flattered him least. He put out his hand, and took hers.
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