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Updated: June 27, 2025
Gaythorne, and, if possible, Marcus was to join them in the evening, but she had another visit to pay on her way to Brunswick Place, so when the brougham came round she drove over in solitary state to Maybrick Villas. Mrs. Broderick regarded her niece with satisfied eyes. "Why, Livy," she said, admiringly, "I have not seen you look so well since your own wedding-day. Fine feathers make fine birds.
"Marcus, do you know, I have made up my mind to pay Mr. Gaythorne a surprise visit on Christmas evening. We are always back by six, and I know he does not dine until half-past seven. Do you think I dare venture? You see, I have never been without an invitation yet." "And you actually mean 'to beard the lion in his den, and Douglas in his hall," spouted Marcus.
You will be robbed or burnt in your beds!" Olivia could not conceal her amusement. A vivid remembrance of the flushed, weary young face of the wanderer rose before her; it was so boyish-looking with the fair hair and golden brown moustache. "I am sure he does not drink," she returned, trying vainly to suppress a smile; but this contradiction did not please Mr. Gaythorne.
You might go and see them, Livy; they are decent people. She is a pleasant, hard-working young woman, and they have two little children, and the place is as clean as possible. I told Mr. Gaythorne about them just to amuse him, but he only grunted and looked bored. By-the-way, you are right in one of your surmises he has bought your favourite picture of the Prodigal Son.
Gaythorne was methodical by nature, and whatever might be the weather always took his exercise at the same hour, and also that only tradespeople entered the lion-guarded portals of Galvaston House. Olivia had only once come face to face with him. She was hurrying along one afternoon, when in turning a corner she almost ran against him, and pulled herself up with a confused word of apology.
Gaythorne," returned Olivia, pleadingly, "just put yourself in my husband's place. Marcus found the poor young fellow on a doorstep in Harbut Road not a dozen yards from his own door. Being a doctor, he saw at once that he must be warmed and fed or life would be endangered, and Christmas night of all nights.
During the remainder of her visit she chatted to him cheerfully about a book he had lent her; but just before she took her leave she unfortunately broached the subject of her new friend. At the mention of her name Mr. Gaythorne started and changed color. "Greta Williams," he observed, with a sharp, almost displeased intonation in his voice. "That is not a common name.
I have starved, and nearly died of cold on a doorstep, but I have kept my hands clean." "Alwyn," exclaimed Mr. Gaythorne, piteously, "I was too hard, I will confess that. All these years I have been longing to atone, and the sorrow and remorse have made me an old man before my time. There was much to forgive much that you made me bear. Surely you cannot deny that."
Gaythorne is a widower and he has lost his only daughter, and her name was Olivia, and that is why he has taken to me, because I remind him of her; but" checking herself as she caught sight of her husband's face "you have something to tell me too." "Only that they sent for me from Fairfax Lodge, that is that ivy-covered house next to Galvaston House. A child taken suddenly with croup.
Gaythorne has been married and had a wife," he returned, a little dryly; "but I should not be surprised to find that he was an old bachelor; he is far too fussy and precise for a widower. But, my dear child, we are getting into very gossiping ways, and I must really get on with that book Aunt Madge lent us." And then Olivia consented to hold her tongue and let him read aloud to her as usual.
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