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Updated: June 1, 2025
It was not likely that John Grange's disappearance would die out of ordinary conversation without being pretty well embroidered by people's imagination, and like the Three Black Crows of the old story, being added to until the origin looked very trifling and small.
And the bailiff stared, and kept on rubbing his nose with the hard brim of his felt hat, while he watched John Grange's fingers run up the tender young shoots, and, without injuring a blossom, busy themselves among those where the green aphides had made a nursery, and were clustering thickly, drawing the vital juices from the succulent young stems.
Daniel Barnett has been speaking to me about help, and there is one of Admiral Morgan's men wants to leave to better himself. I know the young man well. An excellent gardener, who would thoroughly suit. His character is unexceptionable, and he is an excellent grower of orchids." "Oh!" said Mrs Mostyn sharply; "and you want me to engage him to take poor John Grange's place?"
I believe you would have gone on rolling if there had been an earthquake. You must be wet through and through." She ran her little thin hand over him. "Yes, I knew you were. You must go and change." But Grange's fingers closed with quiet intention upon her wrist. He was looking down at her with the faithful adoration of a dumb animal. "Not yet," he said gently. "Let me see you while I can."
To secure her happiness, her peace of mind, he had turned his face to the desert, at last, and into it he would go, empty, beaten, crippled, to return no more for ever. Across the lengthening silence Grange's voice came to him. There was a certain hesitation in it as though he were not altogether sure of his ground. "I am to take your word for all that?" Nick turned swiftly round.
The Prophet pursued his way to Dick o' the Grange's, whither, indeed, he was bent; Sarah, having looked after him for a moment with a troubled face, proceeded in the direction of old Dalton's, with the sufferings and pitiable circumstances of whose family she was already but too well acquainted.
John Grange's journey to London was performed almost in silence, for as he sat back in the corner of the carriage, weak and terribly shaken by the scene through which he had passed, Daniel Barnett sat opposite to him, wishing that they did not live in a civilised country, but somewhere among savages who would think no ill of one who rid himself of a useless, troublesome rival.
"John!" she cried wildly, and the next moment she was clinging to John Grange's neck, while he stood there with one arm about her, holding her tightly to him, and proudly facing her father and Barnett, who stood scowling and trying hard to speak.
"Well, ma'am, I er that is " "You want me to engage one of Admiral Morgan's men to take poor John Grange's place?" "Yes, ma'am," said the bailiff, recovering himself; "and I don't think, you can do better." "But I don't want another man." The bailiff shrugged his shoulders, and looked deprecatingly at his mistress.
There was no reference to any future meeting, and Muriel gravely put the letter away in thoughtful silence. She had no clue whatever to the slackening of their friendship, but she could not fail to note with pain how far asunder they had drifted. She turned to Grange's letter with a faint wonder as to why he should have troubled himself to write when he was so short a distance from her.
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