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Updated: June 25, 2025
"He persuaded me to take back all her letters, together with one from himself, and give them to my sister the next time I went to Harbury. I did so. Well I remember that night! Harold came in, and found his wife crying over the letters. In a fit of jealousy he took them and read them all through together with that of Charles.
I seem to have regarded these profounder realities no more during this phase of concentration than a cow in a field regards the sky. My father's vestments, the Burnmore altar, the Harbury pulpit and Mr. Siddons, stood between me and the idea of God, so that it needed years and much bitter disillusionment before I discovered my need of it. And I was as wanting in subtlety as in depth.
She never could bear to hear of any one's mother dying; it made her feel compassionately even towards Mr. Gwynne; and then she quickly changed the subject. The two letters were put by in her desk; and thus, for a season at least, the Harbury correspondence closed.
There have been petitions signed by hundreds of people, I believe, to the Home Secretary for mercy." "Mercy mercy!" shouted the General, his pale face growing first red and then purple from excitement. "Who talks of mercy to that ruffian? But Harbury" naming the Home Secretary for the time being "Harbury will stand firm; Harbury will never yield! I would take my oath that Harbury won't give in!
"Yes by the hands of His servants, Leonora. Are you so base as not to desire the punishment of your brother's murderer! If so, never speak to me, never come near my house again! And you, young gentleman, get ready to come with me to London at once! I will see Harbury before the day is over."
"And you have been content nay happy!" "Ay, I have! God quenched the fire on my own hearth, that I might learn to make that of others bright My dear, one's life never need be empty of love, even though, after seeing all near kindred drop away, one lingers to be an old maid of eighty years." "No letters to-day from Harbury!" observed Mrs.
They were quite glad that the next day was Sunday, when they would go to Harbury, and hear Harold Gwynne preach. Olive told her mother all that had passed in the churchyard, and they agreed that he must be a very peculiar, though a very clever man. As for Christal, she had gone off with her friend, Mrs. Fludyer, and did not interfere in the conversation at all. When Sunday morning came, Mrs.
Holy and beautiful she had seemed to him in her youth; and though every relic of that passionate idealisation he once called love, was gone, still holy and beautiful she seemed to him in her age. Angus Rothesay rode away from Harbury parsonage, feeling that there he had gained a new interest to make life and life's duties more sacred.
In 1754, Lord Clare, afterwards Earl Nugent, obtained for him, from Dr. Madox, Bishop of Worcester, the vicarage of Snitterfield, worth about 140l. In 1771, his kind patron, Lord Willoughby de Broke, added to his other preferment the rectory of Kimcote, worth nearly 300l. in consequence of which he resigned Harbury. His first wife died in 1751, leaving him seven children.
She went homeward along the dear old Harbury road, knowing that no possible chance could make his image appear to brighten its loneliness; that where they had so often walked, taking sweet counsel together as familiar friends, she must learn to walk alone. Perhaps, neither there nor elsewhere, would she ever walk with Harold more.
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