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Updated: September 25, 2025
In fact, he was raising the League from a jejune experiment into a flourishing organization. To his secret delight, old Lord Watford resigned the chairmanship owing to the infirmities of old age, and Lord Harbury, a young and energetic peer whom Paul had recently driven into the ranks of the Vice-Presidents, was elected in his stead. Paul felt the future of the League was assured.
I was in a state of transition between the infinitely great and the infinitely little. I had just ceased to be that noble and potent being, that almost statesmanlike personage, a sixth form boy at Harbury, and I was going to be an Oxford undergraduate. Philip and I came down together by the same train from Harbury, I shared the Burnmore dog-cart and luggage cart, and he dropped me at the rectory.
"Though I have all confidence in my son, yet I own this sudden scheme has troubled me. His health is better; why could he not stay at Harbury?" Olive, wishing to discover if she knew anything of her son's sad secret, observed, "It is a monotonous life that Mr. Gwynne leads here one hardly suited for him." "Ah, I know," said the mother, sighing. "His heart is little in his calling.
Such a miscarriage of justice was never heard of! Don't talk to me of it! Harbury knows his duty; and the man has been punished the man is dead!" Hubert's voice trembled a little as he spoke. "The man is not dead, sir," he said. The General turned upon him fiercely. "Was not this morning fixed for the is this not the twenty-fifth?" he said. "What do you mean?"
"My dear General," said Hubert, looking exceedingly perplexed, "I think that you will hardly find Harbury in town. I heard yesterday that he was leaving London for a few days." "Nonsense, sir! Leaving London before the close of the session! Impossible! But we can get his address and follow him, I suppose? I will see Harbury to-night!"
One only remained the old huntsman who had given the last counsel to the wretched father. This man, whom Olive knew, was beckoned by her to Margery's room to see what could be done. "I'll fetch Mr. Gwynne to manage John, poor fellow! The devil's got un, sure enough; and it'll tak' a parson to drive't away. But ourn be a queer gentleman. When I get to Harbury, what mun I say!"
"Let us think what we must do; for we have no time to lose. As soon as you are quite strong, you must give up the curacy, and we will leave Harbury." "Leave Harbury! your dear old home, from which you have often said you could never part! Oh, mother, mother!" "It is nothing do not think of it, my son! Afterwards, what must you do?" "I cannot tell.
Perhaps here it would be as well to observe, that, close and intimate friends as they were, the tie was such that none of their two households, no, not even the most tattling gossips of Farnwood and Harbury, ever dreamed of saying that Harold Gwynne was "in love" with Miss Rothesay.
They were going home, when she saw that her husband looked tired and dull he had been poring over his books all day. For though now independent of the world, as regarded fortune, he could not relinquish his scientific pursuits; but was every day adding to his acquirements, and to the fame which had been his when only a poor clergyman at Harbury.
One day when Olive was just able to sit up, and looked, in her white drapery and close cap, so like her lost mother, Mrs. Gwynne entered with letters. Olive grew pale. To her fancy every letter that came to Harbury could only be from Rome. "Good tidings, my dear; tidings from Harold. But you are trembling." "Everything sudden startles me now. I am very weak, I fear," murmured Olive.
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