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Updated: September 23, 2025
Then he had himself gone to Holby, and found that she was at Mrs. Thornton's. He had watched till she had recovered. He had seen her as she took a drive in Thornton's carriage. He had left an agent there to write him about her when he left. What was he to do now? He read the letter over again.
Brandon's powerful influence with the British embassador obtained his unconditional release. "My father afterward obtained a situation here at Holby, where he was organist till he died. Through all his life he never ceased to receive kindness and delicate acts of attention from Brandon. When in his last sickness Brandon came and staid with him till the end.
"In a short time you will carry away another also. Wait." They waited. An hour before midnight all was over. They had passed those pure spirits, from a world which was uncongenial to a fairer world and a purer clime. They were buried side by side in the Brandon vaults. Frank then returned to London. Mrs. Thornton went back to Holby.
Leaving Holby he had left her, but had never forgotten her. He had carried with him the tender memory of this bright being, and cherished his undying fondness, not knowing what that fondness meant. He had returned to find her married, and severed from him forever, at least in this life. When he found that he had lost her he began to understand how dear she was.
I found out that this reverend gent is on his way to Holby, where he is rector. The only thing left for us to do is to go quietly home and look about us." "It seems to me that this is like the beginning of one of those monsoon storms," said Clark, gloomily. The others said nothing. In a short time they were on their way back, moody and silent.
"I have been thinking of that," replied Langhetti. "It will be better to go to the other inn. But what shall we say about her? Let us say she is an invalid going home." "And am I her medical attendant?" asked Despard. "No; that is not necessary. You are her guardian the Rector of Holby, of course your name is sufficient guarantee."
Thornton came in, and greeted Despard with his usual abstraction, leaving his wife to do the agreeable. After dinner, as usual, he prepared for a nap, and Despard and Mrs. Thornton started for the fete. It was to be in some gardens at the other end of Holby, along the shore. The townspeople had recently formed a park there, and this was one of the preliminaries to its formal inauguration.
"I have called you aside," said Despard, "to say that I am going on a journey. I may be back immediately. If I do not return, will you say to any one who may ask" and here he paused for a moment "say to any one who may ask, that I have gone away on important business, and that the time of my coming is uncertain." "I suppose you can be heard of at Holby, in case of need."
"Langhetti?" said the mother. "Yes." "Did you ever live in Holby?" "Yes. My father was organist in Trinity Church, and I and my sister lived there some years. She lives there still." "My God!" was her ejaculation. "Why?" I asked, with eager curiosity. "What do you know about Holby, and about Langhetti?" She looked at me with solemn earnestness.
"I ought to say, welcome back again," said she, with forced liveliness, "but you may have been in Holby a week for all I know. When did you come back? Confess now that you have been secluding yourself in your study instead of paying your respects in the proper quarter." Despard smiled. "I arrived home at eleven this morning. It is now three P.M. by my watch.
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