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Shelley spent his last guinea on the trip; but though the ladies of his family enjoyed the honour of some days passed in ducal hospitalities, the visit was not fruitful of results. The Duke at this time kindly did his best, but without success, to bring about a reconciliation between his old friend, the member for Horsham, and his rebellious son.
"The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later, upon the night of May 2nd." "Thank you. Pray proceed." "When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed.
"A home a refuge," she went on haltingly, "for for women in trouble. They're the moths bewildered by the lights of the town they they singe their wings and then we try to help them." "It's great of you, Una." "And what do you do with your time?" she broke in quickly. "Whom have you met? Is the riddle of existence easier for you in New York than at Horsham Manor?" "No," he blurted out.
In his previous visits to Horsham Manor Jack had, at no little cost, repressed his speech into accord with my teachings, and Jerry was very fond of him. They fished, swam and sparred by day, and in the evenings Jack told stories of hunting in foreign countries to which Jerry listened wide-eyed. But now, it seemed, his visit had a purport.
The college was flying the Australian flag the gridiron of England smuggled up in the northwest corner of a big red field that had the random stars of the Southern Cross wandering around over it. From Horsham we went to Stawell. By rail. Still in the colony of Victoria. Stawell is in the gold-mining country.
Timothy Shelley was a very ordinary country gentleman in essentials, and a rather eccentric one in some details. He was settled at Field Place, near Horsham, Sussex, and married Elizabeth, daughter of Charles Pilfold, of Effingham, Surrey; she was a beauty, and a woman of good abilities, but without any literary turn.
Jerry must have been deeply moved for his voice was shaky. "It didn't matter about me, but a visitor, a guest at Horsham Manor, Marcia, a friend !" "A friend, yes. Oh, I've been so unhappy about it all so miserably wretched." Her voice broke and she seemed upon the point of tears. "Why did you, Marcia? Why did you?" he repeated.
That's his centre-bit, and this is the bottle of rock-oil he's supposed to have kept dipping it in to prevent making a noise. Here's the revawlver he used when he shot at a gentleman on the roof down Horsham way; it was afterward taken from him on the P. & O. boat before he jumped overboard." I could not help saying I understood that Raffles had never shot at anybody.
What it concerns us to know about this early passion, is given in a letter from a brother of Miss Grove. Irving's; that, I think, was the name of the place, then the Duke of Norfolk's, at Horsham." For some time after the date mentioned in this letter, Shelley and Miss Grove kept up an active correspondence; but the views he expressed on speculative subjects soon began to alarm her.
All is gone now; of the old Inn as we may see it in a drawing of 1810, a two-storied building with steepish roofs of tiles, dormer windows and railed balconies supported below by pillars of stone, above by pillars of wood, standing about two sides of a courtyard in which the carrier's long covered carts from Horsham or Rochester are waiting, nothing at all remains.
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