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Updated: June 8, 2025
He knew that because he had enslaved himself to a lie, he had lost the right even to dream freedom. So there were no more "fool thoughts" as to how a man might "kick over the traces." The Houghtons were uneasily aware of a difference in him; and Edith, fifteen now, felt that he had changed, and had fits of shyness with him.
The criticisms lessened in the fall, because Eleanor had the pitiful preoccupation of watching poor Don O'Brien fade out of the world; and when he had gone she had to push her own misery aside while his grandmother's heart broke into the meager tears of age upon her "Miss Eleanor's" breast. But, besides that, she did not have the opportunity to criticize Edith, for the Houghtons went abroad.
"I have an uneasy feeling," said Mr. Houghton, "that he is thinking of marrying the woman, just to carry out Eleanor's wish. Poor Eleanor! Always doing the wrong thing, with greatness." This was in September. Maurice was to come up to Green Hill for a Sunday, and the Houghtons were in the studio talking about the expected guest. Later Edith was to drive over to the junction and meet him....
The Houghtons, however, were polite; so they all went into the studio, and, standing in the twilight, with Maurice playing her accompaniment, she sang, very simply, and with quite poignant beauty, the song of "Golden Numbers," with its serene refrain: "O sweet, O sweet content!" "Lovely, my dear," Mrs. Houghton said, and Maurice was radiant. "Is Mr. F. your father?"
Edith sighed with joy; if she had had any inclination to be contemptuous of Eleanor's timidity, it vanished when it was pointed out to her that it was really a sign of the Bride's infinite superiority.... So the three Houghtons accepted one with amused pity, and the other with concern, and the third with admiration of such super-refinement, the fact that Eleanor was a coward.
He would not sympathize with her about pictures, but perhaps she would be able to find out his taste at last. He seemed quite well satisfied to dine with the Houghtons, and did, in fact, call at the house before that day came round. "I was in Berkeley Square this morning," he said one day, "but I didn't find any one." "Nobody ever is at home, I suppose," she said. "Look here.
Who else was there at Rudham?" "Mrs. Montacute Jones." "Dear Mrs. Jones. I do like Mrs. Jones." "And Adelaide Houghton with her husband." Mary turned up her nose and made a grimace as the Houghtons were named. "You used to be very fond of Adelaide." "Very fond is a long word. We were by way of being friends; but we are friends no longer." "Tell me what she did to offend you, Lady George?
She snapped her purse shut in pretended terror, but after that they held hands under the newspaper, and were perfectly happy until the moment came of meeting the Houghtons on the platform at the junction; then happiness gave way to embarrassment.
"Captain De Baron," she said, "is an old friend of yours, I suppose." She, however, had known very well that Jack had never seen Lady George till within the last month. "No, indeed; I never saw him till the other day." "I thought you seemed to be intimate. And then the Houghtons and the De Barons and the Germains are all Brothershire people." "I knew Mrs.
At the same terrible words which had smitten George, she also cried, "Papa, did you say you would rather bury me?" "Yes," said the veteran sternly, "and I would rather be buried myself. You must remember that I am at heart a soldier and not a trader. I could not survive dishonor to you or myself; and any relation except that of enmity to these Houghtons would humiliate me into the very mire.
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