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Updated: June 2, 2025
He stood with his shoulder against one of the outer corners of the cave, she sitting quietly behind him. At last he went on, as if the thought came slowly, "Lady Huntingford, forgive my selfishness. I have been bewailing my own misfortune in a most unmanly way, while you have borne your loss bravely, thinking only to comfort me. Forgive me." "My loss?" she asked in wonder.
"You must not ask that of me. I am still Lady Huntingford, a wife for all we know. Yet if I loved you, I would tell you so. Have I not told you that I cannot love? I have never loved. I never shall. Don't look like that, Hugh. I would to God I could love you," she exclaimed. His chin had sunk upon his breast and his whole body relaxed through sheer dejection.
"That is Lord Huntingford, going over to straighten out some complications for the Crown. He is a diplomat of the first water." "Where are these complications, may I ask?" "Oh, in China, I think. He is hurrying across as fast as possible. He leaves the ship at Hong Kong, and nobody knows just what his mission is; that's between him and the prime minister, of course. But, good-evening, gentlemen.
"If you really go to Leipzig, Ronnie, could you look in at Zimmermann's a first-rate place for musical instruments of all kinds and choose me a small organ for the new church? I saw a little beauty the other day at Huntingford; a perfect tone, twelve stops, and quite easy to play. They had had it sent over from Leipzig. It cost only twenty-four pounds.
She knew instinctively what it was that Veath wanted to say to Hugh. Then she did something she had never done before in the presence of another. She walked quickly to Hugh's side, bent over and kissed his lips, almost as he gasped in astonishment. "Good-night, dear," she said, quite audibly, and was gone with Lady Huntingford.
Lord Huntingford could not forgive the man who had put his aristocratic nose out of joint in such an effective manner. He was, however, as polite as nature would permit him to be to Miss Ridge and Mr. Veath.
At last she murmured softly, wistfully, "I feel like an outcast. My life seems destined to know none of the joys that other women have in their power to love and to be loved." The flush again crept into his cheek. "You have not met the right man, Lady Huntingford," he said. "Perhaps that is true," she agreed, smiling faintly.
*Isaac Huntingford*, A.D. 1815-1832, warden of Winchester College, was translated from Gloucester to Hereford, and still continued his duties at Winchester. During his episcopate an incongruous painted window was placed by Dean Carr at the east end of the choir in 1822. He was author of several classical and theological works.
"If you could love as she loves me, Lady Huntingford, you might know what love really is." "What a strange thing it must be that you and she can know it and I cannot," she mused, looking wistfully at the land afar off. At Aden everybody went ashore while the ship coaled at Steamer Point, on the western side of the rock, three miles from the town proper.
Looking up into her eyes, he was struck by their tender staunchness. Like a flash came to him the decision to tell her the true story, from beginning to end. "Lady Huntingford, I will tell you everything there is to tell. It is not a long tale, and you may say it is a very foolish one. I am sure, however, that it will interest you."
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