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Updated: May 21, 2025
The very self-possessed lover is more preposterous! Your book has not yet reached me. To-morrow I shall write again, providing I remember how to write a natural letter. Yours, DANE KEMPTON. LONDON. June 20, 19 . There are impersonal hours when the things of the day drop below consciousness and the spirit grows devotional and wends a pilgrimage to larger spheres, there to sit apart.
You poor fog-begirt Dane Kempton, could you but have lounged with me on the window couch, an hour past, and watched the light pass out of the day through the Golden Gate and the night creep over the Berkeley Hills and down out of the east! Why should you linger on there in London town! We grow away from each other, it seems you with your wonder-singing, I with my joyful science.
Why, the very socialist agitator, hustled by the police on a street corner amid the jeers of the mob, has caught the romance of to-day as you have not caught it and where you have missed it. He knows life and is living. Are you living, Dane Kempton? Forgive me. I had begun to explain and reconcile our difference. I find I am lecturing and censuring you. In defending myself, I offend.
Marcus threw back his head and indulged in a hearty laugh, when he heard where his wife's imagination had landed her. "Kempton Lodge my dear child why do you not suggest Prince's Gate, or Belgravia? My own thoughts had not gone further than a new greatcoat this winter. I am afraid my old one is getting a little seedy."
Not that I likes the man much. There was a girl I knew she wouldn't hear his name mentioned. But he lays fair prices, and does, I believe, a big trade." "'As a nice 'ome at Brixton, keeps a trap; his wife as pretty a woman as you could wish to lay eyes on. I've seen her with him at Kempton." "You was up there this morning?" "Yes." "It wasn't Bob Barrett that gave you the tip?" "Not likely."
Fourteen miles from Brighton we are met by eight members of the Kempton Rangers Bicycle Club, who have sallied forth thus far northward to escort us into town; having done which, they deliver us over to Mr. C , of the Brighton Tricycle Club, and brother-in-law to the mayor of the city. It is two in the afternoon.
"I suppose you've had the same charming present?" George nodded. There was a minute's silence. "It's really rather funny. I'm sorry for you, George." George laughed too, but his laugh was different. "I will do all I can," he said. Mrs. Bellew came close to him. "I've seen about the Kempton race. What shocking luck! I suppose you've lost a lot. Poor boy! It never rains but it pours."
There was issue of this marriage two daughters: Caroline, who married Thomas Brand, of Kempton, Hertfordshire; and Anne, who died unmarried in 1739 at the age of twenty. Already, on July 1, 1723, had died Lord Dorchester's only son and heir, William, who took the style of Earl of Kingston.
Kempton confessed by-and-bye, 'sometimes I wondered whether, possibly, your disappearance could have had any such connection with Mary's death it followed it so immediately. I wondered sometimes whether, perhaps, you had cared for her. But I couldn't believe it it was only because the two things happened one upon the other. Oh, why didn't you tell her? It is dreadful, dreadful!
One afternoon at the Dixons' he really forced himself upon her, and with all the obtuseness of an enthusiastic boy tried to discuss the Lotus Eaters of Tennyson. It was too absurd. Captain Kempton was making signals to Edith all the time, and Lieutenant Gatwick had gone off in disgust, and he had promised to bring her a puppy "by Vick out of Wasp."
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