Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 5, 2025
If Wentworth had been riding home to his wife on that February evening he would not have taken unconsciously another of the many steps which entailed so many more, by saying to himself, thinking of Fay: "Could a woman like that love a second time?" Then he hastened his speed as he remembered that his old friend the Bishop of Lostford had by this time arrived at Barford.
It has actually been said that real life is not always like a novel. This feebly false assertion was disproved forever in Aunt Aggie's mind by the sight of a dog-cart coming rapidly toward her from the direction of Lostford. She glanced indifferently at it as it approached, and then her pale eyes became glued to it. In the dog-cart sat Everard Constable, now Lord Lossiemouth.
"Does she realise the complications that must almost certainly ensue with Wentworth directly her confession is made? "Will her first step towards a truer life, her first action of reparation estrange him from her?" The Bishop was pacing up and down in the library at Lostford, waiting for Magdalen and Fay, when the servant brought in the day's papers.
The one light austere touch, the long grave look, that between reserved and sympathetic natures goes deeper than any caress, were nothing to Fay. It was a long drive to Lostford, and to-day it seemed interminable. The lonely chalk road seemed to stretch forever across the down. Now and then a few heavily-matted, fatigued-looking sheep, hustled by able-bodied lambs, got in the way.
Wentworth, reddening under his tan, said: "Perhaps Pilgrim Road is a favourite walk of yours?" "Yes. I often go there in the afternoon." "I have to pass that way, too, most days," he said. "It is a short cut to Lostford." He had forgotten that an hour before he had announced that he seldom used that particular path. It did not matter, for Fay had not noticed the contradiction any more than he did.
Wentworth had frequently used this "short cut" of late which did not add more than two miles to the length of his return journey from Lostford. It was still early in the afternoon when he rode slowly down Pilgrim Road feeling like a Cavalier. There was no hurry. The earth was breathing again after the storm. Everything was resting, and waking in the vivid March sunshine.
I have his entire confidence at least, I had till lately. I must own he has become very changed of late. Of course, I never appear to notice it, but " "Quite right. Quite right. I wish others were as sagacious as you are. Let him go to Lostford for a week or two and get you off his nerves," the doctor added to himself as the motor shot down the beech avenue.
After luncheon, when they were sitting on the terrace over their coffee, Bessie left them, and Magdalen was about to do the same, when Wentworth said suddenly: "I left Michael with the Bishop of Lostford. That is why he is not here now.
A somewhat formal letter from his cousin the Bishop of Lostford, who had never been cordial to him since his engagement to Magdalen had been broken off. The Bishop pointed out certain grave abuses connected with house property at Lostford, at which the late Lord Lossiemouth had persistently connived, but which he hoped his successor might enquire into personally and redress.
The following afternoon saw Magdalen and Fay driving together to Lostford, to consult the Bishop as to what steps it would be advisable to take in the matter of Michael's release. Magdalen felt it would be well-nigh impossible to go direct to Wentworth, even if he had been at Barford. But he had been summoned to London the day before on urgent business.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking