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Updated: May 28, 2025
Oswald, there's a very nice young man down here at present; I wonder if you know where he's lodging? I want to ask him to dinner. He's a young Mr. Le Breton one of the Cheshire Le Bretons, you know. His father was Sir Owen Le Breton, a general in the Indian army brother officer of Major Standish Luttrell's and very nice people in every way.
"I will be frank with you," said the priest. "Thirteen years ago a document of a rather remarkable nature was placed in my hands affecting the Luttrell family. In this paper the writer declared that she, as the nurse of Mrs. Luttrell's children, had substituted her own child for a boy called Brian Luttrell, and had carried off the true Brian to her mother, a woman named Assunta Naldi.
He would be better for a home. May I ask what Angela thinks?" "Oh, yes," said Angela, lifting her face slowly from Mrs. Luttrell's shoulder. "He must not feel that he has lost a home, must he, mother?" She pronounced the title which Mrs. Luttrell had begged her to bestow, still with a certain diffidence and hesitancy; but Mrs. Luttrell's brow smoothed when she heard it.
Luttrell's seizure on the following morning, and made good use of it as a reproach to Dino in the conversation that he had with him. But Dino, although deeply grieved at the turn which things had taken, stood firm. He would have nothing to do with the Strathleckie or the Luttrell properties. Whereupon, Mr.
Luttrell and Brian and Miss Murray are all convinced that you are Mrs. Luttrell's son, you are doing them a wrong by destroying the proofs and leaving everybody in an unsettled state? You should never have come to Scotland at all if you did not mean to carry the matter through." "That's what I say," cried Mr. Brett, who was working himself up into a violent passion.
It was already half-past four. He had not the faintest hope that Luttrell would come. Stella had no doubt pressed him to come. She had probably been a little importunate. Luttrell's promise was an excuse, just an excuse to be rid of her nothing more. "Luttrell has probably a great deal to do on this last afternoon," he suggested. "Of course, he won't be able to stay long," Stella Croyle agreed.
The Sudanese soldier grinned in delighted anticipation, with a flash of big white teeth, and took a firmer grip of his mallet and swung it over his shoulder. "Good. Now pay attention," said Luttrell, "so that all may be well and seemly done." The Sudanese fixed his eyes upon Luttrell's foot and Luttrell began to talk, rapidly and rather to himself than to his audience.
If it was signed, he was the heir; he would be the master ultimately of Netherglen. Why should he go away? Dino Vasari had ordered him never to come again into Mrs. Luttrell's presence; but Dino Vasari was now shut up in some Italian monastery, and was not likely to hear very much about the affairs of a remote country-house in Scotland. At any rate, when Mrs.
Brian Luttrell's illness was a long and severe one. He lay insensible for some time, and awoke to wild delirium, which lasted for many days. The Brothers of San Stefano nursed him with the greatest care, and it was observable that the Prior himself spent a good deal of time in the patient's room, and showed unusual interest in his progress towards recovery.
After Hugo Luttrell's death, she remained for some time at Netherglen, sitting a great deal in Mrs. Luttrell's room and trying to resume the daughter-like ways which had grown so natural to her. But she was driven slowly to perceive that she was by no means necessary to Mrs. Luttrell's happiness. Mrs.
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