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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Would that Henry could see her now!" thought the cardinal, "Anne Boleyn's reign were nigh at an end. How long have you dwelt in this cottage, fair maid?" he added aloud. "My grandsire, Tristram Lyndwood, has lived here fifty years and more," replied Mabel, "but I have only been its inmate within these few weeks.
There was something spectral about her in her light muslin frock, as she vanished through the windows and reappeared almost immediately, threading her way amongst the flower beds. Suddenly the telephone bell at Mr. Foley's elbow rang. He raised the receiver. She came swiftly to his side. "Manchester?" she heard him say. . . . "Yes, this is Lyndwood Park. It is Mr. Foley speaking. Go on."
It was that which had made the words which he had spoken live as though they had been winged with fire. Perhaps it was his own fault. Perhaps he should have avoided altogether this house of the easier ways. From the atmosphere of Lyndwood Park and its surroundings fragrant, almost epicurean Maraton passed to the hard squalor of the great smoke-hung city of the north.
"Well, Bouchier," he said, as the officer made his appearance, "have you obeyed my instructions in regard to Mabel Lyndwood?" "I have, my liege," replied Bouchier. "In obedience to your majesty's commands, immediately after your arrival at the castle I rode to the forester's hut, and ascertained that the damsel was still there." "And looking as beautiful as ever, I'll be sworn!" said the king.
The former arrived a few moments after his niece's departure. "I have come," Maraton announced, as they shook hands, "to accept your invitation to Lyndwood. You understand, I am sure, that that commits me to nothing?" Mr. Foley's expression was one of intense relief. "Naturally," he replied. "I quite understand that. I am delighted to think that you are coming at all.
His monosyllable was charged with terrified reproach. "Julia!" She turned upon him. "You, too! You weren't at Lyndwood, were you? . . . Doubts!" she went on fiercely, her eyes flashing once more upon Maraton. "How can you fire their blood if there are doubts in your heart? So long these people have waited. No wonder their hearts are sick and their brains are clogged, their will is tired.
He wished that he had laid more emphasis upon the fact that your coming to us at Lyndwood committed you to nothing. No one is the worse off for hearing every point of view, is he? My uncle will feel so much happier if he really has had the opportunity of having a long, uninterrupted talk with you." Maraton smiled pleasantly.
Reckless of the consequences, the knight placed the flask to his lips, and draining it to the last drop, fell from his horse insensible. How Wyat beheld Mabel Lyndwood And how he was rowed by Morgan Fenwolf upon the Lake.
This muttered colloquy was overheard by Patch, and faithfully reported by him to the cardinal. Of the Visit of the Two Guildford Merchants to the Forester's Hut. Tristam Lyndwood did not return home till late in the evening; and when informed of the cardinal's visit, he shook his head gravely. "I am sorry we went to the hunting party," he observed.
Before that time I lived at Chertsey, under the care of one of the lay sisters of the monastery there Sister Anastasia." "And your parents where are they?" asked the cardinal curiously. "Alas! your grace, I have none," replied Mabel with a sigh. "Tristram Lyndwood is my only living relative.
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