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Updated: June 29, 2025
Her pretty, inquisitive eyes went back to the writing-table, where stood a photograph of Lynette, recently taken an exquisite, delicate, pearly-toned portrait in a heavy silver-gilt frame. "We used to be great friends. Du Taine was my maiden name. Surely Mrs. Saxham has spoken to you of Greta Du Taine? I left Gueldersdorp at the beginning of the siege. Later, we went to Cape Town.
The voice broke and faltered, and a spasm of mother-anguish wrung the firm mouth, and as a slow tear dimmed each of her underlids and splashed on the white guimpe she put out her hand blindly, and the sympathetic little Frenchwoman took it in both her own. "Reverend Mozer, you can do zis. You can bring Monsieur le Docteur to see Lynette. You can 'ave his advice upon 'er case, and you can "
And here was Summer, knocking at the door! Lynette did not reappear. He did not seek her out and ask the reason of her strange display of emotion. Only a husband could do that who had the right to take her in his arms and kiss the last remaining traces of her tears away.
From one of the dug-out refuges Saxham now saw Lynette Mildare coming, making her swift way between the knots of frowsy refugees, the negro women-servants squatting over the little cooking-fires, the pallid children swarming on the narrow pathways. "Dr. Saxham." Her simple brown holland skirt and thin linen blouse hung loosely upon her. Her face, too, had grown thinner, and looked tired.
Then Lynette reminded him of all his victories, and of how even the Black Knight had yielded to him. But what encouraged Gareth more than all Lynette said was that, when he looked up to the castle, he saw a beautiful lady at one of the windows. She smiled and waved her hands to him, and he knew that this was the Lady Lyonors. Then all his courage came back.
Politics without war may, it is considered, produce the same results results not at all surprising, of course, except as to their extent. As to this last, if M. Lunier's figures and deductions be correct, the mental strain of exciting politics is even more destructive than has been generally supposed. Gareth and Lynette. By Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L., Poet-Laureate. Boston: J.R. Osgood & Co.
Meanwhile Gareth was being written, and the knight's song for The Coming of Arthur. Gareth and Lynette, with minor pieces, appeared in 1872. Balin and Balan was composed later, to lead up to Vivien, to which, perhaps, Balin and Balan was introduction sufficient had it been the earlier written. But the Idylls have already been discussed as arranged in sequence.
She dried her own with a coarse blue cotton handkerchief before she took up her tale. "She went alone to the Head Hospital that day. None of us were to be surprised, she said, if she came home extra late. Sister Hilda-Antony and me were on duty at the Railway Institute. We took Lynette with us. There!... Didn't she look up, just for the one second, as if she remembered her name?"
'Look at the dead knights on those trees, and beware, said the Red Knight, 'or soon I will hang your body beside theirs. 'That is a sight that makes me only more anxious to fight, said Gareth, 'for you break the rules of all true knights by your cruelty. 'Talk no more, said the Red Knight, 'but get ready for the combat. Then Gareth told Lynette to go further off, to a place of safety.
"No!" she cried out sharply as if in terror, and the slight figure was shaken by a sudden spasm of trembling. "Oh, Mother, no! Never, never!" With a gesture of infinite pity and tenderness the Mother drew her close, and hid the shame-dyed face upon her bosom, and whispered, with her lips upon the red-brown hair: "My lamb, my dearest, my poor, poor child! It shall be never if you choose, Lynette.
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