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"She does not know that I wrote to you," said the little lady, in her pale distress. "She wrote to you herself this evening. I hope I have not done wrong." Marsham reassured her, and they had a melancholy consultation. Diana, it seemed, had insisted on getting up that day as usual.
Marsham, you know, the big cotton people. Very vulgar, but the house is charming. It was so exciting, for the elections were on, and the Hestons, who are the great people in that part of the country, were always calling. Dear Lady Julia is so clever. Did you ever meet Mr. Marsham, by any chance?" "Not that I remember. I know the Hestons of course. Julia is my cousin." The lady was silenced.
It seems to me as if it must have been my special fate, my good fate, I mean, that has thrown me so much with you. You look after me quite as carefully as Mr Bott and Mrs Marsham ever did; but as I chose you myself, I can't very well complain, and I can't very well get rid of you." "Do you want to get rid of me, Cora?" "Sometimes.
Let him only try the beast and he will find it tame enough." "And if he won't? "Ah, if he won't " said Marsham, uncertainly, and paused. In the growing darkness she could no longer see his face plainly. But presently he resumed, more earnestly and simply. "Don't misunderstand me! Ferrier is our chief my chief, above all and one does not even discuss whether one is loyal to him.
But first tell me, because it's all so puzzling! do you and Mr. Marsham agree?" "A good deal. But he thinks he can use us which is his mistake." "And Mr. Ferrier?" Mr. Frobisher shook his head good-humoredly. "No, no! Ferrier is a Whig the Whig of to-day, bien entendu, who is a very different person from the Whig of yesterday still, a Whig, an individualist, a moderate man.
The former promptly clutched his glass and raised it aloft, spilling the neat spirit as he did so. Then, with drunken solemnity, he called for order. "Boys," he cried, "you'll you'll drink a to toast. Sure you will. Every one of you'll drink it. My fu sher wife, Eve Eve Marsham. Jim Th Thorpe thought he'd best me, but " A table was suddenly sent flying in the crowd.
Marsham left Dunscombe for Hartingfield about six o'clock on an August evening, driving the coach, with its superb team of horses, which had become by now so familiar an object in the division.
She stood between that lady and Marsham, in her own garden, without, as it seemed to Sir James, a thought of herself. As for him, in the midst of his own sharp grief, he could not help looking covertly from one to the other, remembering that February scene in Lady Lucy's drawing-room. And presently he was sure that Lady Lucy too remembered it.
"You mean she still thinks of Marsham?" "Of nothing else," she said, impetuously "of nothing else!" He frowned and winced. She resumed: "It is like her so like her! isn't it?" Her soft pitiful eyes, into which the tears had sprung, pressed the question on him. "I thought there was a cousin Miss Drake?" he said, roughly. Mrs. Colwood hesitated. "It is said that all that is broken off."
"Sir James wished me to leave him a little," she said, brokenly. "The ambulance will be here directly. They will take him to Lytchett. I thought it should have been Tallyn. But Sir James decided it." "Mother!" Marsham moved toward her, reluctantly "here is a letter no doubt of importance. And it is addressed to you." Lady Lucy gave a little cry.
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