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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Mr. Marsham's Rossetti! I am glad. Now I can face him!" She looked up all smiles. "Do you know that I am going to take you to a party next week? to the Marshams? They live near here at Tallyn Hall. They have asked us for two nights Thursday to Saturday. I hope you won't mind." "Have I got a dress?" said Mrs. Colwood, anxiously. "Oh, that doesn't matter! not at the Marshams.
For the time, at least, it crushed down in his heart that spirit of striving, which was one of his best characteristics, and utterly quenched the warm fires of his better nature. All thought was buried in a fog of wrath, which left him a prey to instincts utterly foreign to his normal condition. He had left Eve Marsham's presence in a furious state from which no effort seemed able to clear him.
Well a man cannot help it, if his father has suffered from stupidity and bad taste; and encumbrances of this kind are more easily created than got rid of. No doubt Oliver Marsham's democratic opinions had been partly bred in him by opposition and recoil. Diana seemed to get a good deal of rather comforting light on the problem by looking at it from this point of view.
She was dressed in a marvellous gown of white chiffon, adorned with a large rosette of Marsham's colors red-and-yellow and wore a hat entirely composed of red and yellow roses. The colors were not becoming to her, and she had no air of happy triumph. Rather, both in her and in Marsham there were strong signs of suppressed chagrin and indignation.
He shut, stamped, and posted what he had written. At mid-day, in her Brookshire village, Diana received the letter with another from London, in a handwriting she did not know. When she had read Marsham's it dropped from her hand. The color flooded her cheeks as though the heart leaped beneath a fresh blow which it could not realize or measure. Was it so she would have written to Oliver if
"If I can whisper you what you want," said Oliver, huskily, "it's at your service! There are the cigarettes." The talk lasted long. Midnight was near before the two men separated. The news of Marsham's election reached Ferrier under Sir James Chide's roof, in the pleasant furnished house about four miles from Beechcote, of which he had lately become the tenant in order to be near Diana.
"Sell five thousand consol at thirty-two, thirty-two!" He bellowed it out raucously. The selling order had been flashed from Toronto. "Taken at thirty-two," snapped Marsham's operator, who had opened the perilous game that morning, and, smiling, jotted a note on his cuff. He had made just eighty thousand dollars on that one transaction.
But, unfortunately, Barrington, who was a man of quick and gusty temper, had been nettled by an incautious expression of Marsham's with regard to the famous article in his Dunscombe speech "if I had had any intention whatever of dealing a dishonorable blow at my old friend and leader, I could have done it a good deal more effectively, I can assure you; I should not have put what I had to say in a form so confused and contradictory."
"I saw her last week," said Marsham. "She always asks after you." "I am so glad! I fell in love with her. Surely" Diana hesitated "surely some day she will marry Mr. Frobisher?" Marsham shook his head. "I think she feels herself too frail." Diana remembered that little scene of intimacy of tenderness and Marsham's words stirred about her, as it were, winds of sadness and renunciation.
The leading article "condemned" and "deplored," at considerable length and in good set terms, through two paragraphs. In the third it "could not disguise from itself or its readers" that Mr. Marsham's defeat by so large a majority had been a strong probability from the first, and had been made a certainty by the appearance on the eve of the poll of "the Barrington letter." "No doubt, some day, Mr.
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