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Updated: May 24, 2025
Marsham had been long asleep in his queer little room at "The Green Man." The last lights were out in the village, and the moon had set. Diana stole out of bed; Muriel must not hear her, Muriel whose eyes were already so tired and tear-worn with another's grief. She went to the window, and, throwing a shawl over her, she knelt there, looking out.
She shivered under them a little, feeling, almost guiltily, the glow of her own life, the passion of her own hopes. Marsham watched her as she sat on the other side of the fire, her beautiful head a little bent and pensive, the firelight playing on the oval of her cheek. How glad he was that he had not spoken! that the barrier between them still held.
And, in truth, if Marsham could have understood, the process of mental recovery was set going in her by just this freedom of utterance to the man she loved these words and looks and tears that brought ease after the dumb horror of the first hours. At last he made an effort, hiding the nascent impatience in a caress.
"Good-bye, mother," said Marsham again. "If you are writing to Isabel you will, I suppose, discuss the matter with her. She is not unlikely to side with you not for your reason, however but because of some silly nonsense about politics. If she does, I beg she will not write to me. It could only embitter matters." "I will give her your message. Good-bye, Oliver."
"I have written to Broadstone, and I have sent a preliminary statement to the papers." "I can take anything you want to town," said Marsham, hastily. "I must go up this evening." He handed Broadstone's telegram to Sir James. Chide read it and returned it in silence. Then he entered the ambulance, taking his seat beside the shrouded form within. Slowly it drove away, mounted police accompanying it.
How, then, could a man of so cold and sceptical a temper continue to lead the young reformers of the party? The Herald, with infinite regret, made its bow to its old leader, and went over bag and baggage to the camp of Lord Philip, who, Marsham could not doubt, had been in close consultation with the editor through the whole business.
"Her ladyship had just come in from the Opera," she said. "She was sitting in her easy-chair. I was in the bedroom. She looked toward the handle of that door. She thought it moved. She called me. I tried it and found it fast locked. She sent for Mr. Macdougal." "Macdougal," Mr. Marsham explained, "is a confidential servant of Lord Ashleigh's. He was sent over here with Lady Ella."
She remained standing, with soft hurrying breath, looking out into the garden. On a lower terrace she saw Fanny and Alicia Drake walking together, and could not help a little laugh of amusement that seemed to come out of a heart of content. Then the door opened, and Marsham was there.
It was contrary to the system of human nature. There was no country placed under such disadvantageous circumstances, into which the shadow of improvement had ever been introduced. Great pains were taken to impress the house with the propriety of regulation. Sir Grey Cooper; Aldermen Sawbridge, Watson, and Newnham; Mr. Marsham, and Mr. Cruger, contended strenuously for it instead of abolition.
"He shouldn't have gone away and left her," said Mr Bott, almost hoarsely. "But who could have thought it?" said Mrs Marsham. "I'm sure I didn't." "I suppose you'd better tell him?" said Mr Bott. "But I don't know where to find him," said Mrs Marsham. "I didn't mean now at once," said Mr Bott; and then he added, "Do you think it is as bad as that?" "I don't know what to think," said Mrs Marsham.
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