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Updated: May 16, 2025
And in Delia's there will reverberate till death that wail of a fierce and childless woman that last cry of nature in one who had defied nature of womanhood in one who had renounced the ways of womanhood: "the child the child!" Not long after the destruction of Monk Lawrence and the marriage of Delia, Paul Lathrop left the Maumsey neighbourhood.
Had he perhaps discovered anything more? When she alighted at Maumsey, with her hand in Winnington's, the fresh colour in her cheeks had disappeared again, and he was dismayed anew at her appearance, though he kept it to himself.
The chintz covered sofa and chairs, even though the chintz was ugly, had the pleasant country-house look, which suggests afternoon tea, and chatting friends; a bright fire, flowers and a lavish strewing of books completed the hospitable impression. Yet Madeleine Tonbridge had by no means come to Maumsey Abbey, at Winnington's bidding, as to a Land of Cockaigne.
"MARK WINNINGTON, Esq., J. P. Bridge End, Maumsey, Hants." A bulky document on blue paper, and also a letter had dropped to the ground. Winnington stooped for the letter, and turned it over in stupification. It was addressed in a faltering hand, and marked, "To be forwarded after my death." He hastily broke the seal. "MY DEAR MARK WINNIXGTON, I know well what I am laying upon you.
"It is I believe understood that you will live mainly here at Maumsey." "On the contrary! I wish to spend a great part of the winter in London." "With Miss Marvell?" "Certainly." "I cannot, I am afraid, let you expect that I shall provide the money." "It is my own money!" "Not legally.
A few days later, after long interviews with some very meticulous solicitors, a gentleman, very much in doubt as to what his reception would be, took train for Maumsey and the New Forest, with a view to making as soon as possible a first call upon his ward. "We ought soon to see the house."
"Could you go and talk to Miss Andrews?" he said, over his shoulder, so that only she heard. Susy went obediently across the room to where a silent, dark-haired girl sat by herself, quite apart from the rest of the circle. Marion Andrews was plain, with large features and thick wiry hair. Maumsey society in general declared her "impossible."
If she was not with Gertrude in prison, at least she too was suffering if only a fraction of what Gertrude was enduring. The arm however was not the most serious matter. As France had long since perceived, she had been overstrained in nursing Weston, and the events since she left Maumsey had naturally increased the mischief. She had become sleepless and neurasthenic.
"What does anyone know about a man?" she said, with slow deliberation. The midday post at Maumsey brought letters just after luncheon. Delia turning hers over was astonished to see two or three with the local postmark. "What can people from here be writing to me about?" Gertrude absorbed in the new weekly number of the Tocsin took no notice, till she was touched on the shoulder by Delia. "Yes?"
There is no public road past this house." The lady turned, and came towards him. "Don't you know who I am, Mr. Daunt? But I remember you when I was a child." Daunt peered through the dusk. "You have the advantage of me, Madam," he said, stiffly. "Kindly give me your name." "Miss Blanchflower from Maumsey Abbey!" said a young, conscious voice.
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