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Updated: June 9, 2025
Only," he added, hitting to his own delight upon a position which might save him from some awkwardness in the future, "of course my engagement can't be announced until Miss Merrivale gets home to her mother." "Well," Arthur said, "marriage is that ceremony by which man lays aside the pleasures of life and takes up its duties. I congratulate you on your determination to do anything so virtuous."
It was difficult for him to realise that only a few hours ago he had left London, that only last night he had dined at his club and gone to the big Merrivale dance; it was as if he were standing in some scene of the middle ages; he would not have been greatly surprised if the grass-grown terrace had suddenly become crowded by old-world forms in patches and powder, hoops and ruffles.
"My cousin is particularly desirous of learning through what source you obtained them. She has an important reason for her inquiry." This explanation only placed the marquis more upon his guard. "Ah, your captivating cousin thinks they look as though they had a history? Yes, yes; jewels of that kind generally have. Does the design strike you as remarkable, Mademoiselle de Merrivale?"
She looked up to see the merry eyes and corn-colored beard of Chauncy Wilson. "I say, Fred," went on the doctor, confidentially, "don't you think this thing is beastly rubbish? It looks like an old grandmother wrapped up in her bedclothes. And what has she got that toy village on her head for?" "Oh, Doctor Wilson!" exclaimed Miss Merrivale, in a manner that might mean reproval or amusement.
She thrust the paper upon her step-mother's knee and pointed with a finger that shook uncontrollably at a brief announcement in the society column. "We are requested to state that the announcement in yesterday's issue that the marriage arranged between Viscount Merrivale and Miss Hilary St. Orme would not take place was erroneous.
When we-uns had a reckonin comin', we naterally went out an' shot our man; but these torn-down scoundrels like Jed Martin an' his kind they trap 'em an' send 'em to worse'n hell. Las' night" and here Merrivale bent close to Nella-Rose "my hen coop was 'tarnally gone through, an' a bag o' taters lifted. I ain't makin' no cry-out.
He then sauntered into the smoking-room, where a knot of men, busily conversing in undertones, gave him awkward greeting. Merrivale lighted a cigar and sat down deliberately to study his paper. Nearly an hour later he rose, nodded to several members, who glanced up at him expectantly, and serenely took his departure. A general buzz of discussion followed.
"We've been living in N' York," she said, "but we're going to live here now, an' we've got a el'gant house right next the schoolhouse. Ma says it's one of the finest houses in Merrivale, an' I guess " "If it's next to the schoolhouse it's the one where our cook's brother lives," remarked Reginald. "He lives on the first floor, and the man that drives the water-cart lives just over him."
But she kept her temper beautifully, long years of social struggle having taught her at least this art of self-restraint. "Dr. Wilson is nothing if not satirical," she returned, with a conventional smile. It would not have been displeasing to Miss Merrivale had the floor at that particular instant opened and engulfed her former hostess.
Her interest was quickly awakened when she found that it contained sketches which were doubtless Madeleine's own. There was the château of Count Tristan de Gramont at Rennes, and the memorable little châlet the château of the Marquis de Merrivale, and sketches of other localities in her native land, of which she had thus preserved the memory.
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