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Updated: June 11, 2025
She, Zora Middlemist, who had announced in the market place, with such a flourish of trumpets, that she was starting on her glorious pilgrimage to the Heart of Life, abjuring all conversation with the execrated male sex, to have this ironical adventure! It was deliciously funny. Not only had she found two men in the Heart of Life, but she was bringing them back with her to Nunsmere.
Middlemist did full justice to the erotic passion of this great lyric: 'Perchawnce if we 'ad never met, We 'ad been spared this mad regret, This hendless striving to forget For hever hand for he-e-e-ver! Mrs. Murch let her head droop sentimentally. Horace glanced at Fanny, who, however, seemed absorbed in reflections as unsentimental as could be.
The sprawling, gilt, mid-Victorian clock on the mantelpiece had stopped. Presently an unusual rustle in the room caused him to raise his head with a start. Zora Middlemist stood before him. He sprang to his feet. "You? You?" "They wouldn't let me in. I forced my way. I said I must see you." He stared at her, open-mouthed.
"I meet you in the body every week and carry back your spirit with me. Zora Middlemist," he added abruptly, after a pause, "I implore you not to leave me." He leaned his arm on the mantelpiece from which Septimus had knocked the little china dog, and looked down earnestly at her, as she sat on the chintz-covered sofa behind the tea-table.
Even her mother, from whose gentle lips she rarely expected to hear wisdom, had said: "I don't see how you're going to 'live, dear, without a man to take care of you." Her mother was right, Nature was right, Rattenden was right. She, Zora Middlemist, had been hopelessly wrong. When Sypher arrived she welcomed him with an unaccustomed heart-beat.
It ran: "DEAR MRS. MIDDLEMIST: "I don't let the grass grow under my feet. I have bought Penton Court. I have also started a campaign which will wipe the Jebusa Jones people off the face of the earth they blacken. I hope you are finding a vocation. When I am settled at Nunsmere we must talk further of this.
They went out together, and the first person who met their eyes was the Friend of Humanity sunning himself in the square and feeding the pigeons with bread crumbs from a paper bag. As soon as he saw Zora he emptied his bag and crossed over. "Good morning, Mrs. Middlemist. Good morning, Mr. Dix. Used the cure? I see you have, Mrs. Middlemist. Isn't it wonderful?
"I love Nunsmere," said the Literary Man from London. "It is a spot where faded lives are laid away in lavender." "I'm not a faded life, and I'm not going to be laid away in lavender," retorted Zora Middlemist. She turned from him and handed cakes to the Vicar.
Don't you think we get on better, the two of us, as we are?" "We get on very nicely," said Septimus politely, "but I'm afraid you'll have to do some cleaning and dusting to-day. I'm awfully sorry to trouble you. Mrs. Middlemist has returned to England, and may be down this afternoon." A look of dismay came over Wiggleswick's crafty, weather-beaten face. "Well, I'm jiggered.
He had secured, however, a quiet table in a corner of the dining-room which was adorned with full-length portraits of self-conscious statesmen. Sypher unfolded his napkin with an air of satisfaction. "I've had good news to-day. Mrs. Middlemist is on her way home." "You have the privilege of her friendship," said Rattenden. "You're to be envied. O fortunate nimium."
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