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Updated: May 5, 2025
'Summer evenings in the country, stained-glass window, light going out, and you and she jamming your heads together over one hymn-book, said Mottram. 'Yes, and a fat old cockchafer hitting you in the eye when you walked home. Smell of hay, and a moon as big as a bandbox sitting on the top of a haycock; bats, roses, milk and midges, said Lowndes. 'Also mothers.
The others pleaded the urgency of their several duties next day, and, saddling up, departed together, Hummil begging them to come next Sunday. As they jogged off, Lowndes unbosomed himself to Mottram ... And I never felt so like kicking a man at his own table in my life. He said I cheated at whist, and reminded me I was in debt! 'Told you you were as good as a liar to your face!
She tried to speak, but the commonplace words she desired to say were strangled, at birth, in her throat. "Charles will not mind; he will not miss me as he would have missed me before this unhappy business of the railroad came between us," Mottram said lamely. She still made no answer; instead she shook her head with an impatient gesture. Her silence made him sorry.
He looked round as if he expected those strangers of whom the priest had spoken to appear suddenly from behind the yew hedges which stretched away, enclosing Catherine Nagle's charming garden, to the left of the plateau on which stood the old manor-house. "Nay, nay," he repeated, returning to his grievance, "never had I expected to find James Mottram a traitor to his order.
'If in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with sacred thoughts supply; May no ill dreams disturb my rest. Quicker, Mottram! 'Or powers of darkness me molest! 'Bah! what an old hypocrite you are! 'Don't be an ass, said Lowndes. 'You are at full liberty to make fun of anything else you like, but leave that hymn alone. It's associated in my mind with the most sacred recollections
"James Mottram," she said at last, and with a heightened colour, "believes in progress, Charles. It is the one thing concerning which you and your friend will never agree." "Friend?" he repeated moodily. "Friend! James Mottram has shown himself no friend of ours. And then I had rights in this matter am I not his heir-at-law?
For it was at that moment that there came to her the conviction, and one which never faltered, that Charles Nagle had done no injury to James Mottram. And there also came to her then the swift understanding of what others would believe, were there to be found in the private chapel of Edgecombe Manor that which now lay on the ground behind her, close to her feet.
She moved from behind the little hut near which she had been standing, and a moment later they stood face to face. James Mottram was as unlike Charles Nagle as two men of the same age, of the same breed, and of the same breeding could well be. He was shorter, and of sturdier build, than his cousin; and he was plain, whereas Charles Nagle was strikingly handsome.
His handsome face was overcast with the look of gloomy preoccupation which she had learnt to fear, though she knew that in truth it signified but little. At James Mottram she did not look, for she wished to husband her strength for what she was about to do. Making a sign to the others to sit down, she herself remained standing behind Charles's chair.
There had been a moment to-day, just before she had taunted James Mottram with being over-scrupulous, when she had told herself that she could be loyal to both of these men she loved and who loved her, giving to each a different part of her heart.
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