Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 26, 2025
A manly, ringing voice, which sent a thrill to Winnifred's heart, cried "Mother!" and in another instant Lord Mordaunt Muddlenut, for he it was, had folded the Marchioness to his heart. Winnifred rose, her heart beating wildly. One glance was enough. The newcomer, Lord Mordaunt, was none other than the Unknown, the Unaccountable, to whose protection she had twice owed her life.
Then at last, one morning when Winnifred's temperature had fallen to ninety-eight point three, the Marchioness spoke. "Miss Clair," she said, in a voice which throbbed with emotion, "Winnifred, if I may so call you, Lord Muddlenut and I have formed a plan for your future. It is our dearest wish that you should marry our son." "Alas," cried Winnifred, while tears rose in her eyes, "it cannot be!"
Those acquainted with the countenances of the aristocracy would have recognized at once in the occupants of the equipage the Marquis of Muddlenut and his spouse, the Marchioness. It was the eye of the Marchioness which first detected the form of Winnifred Clair upon the doorstep. "Hold! pause! stop!" she cried, in lively agitation.
With a profound bow, Lord Wynchgate took his leave. Lord Mordaunt and his bride were married forthwith in the parish church of Muddlenut Chase. With Winnifred's money they have drained the moat, rebuilt the Chase, and chased the bulls out of the park.
"Say not so," cried the Marchioness. "Our son, Lord Mordaunt Muddlenut, is young, handsome, all that a girl could desire. After months of wandering he returns to us this morning. It is our dearest wish to see him married and established. We offer you his hand." "Indeed," replied Winnifred, while her tears fell even more freely, "I seem to requite but ill the kindness that you show.
The scene is now shifted, sideways and forwards, so as to put it at Muddlenut Chase, and to make it a fortnight later than the events related in the last chapter. Winnifred is now at the Chase as the guest of the Marquis and Marchioness. There her bruised soul finds peace. The Chase itself was one of those typical country homes which are, or were till yesterday, the glory of England.
On the way Winnifred, at the solicitation of the Marchioness, related her story. "My poor child!" exclaimed the lady, "how you must have suffered. Thank Heaven it is over now. To-morrow we shall call for you and bring you away with us to Muddlenut Chase." Alas, could she but have known it, before the morrow should dawn, worse dangers still were in store for our heroine.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking