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Updated: May 12, 2025
Chris had something very like remorse after Ralph had left Overfield, and no words of explanation or regret had been spoken on either side.
"Well, then, that is not my business; I shall give her a gown and five shillings to-morrow, with the other one." The extraordinary brutality of the words struck Mary like a whip, but Sir James met it. "That is for you to settle then," he said. "Only you need not send her to Overfield or Great Keynes, for she will be sent back here at once." Ralph smiled with an air of tolerant incredulity.
He made a great effort at self-repression, and looked up with hard bright eyes at his sister. "There must be no crying or rebellion," he said. "You must come with me to-morrow. I shall send you to Overfield." Still Margaret said nothing. She was staring at him now, white-faced with parted lips. "You are the last?" he said with a touch of harshness, standing up with his hands on the table.
And meanwhile the ordinary world went on, but far away and dimly heard and seen; as when one looks down from a castle-garden on to humming streets five hundred feet below; and the old life at Overfield, and Ralph's doings in London seemed unreal and fantastic activities, purposeless and empty.
'Can I go anywhere for you, father? said Tom, turning to him with a kind and respectful manner. 'Oh no no, thank you, he said, rousing himself, and laying his hand on the bell, 'I must go over to Overfield; but I shall be glad of the drive. Well, Dr. Tom, what did you say to Fleet's proposal? 'I said I would come up to town and settle about it when I had got through this executor business.
The sitting-room was panelled up six feet from the floor, and the three feet of wall above were covered with really beautiful tapestry that Ralph had brought up from Overfield. There was a great table in the centre, along one side of which rested a set of drawers with brass handles, and in the centre of the table was a deep well, covered by a flap that lay level with the rest of the top.
There she was now at Overfield, living in a nightmare of suspense, watching so eagerly for the scanty letters, disappointed every time of the good news for which she hoped.... The burden was an intolerable one. Beatrice was scarcely conscious of where she sat or for what she waited. She was living over again every detail of her relations with Ralph.
But at the door of the church the monk drew his arm within his own for a moment and held it, and Chris saw the shadowed eyes under his brows rest on him tenderly. "God bless you, Chris!" he said. Within a few days of Christopher's departure to Lewes, Ralph also left Overfield and went back to London.
"Notice her?" he answered, with a touch of triumphant vanity in his manner of speech. "I should say I did. She was there on my account. I'm going to make a date with her for supper after the performance to-night." Old Overfield, sitting on a trunk, stared at Bridges in surprise. "Do you know her?" he asked. "No," replied the leading juvenile.
Dom Anselm Bowden's way of walking and the patch of grease at the shoulder of his cowl, never removed, and visible as he went before him into the church was as distractingly irritating as Ralph's contempt; the buzz in the voice of a cantor who seemed always to sing on great days was as distressing as his own dog's perversity at Overfield, or the snapping of a bow-string.
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