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Updated: June 8, 2025
He had got more the second time over than last year. But he did not care to shoot without Michael. He found her name at last on the third sheet, just a casual sentence. "Your cousin, the Duchess of Colle Alto, has come to live at Priesthope for good. She has been there nearly six months. I see her occasionally.
He thought he remembered an old aunt who lived near Priesthope. He read the long sentimental effusion and bit his lip. Ah, me! Was that half-forgotten, dim-in-the-distance boyish love of his to be raked up again now! He sighed impatiently. Why had Fate parted him and Magdalen?
For a long time past Magdalen had noticed that Fay always wanted to be somewhere she was not. They went in silence through the little wood that bounded the gardens, and passed into the great, bare, grey aisle of the beech avenue. In a past generation a wide drive had led through this avenue to the house. It had been the south approach to Priesthope.
These he ignored; among that number was Michael's affection for his godfather, the Bishop of Lostford. Michael's boyish passion for Fay, Wentworth had never divined. It had come about during the last year of his great uncle's life at Barford, which was within a few miles of Priesthope, Fay's home. Michael had spent many weeks at Barford with the old man, who was devoted to him.
I somehow thought of Fay as as but my mind gets so confused as at a great distance, quite removed all this time. Hundreds and hundreds of miles away in England. Left Italy for good." "My dear boy, she is living at Priesthope, four miles off. I've told you so over and over again. I go and see her every day." "Yes, at Priesthope, of course. Four miles. I know the way.
Even in her widowed desolation she had remembered Michael, and always asked after him when Wentworth went over to Priesthope. And Wentworth was often there, for one reason or another. Michael, too, had asked after her, and had sent her a message by his brother. Should he go over to-day and deliver it in person?
'Magdalen's joyless homelife of incessant, unselfish service. That is very well put, isn't it? And so is this: 'It is your duty now to inform him that you withdraw all opposition to the renewal of the engagement, and to invite him to Priesthope. Really, Aunt Mary sticks at nothing. I warn you solemnly, father, this is only the thin end of the wedge.
Throughout the early weeks of her widowhood Fay remained as one stunned. Even Magdalen, who hurried out to her, supposed at first that she was stunned by grief. "Then Andrea knew all the time." That was the constant refrain of her bewildered, half-paralysed mind. Gradually in the quiet monotonous life at Priesthope the question made itself felt. "How did he know?"
The following afternoon Fay was sitting in the little morning-room at Priesthope, trying to write a letter, a long, long letter. Wentworth's last note to her, just arrived by the second post, was open before her, telling her that he could not return for two days. And then the door opened gently and he was before her. She turned a white, miserable face towards the door.
Your brother here seems made of money, though he will soon be ruined if he goes on sending for me. For I always charge double if I'm sent for unnecessarily. Come, sir, what do you want?" "I don't know," said Michael, half amused. He was still exhausted by his expedition to Priesthope of the previous day. "I don't want anything, thanks. I'm all right." "What do you say to a change?"
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