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Updated: May 20, 2025
The dinner that evening was without doubt the most dismal meal the neighbourhood had ever sat down to at the hospitable board of Pulwick, past funeral refections not excepted.
It was the dreamy hour of the day when the shadows grow long, the shafts of light level; and Sir Adrian sat at his open window, gazing at the distant view of Pulwick, while his thoughts wandered into the future, immediate and distant.
Miss Landale put down the letter, and gazed at her brother through vacant mists of astonishment. "Why, I thought Tanty said she would not put foot in Pulwick again till Adrian returned home." Rupert measured the innocent elderly countenance with a dark look.
But there must be more than this, as Adrian surmised, to cause him to blush, wax angry, and stammer like a very school-boy found at fault. Speaking with much sharpness: "My name is Smith, my man," cried he, seizing his belongings, "and you just carry on with that coiling!" "And my name, sir, is Adrian Landale, of Pulwick Priory. I would like a moment's talk with you, if you will spare me the time.
Margery paused, after her wont, to wait till the sounds had filtered as far as her intellect, then proceeded to give a few angry headshakes. "Eh! Eh! It would become Sir Adrian Landale o' Pulwick Barrownite to have 's meat i' the kitchen it would that. Nay, nay, Mester Adrian, I'm none so old but I can do my day's work yet. Ah! an' it 'ud be well if that gomerl, Renny Potter, 'ud do his'n.
Renny will indeed doubly bless the day when Providence sent you to Pulwick." And so, the following morn, Mr.
Landale had sent word at the last moment that, to his intense regret, he could not escort the ladies to the meet, some important business having retained him at Pulwick.
But what seems to me the most curious, first of all, is your presence here. We ourselves are only at Pulwick by chance." "Mr. Landale?" asked Molly, affecting ignorance. "No, Mademoiselle," cried the Frenchman, hotly. "My master is Sir Adrian. Had Mr.
Low, too, lies the proud head of the mistress of Pulwick, so stricken, indeed, so fever-tortured, that those who love her best scarce dare hope more for her than rest at last under the same earth that presses thus lightly above her enemy's eternal sleep. There is a great stillness in the house.
It runs thus: Sir Adrian William Hugh Landale, Lord of Pulwick and Scarthey in the County Palatine of Lancaster, eighth Baronet, born March 12th, 1775. Succeeded to the title and estate on the 10th February 1799, whilst abroad. Iniquitously pressed into the King's service on the day of his return home, January 2nd, 1801.
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