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Updated: June 10, 2025
And she understood Sorell's opposition. All the same, her heart sang over it.
He is Sorell's protégé, Radowitz, a young musician and poet! so they say. Sorell discovered him in Paris, made great friends with him, and then persuaded him to come and take the Oxford musical degree. He is at Marmion, where the dons watch over him. But they say he has been abominably ragged by the rowdy set in college led by that man Falloden. Do you know him?"
Sorell's oar dropped into the water with a splash. At Marston Ferry, there was a general disembarking, a ramble along the river bank and tea under a group of elms beside a broad reach of the stream. Sorell noticed, that in spite of the regrouping of the two boat loads, as they mingled in the walk, Herbert Pryce never left Connie's side.
In Oxford one must learn something or teach something. If not, life here goes sour." Constance repeated Sorell's promise to teach her Greek. "Excellent!" said the Master. "You will be envied. Sorell is a capital fellow! And one of the ablest of our younger scholars though of course" the speaker drew himself up with a slight acerbity "he and I belong to different schools of criticism.
Sorell had told her that the little rectory on the moors, whither he and Otto were bound as soon as the boy could be moved, stood somewhere about midway between her aunts' house and Flood, on the Scarfedale side of the range of moors girdling the Flood Castle valley. It was strange perhaps that she should be counting on Sorell's neighbourhood.
Suppose for in spite of all Sorell's evasions and concealments, he knew very well that Sorell was anxious about him, and the doctors had said ugly things suppose he got really ill? suppose he died, without having lived? He thought of Constance in the moonlit garden, her sweetness, her gratefulness to him for coming, her small, white "flower-face," and the look in her eyes.
"You are rather late, Constance," said that lady coldly. "But, of course, it doesn't matter. The servants are at their dinner still, so I opened the door. So you know Mr. Sorell?" From which Constance perceived that her aunt had observed her approach to the house, in Mr. Sorell's company, through the little side window of the hall. She straightened her shoulders impatiently.
And when their talk paused, she bent forward, and laid her hand on Sorell's arm: "Let him!" she said pleadingly "let him do it!" Sorell looked at her in troubled perplexity. "Let Douglas Falloden make some amends to his victim; if he can, and will. Don't be so unkind as to prevent it!" That, he supposed, was what she meant.
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