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Updated: June 23, 2025
There, on the window-sill, behind the curtains, was a bowl of jessamine. Her father must have brought it up for her just like him to think of that! And, burying her nose in those white blossoms, she was visited by a memory of her first ball that evening of such delight and disillusionment. Perhaps Bryan Summerhay had been there all that time ago!
His master's two faults as a horseman a habit of thrusting, and not too light hands had encouraged his rather hard mouth, and something had happened in the stables to-day to put him into a queer temper; or perhaps he felt as horses will the disturbance raging within his rider. At any rate, he gave an exhibition of his worst qualities, and Summerhay derived perverse pleasure from that waywardness.
She said still more quietly: "He need tell no one of my existence; and you can be quite sure that if ever he feels he's had enough of me, he'll never be troubled by the sight of me again." And she got up. Lady Summerhay also rose. "I hope you don't think I really am only too anxious to " "I think it's better to be quite frank. You will never like me, or forgive me for ensnaring Bryan.
Though they had lived so long within ten miles of each other he only knew Lady Summerhay by sight, and he waited for the poor woman to speak first. She said in a low voice: "There is nothing to say; only, I thought I must see you. How is she?" "Delirious." They stood in silence a full minute, before she whispered: "My poor boy! Did you see him his forehead?" Her lips quivered.
The horse went over like a bird; and for the first time since Diana's kiss Summerhay felt a moment's joy. He turned him round and sent him at it again, and again Hotspur cleared it beautifully. But the animal's blood was up now. Summerhay could hardly hold him. Muttering: "Oh, you BRUTE, don't pull!" he jagged the horse's mouth. There darted into his mind Gyp's word: "Cruel!"
He went out, thinking, not for the first time by a thousand: 'Poor child, she never sees a soul! Twenty-five, pretty as paint, and clean out of the running. What the devil am I to do about her? Summerhay sat down. Gyp had a queer feeling, then, as if the house and people vanished, and they two were back again in the railway-carriage alone together. Ten minutes to make the most of!
But Summerhay still heard his mother's, "Oh, Bryan!" and, for the first time, knew the feeling that his hand was against everyone's. There was a difference already, or so it seemed to him, in the expression of each passer-by. Nothing any more would be a matter of course; and he was of a class to whom everything has always been a matter of course.
Coming into the morning-room after breakfast on the following day armed with a roll of papers, Mr. Logger announced, "I met our excellent friend Lady Latimer at Summerhay last week; she is immensely interested in the education movement." Mr. Fairfax and Mr.
For a moment, something had checked his jealous rage. But if on this shock he began to drink, what might not happen? He had said something wild. And she shuddered. But what right had he to feel jealousy and rage against her? What right? She got up and went to the glass, trembling, mechanically tidying her hair. Miraculous that she had come through unscathed! Her thoughts flew to Summerhay.
Just as she had never felt it possible to admit the world into the secrets of her married life, so, now she did not consider the world at all. Only the thought of her father weighed on her conscience. He was back in town. And she felt that she must tell him. When Summerhay heard this he only said: "All right, Gyp, whatever you think best."
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