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Updated: June 28, 2025
He checked the impending confession hastily. He guessed that it had some hearing upon her marriage with Trenby. If so, it would be better left unsaid. Just now she was tired and unstrung; later, she might regret her impulsive confidence. He wanted to save her from that. "Don't tell me anything. What's done is done." He paused, then added: "Don't forget, Nan, a Davenant's word is his bond always."
He crossed the lawn rapidly, pausing beside her, and without looking up she read aloud the grim couplet graven round the dial. "That's a nice cheery motto," commented Trenby lightly. "They must have been a lugubrious lot in the good old days!" "They weren't so afraid of facing the truth as we are," Nan made answer musingly.
"I think," he said at last, "that I'm satisfied with it as it is. . . . It will look very well in the gallery at Trenby." Rooke's eyes narrowed suddenly. "The portrait isn't for sale," he observed. "Of course not to anyone other than myself," replied Roger composedly. "Not even to you, I'm afraid," answered Rooke. "I painted it for the great pleasure it gave me and not from any mercenary motive."
These" with a gesture to the various sketches littering the lawn "are merely preliminary. When I begin the portrait itself, we'll retire indoors. I think the music-room here will answer the purpose of a studio very well." "Two whole weeks!" observed Nan meditatively. "I fancy Roger will be somewhat surprised that progress is so slow." "Trenby? Pooh! It's not his picture.
In a few minutes Liot also wished to stand still; for the moon came from behind a cloud and showed him plainly that the wayfarer was Bele Trenby. The recognition was mutual, but for once Bele was disposed to be conciliating.
On the last day of Bele's life Liot was at sea all day, and there were three men with him. He spent the evening with John Twatt and myself, and then sat until the midnight with Paul Borson." "For all that, he was with Bele Trenby! I know it! My heart tells me so." "Your heart has often lied to you before this. I see, however, that our talk had better come to an end once for all.
Nan put her hand up to her throat. "Something hurts here," she said in a troubled voice. "Did one of the hounds leap up at my neck?" "No," replied Trenby, frowning as his eyes rested on the long red weal striping the white flesh disclosed by the Y-shaped neck of her frock. "One of those dunder-headed fools cut you with his whip by mistake. I'd like to shoot him and Vengeance too!"
So, then, if God had refused him children, he would certainly have believed that for his sin in regard to Bele Trenby the covenant between God and the Borsons was broken. This fair babe was a renewal of it. He took him in his arms with a prayer of inexpressible thanksgiving. He kissed the child, and called him David with the kiss, and said to his soul, "The Lord hath accepted my contrition."
It was a great spiritual weakness, and one which Liot was not likely to combat; for prayer was so vital a thing to him that it became imbued with all his personal characteristics. He made petition that God would keep him from hurting Bele Trenby, and yet in his heart he was afraid that God would hear and grant his prayer.
"It may for the sportsman. But as far as the fox is concerned, it's sheer cruelty." Trenby drove on without speaking for a short time. Then he said slowly: "Well, in a way I suppose you're right. But, all the same, it's the sporting instinct the cultivated sporting instinct which has made the Englishman what he is. It's that which won the war, you know." "It's a big price to pay.
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