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Updated: June 24, 2025
So there she sat, with the Bible in her lap, alone, for Lady Woodley was so harassed and unwell, in consequence of her anxieties, that Rose had persuaded her to go and lie down on her bed, since it would be better for her not to try to see Edmund till the promised protection had arrived, lest suspicion should be excited.
Woodley said that Captain Littledale had gone to India." "He said he thought he had heard so; he knew nothing about it." For a moment Bessie Alden said nothing more; then, at last, "And don't you intend to write to to Mr. Beaumont?" she inquired. "You mean to Lord Lambeth," said her sister. "I said Mr. Beaumont because he was so good a friend of yours." Mrs.
"He would not wrong any one." "If he were my dearest foe," whispered goodwife Woodley, "he would have my sympathy for living with Dorothe Stevens." "Whist, Dame Woodley; speak not your mind so freely," whispered Sarah Drummond, "for there be those in hearing on whose ears your words had best not fall."
But if she said little, her sister on one side and Willie Woodley on the other expressed themselves in lively alternation. "Look at that green dress with blue flounces," said Mrs. Westgate. "Quelle toilette!" "That's the Marquis of Blackborough," said the young man "the one in the white coat.
"My Lady Woodley," he returned, recognising her at the same time, as he seated himself in the chair, "I am sorry thus to have broken in on your ladyship, but my son, Sylvester, would have me halt here." "This gentleman is your son, then?" and a courteous greeting passed between Lady Woodley and young Sylvester Enderby, after which she again enquired after his father's accident.
Williamson and Carruthers found themselves carrying the wounded Woodley into the house, and I gave my arm to the frightened girl. The injured man was laid on his bed, and at Holmes's request I examined him. I carried my report to where he sat in the old tapestry-hung dining-room with his two prisoners before him. "He will live," said I. "What!" cried Carruthers, springing out of his chair.
Holmes, Cyril Morton, an electrical engineer, and we hope to be married at the end of the summer. Dear me, how DID I get talking about him? What I wished to say was that Mr. Woodley was perfectly odious, but that Mr. Carruthers, who was a much older man, was more agreeable. He was a dark, sallow, clean-shaven, silent person, but he had polite manners and a pleasant smile.
After a breakfast on bread, cheese, rashers of bacon, and beer, the horses were brought to the door, and the colonel took his leave of Lady Woodley, thanking her much for her hospitality. "I wish it had been better worth accepting," said she. "I wish it had, though not for my own sake," said the colonel. "I wish you would allow me to attempt something in your favour.
It was evening: darkness had for some time fallen: no light had yet been taken into the dying woman's apartment; and the pale starlight which faintly illumined the room served, as Mary Woodley softly approached on tiptoe to the bedside of her, as she supposed, sleeping parent, but to deepen by defining the shadows thrown by the full, heavy hangings, and the old massive furniture.
Carruthers came in and tore him from me, on which he turned upon his own host, knocking him down and cutting his face open. That was the end of his visit, as you can imagine. Mr. Carruthers apologized to me next day, and assured me that I should never be exposed to such an insult again. I have not seen Mr. Woodley since. "And now, Mr.
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