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Updated: July 27, 2025
Gaythorne was looking over a portfolio of water-colour paintings. Olivia had not yet seen them, and she was full of outspoken admiration, as Mr. Gaythorne placed one after another before her. "They are all the work of a young artist who died at Rome," he said. "I bought them of his widow. They are very well done; he had great promise, poor fellow. If he had lived, he would have done good work.
Alwyn had begged her, as a special favour to him, to pay a daily visit to Galvaston House, so for the next three or four days she found it impossible to go round to Maybrick Villas. Mr. Gaythorne took her visits as a matter of course. There was always something he wanted to discuss with her. Some fresh arrangement for his daughter-in-law's comfort.
Evidently such pride was no fault in his eyes, and it was certain that he very much enjoyed choosing his wife's gowns. Greta was the first to return. The Gaythornes stayed away until the middle of September. When Alwyn paid his first visit, Olivia was rejoiced to see the improvement in him. He had gained weight and flesh, and looked very handsome; but Marcus was less satisfied with Mr. Gaythorne.
You are very good, madam; if you will allow me to take your arm, I think I can manage those few yards. I live there," pointing to the grim doorway. "Yes, I know: Mr. Gaythorne, of Galvaston House; we are neighbours of yours, and I have seen you come out of the house frequently.
And as for your wife, he has no words for her goodness. May Heaven repay you both for what you have done for me and my boy." When Marcus returned home he found Greta sitting with his wife; they both looked at him anxiously. "Mr. Gaythorne will not part with his son," he informed them. "Mrs. Crampton is getting a room ready for him, so your labours will be lightened, Livy.
"I must try to be patient," she was thinking as she went up the stairs. "I do not know what I can have done so very wrong, but I suppose there must be something." But her sadness was soon turned into amazement and joy. "Hetty," said Mrs. Enderby, "Miss Gaythorne wishes to have you with her in London, on a visit. Mr.
Although Marcus had other visits to pay, and would not be back until quite late, Olivia sat up for him on pretence of finishing Dot's pelisse, but to her disappointment he had very little to tell her on his return. Mr. Gaythorne had been tired and out of spirits, and he had had no inducement to prolong his visit; he had not read Olivia's note, only placed it beside him.
She had always enjoyed making up stories about her neighbours, and it did no one any harm. When Mr. Gaythorne was out of sight she went to the kitchen to take a last look at Dot, who was slumbering peacefully in her cot; the kitchen was the warmest place, and Martha could clean her knives and wash her plates and keep an eye on her.
Gaythorne was allowed to see any one, and then Olivia was his first visitor. To her great surprise he had asked for her. "I think I can trust you," Marcus said to her; but there was a trace of anxiety in his manner that did not escape her.
Luttrell had found on the doorstep on Christmas night, that it was Alwyn Gaythorne, my old playmate and friend!" Then she added, with a sigh, "What would his poor mother have said? She and Olive almost worshipped that boy." "We ought not to leave him too long alone," observed Olivia, wearily. "I promised my husband that I would look after him.
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