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Updated: June 27, 2025
She would and she would not, and Rosamund could not induce her to come to a decision, and suffered agonies at the thought of being turned out of Little Cloisters. When Dion came back, of course, a flitting from Welsley would have to be faced, but to be driven away without that imperative reason would indeed be gall and wormwood. There were days when Rosamund felt unchristian towards Mrs.
Then his mind returned to an old haunt in which continually it wandered, obsessed by a horror that seemed already ancient, the walled garden at Welsley in which he had searched in the dark for a fleeing woman.
Leith would "take his chance among the birds" any day, or days, he liked while at Welsley. The gentleman farmer could not offer much, just the ground, most of it stubble, and a decent lot of birds. "Dear Mrs. Dickinson knew through me how fond of shooting you are. We owe it all to her," said Rosamund, in conclusion. "I've written to thank him, and to say how glad you'll be."
Robin, too was a pronounced, even an enthusiastic, "Welsleyite," and had practically forgotten "old London," as he negligently called the greatest city in the world. They were very happy in Welsley. In fact, the Dean's widow was the only rift in Rosamund's lute, that lute which was so full of sweet and harmonious music.
When Rosamund had arranged about the renewal of the lease, she tried to feel the joy which was evidently felt by all her Welsley friends with one exception which, however, she either did not notice or did not seem to notice. They were frankly delighted and enthusiastic at the prospect of keeping her among them.
"I don't ask you to tell me about South Africa," she said. "Because you told me the whole story as soon as I came into the room. But what are you going to do now? Settle down in the Church's bosom at Welsley?" There was no sarcasm in her voice. "Oh I'm going back to business in a few days." "You'll run up and down, I suppose." "It's too far, an hour and a half each way.
For a moment she thought of going to see some of her friends, of telling Mrs. Dickinson and other adherents of hers that her days in Welsley were numbered. But a reluctance seized her. She felt a desire to be alone. What if instead of saying good-by to Welsley, she said good-by to her dreams in Welsley? She summoned Annie and told her not to let any one in.
But at the heart of Stamboul the dust lay thick, and there was dew at the heart of Welsley. Perhaps green Elis, with its sheep-bells, the eternal voices of its pine trees, the celestial benignity of its Hermes, was more to be desired than either Stamboul or Welsley. But for the moment Welsley was very desirable.
Dion had been accepted as one of the big Welsley family, had been made free of the Precincts. During those three days he had forgotten London, business, everything outside of Welsley. It had seemed to him that he had the right to forget, and he had exercised it. Robin had played a great part in those three days. His new adoration of his father was obvious to every one who saw them together.
"I suppose it is possible to sublet a house," said Beattie, looking unusually inexpressive, Guy thought. "They say at the Clubs the C.I.V. will be back before Christmas, Beattie," said Guy. "The Tenbys' lease of Number 5 is up." "Yes, but do you think Dion can afford to run two houses?" "Perhaps " she stopped. "I don't believe Rosamund will ever be got out of Welsley," said Guy.
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