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Updated: June 1, 2025
Robert was laid up for weeks with malarious fever, and when he struggled out again into the hot Riviera sunshine, it was clear to himself and everybody else that he must do what he could, and not what he would, in the Christian vineyard. 'Mother, he said one day, suddenly looking up at her as she sat near him working, 'can you be happy at Murewell?
The pressure exerted by the will had temporarily given way, and the deepest forces of the man's being had reasserted themselves. He could feel and love and pray again; and Catherine, seeing the old glow in the eyes, the old spring in the step, made the whole of life one thank-offering. On the evening following that moment of reaction in the Murewell library Robert had written to the Squire.
He was to enter on his duties at Murewell in July, the Bishop, who had been made aware of his Oxford reputation, welcoming the new recruit to the diocese with marked warmth of manner. 'Agnes, if you want any tea, here it is, cried Rose, calling from outside through the dining-room window; 'and tell mamma.
He was on the top of a high sandy ridge, looking west and north, over a wide evening world of heather, and wood and hill. To the right, far ahead, across the misty lower grounds into which he was soon to plunge, rose the woods of Murewell, black and massive in the twilight distance.
Since the war of 1870 Madame de Netteville had fixed her headquarters in London, and it was to her house in Hans Place that the squire wrote to her about the Elsmeres. She owed Roger Wendover debts of various kinds, and she had an encouraging memory of the young clergyman on the terrace at Murewell.
'As I told you before, Squire, because there was nothing else for an honest man to do. The squire turned round with a frown. 'What the deuce are you dawdling about, Benson? Give me my stick and get me out of this. By midnight all was still in the vast pile of Murewell. Outside, the night was slightly frosty.
If true, every person in such a condition has a remedy in his own hands. I force no one to remain on my property. 'The people who live there, exclaimed Robert, 'have neither home nor subsistence if they are driven out. Murewell is full times bad most of the people old. 'And eviction "a sentence of death," I suppose, interrupted the Squire, studying him with sarcastic eyes.
He left him a money legacy, the interest of which was to be administered by his mother till his majority, and in a letter addressed to his heir he directed that, should the boy on attaining manhood show any disposition to enter the Church, all possible steps were to be taken to endow him with the family living of Murewell, which had been his father's, and which at the time of the old Baronet's death was occupied by another connection of the family, already well stricken in years.
He was to enter on his duties at Murewell in July, the bishop, who had been made aware of his Oxford reputation, welcoming the new recruit to the diocese with marked warmth of manner. 'Agnes, if you want any tea, here it is, cried Rose, calling from outside through the dining-room window; 'and tell mamma.
So he sped homeward at last through the noise of Oxford Street, hearing nothing. He opened, his own door, and let himself into the dim, silent house. How the moment recalled to him that other supreme moment of his life at Murewell! No light in the drawing-room. He went upstairs and softly turned the handle of her room. Inside the room seemed to him nearly dark. But the window was wide open.
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