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Updated: June 1, 2025
Wendover went off to Italy a few days after the conversation we have described. But though he was not present in the flesh, the great book of his life was in Elsmere's hands, he had formally invited Elsmere's remarks upon it; and the air of Murewell seemed still echoing with his sentences, still astir with his thoughts.
And yet here he was, riveted to her side, alive like any normal human being to every detail of her loveliness, shaken to his inmost being by the intoxicating message of her look, of the transformation which had passed in an instant over the teasing difficult creature of the last few months. At Murewell his chagrin had been not to feel, not to struggle, to have been cheated out of experience.
'I have left Murewell, Lady Charlotte. 'Left Murewell! she said in astonishment, turning round to look at him, her eyeglass at her eye. 'Why has Helen told me nothing about it? Have you got another living? 'No. My wife and I are settling in London. We only told Lady Helen of our intentions a few weeks ago.
Robert drew a long breath, inspired by many feelings. 'I will come, but not yet. I must get broken in here more thoroughly first. Murewell touches me too deeply, and my wife. You are going abroad in the summer, you say. Let me come to you in the autumn. The Squire said nothing, and went his way, leaning heavily on his stick, across the square.
It had been one of the bitterest moments of a bitter time, when, at their first meeting after the crisis in her life, Langham, conscious of a sudden movement of pity for a woman he disliked, had pressed the hand she held out to him in a way which clearly showed her what was in his mind, and had then passed on to chat and smoke with Robert in the study, leaving her behind to realize the gulf that lay between the present and that visit of his to Murewell, when Robert and she had felt in unison toward him, his opinions and his conduct to Rose, as toward everything else of importance in their life.
Only the habit of faith held the close instinctive clinging to a Power beyond sense a Goodness, a Will, not man's. The soul had been stripped of its old defences, but at his worst there was never a moment when Elsmere felt himself utterly forsaken. But his people his work! Every now and then into the fragmentary debate still going on within him, there would flash little pictures of Murewell.
Had they left their Murewell life to be 'near the theatres, and kept at arm's length by supercilious great ladies? 'We are very far from the Park, she answered with an effort. 'I wish we weren't, for my little girl's sake. 'Oh, you have a little girl! How old? 'Sixteen months. 'Too young to be a nuisance yet. Mine are just old enough to be in everybody's way.
With what a reverence would he touch her hand when she said good-by! And on her side she felt that she knew almost as much about Murewell as he did.
'Good luck to you; be off to your tea! And he turned away, striding swiftly over the short burnt August grass, in the direction of the Murewell woods, which rose in a blue haze of heat against the slumberous afternoon sky. He had not gone a hundred yards, before he heard a clattering after him. He stopped and Ned came up with him.
But, as Robert shrewdly suspected, not one of his wiles so far had imposed on the master of Murewell. He had his own sarcastic smiles over them, and over Elsmere's pastoral naïveté in general. The evidences of the young rector's power and popularity were, however, on the whole, pleasant to Mr. Wendover. If Elsmere had his will with all the rest of the world, Mr.
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