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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Oh, well, I'm sure I hope she'll get on," said Mr. Wedmore, rather vaguely. He had been getting used, during the last few days, to the thought of the pretty, blue-eyed girl as a daughter-in-law, and he found himself now rather hoping than fearing that Max would stick to his choice. "Well," said he at last, "I must send the ladies to have a look at you now, I suppose.
Wedmore, with all the arrogance of the country gentleman, who thinks that no one has a right to die on his premises without his permission. Max held his father back for a moment until the doctor had passed on. In the excitement of this occurrence, Mr. Wedmore was glad to have an opportunity of appearing to forget that there was any quarrel between them.
However he was dressed, he always looked shabby, and he could never have been mistaken for anything but an English gentleman. He shook hands with Mr. Wedmore, with a smile. These poor Londoners, trying to acclimatize themselves, amused him greatly. He looked upon them much as the Londoner looks upon the Polish Jew immigrants with pity, a little jealousy, and no little scorn.
George Wedmore, of the firm of Wedmore, Parkinson and Bishop, merchants of the city of London, had bought back the place, which had formerly belonged to his family, from the Jews into whose hands it had fallen, and had settled there to spend in retirement the latter end of his life, surrounded by a family who were not too well pleased to exchange busy Bayswater for what they were flippant enough to call a wilderness.
Wedmore took the lantern from the man who held it, and looked at the dead face. As he did so, his first expression of curiosity gave place to one of perplexity, followed by a stare of intense amazement and horror. "What is it? Do you know him?" asked Doctor Haselden, while Max, who had followed his father in, watched with intense interest and surprise. Mr. Wedmore did not seem to hear.
It was Hrolf the Ganger, or Walker, a pirate leader like Guthrum or Hasting, who wrested this land from the French king, Charles the Simple, in 912, at the moment when Ælfred's children were beginning their conquest of the English Danelaw. The treaty of Clair-on-Epte in which France purchased peace by this cession of the coast was a close imitation of the Peace of Wedmore.
Wedmore had only shown a common tendency in believing that his beautiful and brilliant daughter would easily give up the lover whom he considered unworthy of her. But he was wrong. Much too high-spirited and too happy in her temperament and surroundings to brood over her lover's late negligence, she was perhaps too vain to believe that she had lost her hold upon his heart.
Couldn't you see for yourself that it was better for your father to be under restraint, as well as safer for other people?" Mrs. Wedmore tried to interpose and to change the conversation to another subject, but Dudley said: "I would rather explain now, once and for all. I shall be going away to-morrow, and there are several things which I should like to make clear first." He paused, and Mrs.
Unhappily, Mr. Wedmore, elated by his victory over the cook, espied him, and straightway forbade him to leave the house until after "Sir Roger." In vain the curate protested; pleaded the privileges and exemptions of his sacred calling. Mr. Wedmore was obdurate; and, to the disgust of everybody, including himself, the Rev.
Wedmore was not in the mood to listen to it. That notion of an entanglement with another woman rankled in his proud mind, and made him still less inclined to be patient and forbearing. "I shall give Doreen warning of what I am going to do at once," said he, "before Horne turns up." The doctor shrugged his shoulders. He was obstinate himself. Mr.
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