Produced by Jonathan Ingram, William Flis, and Distributed Proofreaders
1900
'I would that you were all to me,
You that are just so much, no more.
Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!
Where does the fault lie? What the core
O' the wound, since wound must be?'
'Let us be quite clear, Aunt Pattie—when does this young woman arrive?'
'In about half an hour. But really, Edward, you need take no trouble! sheis coming to visit me, and I will see that she doesn't get in your way.Neither you nor Eleanor need trouble your heads about her.'
Miss Manisty—a small elderly lady in a cap—looked at her nephew witha mild and deprecating air. The slight tremor of the hands, which werecrossed over the knitting on her lap, betrayed a certain nervousness; butfor all that she had the air of managing a familiar difficulty in familiarways.
The gentleman addressed shook his head impatiently.
'One never prepares for these catastrophes till they actually arrive,'he muttered, taking up a magazine that lay on the table near him, andrestlessly playing with the leaves.
'I warned you yesterday.'
'And I forgot—and was happy. Eleanor—what are we going to do with Miss
Foster?'
A lady, who had been sitting at some little distance, rose and cameforward.
'Well, I should have thought the answer was simple. Here we are fifteenmiles from Rome. The trains might be better—still there are trains. MissFoster has never been to Europe before. Either Aunt Pattie's maid or minecan take her to all the proper things—or there are plenty of people inRome—the Westertons—the Borrows?—who at a word from Aunt Pattie wouldfly to look after her and take her about. I really don't see that you needbe so miserable!'
Mrs. Burgoyne stood looking down in some amusement at the aunt and nephew.Edward Manisty, however, was not apparently consoled by her remarks. Hebegan to pace up and down the salon in a disturbance out of all proportionto its cause. And as he walked he threw out phrases of ill-humour, sothat at last Miss Manisty, driven to defend herself, put the irresistiblequestion—
'Then why—why—my dear Edward, did you make me invite her? For it wasreally his doing—wasn't it, Eleanor?'
'Yes—I am witness!'
'One of those abominable flashes of conscience that have so much toanswer for!' said Manisty, throwing up his hand in annoyance.—'If shehad come to us in Rome, one could have provided for her. But here in thissolitude—just at the most critical moment of one's work—and it's allvery well—but one can't treat a young lady, when she is actually in one'shouse, as if she were the tongs!'
He st