Architects -- Fiction; Castles -- Conservation and restoration -- Fiction; Love stories; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
What could Somerset say? It would have required a casuist to decide
whether his answer should depend upon his conviction, or upon the family
ties of such a questioner. ‘From a modern point of view, railways are,
no doubt, things more to be proud of than castles,’ he said; ‘though
perhaps I myself, from mere association, should decide in favour of the
ancestor who built the castle.’ The serious anxiety to be truthful that
Somerset threw into his observation, was more than the circumstance
required. ‘To design great engineering works,’ he added musingly, and
without the least eye to the disparagement of her parent, ‘requires
no doubt a leading mind. But to execute them, as he did, requires, of
course, only a following mind.’
His reply had not altogether pleased her; and there was a distinct
reproach conveyed by her slight movement towards Mrs. Goodman. He saw
it, and was grieved that he should have spoken so. ‘I am going to walk
over and inspect that famous tunnel of your father’s,’ he added gently.
‘It will be a pleasant study for this afternoon.’
She went away. ‘I am no man of the world,’ he thought. ‘I ought to have
praised that father of hers straight off. I shall not win her respect;
much less her love!’
XII.
Somerset did not forget what he had planned, and when lunch was over
he walked away through the trees. The tunnel was more difficult of
discovery than he had anticipated, and it was only after considerable
winding among green lanes, whose deep ruts were like canyons of Colorado
in miniature, that he reached the slope in the distant upland where the
tunnel began. A road stretched over its crest, and thence along one side
of the railway-cutting.
He there unexpectedly saw standing Miss Power’s carriage; and on drawing
nearer he found it to contain Paula herself, Miss De Stancy, and Mrs.
Goodman.
‘How singular!’ exclaimed Miss De Stancy gaily.
‘It is most natural,’ said Paula instantly. ‘In the morning two people
discuss a feature in the landscape, and in the afternoon each has a
desire to see it from what the other has said of it. Therefore they
accidentally meet.’
Now Paula had distinctly heard Somerset declare that he was going to
walk there; how then could she say this so coolly? It was with a pang
at his heart that he returned to his old thought of her being possibly
a finished coquette and dissembler. Whatever she might be, she was not a
creature starched very stiffly by Puritanism.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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