Americans -- England -- Fiction; Brothers -- Fiction; Love stories
He seemed to take it for granted that she would remain at the head of
affairs, and it gradually dawned upon Anne that she could not well do
otherwise. Her presence for a time at least seemed indispensable. The
responsibility had become hers and she could not at that stage shake it
off. Her dream of freedom was over. Of what the future might hold for her
she could not even begin to think. But the present was very clearly
defined. It remained only for her to "do the work that was nearest" as
bravely as she might.
When Lucas ended she leaned forward and gave him her hand. "I wonder
what I should have done without you," she said. "I believe I should
have gone mad too."
"No, no, Lady Carfax!"
She smiled faintly; the tears were standing in her eyes. "Yes, I know.
You don't like to be thanked. But you have been like a mother to me in my
trouble, and--I shall always remember it."
The blue eyes began to twinkle humorously. The hand that held hers closed
with a very friendly pressure.
"Well," drawled the kindly American voice, "I'll be shot if that
isn't the kindest thing that anyone ever said to me. And I believe
you meant it too."
"Yes, I meant it," Anne said.
And though she smiled also there was genuine feeling in her words.
PART II
CHAPTER I
THE JESTER'S RETURN
The gradual coming of spring that year was like a benediction after the
prolonged rigour of the frost. The lengthening evenings were wrapped in
pearly mystery, through which the soft rain fell in showers of blessing
upon the waiting earth. To Anne, it was as though a great peace had
descended upon all things, quelling all tumult. She had resolutely taken
up her new burden, which was so infinitely easier than the old, and she
found a strange happiness in the bearing of it. The management of her
husband's estate kept her very fully occupied, so that she had no time
for perplexing problems. She took each day as it came, and each day left
her stronger.
Once only had she been to Baronmead since the masquerade on the ice. It
was in fulfilment of her promise to Nap, but she had not seen him; and as
the weeks slipped by she began to wonder at his prolonged silence. For
no word of any sort reached her from him. He seemed to have forgotten her
very existence. That he was well again she knew from Lucas, who often
came over in the motor with his mother.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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