England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
"Don't you think you're giving all the praise to the surroundings and
nothing to the musician," said Una quickly; "a true composer could
impress his ideas on his hearers without any other aid."
"I've no doubt he could," replied Beaumont carelessly, "and no doubt
plenty of people have felt emotion at Handel's music in the Albert
Hall, but even Handel's genius would never have created such an effect
as I have described anywhere but in a church; of course I haven't
mentioned the memorable shaft of sunlight which deserves praise for
its share in the affair."
Something in the flippancy of this remark jarred upon Una's feelings,
so she made no reply but walked outside into the cool fresh air,
followed by Beaumont.
He accompanied her as far as the lichgate and then raised his hat.
"I won't go any further, Miss Challoner," he said. "I'm in a
meditative mood and will take a look round this old place. I hope to
see you again soon at the Grange."
"The Grange?" she questioned, looking at him inquiringly.
"Yes, I'm coming to see the Squire about painting his portrait you
know."
"Of course," she replied quickly. "I remember Patience told me."
"Patience," he asked in a startled tone, "did you say Patience?"
"Yes, Patience Allerby, the housekeeper," said Una gaily. "How pale
you look, just as if you had seen a ghost--I dare say it's the effect
of the church and music; good-bye, at present," and she walked quickly
away.
He raised his hat mechanically and stood staring at the ground,
looking pale and haggard.
"Patience Allerby," he said in a low voice. "After all these
years--Patience Allerby."
CHAPTER X.
THE GHOST OF A DEAD LOVE.
Is this the face I loved of yore,
Ere years had run;
Alas! I care for it no more
Old love is done;
We soon forget what we adore
At twenty-one.
It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon and the short autumnal
day was rapidly closing in, the grey veil of the sky was rent here and
there showing a patch of pale cold blue, while the setting sun was
tinting the ragged clouds in the west with iridescent hues.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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