Courtship -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Singers -- Fiction
E-text prepared by Al Haines
THE SPLENDID FOLLY
by
MARGARET PEDLER
Author of the Hermit of Far End, etc.
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
1921
TO MY HUSBAND
W. G. Q. PEDLER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE VERDICT
II FELLOW-TRAVELLERS
III AN ENCOUNTER WITH DEATH
IV CRAILING RECTORY
V THE SECOND MEETING
VI THE AFTERMATH OF AN ADVENTURE
VII DIANA SINGS
VIII MRS. LAWRENCE'S HOSPITALITY
IX A CONTEST OF WILLS
X MISS LERMONTOF'S ADVICE
XI THE YEAR'S FRUIT
XII MAX ERRINGTON'S RETURN
XIII THE FRIEND WHO STOOD BY
XIV THE FLAME OF LOVE
XV DIANA'S DECISION
XVI BARONI'S OPINION OF MATRIMONY
XVII "WHOM GOD HATH JOINED TOGETHER"
XVIII THE APPROACHING SHADOW
XIX THE "FIRST NIGHT" PERFORMANCE
XX THE SHADOW FALLS
XXI THE OTHER WOMAN
XXII THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
XXIII PAIN
XXIV THE VISION OF LOVE
XXV BREAKING-POINT
XXVI THE REAPING
XXVII CARLO BARONI EXPLAINS
XXVIII THE AWAKENING
XXIX SACRIFICE
THE HAVEN OF MEMORY
Do you remember
Our great love's pure unfolding,
The troth you gave,
And prayed for God's upholding,
Long and long ago?
Out of the past
A dream--and then the waking--
Comes back to me,
Of love and love's forsaking,
Ere the summer waned.
Ah! Let me dream
That still a little kindness
Dwelt in the smile
That chid my foolish blindness,
When you said good-bye.
Let me remember,
When I am very lonely,
How once your love
But crowned and blessed me only,
Long and long ago!
MARGARET PEDLER.
NOTE:--Musical setting by Isador Epstein. Published by G. Ricordi &
Co.; 14 East 43rd Street, New York.
THE SPLENDID FOLLY
CHAPTER I
THE VERDICT
The March wind swirled boisterously down Grellingham Place, catching up
particles of grit and scraps of paper on his way and making them a
torment to the passers-by, just as though the latter were not already
amply occupied in trying to keep their hats on their heads.
But the blustering fellow cared nothing at all about that as he drove
rudely against them, slapping their faces and blinding their eyes with
eddies of dust; on the contrary, after he had swept forwards like a
tornado for a matter of fifty yards or so he paused, as if in search of
some fresh devilment, and espied a girl beating her way up the street and
carrying a roll of music rather loosely in the crook of her arm. In an
instant he had snatched the roll away and sent the sheets spread-eagling
up the street, looking like so many big white butterflies as they flapped
and whirled deliriously hither and thither.
The girl made an ineffectual grab at them and then dashed in pursuit,
while a small greengrocer's boy, whose time was his master's (ergo, his
own), joined in the chase with enthusiasm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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