Part 29 (1/2)

With the sweetness of a bell, with the invitingness of a beckoning hand, the English countryside suentleman to coazed char meadohere, enclosed by the curtains of soft old trees, the thatch of the eaves lifted their breast to the sun and mist, and chimneys black with immemorial fires indicated the farms of Westboro', rich, homely and respectable, as they left upon the landscape harmonious color and history of thrift To the east was the diestion of the little town, and some few miles in a hollow lay the far ht rose the towers of Penhaven Abbey

At the Duke's urging, Bulstrode had been led to stop on at Westboro'

Castle after the house party had dissolved at the end of their week's sojourn; and there had since been s at his heels and by his side the Duke, for the tiotistical cynicism, and transformed into an enthusiastic sport

The Duke of Westboro' was a _desenchante_,a victim of other peoples' temperaments There were, however, not a few little scores in the character of moral delinquencies which at least, so he felt, he had been called upon quite fully to discharge

The Aave himself over to his host, and from the time Westboro' put out a bait of ”Oh, you're decidedly not turning in at this hour, old man?” he flanked the Duke on the opposite side of the fireplace in the East Library, there after coffee to wear away half the night During the following fortnight, Bulstrode found that he had tallied up with his friend very closely the scores of the last few miserable years

Westboro's friendshi+p with hilish man, he had come obviously and frankly in search of an American wife The search was unusual in that it was not for money, but, as Westboro' put it, for type and race His mother had been an American He had adored her, and wanted an American mother for his children The woman herself--and how Bulstrode saw it as he followed the deserted husband's narrative--the wo He recalled easily the suar brilliance of the wedding He had been one of Westboro's ushers, and his s idea that he had assisted at a sacrifice

It would be euphemistic to say that Westboro' poured out his heart to Bulstrode; Englishmen do not have such refreshments Little by little, rather in short curt phrases, a cynical hosefellow only followed after some moments' silence--little by little, whilst the sars veiled their confidences, the Duke slowly told the story of ten years of married life In this intimacy he disclosed the history of the separation which foreneral public comment Jiht opportune to say:

”There, old chap, you have the whole story! It's this cursed tradition of e, and you're a lucky fellow to be free I have never spoken to any one before--you know it I don't need to tell you so, but you were in, as it were, at the start, and what do you think of the finish?”

Bulstrode reserved his opinion

Westboro' Castle had been built in the sixteenth century by a lover of the Virgin Queen The stones were paved with entleman three hundred years before had for one sole hour entertained Elizabeth at a feast She left hi, and he went crazy and followed the royal coach to the park gate, weeping, his hands before his face; and there on the ground, his fair curls torn, and the dust frolory that touched him, his people found hirafting the American rose on these old stalks,” Bulstrode mused The beauty of Frances, duchess of Westboro', he had himself been one of the first to concede; a portrait of her by Lehnbach did not to his eyes do her justice The fresh purity of her type had not been seized by the German She would be an ideal duchess, he had said of her when the mission of Westboro' to Aht: ”She's a strong, fine woman, and will bear me beautiful children”

She had borne hih the house, had seen the low gates at the doors of two sunny rooms, the toys spread as they had been lain His oere the only apart of the castle, and the silence at the end of the hall was never broken

When Westboro' had co that his co to be at its end The Duke had thrown his cigar away, and lifting from the table near him a leather case, opened it and handed over to Bulstrode the photograph of two little bare-legged boys in sailor clothes They stood hand in hand, a pretty pair Looking at it, and gently turning it over on the other side, Bulstrode read:

”Frederick Cecil John Edward, Marquis of Wotherington, three years old

Guy Perceval, Lord Fevershaed two years”

Westboro's voice had a dull sound as he took the case from his friend's hand

”They are Westboro's I think, neck and crop Scarlet fever--in three days, Bulstrode--both in three days”

And that had been all

Bulstrode had left the Duke and gone up-stairs On the other side of his cheerful rooht held their doors wide open as if to welcoht heads if they should co i was to be done, mixed a whiskey and soda frolo-Saxon's elbow, and after a turn or two in his dressing-rooht practically out:

”It's ridiculous! Sheer nonsense There should be children here The woman is selfish and puritanical, and the man is no lover--_that's_ what's the , cold, affectionate way” Ji it And how any wo Westboro' Castle and countryside, as well as Cecil, tenth Duke of the line, the American visitor failed to see

As the Duke of Westboro' thought of the members of his recent house party--the women of it passed before his es of an Arace, whose dark beauty had made her stay at Westboro' brilliant and ht at dinner, hat ered in the Duke's own he re, and her jewels had shone like fire on her boso of the idle jewels of his own house, left behind by the flight of the duchess Mary Falconer had been hly enjoyed his guest He had asked this wo the reason he had a latent hope that she et and to be eased fro and never soothed From his first tete-a-tete with Mrs Falconer he had at once seen that there was nothing there for him

Bulstrode had said that Westboro' was not a lover Reserved as far as all feeling was concerned, he had made no advances to the beautiful A her She could not be in love with her brutish husband who, out of the week spent at Westboro'

was visible only two days Then Bulstrode had co together, walking on the terrace side by side, came vividly to Westboro's recollection

”That,” he decided, ”is a real flesh-and-blood woman, the kind of woman I should have married Bulstrode is a lucky devil”