He knew her husband slightly--an eager, gifted fellow, of late years a
strong High Churchman, and well known in a certain group as the friend
of Mrs. Armagh, that muse--fragile, austere, and beautiful--of several
great men, and great Christians, among the older generation. Mrs. Alcot
had her own intimates, generally men; but she tired of them and changed
them often. Mr. Alcot spent part of every year within reach of the
Cornish home of Mrs. Armagh; and during that time his wife made her
round of visits.
Meanwhile her thin lips were sealed as to her own affairs. Certainly she
made the impression of an unhappy woman, and Darrell was convinced of
some tragic complication. But neither he nor any one of whom he had yet
inquired had any idea what it might be.
"By-the-way--where is Lady Kitty?--and are there many people here?"
Darrell turned, as he spoke, to scrutinize the house and its approaches.
Haggart Hall was a large and commonplace mansion, standing in the midst
of spreading "grounds" and dull plantations, beyond which could be
sometimes seen the tall chimneys of neighboring coal-mines. It wore an
air of middle-class Tory comfort which brought a smile to Darrell's
countenance as he surveyed it.
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