Hence the
constant charges of persecution for political reasons; and hence, too,
this bad case of the Brands, which had roused such a strong and angry
sympathy in the neighbourhood that Faversham felt the success of his own
regime must be endangered unless some means could be found, compatible
with Melrose's arrogance, of helping the ruined family.
Well, there in those clear typewritten sheets, lay his suggestions for
dealing with these various injustices and infamies. They were moderate.
Expensive for the moment, they would be economical in the long run. He
had given them his best brains and his hardest work. And he had taken the
best advice. But they meant, no doubt, a complete change in the
administration and _personnel_ of the estate.
Faversham stepped into the garden, and, hanging over the low wall which
edged the sandstone cliff, he looked out over the gorge of the river,
across the woods, into the ravines and gullies of the fells. Mountain and
wood stood dark against a saffron sky. In the dim blue above it Venus
sailed. A light wind stirred the trees and the stream. Along the river
meadows he could hear the cows munching and see their dusky forms moving
through a thin mist. The air was amethyst and gold, and the beautiful
earth shone through it, ennobled by the large indistinctness, the quiet
massing of the evening tones.
His heart withdrew itself into some inner shrine where it might be with
Lydia. She represented to him some force, some help, to which he turned.
Pages:
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269