We moved away,
further down the bank, leaving the imperturbable foreman still in
the flower-garden, staring at us speechlessly on our departure,
exactly as he had already stared at us on our approach.
"Stop a minute," said Mr. Garthwaite suddenly, after we had
walked some distance in silence by the side of the stream, "I
have an idea. Now we are out for a day's angling, we won't be
balked. Instead of trying the water here again, we will go where
I know, by experience, that the fishing is excellent. And what is
more, you shall be introduced to a lady whose appearance is sure
to interest you, and whose history, I can tell you beforehand, is
a very remarkable one."
"Indeed," I said. "May I ask in what way?"
"She is connected," answered Mr. Garthwaite, "with an
extraordinary story, which relates to a family once settled in an
old house in this neighborhood. Her name is Miss Welwyn; but she
is less formally known an among the poor people about here, who
love her dearly, and honor her almost superstitiously, as the
Lady of Glenwith Grange. Wait till you have seen her before you
ask me to say anything more. She lives in the strictest
retirement; I am almost the only visitor who is admitted. Don't
say you had rather not go in. Any friend of mine will be welcome
at the Grange (the scene of the story, remember), for my
sake--the more especially because I have never abused my
privilege of introduction.
Pages:
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276