"She came to Court at last, my Lord Duke," said his Grace of Marlborough. "She came at last—as I felt sure 'twas Fate she should."

 

'Twas at Camylott he said this, where he had come in those days which darkened about him when, royal favour lost, the acclamations of a fickle¹ public stilled, its clamour of applause almost forgot and denied by itself, his glory as statesman, commander, warrior² seemed to sink beneath the horizon like a sunset in a winter sky. His splendid frame shattered by the stroke of illness, his heart bereaved³, his great mind dulled and saddened, there were few friends faithful to him, but my Lord Duke of Osmonde, who had never sought his favour or required his protection, who had often held views differing from his own and hidden none of them, was among the few in whose company he found solace⁴ and pleasure.

 

"I see you as I was," he would say. "Nay⁵, rather as I might have been had Nature given me a thing she gave to you and withheld⁶ from John Churchill. You were the finer creature and less disturbed by poor worldly dreams."

 

So more than once he came to be guest at Camylott, and would be moved to pleasure by the happiness and fulness of life in the very air of the place, by the joyousness⁷ of the tall, handsome children, by the spirit and sweet majesty⁸ of the tall beauty their mother, by the loveliness of the country and the cheerful air of well-being⁹ among the villagers and tenantry. But most of all he gave thought to the look which dwelt in the eyes of my Lord Duke and the woman who was so surely mate and companion as well as wife to him. When, though 'twas even at the simplest moment, each looked at the other, 'twas a heavenly thing plain to see.

分享到：