"
* * * * *
One October evening, a week later, Lady Lucy sat waiting for Sir James
Chide at Tallyn Hall. Sir James had invited himself to dine and sleep,
and Lady Lucy was expecting him in the up-stairs sitting-room, a medley
of French clocks and china figures, where she generally sat now, in
order to be within quick and easy reach of Oliver.
She was reading, or pretending to read, by the fire, listening all the
time for the sound of the carriage outside. Meanwhile, the silence of
the immense house oppressed her. It was broken only by the chiming of a
carillon clock in the hall below. The little tune it played, fatuously
gay, teased her more insistently each time she heard it. It must really
be removed. She wondered Oliver had not already complained of it.
A number of household and estate worries oppressed her thoughts. How was
she to cope with them? Capable as she was, "John" had always been there
to advise her, in emergency--or Oliver. She suspected the house-steward
of dishonesty. And the agent of the estate had brought her that morning
complaints of the head gamekeeper that were most disquieting.
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