Frances Hodgson Burnett

Robin Frances Hodgson Burnett

It was a soft starlit night mystically changing into dawn when Donal Muir left the tall, gravehouse on Eaton Square after the strangely enchanted dance given by the old DowagerDuchess of Darte. A certain impellingness of mood suggested that exercise would be a goodthing and he decided to walk home. It was an impellingness of body as well as mind. He hadremained later than the relative who had by chance been responsible for his being brought, an uninvited guest, to the party. The Duchess had not known that he was in London. It mayalso be accepted as a fact that to this festivity given for the pleasure of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless'daughter, she might not have chosen to assume the responsibility of extending him aninvitation. She knew something of his mother and had sometimes discussed her with herold friend, Lord Coombe. She admired Helen Muir greatly and was also much touched bycertain aspects of her maternity. What Lord Coombe had told her of the meeting of the twochildren in the Gardens, of their innocent child passion of attraction for each other, and ofthe unchildlike tragedy their enforced parting had obviously been to both had at oncedeeply interested and moved her. Coombe had only been able to relate certain surfaceincidents connected with the matter, but they had been incidents not easy to forget andfrom which unusual things might be deduced. No! She would not have felt prepared to bethe first to deliberately throw these two young people across each other's paths at thisglowing moment of their early blooming-knowing as she did Helen Muir's stronglyanxious desire to keep them apart