FOXGLOVE MANOR

A Novel

By Robert W. Buchanan

In Three Volumes, Vol. III.

London
Chatto And Windos, Piccadilly
1884








CONTENTS

FOXGLOVE MANOR.

CHAPTER XXVIII. A MONKISH TALE (FROM THE NOTE-BOOK).

CHAPTER XXIX. HUSH-MONEY.

CHAPTER XXX. “AND LO! WITHIN HER, SOMETHING LEAPT!”

CHAPTER XXXI. A LAST APPEAL.

CHAPTER XXXII. “FLIEH’! AUF’! HINAUS! IN’S WEITE LAND!”

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE NOTE-BOOK AGAIN.

CHAPTER XXXIV. BAITING A MOUSE-TRAP (FROM THE NOTEBOOK).

CHAPTER XXXV. THE ASSIGNATION.

CHAPTER XXXVI. A FUNERAL PEAL.

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE DEATH-BED.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. TORTURE AND CONFESSION.

CHAPTER XXXIX. GETHSEMANE.

CHAPTER XL. THREE LETTERS.








FOXGLOVE MANOR.








CHAPTER XXVIII. A MONKISH TALE (FROM THE NOTE-BOOK).

Sunday, Sept. 19. My wife has gone to church.

I can hear the bells ringing in the distance as I write.... Now they cease, and at this very moment the clergyman, “snowy-banded, delicate-handed,” is ascending the pulpit stairs, amid the reverent hush of his congregation.

Though several times of late she has suggested that a little church-going would do me good, Ellen did not ask me to accompany her on this occasion; indeed, I thought at first that she was going to stay at home herself. At breakfast she was irritable and absent-minded, and she did not dress or order the carriage until the last moment. There was evidently a hard struggle in her mind whether she should go to church or not. Ultimately, she decided to go.

Out of this and other unpleasant indications, I have made a discovery. My wife, despite her purity, despite her lofty sense of honour, is jealous of the clergyman.

The day after my fishing expedition, I quietly told her what I had seen in the woodland. It was not without due deliberation that I determined to do so. One portion of the truth, however, I carefully concealed: namely, the references made by the lovers to herself. For the same reason, I showed no sign of personal suspicion, but treated the affair lightly, as a thing of indifference.

I began the conversation in this way, while beating the shell of my second egg at breakfast—

“By the

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