Carr was a good deal with both of them. Their sole friend: the only man
cognizant of the trouble they had yet to battle with; who alone might
whisper a word of something like consolation.
Lady Hartledon seemed to improve. Whether it was the country, or the sort
of patched-up peace that reigned between her and her husband, she grew
stronger and better, and began to go out again and enjoy life as usual.
But in saying life, it must not be thought that gaiety is implied; none
could shun that as Lady Hartledon now seemed to shun it. And he, for
the first time since his marriage, began to take some interest in his
native place, and in his own home. The old sensitive feeling in regard to
meeting the Ashtons lingered still; was almost as strong as ever; and he
had the good sense to see that this must be overcome, if possible, if he
made Hartledon his home for the future, as his wife now talked of doing.
As a preliminary step to it, he appeared at church; one, two, three
Sundays. On the second Sunday his wife went with him. Anne was in her
pew, with her younger brother, but not Mrs. Ashton: she, as Lord
Hartledon knew by report, was too ill now to go out. Each day Dr. Ashton
did the whole duty; his curate, Mr. Graves, was taking a holiday. Lord
Hartledon heard another report, that the curate had been wanting to
press his attentions on Miss Ashton. The truth was, as none had known
better than Val Elster, Mr.
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