Title:  A Crooked Path A Novel

Author:  Mrs. Alexander

Release Date:  May 18, 2006 [EBook #18418]

Language:  English

Character set encoding:  ASCII

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A CROOKED PATH

A NOVEL

By Mrs. Alexander,

Author of “The Wooing O’t,” “A Life Interest,” Etc.

NEW YORK THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, NOS. 72-76 WALKER STREET.

A CROOKED PATH.

CHAPTER I.

“Gathering clouds.”

The London season had not yet reached its height, some years ago, before the arch admitting to Constitution Hill had been swept back to make room for the huge, ever-increasing stream of traffic, or the plebeian ’bus had been permitted to penetrate the precincts of Hamilton Place.  It was the forenoon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at that hour the roadway between the entrance to Hyde Park and the gate then surmounted by the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his drooping steed was comparatively free, when two gentlemen coming from opposite directions recognized each other, and paused at the gate of Apsley House—­the elder, a stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age, and average height, with large gray mustache and small, slightly bloodshot eyes; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have been thirty, or even forty, so grave and sedate was his bearing, although his erect carriage, elastic step, and clear keen dark eyes suggested earlier manhood.

Both had the indescribable well-groomed, freshly bathed look peculiar to Englishmen of the “upper ten.”

“Ha!  Errington!  I didn’t know you were in town.  I thought you were cruising somewhere with Melford, or rusticating at Garston Hall.  I think your father expected you about this time.”

“I don’t think so.  I was summoned by telegraph from Paris.  My father was seized with a paralysis last week.  He had just come up to town, and for a few days was dangerously ill, but is now slowly recovering.”

“Very sorry to hear of it.  A man of his stamp would have been of immense value to the country.  He had begun to take a very leading part in local matters.  I trust he will come round.”

“I fear he will never be the same again.  I doubt if he will be able to direct his own affairs as he used.”

“That’s bad!  You are not in the business, I believe?”

“No; I never took any part in it.  I almost regret I did not.  It would, I imagine, be a relief to my father, now that his mind is less clear, to know that I was at the helm.  But we have a capital man as manager, quite devoted to the house.  I shall get my father down to the country as soon as I can, and I trust he’ll come round.”