And the man turned
respectable--the real baronet--is so very much alone and out of
place in his big house that he knows not what to do.
And Mistress Pemberthy is very much alone too, and going out alone
into the world, almost friendless, and with only two hundred pounds
and perhaps the second-best bed--who knows?--as her share of her
late loving, but rather hard and unsympathetic, husband's worldly
goods.
And folks do say, Finchley way, that pretty Mistress Pemberthy
will be Lady Isshaw before the winter sets in, and that it will be
exactly fifteen years since these two first set eyes upon each
other.
THE FOUR-FIFTEEN EXPRESS
BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS
The events which I am about to relate took place between nine and
ten years ago. Sebastopol had fallen in the early spring, the peace
of Paris had been concluded since March, our commercial relations
with the Russian empire were but recently renewed; and I, returning
home after my first northward journey since the war, was well
pleased with the prospect of spending the month of December under
the hospitable and thoroughly English roof of my excellent friend,
Jonathan Jelf, Esq., of Dumbleton Manor, Clayborough, East Anglia.
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