He was handsome and radiant with glowing health and vitality. He
was a friendly, rejoicing creature and as full of the joy of life
as a scampering moor pony. He was clever enough but not too clever
and he was friends with the world. Braemarnie was picturesquely
ancient and beautiful. It would be a home of sufficient ease and
luxury to be a pleasure but no burden. Life in it could be perfect
and also supply freedom. Coombe Court and Coombe Keep were huge
and castellated and demanded great things. Even if the Head of the
House had been a man to like and be proud of--the accession of a
beautiful young Marquis would rouse the hounds of war, so to speak,
and set them racing upon his track. Even the totally unalluring
"Henry" had been beset with temptations from his earliest years.
That he promptly succumbed to the first only brought forth others.
It did not seem fair that a creature so different, a splendid
fearless thing, should be dragged from his hills and moors and
fair heather and made to breathe the foul scent of things, of whose
poison he could know nothing. She was not an ignorant childish
woman. In her fine aloof way she had learned much in her stays in
London with her husband and in their explorings of foreign cities.
This was the reason for her views of her boy's training and
surroundings. She had not asked questions about Coombe himself,
but it had not been necessary.
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