The Return

“Look not for roses in Attalus his garden, or wholesome flowers in a venomousplantation. And since there is scarce any one bad, but some others are theworse for him; tempt not contagion by proximity and hazard not thyself in theshadow of corruption.”—SIR THOMAS BROWNE.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

The churchyard in which Arthur Lawford found himself wandering that mild andgolden September afternoon was old, green, and refreshingly still. The silencein which it lay seemed as keen and mellow as the light—the pale, almostheatless, sunlight that filled the air. Here and there robins sang across thestones, elvishly shrill in the quiet of harvest. The only other living creaturethere seemed to Lawford to be his own rather fair, not insubstantial, ratherlanguid self, who at the noise of the birds had raised his head and glanced asif between content and incredulity across his still and solitary surroundings.An increasing inclination for such lonely ramblings, together with the feelingthat his continued ill-health had grown a little irksome to his wife, and thatnow that he was really better she would be relieved at his absence, had inducedhim to wander on from home without much considering where the quiet lanes wereleading him. And in spite of a peculiar melancholy that had welled up into hismind during these last few days, he had certainly smiled with a faint sense ofthe irony of things on lifting his eyes in an unusually depressed moodiness tofind himself looking down on the shadows and peace of Widderstone.

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