Father Stafford
Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933
English
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Below is a summary of Father Stafford
FATHER STAFFORD
BY
ANTHONY HOPE
AUTHOR OF "A MAN OF MARK," "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA."
F. TENNYSON NEELY
PUBLISHER
CHICAGO NEW YORK
1895
CONTENTS.
| I | Eugene Lane and his Guests |
| II | New Faces and Old Feuds |
| III | Father Stafford Changes his Habits, and Mr. Haddington his Views |
| IV | Sir Roderick Ayre Inspects Mr. Morewood's Masterpiece |
| V | How Three Gentlemen Acted for the Best |
| VI | Father Stafford Keeps Vigil |
| VII | An Early Train and a Morning's Amusement |
| VIII | Stafford in Retreat, and Sir Roderick in Action |
| IX | The Battle of Baden |
| X | Mr. Morewood is Moved to Indignation |
| XI | Waiting Lady Claudia's Pleasure |
| XII | Lady Claudia is Vexed with Mankind |
| XIII | A Lover's Fate and a Friend's Counsel |
| XIV | Some People are as Fortunate as they Deserve to Be |
| XV | An End and a Beginning |
FATHER STAFFORD.
CHAPTER I.
Eugene Lane and his Guests.
The world considered Eugene Lane a very fortunate young man; and ifyouth, health, social reputation, a seat in Parliament, a large income,and finally the promised hand of an acknowledged beauty can make a manhappy, the world was right. It is true that Sir Roderick Ayre had beenheard to pity the poor chap on the ground that his father had begun lifein the workhouse; but everybody knew that Sir Roderick was bound toexalt the claims of birth, inasmuch as he had to rely solely upon themfor a reputation, and discounted the value of his opinion accordingly.After all, it was not as if the late Mr. Lane had ended life in theundesirable shelter in question. On the contrary, his latter days hadbeen spent in the handsome mansion of Millstead Manor; and, as he lay onhis deathbed, listening to the Rector's gentle homily on the vanity ofriches, his eyes would wander to the window and survey a wide tract ofland that he called his own, and left, together with immense sums ofmoney, to his son, subject only to a jointure for his wife. It is hardto blame the tired old man if he felt, even with the homily ringing inhis ears, that he had not played his part in the world badly.
Millstead Manor was indeed the sort of place to raise a doubt as to theutter vanity of riches. It was situated hard by the little village ofMillstead, that lies some forty miles or so northwest of London, in themiddle of rich country. The neighborhood afforded shooting, fishing, andhunting, if not the best of their kind, yet good enough to satisfyreasonable people. The park was large and well wooded; the house hadinsisted on remaining picturesque in spite of Mr. Lane's improvements,and by virtue of an indelible stamp of antiquity had carried its point.A house that dates from Elizabeth is not to be entirely put to shame byone or two unblushing French windows and other trifling barbarities ofthat description, more especially when it is kept in countenance by alittle church of still greater age, nestling under its wing in a mannerthat recalled the good old days when the lord of the manor was lord ofthe souls and bodies of his tenants. Even old Mr. Lane had been mellowedby the influence of his new home, and before his death had come to playthe part of Squire far more respectably than might be imagined. Eugenesustained the rôle with the graceful indolence and careless efficiencythat marked most of his doings.
He stood one Saturday morning in the latter part of July on the stepsthat led from the terrace to the lawn, holding a letter in his hand andsoftly whistling. In appearance he was not, it must be admitted, anideal Squire, for he was but a trifle above middle height, ratherslight, and with the little stoop that tells of the man who is town-bredand by nature more given to indoor than outdoor exercises; but he was agood-looking fellow for all that, with a bright humorous face,—thoughat this moment rather a bored one,—large eyes set well apart, and his
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