Cyril had already, during the morning, told me that my mother, who was much out of health, was now staying in London, where he had for the first time in his life met her at Lord Sleaford’s house.  Notwithstanding their differences of opinion, my mother and he seemed to have formed a mutual liking.  He also told me that my uncle Cecil Aylwin of Alvanley (who in this narrative must not, of course, be confounded with another important relative, Henry Aylwin, Earl of Aylwin) having just died and left me the bulk of his property, I had been in much request.  I consequently determined to start for London on the following day, leaving my waggon in charge of Sinfi, who was to sit to Wilderspin in the open air.

During this conversation Sinfi was absorbed in her fishing, and wandered away up the brook, and I could see that Cyril’s eyes were following her with great admiration.

Turning to me and looking at me, he said, ‘Lucky dog!’ and then, looking again across at Sinfi, he said, ‘The finest girl in England.’

V

HAROUN-AL-RASCHID THE PAINTER

I

On reaching London and finding that it was necessary I should remain there for some little time, I wrote to Cyril to say so, sending some messages to Sinfi and her father about my own living-waggon.

My mother was now staying at my aunt’s house, whither I went to call upon her shortly after my arrival in town.

Our meeting was a constrained and painful one.  It was my mother’s cruelty to Winifred that had, in my view, completely ruined two lives.  I did not know then what an awful struggle was going on in her own breast between her pride and her remorse for having driven Winnie away, to be lost in Wales.  Afterwards her sad case taught me that among all the agents of soul-torture that have ever stung mankind to madness the scorpion Remorse is by far the most appalling.  But other events had to take place before she reached the state when the scorpion stings to death all other passions, even Pride and even Vanity, and reigns in the bosom supreme.  We could hardly meet without softening towards each other.  She was most anxious to know what had occurred to me since I left Raxton to search for Winnie.  I gave her the entire story from my first seeing Winnie in the cottage, to my rencontre with her at Knockers’ Llyn.  At this time she had accidentally been brought into contact with Miss Dalrymple, who had lately received a legacy and was now in better circumstances.  Miss Dalrymple had spoken in high terms of Winnie’s intelligence and culture, little thinking how she was making my mother feel more acutely than ever her own wrongdoing.  Knowing that I was very fond of music, my mother persuaded me to take her on several occasions to the opera and the theatre.  She with more difficulty persuaded me to consult a medical man upon the subject of my insomnia; and at last I agreed, though very reluctantly, to consult Dr. Mivart, late of Raxton, who was now living in London.  Mivart attributed my ailment (as I, of course, knew he would) to hypochondria, and I saw that he was fully aware of the cause.  I therefore opened my mind to him upon the subject.  I told him everything in connection with Winifred in Wales.