The Honour of His House by Fred M. White

It was only just for a moment that de la Croisa stood there taking in the figure of the woman, then he came into the room with his old easy way, and that charming suggestion of his being absolutely at home. They all looked happy and comfortable enough, and outwardly, at any rate there was but little sign of the shadow of the great tragedy that lay over the house of Cranwallis.

Here were all the shaded lights, the banks of artistically arranged flowers, the palms and the pictures and the statuary which made up the smooth and harmonious whole which gave the Pink Drawing-room at Borne Abbey its nameless charm. It was not yet quite dark, so that from the windows it was possible to see the wide sweep of the park and the spreading landscape beyond. It was the kind of thing to recall Tennyson's "haunts of ancient peace," and "immemorial elms."