THE THINGS WHICH BELONG—
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
CRUMP FOLK GOING HOME
THE LONELY PLOUGH
THE OLD ROAD FROM SPAIN
BEAUTIFUL END
THE SPLENDID FAIRING
THE TRUMPET IN THE DUST
THE THINGS WHICH
BELONG—
(“The things which belong unto thy peace”)
BY
CONSTANCE HOLME
MILLS & BOON, LIMITED
49 RUPERT STREET
LONDON, W.1
Published 1925
Made and printed in Great Britain at
The Mayflower Press, Plymouth. William Brendon & Son, Ltd.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The author wishes to say that, in spite of the “localcolour” in this book, the situation between thecharacters is purely imaginary.
CONTENTS
| PAGE | |
| Prologue | 9 |
| Part I—His | 19 |
| Part II—Hers | 125 |
| Part III—Theirs | 229 |
THE
THINGS WHICH BELONG—
PROLOGUE
HE dropped the pen.... More strictlyspeaking, it fell as if weighted from hisfingers. He had an extraordinary feeling thathe would never use a pen again.
A flush came into Mattie’s face, but she saidnothing. He had always expected that, ifever this moment arrived,—impossible as it hadseemed that it ever should arrive,—she wouldmeet it with a flood of joyful speech; but nowshe was silent. It was the second time thisevening that she had surprised him by hersilence,—this wan and weary early-springevening which marked the finish of a bleakand soulless day. Searching vaguely, however,among recollections which had left impressionwithout form, he remembered that people oftendid fall silent at the late fulfilment of a longdesire....
[10]Instead of speaking, she sighed. It was sucha sigh, he thought, as the dying give just beforethey pass on into new life. In that last breaththere is everything that they see before them,and everything that they leave behind. Mattie’ssigh was like that.
Not that she looked like dying, as she gotto her feet at last, heavily a little, but pushingher chair from her more quietly than usual,not in the almost