The Counterplot

Plasencia was a square, medium-sized house of red brick, built some sixty years ago, in those days when architects knew a great deal about comfort, but cared so little about lin...

Arnold had been less exclusive—had painted the town a “greenery-yellow” with discalceated Fabians, read papers on Masefield to the “Society of Pagans,” and frequently played ten...

“But you know, Guy, the only _amusing_ relation we had was old Lionel Fane—he was a _priceless_ old boy ... what was it he used to say again when he was introduced to a lady?”

If they happened to be alone in the room when the post arrived and there was a letter for Concha, she would read it through with knit brows, exclaiming under her breath the whil...

Harry Sinclair, a big massive brown man, his fine head covered with crisp curls, was standing on the hearth-rug devouring hunks of iced cake and, completely indifferent as to wh...

That year winter was so mild as to be almost indistinguishable from spring. Imperceptibly, the sparse patches of snow, the hyacinthine patches of blue light lying in hollows of...

By the middle of March, Concha’s engagement had become an accepted fact: Dick and Rory’s uncle, Colonel Dundas of Drumsheugh, had exchanged letters; the marriage was fixed for t...

Anna and Jasper came to Plasencia for their Easter holidays, and towards the end of April Concha and Rory got back from Scotland. It was the first time Teresa had seen them toge...

Each day life at Plasencia became more and more focused on the approaching wedding; and the Doña and Jollypot spent hours in the morning-room making lists of guests and writing...

It was the eve of Concha’s wedding; the house was full, and overflowing into Rudge’s cottage, into Rendall’s cottage, and into the houses of neighbours: there were Guy and his p...

That year there was a marvellous harvest, and by the end of July the sun had burned the wheat into the very quintessence of gold, and every evening for a few moments the reflect...

_The court of the Convent of San Miguel: its floor is diapered with brightly-coloured tiles; in its centre is a fountain, round which are set painted pots of sweet basil, myrtle...

_Sister Pilar_: Juanito, dear, you must not look upon this exercise as a game. It is the doctrine of Holy Mother Church. It is your pilgrim’s staff and not a light matter. Let u...

_Nine o’clock in the evening of the same day. The convent’s orange orchard. From the chapel is wafted the voices of the nuns singing Compline. A horse whinnies from the other si...

_A room in TROTACONVENTOS’S house. The walls are hung with bunches of dried herbs and stags’ antlers. On a table stands a big alembic surrounded by snakes and lizards preserved...

_The orchard of San Miguel the following evening at nine o’clock. Near the postern stands DON MANUEL DE LARA, motionless, his arms folded, his cloak drawn round the lower part o...

_Sister Assumcion_: Yes, father. I have not foregone blackening my eyes with kohl ... and I have procured me a crimson scarf the dye of which comes off on the lips ... and ... t...

_Sister Pilar_: That night you were the other side of the wall, I prayed that I might behold the woof without the warp of sin, a still, quiet, awful world, and all the winds asl...

Brethren: For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord Jesus, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread, and giving thanks, brok...

The next morning at breakfast it was proposed that Dick, Concha and Rory, and Arnold, should motor to the nearest links, play a round or two, and have luncheon at the clubhouse;...