Modern Broods; Or, Developments Unlooked For
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Оглавление
Yonge Charlotte Mary. Modern Broods; Or, Developments Unlooked For
CHAPTER I—TORTOISES AND HARES
CHAPTER II—THE GOYLE
CHAPTER III—THE FIRST SUNDAY
CHAPTER IV—CYCLES
CHAPTER V—CLIPSTONE FRIENDS
CHAPTER VI—THE FRESCOES OF ST. KENELM’S
CHAPTER VII—SISTER AND SISTERS
CHAPTER VIII—SNOBBISHNESS
CHAPTER IX—GONE OVER TO THE ENEMY
CHAPTER X—FLOWN
CHAPTER XI—ADRIFT
CHAPTER XII—“THE KITTIWAKE”
CHAPTER XIII—CHIMERAS DIRE
CHAPTER XIV—PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED
CHAPTER XV—BROODS ASTRAY
CHAPTER XVI—THE REGIMENT OF WOMEN
CHAPTER XVII—FOXGLOVES AND FLIRTATIONS
CHAPTER XVIII—PALACES OR CHURCHES
CHAPTER XIX—TWO WEDDINGS
CHAPTER XX—FLEETING
CHAPTER XXI—THE ELECTRICIANS
CHAPTER XXII—ANGEL AND BEAR
CHAPTER XXIII—WILLOW WIDOWS
CHAPTER XXIV—CRUEL LAWYERS
CHAPTER XXV—BEAR AS ADVISER
CHAPTER XXVI—NEW PATHS
CHAPTER XXVII—A SENTENCE
CHAPTER XXVIII—SUMMONED
CHAPTER XXIX—SAFE
CHAPTER XXX—THE MAIDEN ROCKS
CHAPTER XXXI—THE WRECK
CHAPTER XXXII—ANCHORED
CHAPTER XXXIII—FAREWELL
Отрывок из книги
Magdalen Prescott stood on her own little terrace. Her house was, like many Devonian ones, built high on the slope of a steep hill, running down into a narrow valley, and her abode was almost at the narrowest part, where a little lively brawling stream descended from the moor amid rocks and brushwood. If the history of the place were told, it had been built for a shooting box, then inherited by a lawyer who had embellished and spent his holidays there, and afterwards, his youngest daughter, a lonely and retiring woman, had spent her latter years there.
The house was low, stone built, and roofed with rough slate, with a narrow verandah in front, and creepers in bud covering it. Then came a terrace just wide enough for a carriage to drive up; and below, flower-beds bordered with stones found what vantage ground they could between the steep slopes of grass that led almost precipitously down to the stream, where the ground rose equally rapidly on the other side. Moss, ivy, rhododendrons, primroses, anemones, and the promise of ferns were there, and the adjacent beds had their full share of hepaticas and all the early daffodil kinds. Behind and on the southern side, lay the kitchen garden, also a succession of steps, and beyond as the ravine widened were small meadows, each with a big stone in the midst. The gulley, (or goyle) narrowed as it rose, and there was a disused limestone quarry, all wreathed over with creeping plants, a birch tree growing up all white and silvery in the middle, and above the house and garden was wood, not of fine trees, and interspersed with rocks, but giving shade and shelter. The opposite side had likewise fields below, with one grey farm house peeping in sight, and red cattle feeding in one, and above the same rocky woodland, meeting the other at the quarry; and then after a little cascade had tumbled down from the steeper ground, giving place to the heathery peaty moor, which ended, more than two miles off in a torr like a small sphinx. This could not be seen from Magdalen’s territory, but from the highest walk in her kitchen garden, she could see the square tower of Arnscombe, her parish church; and on a clear day, the glittering water of Rockstone bay.
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“Yes,” said Vera, “that’s just the way with old maids. They dress themselves up youthfully and affect girlish airs, and are all the more horrid.”
“That’s your experience!” said Agatha. “But there’s the waggon creeping up at a snail’s pace. Let us run down and see after our things.”
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