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"It was this way," Amberley went on, gathering himself together for the unaccustomed effort of expounding a situation. "I never seemed to feel to hev gumption enough to raise a family." Enoch's countenance took on a judicial look. "Yet you've got a good eddication," he remarked, after thoughtful consideration of the case. "You've got book larnin' enough to make your way."
Instead of that I was sleeping peacefully in the car and went right on to a place called Moosemin. Well, some torn fool told me if I got off at Moosemin I would get across country to Amberley, and thus get on to the Rocky Springs road. Maybe he was right enough, if the feller getting off had got any horse sense. But I guess they forgot to hand any out my way. Anyhow, I kind of took to the idea.
That gap is held by Arundel; the Castle at Amberley was a palace of the Bishop of Chichester, granted to the Bishop of Selsey long before the Conquest; it was only castellated in the fourteenth century. It is none the less an interesting ruin, very picturesque, with remains of a chapel, while the beautiful house built within the castle walls early in the sixteenth century is altogether lovely.
He had not intended to offer his wares in Amberley that day. He meant to break the ice in Occidental, the village beyond. But he could not pass the Adams place. When he came to the open gate he turned in under the willows and drove down the wide, shady lane, girt on both sides with a trim white paling smothered in lavish sweetbriar bushes that were gay with bloom.
This has probably been the site of an episcopal residence since before the Conquest and is in as beautiful a situation as is to be found in Sussex, though judging by a local saying quoted by Lower, it would not appear to be as perfect in the winter. An Amberley man when asked from where he comes then answers "Amberley, God help us," but in the summer "Amberley, where would you live?"
And on the morrow I went on my way, still through as fair a country as is to be found in all South England, through Storrington, and so by way of Parham Park, with its noble Elizabethan house and little church with the last leaden font in Sussex, a work of the fourteenth century, to Amberley in the meads of the Arun, a dear and beautiful place.
Cresson's cottage, came back breathless, shouting "all safe!" and Daunt rushed off to help the firemen; while Amberley reported to Susy the pitiable misery of Lily, the little cripple, who had been shrieking for her father in wild outbursts of crying, refusing to believe that he was not in the fire.
I'll do all I can for Delia both for your sake and Bob's I'll keep my best eye on the Fury I feel myself of course most abominably responsible for her and I hope for the best. Who's coming to your tea-party?" Winnington enumerated. At the name of Susy Amberley, his hostess threw him a sudden look, but said nothing. "The Andrews' Captain, Mrs. and Miss ," Lady Tonbridge exclaimed.
"Thirteen?" inquired the leader smilingly. "Sure. Guess most folks reckon that figure unlucky." The third man snorted as he shouldered a keg and moved toward the Wagon. "Holes? Thirteen?" he cried, as he dropped his burden into the vehicle. Then he hawked and spat. "When that blamed train gets around Amberley he'll hate hisself wuss'n a bank clerk with his belly awash wi' boardin' house wet hash."
"You had a despatch rider in this morning. I saw him coming down the trail. Everybody saw him." Just for a moment Fyles's strong brows drew together. He was reluctant to deliberately lie to this woman. He felt that to do so was not worthy. He felt that a lie to her was a thing to be despised. "We had a patrol in," he said guardedly. Kate smiled. "A patrol from Amberley?"
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