United States or Curaçao ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
There I cut his throat; and after breakfast was over, commenced the dissection.” After his fourth journey Waterton occasionally travelled on the Continent, but for the most part resided at Walton Hall. In the park he made the observations afterwards published as “Essays on Natural History,” in three series, and since reprinted, with his Life and Letters, by Messrs. Warne and Co.
"Not half good enough for Lady Jean," responded the laundress, rubbing energetically away yet carefully, too, for the old linen was not so stout as it once had been. "You are intentionally deceiving her, aren't you, daughter? Why do that? since it is not necessary for her comfort." "But it is. She would shudder at the touch of a cotton sheet. As for a common huck towel " Mr. Warne shook his head.
It made us feel that one ought to have two or three years to explore Britain instead of a single summer's vacation. From Painting by Warne Browne. From Plymouth to Penzance through Truro runs the finest road in Cornwall, broad, well kept and with few steep grades. It passes through a beautiful section and is bordered in many places by the immense parks of country estates.
After scanning the sable usher for a few minutes, I said: "Now, if that color would wash off, I should feel sure of finding one of my office boys, named Jack Scott, underneath." The mute grinned responsively, and I saw that I had guessed correctly. "Well, Jack," I continued, "I don't think you need fear detection. Where is Mrs. Warne?"
Georgiana glanced at her father with a suddenly mischievous expression. He was studying the prospective boarder with interested eyes. "I think," confessed Mr. Warne, "that merely to catch a whiff now and then of a fragrance which is singularly pleasant to me, but which I am denied producing for myself, would add to the things that give me comfort.
No doubt but there was a place for David Warne in the great city, as there had been in the country village. On the afternoon of the second day, as they neared the old home village, to which Georgiana had returned only once since her marriage, she found herself noting with quickening pulse every familiar landmark.
But there was a third ring there, guarding the others, a slender band of gold, worn thin by many years of hard, self-forgetting work the ring which David Warne had placed twenty-seven years ago upon the hand of his bride. Jefferson Craig studied all three, turning them round and round upon the rosy finger they encircled.
"I shall tell you no more about her," said Georgiana Warne, with her head held quite as high as if she belonged to that branch of the family to whom James Stuart had so irreverently alluded. "All right. I'm not interested in her anyhow, and you'll want your breath for the run down. Come on, George; one more spurt and we're up.... All ready. Take hold of my hand. Come on!"
Could this really be herself, Georgiana Warne, she wondered, as she made her escape and walked rapidly away down the road under the high arches of the elms. How had it come about? Why was she here, she who had expected to be out on the first reaches of the great deep when midnight came this night?
Warne studied the two fabrics intently for a moment, then looked into his daughter's eyes. He was too moved to speak. When she herself could talk again composedly she told him what she meant to do. The blue silk, made by her own hands in the three days left her, was to be her wedding gown.
Word Of The Day