Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
She had one hand beneath her head, the other held a large fan, with which she warded off stray flakes of sunlight falling between the leaves. 'Isn't this exquisite? she cried. 'Let no one hint to me of stirring before lunch-time. I am going to enjoy absolute laziness. 'I thought you would have preferred a gallop over the downs, said Mr. Athel.
Athel and his sister both observed her real preoccupation, as if of trouble, and mentally attributed it to something that had passed during the afternoon's ride. Mrs. Rossall did not look for confidences.
Reaching the open windows, he did not enter at once, but stood there and called to those within to come and admire the night; he felt his face hot and flushed. 'What is there remarkable about the night? asked Mr. Athel, sauntering forwards. 'Come and look at this glorious moon, Miss Redwing, Wilfrid exclaimed, once more with the natural friendliness of his habitual tone to her.
'Well, we shall not gain anything by giving way to irritation. He must be told how matters stand, and judge for himself. As Mr. Athel was speaking, Wilfrid entered the room. Impatience had overcome him. He knew of course that a discussion was in progress between his father and his aunt, and calm waiting upon other people's decisions was not in his nature. He came forward and seated himself.
'I need not explain myself to you, Beatrice, he said, finding at last a natural tone, and calling her by her Christian name because he had much need of friendly sympathy. 'You appear to know why I have come. She answered rather hurriedly. 'I should not have known but for something that Mrs. Baxendale told me. Mr. Athel wrote a short time ago to ask for information about them about the Hoods.
So, to Athel he wrote a tender little note, assuming that she would be delighted to hear of his marriage, as it promised her a pleasant companion, and directing her to have all possible arrangements made to add to the beauty and comfort of the house. To Mrs. Kurston he said nothing.
And that's how matters were on that bright sunny day when King Ethelwulf's sons lay out on the steep hill-side Bald, Bert, Red, and Fred four as crisp and tongue-tripping names as four bright Saxon English boys could own, but each with the addition of Athel or Ethel before, except the youngest, in whose name it shortened into Al; and these were their titles, because each was a Prince.
Wilfrid was not disposed to take his usual part in conversation, and his casual remarks were scarcely ever addressed to Beatrice. Presently Mrs. Rossall wished to refer to the 'Spectator, which contained a criticism of a new pianist of whom there was much talk just then. 'Have you had it, Wilf? Mr. Athel asked, after turning over a heap of papers in vain.
They too had received a mysterious note of farewell, and their interpretation was this Emily, they held, had gone to London, there to be happily married to a certain Mr. Athel, a gentleman of aristocratic appearance and enormously wealthy. Mrs. Baxendale heard this story now and again; she neither affirmed nor contradicted.
At her throat were fastened two blossoms of wild rose, with the dew still on them, and the hand which held her lace-trimmed sunshade carried also a spray of meadow-sweet. Mr. Athel, looking up from the end of the table, was the first to perceive her. 'Guardami ben: ben son, ben son Beatrice! he exclaimed, rising and moving from his place. 'But how in the world has she got here?
Word Of The Day
Others Looking