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Updated: June 12, 2025
'Think of your mountains, he said presently, his eyes still pressed against her, 'of High Fell, and the moonlight, and the house where Mary Backhouse died. Oh! Catherine, I see you still, and shall always see you, as I saw you then, my angel of healing and of grace! 'I too have been thinking of her tonight, said Catherine softly, 'and of the walk to Shanmoor.
Leyburn, staring in her turn, and drawing herself up a little, 'that to-morrow is Midsummer Day, and that Mary Backhouse is as bad as she can be? 'Mary Backhouse! Why, I had forgotten all about her! cried the vicar's wife, with sudden remorse. And she sat pensively eyeing the carpet awhile. Then she got what particulars she could out of Mrs. Leyburn.
Backhouse a poetic environment..." "Pardon me. I am a simple man, and always prefer to reduce things to elemental simplicity. I raise no opposition, but I express my opinion. Nature is one thing, and art is another." "And I am not sure that I don't agree with you," said the ex-magistrate.
There were long fine days, when the six small creatures Milly, Olly, Becky, Tiza, Bessie, and Charlie followed John Backhouse and his men about in the hayfields from early morning till evening, helping to make the hay, or simply rolling about like a parcel of kittens in the flowery fragrant heaps.
All felt that he might sit up at any minute. "Stop that music!" muttered Backhouse, tottering from his chair and facing the party. Faull touched the bell. A few more bars sounded, and then total silence ensued. "Anyone who wants to may approach the couch," said Backhouse with difficulty. Lang at once advanced, and stared awestruck at the supernatural youth.
With the selective skill of an old man, he immediately settled himself in the most comfortable of many comfortable chairs. "So we are to see wonders tonight?" "Fresh material for your autobiography," remarked Faull. "Ah, you should not have mentioned my unfortunate book. An old public servant is merely amusing himself in his retirement, Mr. Backhouse.
And then Milly and Olly kissed Becky's pale little face and went away, while poor little Becky looked after them as if she was very sorry to see the last of them; and outside there were Tiza and baby and Mrs. Backhouse and even John Backhouse himself, waiting to say good-bye to them.
Backhouse, patting his head; "she's a rough girl, always at some tricks or other we think she ought to have been a boy, really." "Mother, isn't Becky very nice?" said Milly, as they walked away. "Her mother lets her do such a lot of things nurse the baby, and call the cows, and make pinafores. Oh, I wish father was a farmer."
A faint "Yis" came from the other end of the garden, but still Milly and Olly could see nothing but a big cherry-tree growing where the voice seemed to come from. "You go along that path, missy, and call again. You'll be sure to find them," said Mrs. Backhouse, pointing to the tree. "And won't you come in, ma'am, and rest a bit? You'll be maybe tired with walking this hot day." So Mr. and Mrs.
Besides, what person in his senses would think of trying to disestablish John Backhouse? He and his queer brother are as much a feature of the valley as High Fell. We have too few originals left to be so very particular about trifles. 'Trifles? repeated Mrs. Seaton in a deep voice, throwing up her eyes. But she would not venture an argument with Dr. Baker.
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