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Updated: June 15, 2025
She was occupied in looking at the new buildings and streets, the brand new squares and statues of Froswick. "How can people build and live in such ugly places?" she said at last, standing still that she might stare about her "when there are such lovely things in the world; Cambridge, for instance or Bannisdale." The last word slipped out, dreamily, unaware. The lad's face flushed furiously.
It was the old library of the house, and the Helbecks in their palmiest days had never been a literary race. There was a little seventeenth century theology; and a few English classics. There were the French books of Helbeck's grandmother "Madame," as she was always known at Bannisdale; and amongst them the worn brown volumes of St.
The moon was rising over the sands, and those far hills, the hills of Bannisdale. There on the further bank were the lights of Braeside. She had forgotten to ask whether they changed at the junction probably the Marsland train would be waiting. The Greet! its voice was in her ears, its many channels shone in the flooding light.
Laura ran for her hat and cape, and they went out together. A number of small improvements both inside and outside the house had been recently inaugurated to please the coming bride. Already Helbeck realised and not without a secret chafing the restraints that would soon be laid upon the almsgiving of Bannisdale.
She had left Bannisdale, choked with feeling, tired with thought. Polly's broad speech and bouncing ways were welcome as a breeze in summer. They sat down on the stile side by side. Laura gave up her errand, and they talked fast. Polly was all curiosity. When was Laura to be married, and what was she to wear? "The plainest thing I can find," said Laura indifferently.
There, beating against the gravelly bank, in a soft helplessness, her bright hair tangled among the drift of branch and leaf brought down by the storm, Helbeck found her." He carried her home upon his breast, and at the last they laid her amongst the Westmoreland rocks and trees, in sight of the Bannisdale woods, in a sweet graveyard, high in the hills.
Bannisdale had now no hostess. Mr. Helbeck kept the house as best he could. Was it not three weeks and more, now, that Laura had been at the farm? And only two visits to Bannisdale!
A hundred notions blazed up in his mind. What on earth did she want to be in those parts again for? "My stepmother is very unwell," she said hurriedly. "It well, it troubles me not to see her. But I can't go to Bannisdale. If your mother doesn't hate me now, as she did last summer perhaps she and Polly would take me in for a while?"
"Of course, if your mother were to think such things and to say them to me every time I went to Bannisdale, I couldn't stay. But I want to see Augustina very, very much." Her voice wavered. "And I could easily go to her if I were close by when she was alone. And of course I should be no expense. Your mother knows I have my own money." Hubert nodded.
Froswick, with its struggle and death, its newness and restlessness, was behind her she was going home, to the old house, with its austerity and peace. Home? Bannisdale, home? How strange! But she was too tired to fight herself to-night she let the word pass. In her submission to it there was a secret pleasure. ... The first train had come in by now.
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