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Updated: May 2, 2025
"You understand," said Lily, placing her hand on his arm, and drawing him towards what she thought the best light for the picture; "it is Blanche's first sight of a bird. Look well at her face; don't you see a sudden surprise, half joy, half fear? She ceases to play with the reel. Her intellect or, as Mr. Braefield would say, 'her instinct' is for the first time aroused.
I hope you are not going to do so?" "My doubts were not necessarily of a religious nature. Pagans have entertained them." "Whatever they were I am pleased to see they did not prevent your return," said Mrs. Braefield, graciously. "But where have you found a lodging; why not have come to us? My husband would have been scarcely less glad than myself to receive you."
It is only three months since we came here, and she has been very kind to us and an excellent customer. Everybody likes her. Mr. Braefield is a city gentleman and very rich; and they live in the finest house in the place, and see a great deal of company." "Well, I am no wiser than I was before," said Kenelm. "People who ask questions very seldom are."
Braefield; "they escape the smoke and din of manufacturing towns, and agricultural science has not demolished their leafy hedgerows. The walks through our green lanes are as much bordered with convolvulus and honeysuckle as they were when Izaak Walton sauntered through them to angle in that stream!" "Does tradition say that he angled in that stream?
A few minutes afterwards Kenelm was walking by the side of Lily along the banks of a little stream, tributary to the Thames; Mrs. Cameron and Mr. Braefield in advance, for the path only held two abreast. Suddenly Lily left his side, allured by a rare butterfly I think it is called the Emperor of Morocco that was sunning its yellow wings upon a group of wild reeds.
"Good-by, Will; I shall come to see you again soon; and my mother gives me a commission to buy I don't know how many specimens of your craft." A SMART pony-phaeton, with a box for a driver in livery equally smart, stood at the shop-door. "Now, Mr. Chillingly," said Mrs. Braefield, "it is my turn to run away with you; get in!" "Eh!" murmured Kenelm, gazing at her with large dreamy eyes.
Braefield, with a certain pride in her look. Kenelm responded cordially to the civilities of the master of the house, who had just returned from his city office, and left all its cares behind him. You had only to look at him to see that he was prosperous, and deserved to be so. There were in his countenance the signs of strong sense, of good-humour, above all, of an active energetic temperament.
Braefield, let me trust to your good sense and the affection with which you have honoured my niece not to incur the risk of unsettling her mind by a hint of the ambitious projects for her future on which you have spoken to me. It is extremely improbable that a young man of Mr. Chillingly's expectations would entertain any serious thoughts of marrying out of his own sphere of life, and "
"A pretty little place that," said Mr. Braefield, with a sort of lordly compassion, as became the owner of Braefieldville. "What I call quaint." "Yes, quaint," echoed Kenelm, abstractedly. "It is always the case with houses enlarged by degrees. I have heard my poor mother say that when Melville or Mrs.
Braefield; "they escape the smoke and din of manufacturing towns, and agricultural science has not demolished their leafy hedgerows. The walks through our green lanes are as much bordered with convolvulus and honeysuckle as they were when Izaak Walton sauntered through them to angle in that stream!" "Does tradition say that he angled in that stream?
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