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Updated: June 7, 2025
There was no handsome church at Riflebury; the one the Bullers "attended" when we were at the seaside was new, and not beautiful. The one Miss Mulberry took us to was older, but uglier. I had never seen one of these old parish churches.
To our great satisfaction we discovered that gores were no enigma to Matilda, and she and Aunt Theresa good-naturedly undertook to initiate us into the mysteries of dressmaking. There was an excellent opportunity. Eleanor was now eighteen, and Matilda seventeen years old. Matilda was to "come out" at a county ball that was to take place whilst we were with the Bullers, and Mrs.
The great difficulties of day-after-day fighting, which has been regarded for some years as the normal character of future battles, is to secure for the men the food and rest without which they must soon collapse, and to ensure the continuous supply of ammunition. If these difficulties can be overcome Sir Redvers Bullers has a good chance of success in his endeavour to relieve Ladysmith.
I must not forget the "Bullers," a natural curiosity which is the boast of the neighborhood of Slains, and is moreover connected with a feat performed by a former guest and friend of one of the lords of Erroll.
"Of course, the fellow can talk," he admitted, "and he has a manner. But Lord knows where he comes from or who he is. Why, even the Bullers don't know." Flora turned sharply on him. "Who told you that?" "The judge. He picked him up at the club." "Well," she kept it up, "some one had to introduce him there." Harry smiled. "You wouldn't care to bow to some of those club members."
There was no slipping out of it now, and it was going to be worse than she had imagined. So much had come out in the last half-hour that she felt bewildered by it. What Harry had let slip about Clara alarmed her. What in the world was Clara about? With one well-aimed observation she had stirred up Harry against Kerr and against Flora herself. And meanwhile she was running after the Bullers.
What in the world gave you the idea that he was doing anything extraordinary?" "Well," he said, "you shouldn't do the sort of thing that makes you talked about." "'That makes me talked about'?" It made her pause in front of him. "Why, yes, it isn't like you. It's never happened before. Look here. I drop into the Bullers' yesterday; find Clara sidled up to the judge; look around for you.
Shortly afterwards the regiment was ordered home, and the Bullers took me with them.
It seemed a vague thing in the light of her latest discovery, though she could never meet Clara in disagreement without a qualm. But she made the plunge that evening, before Clara left for the Bullers', while she was at her dressing-table in the half-disarray which brings out all the softness and the disarming physical charm of women.
At one wild part of the coast, near Peterhead, called the Bullers of Buchan, after the first night of the storm, the wrecks of seven vessels were found in one cove, without a single survivor of the crews to give an account of the disaster. The "dangers of the deep" are nothing compared with the dangers of the shore.
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