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Updated: June 4, 2025
His history really begins with the death of Marcus Aurelius, 180 A.D., but the main narrative is preceded by three excellent introductory chapters, covering in Bury's edition eighty-two pages. After the completion of his work, he regretted that he had not begun it at an earlier period.
Bright stood a moment without speaking; then he handed the key to Wealthy, shook hands with her, and walked quickly away in the direction of Mr. Bury's house, where he and Eyebright were to spend the night. Wealthy was feeling badly over the loss of her old home; and emotion, with her, always took the form of gruffness.
Come, I want to get out from the trees to look for Colonel Bury's harvest moon, for I believe she is an imposition. 'No, I'm not coming. You, don't understand your duties. Your young ladies ought always to know where to find you, and you where to find them. 'Oh! Maurice, what must you have suffered before you imported Winifred to chaperon me!
He neither moved nor made answer, but a great illumination of Colonel Bury's coat-of-arms, with Roman candles and Chinese trees at the four corners, engrossed every eye, and flashing on every face, enabled Albinia to join Mr. Kendal, who was with Lucy and Miss Ferrars.
The Bayford neighbourhood was unpropitious to holly, and Sophy and Genevieve had hardly ever seen any, except that Genevieve remembered the sooty bits sold in London. Something passed about sending for a specimen from Fairmead, but Albinia said that would not answer, for her brother's children were in despair at the absence of berries, and had ransacked Colonel Bury's plantations in vain.
"Where did he come from?" continued the baron, drifting innocently farther and farther away from the purpose of the interview. "Am I to trust thee with his secret then?" asked the lover. "Of course, let me know all. I shall protect him, come what will." "Then he is Sir Ronald Bury's brother." "He is a better man than his brother, then," exclaimed Sir George, when he had overcome his astonishment.
One soon followed by Mrs. Bury's promised note had filled Constance's honest little heart with rapture, another had set all the bells in Northmoor Church ringing and Best rejoicing that 'that there Harbut's nose was put out of joint, a feeling wherein Lady Adela could not but participate, though, of course, she showed no sign of it to Constance.
The best narrative that has been written yet of this epochal movement is contained in Professor Bury's volume on "The Idea of Progress." There one sees the stream of this progressive conception of life pushing its way out as through a delta by way of many minds, often far separated yet flowing with the same water.
Bury's sitting-room for a few hours every day; but there she lay on a folding chaise-longue that had been arranged for her, languid but bright, reading, working, looking at Mrs. Bury's drawings, and keeping the diary of the adventures of the others. Her husband would fain never have left her, but he had to take his baths. These were in the lower story of the larger chalet.
You used to go out riding with papa when he was at Colonel Bury's. 'Well, Lucy! exclaimed her sister, 'I did not think even you capable of such a comparison. 'It's all the same, said Lucy tartly, blushing a good deal. Sophy leapt up to look at her, and Albinia trying to be calm and judicious, demanded, 'What is the same as what? 'Why, Algernon and me, was the equally precise reply.
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