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Updated: June 19, 2025
It happened that John and Phineas were spending the summer days at the rural village of Enderley, where they lived at Rose Cottage. Enderley was not far from Norton Bury, and every day John rode there to look after the tannery and the flour-mill which had recently been added to Mr. Fletcher's now flourishing business.
"I have again been over Beechwood Hall. You all remember Beechwood?" Yes. It was the "great house" at Enderley, just on the slope of the hill, below Rose Cottage. The beech-wood itself was part of its pleasure ground, and from its gardens honest James Tod, who had them in keeping, had brought many a pocketful of pears for the boys, many a sweet-scented nosegay for Muriel.
"We will not open that subject again," said the mother, uneasily. "I thought we had all made up our minds that little Longfield was a thousand times pleasanter than Beechwood, grand as it is. But John thinks he never can do enough for his people at Enderley." "Not that alone, love. Other reasons combined.
He said, as often twice as often that next summer, when he came back to Enderley, she should be with him at the mills every day, and all day over, if she liked. There was now nothing to be done but to hasten as quickly and as merrily as possible to our well-beloved Longfield. Waiting for the post-chaise, Mrs.
But in process of time the gossip ceased of itself; and when, one summer day, a small decent funeral moved out of our garden gate to Enderley churchyard, all the comment was: "Oh! is she dead? What a relief it must be! How very kind of Mr. and Mrs. Halifax!" Yes, she was dead, and had "made no sign," either of repentance, grief, or gratitude.
Nay, it brings back a little bit of me which rarely comes uppermost now, as it used to come long ago, when we read your namesake, and Shakspeare, and that Anonymous Friend who has since made such a noise in the world. I delight in him still. Think of a man of business liking Coleridge." "I don't see why he should not." "Nor I. Well, my poetic tastes may come out more at Enderley.
Save that in this interval Ursula's hair had begun to turn from brown to grey; and John first mentioned, so cursorily that I cannot even now remember when or where, that slight pain, almost too slight to complain of, which he said warned him in climbing Enderley Hill that he could not climb so fast as when he was young.
Many a time I have seen the rough, coarse, blue-handed, blue-pinafored women of the mill stop and look wistfully after "master and little blind miss." I often think that the quiet way in which the Enderley mill people took the introduction of machinery, and the peaceableness with which they watched for weeks the setting up of the steam-engine, was partly owing to their strong impression of Mr.
"Could anything be done?" she asked. "Just to keep things going till your steam-engine is ready? Will it cost much?" "More than I like to think of. But it must be; nothing venture nothing have. You and the children are secure anyhow, that's one comfort. But oh, my poor people at Enderley!" Again Ursula asked if nothing could be done. "Yes I did think of one plan but "
And the gentleman who spoke the same I had seen outside in his curricle held out a friendly hand. "I see you do not remember me. My name is Ravenel." "Lord Ravenel!" John uttered this exclamation and no more. I saw that this sudden meeting had brought back, with a cruel tide of memory, the last time they met by the small nursery bed, in that upper chamber at Enderley.
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