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Updated: June 19, 2025
March across the few yards of common, to the churchyard, scarcely larger than a cottage garden, where, at long intervals, the few Enderley dead were laid. A small procession the daughter first, supported by good Mrs. Tod, then John Halifax and I. So we buried him the stranger who, at this time, and henceforth, seemed even, as John had expressed it, "our dead," our own.
"I think she said she had an old gentleman but HE wouldn't wear a silken gown." "His wife might. Now, do go on reading." "Certainly; I only wish to draw a parallel between Thyrsis and ourselves in our future summer life at Enderley. So the old gentleman's wife may appropriate the 'silken pride, while we emulate the shepherd. 'His lambs' warm fleece well fits his little need
We said no more; but after one of those pauses of conversation which were habitual to us John used to say, that the true test of friendship was to be able to sit or walk together for a whole hour in perfect silence, without wearying of one another's company we again began talking about Enderley.
And between it and Enderley is the prettiest valley, where the road slopes down just under those chestnut-trees." "How well you seem to know the place already." "As I tell you, I like it. I hardly ever felt so content before. We will have a happy time, Phineas." "Oh, yes!" How even if I had felt differently could I say anything but "yes" to him then?
He used to turn away, almost in pain, from her smile, as she would listen to all he said, then steal off to the harpsichord, and begin that soft, dreamy music, which the children called "talking to angels." We came to Enderley through the valley, where was John's cloth-mill.
Her manner to him was easy and natural, as to a friend who deserved and possessed her warm gratitude: his was more constrained. Gradually, however, this wore away; there was something in her which, piercing all disguises, went at once to the heart of things. She seemed to hold in her hand the touchstone of truth. He asked no, I believe I asked her, how long she intended staying at Enderley?
"It is many years since we met; and we are both somewhat altered, Cousin Caroline." "You are, with those three great boys. The little girl yours also? Oh yes, I remember William told me poor little thing!" And with uneasy awe she turned from our blind Muriel, our child of peace. "Will you come up to the house? my husband has only ridden over to Enderley; he will be home soon."
You see I am not much used to holidays and holiday clothes." "I have nothing to say against either you or your clothes," replied I, smiling. "That's all right; I beg to state, it is entirely in honour of you and of Enderley that I have slipped off my tan-yard husk, and put on the gentleman." "You couldn't do that, John. You couldn't put on what you were born with."
For, at the doorway, entering with Mrs. Jessop, was a tall girl in deep mourning. We knew her we both knew her our dream at Enderley our Nut-browne Mayde. John was near to the door their eyes met. She bowed he returned it. He was very pale. For Miss March, her face and neck were all in a glow. Neither spoke, nor offered more than this passing acknowledgment, and she moved on.
We drove on a little further, and came to the chief landmark of the high moorland a quaint hostelry, called the "Bear." Bruin swung aloft pole in hand, brown and fierce, on an old-fashioned sign, as he and his progenitors had probably swung for two centuries or more. "Is this Enderley?" I asked. "Not quite, but near it. You never saw the sea?
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