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Updated: June 17, 2025
Now his diffidence was to be rewarded by his seeing this woman, whose beauty was to his eyes perfect, whose wealth was such as to have deterred him from thinking of her, whose widowhood would have silenced him had he not been so deterred, by his seeing her become the prey of Obadiah Slope! On the morning of Mrs Bold's departure he got on his horse to ride over to St Ewold's.
Jim Galway had come into the room, when Jasper Ewold's broad back and great head hove in sight with something of the steady majesty of progress of a full-rigged ship. "The Doge!" Jack exclaimed, brightening. Jim was taken unawares. Was it the name of a new kind of semi-tropical fruit not yet introduced into Arizona? "Not the Doge of Venice hardly, when Mr. Ewold's love runs to Florence!
He had, he said, been always subject to mauvaise honte and an annoying degree of bashfulness, which often unfitted him for any work of a novel description; and now he felt this so strongly that he feared he should acquit himself badly in St. Ewold's reading-desk. He knew, he said, that those sharp little eyes of Miss Thorne would be on him, and that they would not approve.
Had he seen the bishop, he would have felt inclined to pat even him kindly on the head. He determined to go home by St. Ewold's. This would take him some three miles out of his way, but he felt that he could not leave Plumstead comfortably without saying one word of good-fellowship to Mr. Arabin.
The two girls sat silent and apart as though they were aware that something was wrong. Even Mr. Arabin was solemn and silent. Eleanor had not seen him since breakfast. He had been the whole day at St. Ewold's, and such having been the case, it was natural that he should tell how matters were going on there. He did nothing of the kind, however, but remained solemn and silent.
'You cross-question me rather unfairly, he replied, 'and I do not know why I answer you at all. Mrs Bold is a very beautiful woman, and as intelligent as beautiful. It is impossible to know her without admiring her. 'So you think the widow a very beautiful woman? 'Indeed I do. 'And one that would grace the parsonage at St Ewold's. 'One that would grace any man's house.
She put her own through her father's arm, coming up behind his back, and then tendered her hand also to the vicar of St. Ewold's. "And how did you come?" said Mr. Harding, when the first greeting was over. "The Stanhopes brought me," said she; "their carriage was obliged to come twice, and has now gone back for the signora." As she spoke she caught Mr.
Now, St Ewold's was a rural parish lying about two miles out of Barchester, the living of which was in the gift of the archdeacon, and to which the archdeacon had presented his father-in-law, under certain circumstances, which need not be repeated in this last chronicle of Barsetshire. Have they not been written in other chronicles?
"You had better speak to your mother, Henry. She will explain to you what has taken place. Look at that plantation. You don't remember it, but every tree there was planted since you were born. I bought that farm from old Mr Thorne, when he was purchasing St Ewold's Downs, and it was the first bit of land I ever had of my own." "That is not in Plumstead, I think?"
Ewold's parsonage; an intended harvest-home gala for the labourers and their wives and children had subsequently been amalgamated with it, and thus it had grown to its present dimensions. All the Plumstead party had of course been asked, and at the time of the invitation Eleanor had intended to have gone with her sister. Now her plans were altered, and she was going with the Stanhopes.
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