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She sits her down by a fountain's side, and gazes on the waterfall. Her cheek reclines upon her arm, like fruit upon a graceful bough. Very pensive is the face of that bright and beauteous lady. She starts; a warm voluptuous lip presses her soft and idle hand. It is her own gazelle.
Denton standing by. The first things she saw were the old peasant's closed eyes and pallid face then Helbeck's grave and puzzled countenance above him. The Squire turned at Miss Fountain's step. Did she imagine it or was there a peculiar sharpness in his swift glance? Mrs.
The Confessor who had brought this precious relic of St. John of the Cross had opened the case, and placed the small and delicate reliquary that it contained in Mrs. Fountain's hands. She lay clasping it to her breast, too weak to speak, but flushed with joy.
Of the score of ruined abbeys which we visited there was not one that did not fulfill this description, and none of them to a greater extent possibly excepting Fountain's than Tintern. In the words of an enthusiastic admirer, "Tintern is supremely wonderful for its situation among its scores of rivals.
Many years afterward, in writing Helbeck of Bannisdale, I drew upon what I remembered of it in describing some traits in Laura Fountain's inbred, and finally indomitable, resistance to the Catholic claim upon the will and intellect of men. And to this trial in the realm of religious feeling there were added all the practical difficulties into which my father's action plunged her and his children.
Their drawing-rooms are carpeted market-places; you may see the stones bulge through the flowery pattern; there the ladies sell their faces, the gentlemen their titles and their money; and much I fear Miss Fountain's hand will go like the rest to the highest bidder."
His sister told me to my face it was an evil day for him when he and I first met that was at Uncle Fountain's." "Well, and what am I to do, Lucy?" "Dear Uncle, what I thought was, if you would be so kind as to use your influence with the Company in his favor.
There was a grunt somewhere behind her; her quick ear caught it; she turned round like a thing on a pivot, and slapped the nearest face. It happened to be Fountain's; so she continued with such a treacle smile, "Don't you remember, sir, how he used to teach your cub mathematics gratis?" The sweet smile and the keen contemporaneous scratch confounded Mr. Fountain for a second.
He remembered the flat malachite-coloured pools, the definite, pointed cypresses and the fountain's soft incessant rain as it had been in the House. As it was in the House. For he understood in Italy what was still the most bitter to know, that though it might yet be somewhere in the world, he was never to find it any more. Toward all that once had led him thither, his sense was locked and sealed.
Oh no, I love walking, and am very strong, but we can rest till the others come up." And sitting down together they watched the gold fish in the fountain's rustic basin. Through the glass they could see the sparkling frosty branches outside against the pale blue sky of a winter's day, the sun shining round and red through the afternoon haze. "What a glorious day," said Gwenda at last.
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