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Updated: June 2, 2025
She passed up, wondering a little, through the gatehouse, and turned into the gravel sweep; and there stopped short at the sight of a great crowd of men and women and children, assembled in dead silence. Some one was standing at the entrance-steps, with his head bent as if he were talking to those nearest him in a low voice.
The place wore an entirely peaceful air, strong and massive though it appeared. It was encircled by a ditch, but the drawbridge was down, and the rust on its chains argued that long had it been so. None coming to challenge them, the pair rode across the planks, and the dull thud of their hooves started into activity some one in the gatehouse.
Carleton, stood on the gravel below, his hand on Chris's crupper, smiling up at him. "Good-bye, Chris," he said, and added with an unusual piety, "God keep you!" As the two horses passed through the gatehouse, Chris turned once again with swimming eyes, and saw the group a little re-arranged. Sir James and Ralph were standing together, Ralph's arm thrust through his father's; Mr.
The chauffeur turned his head. "This gentleman is a Russian Bolshevik. We don't want to shoot him, but it may be necessary. You understand?" "Perfectly, sir." "I want to go to Gatehouse in Kent. Know the road at all?" "Yes, sir, it will be about an hour and a half's run." "Make it an hour. I'm in a hurry." "I'll do my best, sir." The car shot forward through the traffic.
It was a warm October afternoon as he went out through the gatehouse, still and bright, with the mellow smell of dying leaves in the air; the fields stretched away beyond the road into the blue distance as he went along, and were backed by the thinning woods, still ruddy with the last flames of autumn.
So then, it was decided; and as Isabel walked out to the gatehouse after dinner beside Anthony, with her hand on his horse's neck, and as she watched him at last ride down the village green and disappear round behind the church, half her sorrow at losing him was swallowed up in the practical certainty that they would meet again before Christmas in their old home, and not in a stranger's house in the bleak North country.
But one day we were fitted out fresh by the king's bounty in blue and scarlet jerkins and hose, and we swaggered after that with the best, as one may suppose. Berthun had the ordering of that business, and he came and sat with Eglaf in the gatehouse and talked of it. "Pity that you do not put your man Curan into decent gear," the captain said.
He came to them flying over the city upon their right hands, and when they saw him they were glad and their hearts took comfort within them. The old man made haste to mount his chariot, and drove out through the inner gateway and under the echoing gatehouse of the outer court.
It was not with any want of emotion that Marjorie found herself presently meekly seated upon Alice's horse, and riding up at a foot's-pace beneath the gatehouse of the Hall. Rather it was the balance of emotions that made her so meek and so obedient to her friend's tranquil assumption that she must come in as the squire said.
These were brought over by the boatmen who are there to take people over when any one comes to them. So Philoetius made his heifer and his goats secure under the gatehouse, and then went up to the swineherd. "Who, Swineherd," said he, "is this stranger that is lately come here? Is he one of your men? What is his family? Where does he come from?
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