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Come, you might as well speak out, when this is my last term, and we have always been such dear friends, and always will be," coaxed Greta, "because the Duchess lets you out, you know!" She said it so quaintly that Lynette laughed, though there was a pained contraction between the delicate eyebrows and a vexed and sorrowful shadow on her face.
Greta liked her French, in which she was not far inferior to Christian; the lesson therefore proceeded in an admirable fashion. "Chris, I have not fed my rabbits." "Be quick! there's not much time for history." Greta vanished. Christian watched the bright water dripping from the roof; her lips were parted in a smile. She was thinking of something Harz had said the night before.
It was not long before Southey, instead of Coleridge, was the lessee of Greta Hall; and soon after Coleridge took his departure, leaving his wife and children, and also the Lovells, a charge upon Southey, who had no more fortune than Coleridge, except in the inexhaustible wealth of a heart, a will, and a conscience.
Christian pushed her plate away. Greta, flushing, said abruptly: "Doctor Edmund is not a decided character, I think. This afternoon he said: 'Shall I have some beer-yes, I shall no, I shall not'; then he ordered the beer, so, when it came, he gave it to the soldiers." Mrs. Decie turned her enigmatic smile from one girl to the other. When dinner was over they went into her room.
In the days when this book was written, Southey lived at Greta Hall, by Keswick, and had gathered a large library about him. He was Poet Laureate. He had a pension from the Civil List, worth less than 200 pounds a year, and he was living at peace upon a little income enlarged by his yearly earnings as a writer. In 1818 his whole private fortune was 400 pounds in consols.
"I am coming round later on. I am sorry you have had your walk for nothing," returned Marcus. And then they went apart and talked together for a few minutes. Then Marcus went back to his patient and Greta joined Olivia, who was sitting on the oaken settee by the blazing fire.
It had lain there for thousands of years, and she was reminded of the Druid circle above the Greta. She could get no further with her thinking, and knelt down and prayed for light. It is of all prayers the most sincere, but she was not answered at least not then. The next Sunday she went again to mass, and she had half a mind to signify her wish to confess, but what could she confess?
Burying her nose and lips in a rose, she sniffed. "Poor dear girl! It's such a pity his father is a " "A farmer," said a sleepy voice behind the rosebush. Miss Naylor leaped. "Greta! How you startled me! A farmer that is an an agriculturalist!" "A farmer with vineyards he told us, and he is not ashamed. Why is it a pity, Miss Naylor?" Miss Naylor's lips looked very thin.
Over the rose-bush Miss Naylor peered down at her; and though she was obliged to stand on tiptoe this did not altogether destroy her dignity. "I am surprised at you, Greta; I am surprised at Christian, more surprised at Christian. The world seems upside down." Greta, a sunbeam entangled in her hair, regarded her with inscrutable, innocent eyes.
Greta crept to the window, and, placing her face level with the floor, peered over. "It is only Dr. Edmund; he doesn't know, then," she whispered; "I shall call him; he is going away!" cried Christian catching her sister's "Don't!" cried Christian catching her sister's dress. "He would help us," Greta said reproachfully, "and it would not be so dark if he were here."
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