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Updated: June 25, 2025
All these composed a picture of rural loveliness which is peculiar to England, and chiefly to that part of England where Harbury is situated. Captain Rothesay scarcely noticed it, until, pausing to consider his track, he saw in the distance a church upon a hill.
As she sat beside the old lady, and drank in the delicious breezes that swept across from the Lothians, she was quite another creature from the pale drooping Olive Rothesay who had crept wearily up Harbury Hill. Still, the mention of the place even now took a little of the faint roses from her cheek. "I am glad you are happy, my dear niece," answered Mrs. Flora; "yet others should not forget you."
She shed a few tears, less for her own sorrow than because she was touched by his kindness. "I would have been here yesterday," continued he, "but I was away from Harbury. Yet, what help, what comfort, could you have received from me?" Olive turned to him her face, in whose pale serenity yet lingered the light which had guided her through the valley of the shadow of death.
The very arm on which Olive leaned seemed to grow rigid like a bar of severance between them. "I would to Heaven!" Harold suddenly exclaimed as they approached Harbury "I would to Heaven I could get away from this place altogether. I think I shall do so. My knowledge and reputation in science is not small. I might begin a new life a life of active exertion. In fact, I have nearly decided it all."
On the whole I found Harbury a satisfactory and amusing place, I was neither bullied nor do I think I greatly bullied, and of all that furtive and puerile lasciviousness of which one hears so many hints nowadays excitable people talk of it as though it was the most monstrous and singular of vices instead of a slightly debasing but almost unavoidable and very obvious result of heaping boys together under the inefficient control of a timid pretentious class of men of such uncleanness as I say, scarcely more than a glimpse and a whisper and a vague tentative talk or so reached me.
I was a Harbury boy as my father and grandfather were before me and as you are presently to be. I went to Harbury at the age of fourteen. Until then I was educated at home, first by a governess and then by my father's curate, Mr. Siddons, who went from us to St. Philip's in Hampstead, and, succeeding marvellously there, is now Bishop of Exminster.
"But I shall grow strong now, I know. Mother Olive! my heart is lightened of the load of years!" And truly it seemed so. Nay, when tea-time came he even rose and walked across the room with something of his old firm step, as if the returning health were strong within him. After tea, Harbury bells broke out in their evening chime. Mrs.
Soon after that event, he married Dorothea Susannah, daughter of John Fancourt, Rector of Kimcote, in Leicestershire. In 1746, he was instituted to Harbury, where he resided; and about the same time was presented, by Lord Willoughby de Broke, to Chesterton, which lay at a short distance; both livings together amounting to about 100l. a year.
My first plan when I went abroad was to change my Harbury French, which was poor stuff and pedantic, into a more colloquial article, and then go into Germany to do the same thing with my German, and then perhaps to remain in Germany studying German social conditions and the quality of the German army.
Ever, when Olive rose in the morning, the sun-gilded spire of Harbury Church brought the thought, "I wonder will he come to-day!" And at night, when he did not come, she could not conceal from herself, that looking back on the past day, over all its duties and pleasures, there rose a pale mist. She seemed to have only half lived. Alas, alas!
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