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Updated: June 24, 2025
There are phrases that make you writhe, such as "the etymology of the mansion's designation", and the shocking persistency with which Charlotte Brontë "indites", "peruses", and "retains". There are whole scenes that outrage probability. Such are the scenes, or parts of scenes, between Jane and Rochester during the comedy of his courtship. The great orchard scene does not ring entirely true.
A curious feeling of shyness overcame the girl as her hand met that of George Mansion's mother, who herself was the most retiring, most thoroughly old-fashioned woman of her tribe.
The house itself shivered, from every attic of its seven gables down to the great kitchen fireplace, which served all the better as an emblem of the mansion's heart, because, though built for warmth, it was now so comfortless and empty. Hepzibah attempted to enliven matters by a fire in the parlor.
He did not know of the broken line of lineage that "the boy upstairs" could never wear his father's title. A swift shadow fought for a second with glorious happiness. The battlefield was George Mansion's face, his heart.
She received him in the mansion's best room, a noble chamber furnished with a richness such as no other house in Seville could have boasted. She had arrayed herself for the interview with an almost wanton cunning that should enhance her natural endowments. Her high-waisted gown, low-cut and close-fitting in the bodice, was of cloth of gold, edged with miniver at skirt and cuffs and neck.
How beautiful the mansion's throned Behind its elm tree's screen, With simple attic cornice crowned All graceful and serene. Anon. Just north of the Capitol park, upon a gentle eminence, within its own well-shaded and well-cultivated grounds, stood a fine, old, family mansion that had once been the temporary residence of George Washington.
That vast house, of red and yellow brick, was two stories and a garret high, and had a doubly-sloping roof pierced with dormer windows. The mansion's lower windows and wide front door were framed with carved wood-work, painted white.
"The mansion's self was vast and venerable, With more of the monastic than has been Elsewhere preserved; the cloisters still were stable, The cells, too, and refectory, I ween; An exquisite small chapel had been able, Still unimpair'd, to decorate the scene; The rest had been reformed, replaced, or sunk, And spoke more of the friar than the monk.
The appearance was so ghastly by the weakly lamp-glimmer that she could not bear to look at it the first unpleasant feature of her visit. The position of the queer old door and the odd presence of the leering mask suggested one thing above all others as appertaining to the mansion's past history intrigue.
It was a golden morning in July when the doctor stood grasping George Mansion's slender hands, searching into his dusky, anxious eyes, and saying with ringing cheeriness, "Chief, I congratulate you. You've got the most beautiful son upstairs the finest boy I ever saw. Hail to the young chief, I say!" The doctor was white.
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