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She was returning from her visit to Mrs. Meadowsweet, walking slowly down the long avenue which led to the Manor. This avenue was kept in no order; its edges were not neatly cut, and weeds appeared here and there through its scantily gravelled roadway. The grass parterre round the house, however, was smooth as velvet, and interspersed with gay flower-beds.
Surely on that night the bride ought to come early to sleep under her mother's roof. Mrs. Meadowsweet had a good deal to say to her girl. She had made up her mind to give her a nice little domestic lecture. She thought it her duty to reveal to her innocent Beatrice some of the pitfalls into which young married girls are so apt to fall. "Jane," she said to her handmaid, "Miss Beatrice is late."
I'll call to see Mrs. Meadowsweet this morning, and find out." "I would if I were you. Beatrice is a fine girl, and mustn't throw herself away." "Throw herself away! Why, it's a splendid match for her. A most aristocratic young man! One of the upper ten, and no mistake." "That's all you women think about. Well, I'm off to the Bells now."
Daisy and Polly Jenkins had really much handsomer and finer hair, but somehow the effect produced by the Bertrams was altogether different. Mrs. Meadowsweet addressed them in a deferential tone as "Miss," and it went like an electric flash through the minds of all the other visitors that the old lady was quite right when she thought it her duty to receive them in state.
He was heavy from the drug she had put into the wine, and did not stir. She slipped her hand softly under his pillow. "Poor old man, I am taking away your trump-card," she said. She drew a thick letter, yellow with age, from under the pillow, put it into her pocket, and taking up the candle left the room. A couple of days after this Beatrice Meadowsweet received a note from Mrs.
They had floated since dawn, but now they were increasing. Some of the time he could hardly see the narrow sidewalk path between the dusty meadowsweet and hardhack bushes, since those floating black threads wove together into a veritable veil before him. At such times he walked unsteadily, and little Dan'l eyed him curiously. "Why don't you walk the way you always do?" she queried.
Go you into the garden, Trixie, and no one shall fret or molest you, I'll see to that." Beatrice kissed her mother, and book in hand went to the rose-bower, a secluded spot where no one could see her or take her unawares. Mrs. Meadowsweet sat upright in her chair, took out her knitting-bag, and proceeded to add a few stitches to Beatrice's quilt.
Meadowsweet was vulgar or not. She sat in her chair of state facing the garden, and her visitors, all on the tip-toe of expectation, stationed themselves round her. The Bells had taken possession of the Chesterfield sofa. By sitting rather widely apart they managed to fill it; they always looked alike.
In summer overgrown with grass and rushes, bordered by cow-parsley, meadowsweet, pink codlings-and-cream, and purple flowered peppermint, in winter a marsh of sodden brown and vivid green; but at all seasons a telling perspective, closed by the lonely black and grey island hamlet set in the gleaming tide. Small wonder the place stirred Damaris' spirit of enquiry and adventure!
"If you will come with me and be my little housekeeper we will go away to some nice spot, and be quite alone together in the country if you like, amid the foxglove and the meadowsweet, or by the green waters, where you shall stand in the sunset and dream; and I will teach you music and the piano" her eyes dilated "and you shall not do any of this wretched nasty work any more. What do you say?"
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