Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 5, 2025
The Black Bear is an ancient inn, large and respectable, with balustraded staircases, and intricate passages and corridors, and queer old pictures and engravings hanging in the entries and apartments. The park-gate of Blenheim stands close to the end of the village street of Woodstock.
We are off, and shall not see you again till dinner-time. Through the park-gate we stream away, down the fir avenue, along the Welsh Ride. We have got a splendid start, and our horses fly on beside Countess Morella, who looks the perfection of a hunting lady in her plain neat habit just down to her feet.
It might be that the new squire was already at the house, and it would be thought that he ought not to be absent. The road from the station to the Priory was not that on which he was standing, and Ralph might have arrived without his knowledge. He wandered slowly back, but, before he could turn in at the park-gate, he was met by a man on the road. It was Mr.
Forgotten, no doubt it, also! But how designedly or through distraction? He seized it eagerly. Some of its petals fell to the ground. He picked them up, one by one, like precious relics. "Come!" he said to himself, "I have nothing more to do here. I must think of my safety, before Sherlock Holmes arrives." The park was deserted, but some gendarmes were stationed at the park-gate.
The old steward opened the park-gate in such a hurry, that he hung up his pony's chin upon the spikes, and, for aught I know, it hangs there still; but he jumped off, and gave chase to Tom. The ploughman left his horses at the headland, and one jumped over the fence, and pulled the other into the ditch, plough and all; but he ran on, and gave chase to Tom.
"You will mount on horseback to-morrow, at about half-past four in the morning, and you will have a horse saddled for me." "From your majesty's stables?" "No; one of your musketeers' horses." "Very well, sire. Is that all?" "And you will accompany me." "Alone?" "Alone." "Shall I come to seek your majesty, or shall I wait?" "You will wait for me." "Where, sire?" "At the little park-gate."
I was left to pace the terrace alone, watching the day grow brighter, and wondering at the divers fates of men. An early bell rang in the little church at the park-gate; a motor-car hooted along the highway. And I thought of Cantilupe and Harington, of Allison and Wilson, and beyond them of the vision of the dawn and the daybreak, of Woodman, the soul, and Vivian, the spirit.
A soft west wind, issuing as from the heart of a golden vase filled with roses, met them the instant they turned out of the street, walking their horses towards the park-gate. Something was it in the evening, or was it in his own soul? had prevailed to the momentary silencing of George Bascombe: it may have been but the influence of the cigar which Helen had begged him to finish.
From what part of England had she travelled with that rusty little bag and those thick-soled shoes? That quiet manner and gentle voice might have belonged to any lady of the land. In the midst of these conjectures the quiet old woman reached out her hand for the candle, and with a soft "good-night," closed the chamber-door. The next morning Mrs. Yates was early at the park-gate.
One Tuesday morning, in the spring, the curate received by the local post the following letter dated from The Park-Gate. "Respected Sir, "An obligation on my part which you have no doubt forgotten gives me courage to address you on a matter which seems to me of no small consequence concerning yourself.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking