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Updated: June 10, 2025
Turn we about its corner then, and there are we blinking on the torches of the torch-bearers, and the candles through the open door, and the hall ablaze with light and full of joyous clamour, like the bale-fire in the dark night kindled on a ness above the sea by fisher-folk remembering the Gods. 'O nay, she said, 'but by the Portway must we go; the straightest way to the Gate of Burgstead.
Thus was the water again a good defence to the Thorp, for it ran slow and deep there, and there was no other ground betwixt it and the cliffs save that road, which was easy to bar across so that no foemen might pass without battle, and this road was called the Portway.
'You'll pardon me, said Miss Marchrose, turning to him. 'If you are thinking of Matthew Arnold's introduction to the selected poems, you'll and 'My dear, said Mrs. Ashton Portway, suddenly looming up opposite the reciter, 'what a memory you have! 'Was it so long, then? murmured a tall man with spectacles and a light wavy beard. 'I shall send you back to Paris, Mr. Dolbiac, said Mrs.
So these went their ways with many kind words; and two hours afterwards all the rest of the Host stood on the level ground of the Portway; but presently were the ranks of war disordered and broken up by the joy of the women and children, as they fell to drawing goodman or brother or lover out of the throng to the way that led speediest to their homesteads and halls.
So now being out of the wood, they went peaceably and safely along the Portway, the Runaways mingling with the Dalesmen.
'Love is not for such as me, said Mr. Dolbiac solemnly. Then he looked at his hostess, and called out in an undertone: 'I've begun. 'The question, said Miss Marchrose, clearing her throat, 'is, not what love is not, but what it is. 'You must kindly stand up, said Mr. Dolbiac. 'I can't hear. Miss Marchrose glanced at Mrs. Ashton Portway, and Mrs. Ashton Portway told Mr.
Presently the strangers came from off the Portway into the space before the Gate; and their leader was a tall and goodly man of some thirty winters, in glorious array, helm on head and sword by side, his surcoat green and flowery like the spring meads.
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