Beyond that light, the brook was strangling and kicking among hedges and tree-trunks. 'What on earth will happen to the big rose-bed? was Midmore's first word. 'It generally 'as to be restocked after a flood. Ah! she raised her lantern. 'There's two garden-seats knockin' against the sun-dial. Now, that won't do the roses any good. 'This is too absurd.

It was a passing breath of homage, pleasing like a breath from some rose-bed passed in a walk. Up to the moment, however, when she said to herself that he had risked his life for her, Berenice had never consciously thought of Maurice as a lover. When she saw him lying insensible, depending upon her, a new feeling kindled in her breast.

I suppose it was because I appeared to be so much older and more experienced than most of those who composed his little army of gardeners that he often addressed me, asking questions and making suggestions; and it was one afternoon, standing by me as I was at work in a rose-bed, that he said the words which were spoken to me about twenty-four centuries afterward by Maria Edgeworth.

Those roses are no particular good, I fancy; we'll move such as are worth anything, and make a rose-bed on the south side we'll talk over the varieties you want, later. Of course these apple-trees and those lilacs will be cut down, and this summerhouse will be out of the way. You'll be surprised a few changes will do wonders, and " He stopped abruptly.

She kept a kind of gardener: two days a week. "Too good of you," she said, "but that rose-bed is quite sacred, dear Mrs. Poppit. Not all the vigorous young bushes in the world would tempt me. It's my 'Friendship's Border: some dear friend gave me each of my rose-trees." Mrs. Poppit transferred her gaze to the wistaria that grew over the steps up to the garden-room.

"Mater, dear," he said; "I found this gentleman in a rose-bed enquiring the way to our lodge. He's come all the way from dear old London just to see you. Mr. Hawkes my mother." Mrs. Chichester looked at Hawkes anxiously. "You have come to see me?" "On a very important and a very private family matter," replied Hawkes, gravely. "IMPORTANT? PRIVATE?" asked Mrs. Chichester in surprise.

"Certainly," said Mary, and led the way to the door. Felicity slipped out first, and wandered with her delicate step a little down the path. "Isn't it darling!" exclaimed Constance from the porch, surveying the flower-strewn grass, the feathery trees, and the pale gleam of the water. Mary began to show her some recent plantings, in particular a rose-bed which was her last addition to the garden.

I shall always try to deserve it, my dear. Was it all, all for me, that you did it, truly?" "Yes," Mark assured her, gruffly monosyllabic. "But how was it," she asked caressingly, "that Sir David's footprints were found all over the rose-bed. What was he doing there?" "That was an afterthought," Mark admitted. "It was a tophole idea.

The tracks had undoubtedly been made as a blind and with the intention of diverting suspicion to the wrong man probably after the deed itself was done. "I was satisfied, then, that the shot had not been fired from this particular part of the rose-bed, and I proceeded to search for other footprints farther down the bed.

Indeed, he turned his back upon the rose-bed, and strolled away by the side of the hedge, which was of tall and wide proportions, providing a spiky, impenetrable defence against observation, from the outside, of the rectangular enclosed garden. Half-way along it he came upon an arched opening.