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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said, "but the little one and I have met before: I live in the house, having the honour to be the youngest of your father's clerks. If you will allow me, I will carry the child. She looks tired!" Miss Shotover was glad enough to be relieved of her clog, and gave smiling consent.
Sparing words cautious, chary of self-commitment, and seldom offering to assume the initiative this was the surface character which she had come to recognise and acquiesce in; this was Quarrier as he had been developed from her hazy, preconceived ideas of the man before she had finally accepted him at Shotover the autumn before.
But, you see, my dear boy, there is well, there's no denying it, there is and Shotover quite " "Of course, papa, we all know what you mean," Lady Louisa interposed, with a certain loftiness and, it must be owned, asperity. "I have never pretended there was not something one had to get accustomed to.
Powell had a house and a small estate of some 300 l. a year, value of that day. Forest Hill was within the ancient royal forest of Shotover, of which Mr. Powell was lessee. The reader will remember that the poet's father was born at Stanton St. John, the adjoining parish to Forest Hill, and that Richard Milton, the grandfather, had been under-ranger of the royal forest.
"If you will go down, I will make inquiry, and let you know directly," replied the butler. Clare went down, and had not waited more than another minute when the butler brought the message that the child was not to go out. In vain Clare sought an explanation; the old man knew nothing of the matter, but confessed that Miss Shotover seemed a little put out.
Don't believe that fox belonged to this side of the country at all. Don't understand his tactics. If it had been in my poor friend Denier's time, I might have suspected him of being a bagman." Lord Fallowfeild chuckled a little. "Ran too straight for a bagman," Shotover remarked. "Well, he gave us a rattling good spin whose-ever fox he was." "Didn't he, though?" said Lord Fallowfeild genially.
Around lay a wild land of heath and forest, with cultivated fields very infrequently interspersed; the moors of Cowley, the woods of Shotover and Bagley; and farther still, the forests of Nuneham, inhabited even then by the Harcourts, who still hold the ancestral demesne.
I hope that is plain enough even for your comprehension!" "If I had meant to hold my tongue, I should have held it." "What do you want, then?" "To keep you from marrying Miss Shotover." "By Jove! And suppose I kick you into the gutter, and tell you to mind your own business what then?" "I will tell either your father or Mr. Shotover all about it." "Even you can't be such a fool!
Even in this semi-obscurity he perceived that her fine smile had vanished, while the lines of her sensitive face took on a certain rigidity and effect of sternness. Lord Shotover regretted that. For some reason, he knew not what, she was displeased. He, like an ass, evidently had blundered. "I'm awfully sorry," he began, "perhaps perhaps "
Ferrall's men?" he asked in his agreeable voice. The groom looked up, then stood up: "Yis, Sorr." "Take these; I'm Mr. Siward for Shotover House. I dare say you have room for me and the dog, too." The groom opened his mouth to speak, but Siward took the crate key from his fingers, knelt, and tried the lock. It resisted. From the depths of the crate a beseeching paw fell upon his cuff.
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