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Updated: June 25, 2025
Belwick, with its hundred and fifty fire-vomiting blast-furnaces, would to their eyes more nearly resemble a certain igneous realm of which they thought much in their sojourn upon earth, and which, we may assure ourselves, they dream not of in the quietness of their last long sleep. A large house, which stands aloof from the village and a little above it, is Wanley Manor.
Thence one had the finest prospect in the county. He reached the stone shed, looked back for a moment over Wanley, then walked round to the other side. As he turned the corner of the building his eye was startled by the unexpected gleam of a white dress. A girl stood there; she was viewing the landscape through a field-glass, and thus remained unaware of his approach on the grass.
Hubert found himself once more without guidance, and so left Wanley behind him, journeying to an unknown land. Hubert could not remember a time when he had not been in love. The objects of his devotion had succeeded each other rapidly, but each in her turn was the perfect woman.
Belwick, roaring a few miles away, was but an isolated black patch on the earth's beauty, not, as he now understood it, a malignant cancer-spot, spreading day by day, corrupting, an augury of death. In those days it had seemed fast in the order of things that Wanley Manor should be his home through life; how otherwise? Was it not the abiding-place of the Eldons from of old?
It was a new vicar, who had been in Wanley but a couple of days, and had this morning officiated for the first time at the church. 'What a voice he has! was the lady's reply. 'Hasn't he? And such a hairy man! They say he's very learned; but his sermon was very simple didn't you think so? 'Yes, I liked it. Only he pronounces certain words strangely. 'Oh, has Mr.
The situation was complicated with many miseries, but Alice had experienced a growth of independence since her return from Wanley. All she had seen and heard whilst with her brother had an effect upon her in the afterthought, and her mother's abrupt surrender into her hands of the household control gave her, when she had time to realise it, a sense of increased importance not at all disagreeable.
Then he made the book into a parcel and addressed it. He started for his walk at the same hour as on the evening before. There was frost in the air, and already the stars were bright. As he drew near to Wanley, the road was deserted; his footfall was loud on the hard earth.
Rodman had large views, was at present pondering a financial scheme in which he needed a partner one with capital of course. He knew that New Wanley was proving anything but a prosperous concern, commercially speaking; he divined, moreover, that Mutimer was not wholly satisfied with the state of affairs.
The night pulsed about her, beat regularly like a great clock, and its pulsing smote upon her brain. To-morrow she must follow her husband, who would come to lead her home. Home? what home had she? What home would she ever have but a grave in the grassy churchyard of Wanley? Why did death spare her when it took the life which panted but for a moment on her bosom?
Reference has already been made to Wanley's Diary,* a chronicle of the purchases made by Lord Oxford during the greater part of Wanley's custodianship, and of the principal events which happened in the library. It begins on the 2nd March 1714, when Wanley had been librarian for about six years.
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