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Updated: June 6, 2025
For the valley of the Waveney I see the vale of Tenoctitlan, for the slopes of Stowe the snowy shapes of the volcans Popo and Iztac, for the spire of Earsham and the towers of Ditchingham, of Bungay, and of Beccles, the soaring pyramids of sacrifice gleaming with the sacred fires, and for the cattle in the meadows the horsemen of Cortes sweeping to war.
Ere I had been a year in Virginia, how I wished myself back by the banks of the Waveney! But the aspect of affairs was so troublous, that I could not leave my mother, a lone lady, to face possible war and disaster, nor would she quit the country at such a juncture, nor should a man of spirit leave it.
But there's another thing: Sir Hugh may ask you to believe anything, but he won't make you believe that I could trifle with such a sacred subject as the morning of the Twelfth." "Faith, you're right there, Waveney," Sir Hugh said, with a laugh. "Well, we've done our best to make up for the loss of time. And now, Rose, if you want to have your sketch, fire away!
"Well, Waveney, we will give you five minutes' grace, if you like," Sir Hugh said. "Sit down and have a pipe." But this slim and wiry warrior had not even taken the gun from his shoulder. "No, no," said he, "if you are ready, I am. I can get plenty of smoking done in the South." So they began again; but the afternoon was now on the wane, and the beats were leading them homewards.
Afterwards, with mild eyes he repaired to the dining-hall, and sanctified the Sabbath, blessing a cup of wine, dividing up two napkined loaves, and giving to Rebekah his benediction. Hogarth went moodily down the hillside to the Waveney, across the bridge, and home, his sleeve stained with blood.
"Why can't she do it some other day? why the Twelfth? Good heavens! is everything conspiring to vex and annoy me so that I sha'n't be able to hit a haystack?" "Sir Hugh never says 'no' to anything that Lady Rosamund asks," observed Captain Waveney, with much good-humor.
His last position had been with the Dowager Duchess of Waveney, the well-known political hostess, who even had the somewhat generous lines on which she was built not prevented the possibility of such a thing would have perished rather than dance barefooted in a public restaurant. Wrench also disapproved of America. That fact had been made plain immediately upon his arrival in the country.
I had known him when we were little lads together at our own king's court, but he had left to go to that of our great overlord, Ethelred, so that I had not seen him for long years. And one may sail up our Waveney river to Hoxne, where his father's house is, from ours at Reedham, though it is a long way.
There was a name inside Julia Waveney. George, from boyhood up, had been raised in that school of thought whose watchword is 'Findings are keepings', and, having ascertained that there was no address attached to the name, he was on the point, I regret to say, of pouching the volume, which already he looked upon as his own, when a figure detached itself from the crowd, and he found himself gazing into a pair of grey and, to his startled conscience, accusing eyes.
I had seen that tan-sailed barge many, many times, rushing up the Waveney from Somer Leyton, with that same quiet figure at her helm. I would have loved to have called out "Oh, Hendry. How are you? Fancy seeing you here." But I dared not betray myself; nor did Hendry recognize me.
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