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Updated: June 15, 2025
Across the road, in front of the Long Whindale parsonage, for instance, rose a freshly built church, also peaked and gabled, with a spire and two bells and a painted east window, and Heaven knows what novelties besides.
Of one thing, however, a conscientious historian may be sure, namely, that Agnes succeeded in knowing as much as she wanted to know. Mrs. Leyburn was a little puzzled by the erratic lines of Mr. Flaxman's journeys. It was, as she said, curious that a man should start on a tour through the Lakes from Long Whindale. But she took everything naively as it came, and as she was told.
The young man ransacked his memory on the subject with a sudden access of interest in his new home that was to be. Six weeks later they were in England, and Robert, now convalescent, had accepted an invitation to spend a month in Long Whindale with his mother's cousins, the Thornburghs, who offered him quiet, and bracing air.
Across the road, in front of the Long Whindale parsonage, for instance, rose a freshly built church, also peaked and gabled, with a spire and two bells, and a painted east window, and Heaven knows what novelties besides.
The sisters, remembering how she had come in upon them with that look of one 'lifted up, understood why she had not noticed, and refrained from further questions. 'Well, it is to be hoped the young man is recovered enough to stand Long Whindale festivities, said Rose. 'Mrs. Thornburgh means to let them loose on his devoted head to-morrow night. 'Who are coming? asked Mrs. Leyburn eagerly.
Afternoon tea was by no means a regular institution at the vicarage of Long Whindale, and Sarah never supplied it without signs of protest. But when a guest was in the house Mrs. Thornburgh insisted upon it; her obstinacy in the matter, like her dreams of cakes and confections, being all part of her determination to move with the times, in spite of the station to which Providence had assigned her.
Afternoon tea was by no means a regular institution at the vicarage of Long Whindale, and Sarah never supplied it without signs of protest. But when a guest was in the house Mrs. Thornburgh insisted upon it; her obstinacy in the matter, like her dreams of cakes and confections, being part of her determination to move with the times, in spite the station to which Providence had assigned her.
The old shepherd looked after her doubtfully, then said to himself that what the lady did was none of his business, and turned back toward one of the farms across the bridge. Who was she? She was a strange sort of body to be walking by herself up the head of Long Whindale. He supposed she came from Burwood there was no other house where a lady like that could be staying.
Aye! you have her now all, all your own." On the day of Hester's burying Long Whindale lay glittering white under a fitful and frosty sunshine.
'You are the first tourist, she said coolly, 'who has ever stayed in Whindale. 'Tourist! I repudiate the name. I am a worshipper at the shrine of Wordsworth and Nature. Helen and I long ago defined a tourist as a being with straps. I defy you to discover a strap about me, and I left my Murray in the railway carriage. He looked at her laughing. She laughed too.
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