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Updated: May 2, 2025
His ascetic chamber rose before his eyes: his bed covered with a woolen counterpane and a few rags, a regular wolf's lair his work-table, the whole room with its clouded windows; and he thought of the distress that came upon him when he knew there were a few gold pieces in his box and felt himself turned, as long as they weighed him down, into a commonplace citizen.
I did not say where I was coming this afternoon, in case the pony might get tired, or Black turn cross, or something, but it appears Black likes to come to Highcombe, he has friends here." The boy had come close to Mrs. Warrender's work-table, and was lifting up and putting down again the reels of silk, the thimbles and scissors.
A pretty little work-table with writing-desk combined stood at the left side of the hearth. It was a gift from Phillip Lawson to sister Lottie. It was the child's favorite seat, and that fact repaid the brother more than the most extravagant praise. The upright piano was not neglected.
There was nothing to keep him in the house, and yet he lingered in it. It was something to be even near Agnes to see the things belonging to her that were scattered about the room. There, in the corner, was her chair, with her embroidery on the work-table by its side. On the little easel near the window was her last drawing, not quite finished yet.
The bright sunshine streamed in, playing over all the seeming disorder of the room, where so many callings and so many implements found place. A large bunch of wallflowers bloomed on the women's work-table near the window; and absorbed as the young men were in their respective tasks the only sound was the slight hissing of the boring machine each time that the eldest of them drilled another hole.
Fortunately she could reach her room without meeting anyone. She needed solitude in order to collect her thoughts, and to pray for strength to bear the heavy burden of her sorrows, and to withstand the angry storm about to burst over her head. Seated before her little work-table, she emptied the purse of jewels, and mechanically examined them.
Then he stooped beside a column and carefully examined a newly planted coral honeysuckle before he went into the wide hall, where his wife was seated at her work-table. From the rear door, which stood open until frost, a glow of sunshine entered, brightening the white walls with their rows of antlers and gunracks, and rippling over the well-waxed floor upon which no drop of water had ever fallen.
By the time he was able to sit up and play with his brother, poor Charlie was a pallid little skeleton, and his auntie bade him a tender adieu, determined to lose no time in finding sea-side quarters for the precious invalid. Miss Payne was busy looking over several cards which lay in a small china dish on her work-table.
John Henry had it badly, for he had been thinking of the tangent-balance, his wife, his boy, and the coming Christmas, all together, since he had got home, and the three problems had got mixed and had made his head ache. Nevertheless he looked up from his work-table and smiled when his son came in. "Everything all right?" he asked, with an attempt to be cheerful.
She rose and turned to her work-table where she had dropped, on entering, the handful of photographs that Guy Dawnish had left with her. While he sat so close, pointing out and explaining, she had hardly taken in the details; but now, on the full tones of his low young voice, they came back with redoubled distinctness.
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