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Updated: June 11, 2025
I could have met her; I decided I didn't want to. Later on I did meet her, not in her dressing-room, but at a house where she was the last person I expected to see." Leighton picked up a cigarette, lighted it, and sat down. "The place ought to have protected her," he continued, "but when you've seen two thirds of a woman's body, it takes a lot of atmosphere to make you forget it.
It was not from him that his daughter got her talent, though he had left her his temperament intact of his widow's legal thirds. He was one of those men of whom the country people say when he is gone that the woman gets along better without him. Mrs. The notion of shutting up is an exigency of the rounded period. The fact is, of course, that Alma Leighton was not shut up in any sense whatever.
Riversedge, who had been snipping off the heads of defunct roses, and thinking of nothing in particular, sprang hurriedly to mental attention. She was one of those old-fashioned hostesses who consider that one ought to know something about one's guests, and that the something ought to be to their credit. "I believe he comes from Leighton Buzzard," she observed by way of preliminary explanation.
The Seven Temptations, it must be owned, is a rather lugubrious production, probably inspired by Joanna Baillie's Plays on the Passions. The scene of Wood Leighton is laid at Uttoxeter, and the book is not so much a connected tale as a series of sketches descriptive of scenes and characters in and about the author's early home. It is evident that Mrs.
And then I came home because my mother's brother, who was a manufacturer in Bradford, wrote to ask me. But when I arrived he was dead, and he had left me three thousand pounds. Then I went to Swanley and got trained for farm-work. And I found Janet Leighton, and we made friends. And I love farm-work and I love Janet and the whole world looks so different to me!
"Yes, madam." "Would you favor me with a specimen of your piano playing?" There was a piano in the back parlor. Florence removed her gloves, and taking a seat before it, dashed into a spirited selection from Strauss. Mrs. Leighton listened with surprised approval. "Certainly you are a fine performer," she said. "What if I should engage you would you expect in the way of compensation?"
Alma came behind and turned up the hall gas-jet with a sudden flash that made them both jump a little. The gas inside rendered it more difficult to tell who was on the threshold, but Mrs. Leighton decided from a timorous peep through the scrims that it was a lady and gentleman. Something in this distribution of sex emboldened her; she took her life in her hand, and opened the door.
He was a painter and poet, but his painting, which did not interest me, showed no influence but that of Leighton. He had started perhaps a couple of years too late for Pre-Raphaelite influence, for no great Pre-Raphaelite picture was painted after 1870, and left England too soon for that of the French painters. He was, however, sometimes moving as a poet and still more often an astonishment.
Here are pictures by Sir Frederick Leighton, Landseer, and others; stuffed birds and fishes and animals from every clime, with flowers in profusion. In the dining-room, with its gray walls and red furniture, is a large painting of the mistress of this superb home, with her favorite horse and dogs.
Will ye be sae gude as to give me a glass of wine, Mistress Leighton?" Ann started as though from a trance. "Wine, Doctor?" she stammered. "I'm sorry. We have no wine in the house." "Not even a drop of whisky?" Ann shook her head. "Nae whisky in the medicine-chest, nae cooking sherry in the pantry? Weel, weel, I must be gaeing."
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