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Thomas Corwin, of Ohio; John S. Millson, of Virginia; Charles F. Adams, of Massachusetts; Warren Winslow, of North Carolina; James Humphrey, of New York; William W. Boyce, of South Carolina; James H. Campbell, of Pennsylvania; Peter E. Love, of Georgia; Orris S. Ferry, of Connecticut; Henry Winter Davis, of Maryland; Christopher Robinson, of Rhode Island; William G. Whiteley, of Delaware; Mason W. Tappan, of New Hampshire; John L.N. Stratton, of New Jersey; Francis M. Bristow, of Kentucky; Justin S. Morrill, of Vermont; Thomas A.R. Nelson, of Tennessee; William McKee Dunn, of Indiana; Miles Taylor, of Louisiana; Reuben Davis, of Mississippi; William Kellogg, of Illinois; George S. Houston, of Alabama; Freeman H. Morse, of Maine; John S. Phelps, of Missouri; Albert Rust, of Arkansas; William A. Howard, of Michigan; George S. Hawkins, of Florida; Andrew J. Hamilton, of Texas; Cadwalader C. Washburn, of Wisconsin; Samuel E. Curtis, of Iowa; John C. Burch, of California; William Windom, of Minnesota; and Lansing Stout, of Oregon.
In five minutes Orris was breathing heavily, taking full toll of slumber, for he was not so very strong and the day's happenings had exhausted him greatly. Blaine sought shelter under another angle of the basement, and after a vigorous struggle against somnolence, finally dropped off. After that the old ruin was silent. Midnight passed. Unceasing silence reigned.
His vast spread of double wings made it difficult for Orris, with his greater motor power and reduced spread of planes, to much more than neutralize their relative positions. Straight into the northeast fled the German. After him came Erwin, still below and striving to get onto his adversary's tail. But despite all he could do, it failed to bring him within the proper distance for direct attack.
The oak press was open, and it exhaled an odour of orris root and lavender, and Veronica, standing beside it, a bunch of keys at her girdle, once more reminded Evelyn of the mediæval virgin she had seen in the Rhenish churches. "I have finished collecting your aunt's papers." "And now you are going to leave us?"
Next she swept aside a froth of crisp tissue-paper which was still veiling the gift. Then together they looked down. "O-o-o-o-h!" It was a chorus. Roses! Pink roses! A very pile of them, snuggling in the cool, delicate greenery of ferns! Up from them lifted a fragrance that rivaled even that of orris root. Cis leaned to breathe.
She lay in State in her great bedchamber; tapers in silver sconces all around her, an Achievement of arms in a lozenge at her head, the walls all hung with fine black cloth edged with orris, and pieced with her escocheon, properly blazoned; and she herself, white and sharp as waxwork in her face and hands, arrayed in her black dress, with crimson ribbons and crimson scarf, and a locket of gold on her breast.
The sellers of salt and fish and wool and skins were forced down under the wharfs of the lagoon, and there endeavoured to attract attention by displaying fanciful and lovely banners and by liberating faint perfumes of the native orris and algum.
Her first book, A Rhyming Chronicle of Incidents and Feelings, was published in 1850, when she was twenty, and a novel, Allerton and Dreux, in 1851; nine years later her Tales of Orris. But her fame came at thirty-three, when her first full book of Poems was published in 1863. This was dedicated to a much loved brother, George K. Ingelow: The press everywhere gave flattering notices.
I had more conversation with her before I left, but nothing appeared to move her resolution, and I left her, lamenting, in the first place, that she had abjured love, because, notwithstanding the orris root, which she kept in her mouth to take away the smell of the spirits, I found myself very much taken with such beauty of person, combined with so much vigour of mind; and in the second, that one so young should carry on a system of deceit and self-destruction.
"My sermon is about Hell-Fire. I had all but smelled it. It was very disagreeable." With a gesture of impatience he snatched up his notes and tore them in two. "I think I will write about the Garden of Eden instead!" he rallied. "The Garden of Eden in Iris time! Florentina Alba everywhere! Whiteness! Sweetness! Now let me see, orris root I believe is deducted from the Florentina Alba ."
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