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CHAPTER I. WAITING AND WATCHING. The sea lay calm and still under a cloudless sky. The tide was out, and there was only a faint murmur like the whisper of gentle voices, as the little waves told to the sands that they were coming back soon, for the tide had turned. It was yet early morning, and the old town of Great Yarmouth was asleep. The fishing boats had been out all night, and were lying like so many black birds with folded wings, waiting... more...

CHAPTER I. FAIR ACRES. It was a fair morning of early summer, when the low beams of the eastern sun, threw flickering shadows across the lawn, which lay before Fair Acres Manor, nestling under the shelter of the Mendip Hills, somewhere between Wells and Cheddar. Truth compels me to say, that the lawn was covered with daisies, and that their bright eyes looked fearlessly up into the blue sky; for mowing machines were unknown, and the old... more...

CHAPTER I THE SISTERS 'She was right faire and fresh as morning rose,But somewhat sad and solemne eke in sight,As if some pensive thought constrained her gentle spright.'Spenser. 1581.—'There is time yet ere sunset; let me, I pray you, go down to the lych gate with the wheaten cake for Goody Salter.' 'Nay, Lucy; methinks there are reasons for your desire to go down to the village weightier than the wheaten cake you would fain... more...

COIFFEUR. It was the height of the Bath season in 1779, and there was scarcely any part of the city which did not feel the effect of the great tide of amusement and pleasure, which set in year by year with ever-increasing force, and made the streets, and parades, and terraces alive with gaily-dressed fashionable ladies and their attendant beaux. The chair-men had a fine trade, so had the mantua-makers and dressmakers, to say nothing of the... more...

CHAPTER I LONGING FOR FLIGHT. 'Grandfather! I want to speak to you; please listen.' 'Well, who said I would not listen? But speak up, Biddy.' The old man put his hand to his ear, and his granddaughter leaned over the back of his chair. 'Don't call me Biddy, grandfather. I am Bryda.' 'Bryda! Phew! Your poor mother was called Biddy, and you ain't better than she was that I know of.' 'Well, never mind; but this is what I want to say, and... more...