Rosa Nouchette Carey

AT THE CORNER HOUSE. "Seek not that the things which happen should happen as you wish."—Epictetus. There is an old adage, worn almost threadbare with continual use, "When poverty looks in at the door, love flies out at the window," and, doubtless, there is an element of truth in the saying; nevertheless, though there were lines of care on Marcus Luttrell's face, and in the strong... more...

CHAPTER I. THE LAST DAY AT REDMAYNE HOUSE. What trifles vex one! I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault with the name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for such an insignificant person. Some one who was learned in such matters—I think it was Allan—told me once that it meant a star, or good fortune. It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in the... more...

CHAPTER I Our adventures hover round us like bees round the hive when preparing to swarm.—MAETERLINCK. From boyhood Malcolm Herrick had been a lover of the picturesque. In secret he prided himself on possessing the artistic faculty, and yet, except in the nursery, he had never drawn a line, or later on spoilt canvas and daubed himself in oils under the idea that he was an embryo Millais or Turner.... more...

CHAPTER I THE BLAKE FAMILY ARE DISCUSSED 'There is nothing, sir, too little for so little a creature as man. It is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as much happiness as possible.'—Dr. Johnson. Everyone in Rutherford knew that Mrs. Ross was ruled by her eldest daughter; it was an acknowledged fact, obvious not only to a keen-witted person... more...

CHAPTER I. FIVE-O’CLOCK TEA. Five-o’clock tea was a great institution in Oldfield. It was a form of refreshment to which the female inhabitants of that delightful place were strongly addicted. In vain did Dr. Weatherby, the great authority in all that concerned the health of the neighborhood, lift up his voice against the mild feminine dram-drinking of these modern days, denouncing it in no... more...

CHAPTER I. It was extremely tiresome! It was vexatious; it was altogether annoying! Most people under similar circumstances would have used stronger expressions, would have bemoaned themselves loudly, or at least inwardly, with all the pathos of self-pity. To be nearly at the end of one’s journey, almost within sight and sound of home fires and home welcomes, and then to be snowed up, walled,... more...

OUT OF THE MIST It appears to me, looking back over a past experience, that certain days in one's life stand out prominently as landmarks, when we arrive at some finger-post pointing out the road that we should follow. We come out of some deep, rutty lane, where the hedgerows obscure the prospect, and where the footsteps of some unknown passenger have left tracks in the moist red clay. The... more...

CHAPTER I.PROLOGUE—THE WANDERER. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Tennyson’s . Not much of a picture, certainly! Only a stretch of wide sunny road, with a tamarisk hedge and a clump of shadowy elms; a stray sheep... more...