Then a glimpse of the church-tower, a sweep in the road; the
church and crowded churchyard, the rectory, the doctor's house, and a
stone's throw off the "King's Arms" at the top of the town-street, which
sloped gently all down hill. Another forge, tiled houses, shops with
queer bow-windows and steps up to the half-glazed doors, where a bell
rang when the latch was lifted. More white gates, more well-kept
shrubberies; green lanes, roads branching, curving to right and left;
and everywhere those open spaces of lawn and magnificent beech trees,
as if the old town had an unlimited forest-right to scatter its
dwellings far and wide, just as caprice or the love of beauty might
dictate.
"This is very lovely--it is a series of delightful pictures. Only to
live here must be a sort of education," said Mr. Fairfax as they arrived
within view of the ancient church and its precincts.
Mr. John Short saw and smelt opportunities of improvement, but he agreed
that Beechhurst for picturesqueness was most desirable. Every cottage
had its garden, and every garden was ablaze with flowers. Flowers love
that moist sun and soil, and thrive joyfully. Gayest of the gay within
its trim holly hedge was the Carnegies. The scent of roses and
mignonette suffused the warm air of evening. The doctor was going about
with a watering-pot, tending his beauties and favorites, while he
watched for the children coming home. His name and profession, set forth
on a bright brass plate, adorned the gate, from which a straight
box-edged path led to the white steps of the porch.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69