The house that Lady Latimer always occupied on her visits to Ryde was
away from the town and the pier, amongst the green fields going out
towards Binstead. It had a shaded garden down to the sea, and a
landing-place of its own when the tide was in. A balcony, looking north,
made the narrow drawing-room spacious, and my lady and her despatch-box
were established in a cool room below, adjoining the dining-parlor. She
did not like the pier or the strand, with their shoals of company in the
season, and took her drives out on the white roads to Wootton and
Newport, Osborne and Cowes, commonly accompanied by some poor friend to
whom a drive was an unfrequent pleasure. She never trusted herself to a
small boat, and as for the wherry that bore Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth
every morning flying before the wind for three delicious hours, she
appreciated its boasted safety so slightly that she was always relieved
to see them safe back again, whether they landed at the foot of the
garden or came through the town. It was beautiful weather, with fine
fresh breezes all the week, and Harry looked and felt so much like a new
man at the end of it that my lady insisted on his remaining a second
week, when they would all return to the Forest together. He had given
her the highest satisfaction by so visibly taking the benefit of her
hospitality, and had made great way in her private esteem besides.
Amongst her many friends and acquaintances then at Ryde, for every day's
dinner she chose one gentleman for the sake of good talk that Mr.
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