Emma Marshall

“ Ah, my child, happiness is like the bow across the wide Campagna. You see its many-coloured arch and hasten to reach it, and, lo! it is gone; the nearer you think you get to it, the further it seems. But the gods are kind to us poor mortals, and our goddess Vesta does not forget us. You are but a child, a young child,” Lucia said, surveying Hyacintha as she stood up before her in a loose underrobe, with all her marvellously lovely hair gone, and the little slender figure, beautifully formed, giving the appearance of extreme youth. ”

“ The air was soft and balmy, and the sunshine lay upon the picturesque village of Abbot's Leigh, and threw out every yellow lichen on the red roofs of the houses, and every leafless branch of the trees in full brightness and defined outline.
The year was full of grace and beauty on this its last day; and Gilbert Arundel, walking up and down the sunny terrace path before his house, on the left of the road leading to the church, felt the pleasant sense of returning strength and health, which is always so sweet. ”

“ He was one of those men who can be faithful unto death, and give unfaltering allegiance to the woman they feel it is hopeless to win. Loving her well, but loving honour, hers and his own, more, Humphrey went bravely on the straight road of duty, with no regretful, backward glances, no murmurs at the roughness of the way, taking each step as it came with unfaltering resolutions, with a heavy heart at times; but what did that matter? And in all this determination to act as a brave, true man should act, Humphrey Ratcliffe had ever before him the example of his master, Sir Philip Sidney. ”

“ How many sad and disappointed lives, bound by the fetters of an enforced vow, have been hidden alike in the House of the Vestals, and later in the monasteries of mediæval times!
Of all pathetic cries which ascend to the Throne of the Father of us all is the cry of the woman who, mistaking her true vocation as a helper and consoler, has chafed like a bird against its prison bars, to obtain the liberty which alone gives the zest to service. Hermione had, indeed, ceased to struggle against her fate, and a cold and numb despair had destroyed her beauty, and made her a prematurely old woman. ”

“ Why, Joyce, what are we and this earth we live in, when compared to that great universe of which these stars, as they come out one by one, seem to bring a nightly message? What are we, to think so much of ourselves? and what are life, and death, and troubles, and joys, and petty disappointments? They are nothing—lighter than dust in the balance."
"They are something to God," Joyce said, reverently. "He has told us so. Dearest Piers, you are not losing that Faith which we used to call our staff in the dear old days." ”

“ Away, far away, the blue mountains of the Welsh coast stood out against the clear sky, and the sloping sides of the Mendips, where Dundry Tower [Pg 133] stands like a sentinel on guard over the city, were bathed in the soft radiance of the April day, while now and again the chime of bells was borne on the breeze.
For some minutes both were silent, Jack toying with the small pebbles at his feet, Bryda gazing out at the hills where her home lay hid, and forgetting poor Jack's presence in her own meditation. Jack was the first to break the silence. ”

“ Patience had borne up bravely under this last sorrow. In some ways Jack's absence was a relief—she had been always treading, as it were, on the edge of a volcano, that might send up fire and smoke at any time.
We all know what a strain it is upon body and mind to be always seeking for peace, while those around us make themselves ready for battle; and the terror at every meal that there would be a scene between Jack and his aunt, with the effort to prevent it, had been a perpetual strain upon Mrs. Harrison. ”

“ These words were so blurred that they were illegible; and Griselda sunk on her knees by the chair, and the tears, so long frozen, poured forth in a flood till her full heart was relieved.
Graves, coming in an hour later, found her with her fair head bowed on her arms, asleep. Youth had triumphed over sorrow of heart, and sleep had come, as it does come, with gentle power to blot out for a time the sorrows of the young. ”

“ Mother!'
Alas! there was no answer; and a little red stream trickling down from a wound on the forehead frightened Ambrose still more.
'It is blood!' he cried, with the natural shrinking which children always show when their own fingers are cut. 'It is blood! Oh, mother!'
But Ambrose was now quietly lifted in a pair of strong arms, and the words spoken in his ear,—
'We must seek help; we will get a surgeon. Your mother will die if we do not get help, boy. Hush! If you cry out your mother may hear, and you will distress her. ”

“ Then how my love flowed forth to thee on the hill-side, on that early summer night when Amphibalus baptised thee, and thy name was no longer Ebba but Anna. And we have shared perils and trials together since then, dear one, and love has knit our hearts in a bond that death cannot break.”
“Oh! that we may die together,” Anna said. “I thought this morning, when the darkness came over me like a cold wave, it was death. Will dying be like that swoon, thinkest thou?”
“Nay, for thou wilt open thy eyes in a glorious light instead of in this black, chill cell,” Agatha replied. ”