Summary

Various The Cornhill Magazine (vol. XLII, no… (1860)

Bel shook her head. ‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘Darling, she doesn’t know you. Mother may have her cranks and prejudices. But if there’s one woman on earth she can be trusted to love—it’s my wife. I’ll take you to her to-night.’
‘No—no. To-morrow. To-night—there’s Harry. It’ll be a blow. You see, when I first came to her, I was so sick—with everything, I swore I’d never marry. She’s jealous already—’
‘Poor soul!’ Mark said tenderly. ‘But I’m jealous too. I can’t share you with Miss O’Neill.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Cornhill Magazine (vol. XLII, no… (1860)

It was beyond Barcy that the bright flags began to be abundant. The eye had no longer any need to seek for them; the garden of death was now lavish of its bouquets of flowers. They were difficult to distinguish among the beetroot, easy among the oats, insistent on the grey expanse of stubble. Soon after leaving Barcy, at the corner where the road turns abruptly south, there is a great cluster of them, and, always at a little distance off, the plain black crosses which mark the spots where Germans are buried.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Cornhill Magazine (vol. XLII, no… (1860)

Everywhere the peace of uniform rustic experience, unaltered through the sober centuries, would seem stamped upon the landscape, if the little occasional groups of flapping tricolors were not there to remind us that only two brief years ago the question whether European liberty should or should not be overwhelmed for ever was fought out here with unsurpassable fury and tenacity.
The winding walled hamlet of Etrépilly is bright with the sunshine on its new orange and velvet-brown roofs, by which the damage done by the German shells is concealed.
Source: Gutenberg

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