Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth CenturyFullerton, Georgiana
History
Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century
Fullerton, Georgiana
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction
The bed was in an alcove, closed in the day by fair curtains of
taffety; and the walls, which were in wood, had carvings above the
door and over the chimney of very dainty workmanship. The floor was
strewn with dried neatly-cut rushes, and in the projecting space where
the window was, a table was set, and two chairs with backs and seats
cunningly furnished with tapestry. In another recess betwixt the
alcove and the chimney stood a praying stool and a desk with a cushion
for a book to lie on. Ah, me! how often has my head rested on
that cushion and my knees on that stool when my heart has been too
full to utter other prayers than a "God ha' mercy on me!" which at
such times broke as a cry from an overcharged breast. But, oh! what a
vain pleasure I did take on that first day in the bravery of this
little chamber, which Kate said was to be mine own! With what great
contentment I viewed each part of it, and looked out of the window on
the beds of flowers which did form a mosaical floor in the garden
around the house, in the midst of which was a fair pond whose shaking
crystal mirrored the shrubs which grew about it, and a thicket beyond,
which did appear to me a place for pleasantness and not unfit to
flatter solitariness, albeit so close unto the city. Beyond were the
bishop's grounds, and I could smell the scent of roses coming thence
as the wind blew. I could have stood there many hours gazing on this
new scene, but that my cousins brought me down to sup with them in the
garden, which was not fairer in natural ornaments than in artificial
inventions. The table was set in a small banqueting-house among
certain pleasant trees near to a pretty water-work; and now I had
leisure to scan my cousins' faces and compare what I did notice in
them with what Mistress Ward had said the first night of our journey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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