‘My doing from beginning to end,’ she cried with a triumph beyond words.
‘William has had _nothing_ to do with it. Robert has had scarcely as
much. And to think how little I dreamt of it when I began! Well, to be
sure, no one could have _planned_ marrying those two. There’s no one but
Providence could have foreseen it-they’re so different. And after all
it’s _done_. Now then, whom shall I have next year?’
BOOK II. SURREY.
CHAPTER XI.
Farewell to the mountains!
The scene in which the next act of this unpretending history is to run
its course is of a very different kind. In place of the rugged northern
nature--a nature wild and solitary indeed, but still rich, luxuriant,
and friendly to the senses of the traveller, even in its loneliest
places. The heaths and woods of some districts of Surrey are scarcely
more thickly peopled than the fells of Westmoreland; the walker may
wander for miles, and still enjoy an untamed primitive earth, guiltless
of boundary or furrow, the undisturbed home of all that grows and flies,
where the rabbits, the lizards, and the birds live their life as they
please, either ignorant of intruding man or strangely little incommoded
by his neighborhood. And yet there is nothing forbidding or austere in
these wide solitudes. The patches of graceful birch-wood; the miniature
lakes nestling among them; the brakes of ling--pink, faintly scented,
a feast for every sense; the stretches of purple heather, glowing into
scarlet under the touch of the sun; the scattered farmhouses, so mellow
in color, so pleasant in outline; the general softness and lavishness of
the earth and all it bears, make these Surrey commons not a wilderness
but a paradise. Nature, indeed, here is like some spoilt, petulant
child. She will bring forth nothing, or almost nothing, for man’s
grosser needs. Ask her to bear corn or pasture flocks and she will
be miserly and grudging. But ask her only to be beautiful, enticing,
capriciously lovely, and she will throw herself into the task with all
the abandonment, all the energy, that heart could wish.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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