Scarlet and Hyssop: A NovelBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
General
Scarlet and Hyssop: A Novel
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction
SCARLET AND HYSSOP
By E. F. BENSON.
* * * * *
Scarlet and Hyssop.
12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
The Luck of the Vails.
12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
Mammon and Co.
12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
Dodo.
_A Detail of the Day._ 12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.
The Rubicon.
12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.
* * * * *
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
SCARLET AND HYSSOP
_A NOVEL_
By E. F. BENSON
AUTHOR OF DODO
MAMMON & CO.
THE LUCK
OF THE
VAILS
ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1902
COPYRIGHT, 1902
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
CHAPTER I
It has been ordained by the wisdom of Nature that the same fact shall
strike the majority of her foolish children almost simultaneously. This
phenomenon can hardly have escaped the most casual observer; the
majority of swallows, for instance, in any given area will agree,
practically in the same week, that our English autumn is no longer
tolerable, and with consenting twitterings set their heads southwards;
or in the spring, again, one may observe that in any given field daisies
and buttercups will determine, only to be nipped by unpunctual frosts,
that it is now time to come out, while even man, that most vacillating
and least uniform of all created things, has a certain sympathy in his
sensations; the sap stirs with moderately equal effervescence in the
most dissimilar units; and without further preamble, to take the case in
point, London settles without consultation, but with considerable
unanimity, when spring may be considered to have stopped and summer to
have begun. It is hardly necessary to state that London is, if not
always, at any rate very frequently, completely deceived--like the
buttercups and daisies--about a point so apparently palpable as even
this, and a few biting frosts about mid-May usually send it back to its
furs again; but the fact remains that on or about the same day the
streets suddenly wear a completely different garb. On all sides the
chrysalises burst, and butterflies gay or sober, according to their
temperaments, hover and try their wings over a ground strewn, so to
speak, with the brown husks of the "winter weeds outworn." Nor is this
bursting of the chrysalis confined to externals: the time has come; the
tides of vitality turn and flow through the town, and the reopened
houses, newly decked window-boxes, and the flush of colour in the
streets, are but symptomatic of the inward conviction of their
inhabitants that a fresh season for doing a quantity of things they
should not do, and as great an opportunity for leaving undone many
things that they should do, has been turned up by the spade of Time,
that irresponsible farmer of years.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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