The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)Sherer, Moyle
History
The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Sherer, Moyle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
His residence in a sequestered parish in the country afforded him few
opportunities of visiting where ladies were to be met; and being fond
of all sports and manly exercises, and so ripe a scholar as to find
study and the chase a pleasant relief to each other, he had not as yet
been careful to seek opportunities of increasing his female
acquaintance.
Whatever there was of silent and maidenly reserve in sweet Katharine
herself towards common strangers, and upon ordinary occasions,
vanished at a time like this, in the presence of so manly, so modest,
and so frank a man as George Juxon. As the family sat that day at
table, not a shade of embarrassment was visible in any of the
party:--Sir Oliver was in high good humour; the boy Arthur looked at
their guest with those honest eyes which, in boyhood, fear not to
show either like or dislike; and the little girl Lily, permitted that
day to dine in the hall, sat without shyness opposite to Juxon, and
shunned not his smile or his word of notice.
The day wore on:--he walked with the ladies upon the verdant and
velvet paths in the flower garden,--he paced the terrace with Sir
Oliver,--and his presence was felt by them all as a strength and a
comfort.
The shade upon the dial had stole silently, but swiftly, forwards, and
touched upon seven in the evening, when he ran up to the chamber of
Cuthbert to press his hand at parting; and having afterwards said his
farewell to the ladies on the lawn, he descended to the court-yard,
accompanied by Sir Oliver and the boy Arthur, mounted the gallant roan
gelding upon which he had hunted his way down on the morning of
yesterday, and again shaking the hand of his host, and accepting a
warm invitation to repeat his visit soon and often, George Juxon rode
out of the gates at Milverton with a very new and strange feeling.
The free animal, on which he rode, was impatiently checked as often as
it broke from the measured walk at which it was now the pleasure of
his master to travel homewards; and, whatever might be the cause, he
was not allowed to perform in less than two hours a distance to be
very easily accomplished within one. The reverie of Juxon was unbroken
during the whole ride. The evening was mild, and the hedgerows were
green, and the air was perfumed here with the scent of violets, there
with the fragrance of cottage gardens or blushing orchards, and upon
the woody or open parts of the road with the rich incense of the
fresh-blown May.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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