The foster-sisters : $b A story in the days of Wesley and WhitfieldGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
The foster-sisters : $b A story in the days of Wesley and Whitfield
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
Evangelical Revival -- England -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: Lady Throckmorton led us through a grand hall, up a fine
oak staircase, which reminded me of the great staircase at St. Jean.]
_[The Stanton-Corbet Chronicles.]_
_[Year 1728]_
The Foster-Sisters.
A STORY OF
THE DAYS OF WESLEY AND WHITFIELD.
BY
_LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY_
_AUTHOR OF "LADY BETTY'S GOVERNESS," "LADY ROSAMOND'S BOOK,"_
_"THE CHEVALIER'S DAUGHTER," ETC._
"KINDRED TO SIX DEGREES, FOSTERSHIP TO A HUNDRED."
HIGHLAND PROVERB.
NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
JOHN F. SHAW & CO.
48 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. THE OLD CONVENT
II. EARLY RECOLLECTIONS
III. EARLY RECOLLECTIONS
IV. TROUBLES
V. THE BISHOP'S VISIT
VI. THE MIDNIGHT RAID
VII. A SUMMONS
VIII. FLIGHT FROM THE NEST
IX. LADY THROCKMORTON
X. MRS. DEBORAH
XI. THE INNOCENT BLOOD
XII. THE FUNERAL
XIII. NEWS AND CHANGES
XIV. NEWS
XV. THE SISTERS
XVI. HIGHBECK HALL
XVII. LIFE AT THE HALL
XVIII. WINTER
XIX. SURPRISES
XX. VISITORS
XXI. CHANGES AT HIGHBECK
XXII. NEWS FROM THE NORTH
XXIII. A HASTY REMOVAL
XXIV. "AN EARLY SNOW SAVES MUCKLE WOE"
XXV. THE DOCTOR FROM NEWCASTLE
XXVI. THE END
[Illustration]
_THE FOSTER-SISTERS._
CHAPTER I.
THE OLD CONVENT.
IF one thought anything of omens (which I do not in general, though
I confess I would rather not see the new moon through glass) I might
think it a bad one that my first distinct recollection is of a fall. It
happened in this wise: I was sitting on the edge of the great fountain
basin, eating a bit of spice cake, and watching some vernons—so they
call the little wild canaries in that part of the world—which were
flying in and out of the great ivy on the north wall, where I suppose
they had young ones. In my interest in the birds, I forgot that my
perch was both narrow and slippery. I leaned backward, the better to
obtain a view of the bird's nest, which I could but just see, and so
doing I lost my balance, and down I went into the water.
Luckily for me, there was help at hand, for the basin was deep and I
was small. Mother Prudentia was just coming for water, and pulled me
out before I had time to scream more than once. If I had seen her so
near, I should not have been sitting there, for the thing was strictly
forbidden. But she pulled me out and carried me to the dormitory, where
I was quickly undressed and well scolded at the same time, and popped
into bed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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