Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Of course you could," said Ellen sourly; and explained, "When I
couldn't see the works I made up a sort of story for myself, about the
works being new ones, and the firm not being able to get them finished
in time for Richard to start work, so that we had him hanging about the
house all to ourselves. That was silly. Of course. But I am silly about
him. I suppose I will soon get over it."
"I will hate you if you do," answered Marion, "for I never have."
The island and its creek fell away to the south. The train ran now
across the marshes, flat and green, chequered with dykes, confined to
the right by the steep brim of a sea-wall. To the left a line of little
hills gained height. They fell back in an amphitheatre, and a farmhouse
turned to the sun a garden more austere with the salt air than farmhouse
gardens commonly are, and behind it, in the shelter of the curved green
escarpment, some tall trees stood among the pastures. The hills rose
again to an overhanging steepness and broke down to a gap full of the
purples of bare woods, before which stood the cathedralesque ruins of a
brick-kiln, with its tall tower and apse-like ovens, on a green platform
of levelled ground scored with the red of rusted trolley-lines. The hill
grew higher and stood sheer like a turfed cliff, and was surmounted by
four tall towers of grey stone. It would have been impressive if the
fall of the cliff had not been disfigured by a large shed of pink
corrugated iron with "Hallelujah Army" painted on its roof, which was
built on a shelf where some hawthorn trees and bramble bushes found a
footing.
Then for a time, after an oblique valley had cleft the range, an
elm-hedge ran along the crest, till there looked down a grey church with
a squinting spire and grey-black yews set about it, and something white
like a monument standing up on a mound beside it. Woods appeared and
receded, leaving the hilltop bare, and returned; there was a broken
hedge of hawthorn; a downward line of trees scored the gentler slope of
the escarpment, and from a square red brick house on the skyline there
fell an orchard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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