The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen AnneJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
"I will give you so large a dose of mountain air," said Mrs. Hazleton,
"that it shall insure you a better night's rest than any narcotic
could procure, Emily. We will go and visit Ellendon Castle, far in the
wilds, some sixteen miles hence."
Emily was well pleased with the prospect, and they set out together,
both apparently equally prepared to enjoy every thing they met with.
The drive was a long one in point of time, for not only were the
carriages more cumbrous and heavy in those days, but the road
continued ascending nearly the whole way. Sometimes, indeed, a short
run down into a gentle valley released the horses from the continual
tug on the collar, but it was very brief, and the ascent commenced
almost immediately. Beautiful views over the scenery round presented
themselves at every turn; and Emily, who had all the spirit of a
painter in her heart, looked forth from the window enchanted.
Mrs. Hazleton marked her enjoyment with great satisfaction; for either
by study or intuition she had a deep knowledge of the springs and
sources of human emotions, and she knew well that one enthusiasm
always disposes to another. Nay, more, she knew that whatever is
associated in the mind with pleasant scenes is usually pleasing, and
she had plotted the meeting between Emily and him she intended to be
her lover with considerable pains to produce that effect. Nature
seemed to have been a sharer in her schemes. The day could not have
been better chosen. There was the light fresh air, the few floating
clouds, the merry dancing gleams upon hill and dale, a light,
momentary shower of large, jewel-like drops, the fragment of a broken
rainbow painting the distant verge of heaven.
At length the summit of the hills was reached; and Mrs. Hazleton told
her sweet companion to look out there, ordering the carriage at the
same time to stop. It was indeed a scene well worthy of the gaze. Far
spreading out beneath the eye lay a wide basin in the hills, walled
in, as it were, by those tall summits, here and there broken by a
crag. The ground sloped gently down from the spot at which the
carriage paused, so that the whole expanse was open to the eye, and
over the short brown herbage, through which a purple gleam from the
yet unblossomed heath shone out, the lights and shades seemed sporting
in mad glee. All was indeed solitary, uncultivated, and even barren,
except where, in the very centre of the wide hollow, appeared a number
of trees, not grouped together in a wood, but scattered over a
considerable space of ground, as if the remnants of some old
deer-park, and over their tall tops rose up the ruined keep of some
ancient stronghold of races passed away, with here and there another
tower or pinnacle appearing, and long lines of grassy mounds, greener
than the rest of the landscape, glancing between the stems of the
older trees, or bearing up in picturesque confusion their own growth
of wild, fantastic, seedling ashes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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