Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
I do not know whether there is really any change in the
climate, or whether it is only the change of one’s own season from
Spring to Autumn which gives an air of change even to the weather; but I
do not think there are so many bright, crisp, clear frosts as there used
to be. Nor, perhaps, is it much to be regretted that the intense
cold--which may be as champagne to the healthy and comfortable, but is
death to the sick, and misery to the poor--should be less common than
formerly. It was, however, a brilliant frosty day at the Water Beeches,
and a large party had come over to enjoy the pond. The sun was shining
red through the leafless trees, and such of them as had not encountered
his direct influence were still encased in fairy garments of rime,
feathery and white to the furthest twig. The wet grass was brilliantly
green, and lighted up in the sun’s way sparkling water-diamonds, though
in the shade it was too crisp and white with frost, and crackled under
your feet. On the broad path at one end of the pond two or three older
people, who did not skate, were walking briskly up and down, stamping
their feet to keep them warm, and hurrying now and then in pairs to the
house, which was just visible through the trees, to get warmed by the
fire. But on the ice no one was cold. The girls, with their red
petticoats and red feathers, and pretty faces flushed with the exercise,
were, some of them, gliding about independently with their hands in
their muffs, some of them being conducted about by their attendants,
some dashing along in chairs wheeled by a chivalrous skater. They had
just come out again, after a merry luncheon, stimulated by the best
fare Everard’s housekeeper could furnish, and by Everard’s best
champagne; and as the afternoon was now so short, and the sun sinking
low, the gay little crowd was doing all it could to get an hour’s
pleasure out of half-an-hour’s time, and the scene was one of perpetual
movement, constant varying and intermingling of the bright-colored
groups, and a pleasant sound of talk and laughter which rang through the
clear air and the leafless trees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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