Wives and Widows; or, The Broken LifeStephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
General
Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life
Stephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
Fiction
This had been done by Mr. Lee's orders. He had drawn the plans, and his
architect had carried them out splendidly. Our first view of the house
was accompanied with exclamations of pleasure which delighted Mr. Lee,
who had kept all his improvements a secret, that he might enjoy our
surprise. Indeed, the site of the house was so finely uplifted from the
valley, that the effect was that of many lordly mansions we had seen on
the Continent, though I do not remember one more picturesque in itself,
or that could command a landscape to compare with this in extent or
varied beauty.
It was a lovely June day when we reached the Ridge; everything had been
prepared for our reception. In the years of our absence nothing had been
permitted to go to decay, but many improvements presented themselves as
we turned up the carriage-road. A young peach-orchard had grown into
bearing trees; grape trellices were tangled thickly with vines; choice
fruit-trees of every kind had just lost their blossoms. A range of
hot-houses glittered through the trees. All this made the Ridge more
beautiful by far than it had been years before when it seemed a paradise
to me. On entering the house, we were still more pleasantly surprised.
Everything rich and rare that a long residence abroad had enabled Mr.
Lee to collect, was arranged through the rooms,--bronzes, statuettes of
marble, old china carvings, pictures, ornaments of malachite, and Lapes
lazula, met us on every hand. All this might have seemed out of place in
a country house of almost any ordinary description, where the occupant
was likely to spend half the year in town; but Mr. Lee had fitted up
this place as his principal and permanent residence. The health of his
wife demanded quiet; her tastes required beautiful objects, and all
these rare articles had been carefully selected for her pleasure. Here
she found many a precious gem of art which she had seen in her travels,
admired, but never thought to possess. But he had remembered her
faintest preference, and the proofs of his unbounded devotion met her at
every turn, as we entered, what was, in fact, the blending of an old and
new home.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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