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Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924

"The Shuttle"


Her pulse beat a little more hurriedly as the brougham entered Stornham
village. It was picturesque, but struck her as looking neglected. Many
of the cottages had an air of dilapidation. There were many broken
windows and unmended garden palings. A suggested lack of whitewash in
several cases was not cheerful.
"I know nothing of the duties of English landlords," she said, looking
through her carriage window, "but I should do it myself, if I were
Rosy."
She saw, as she was taken through the park gateway, that that structure
was out of order, and that damaged diamond panes peered out from under
the thickness of the ivy massing itself over the lodge.
"Ah!" was her thought, "it does not promise as it should. Happy people
do not let things fall to pieces."
Even winding avenue, and spreading sward, and gorse, and broom, and
bracken, enfolding all the earth beneath huge trees, were not fair
enough to remove a sudden remote fear which arose in her rapidly
reasoning mind. It suggested to her a point of view so new that, while
she was amazed at herself for not having contemplated it before, she
found herself wishing that the coachman would drive rather more slowly,
actually that she might have more time to reflect.


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