Julia And Her Romeo: A Chronicle Of Castle Barfield / From Schwartz" by David Christie Murray"

Perry Hall, a ripe-coloured old tenement of Elizabethan design, which crowned a gentle eminence and looked out picturesquely on all sides from amongst its neighbouring trees. It had a st

ong low building was of a darkish stone, and had been altered and added to so often that it had at last arrived at a complex ugliness which was not altogether displeasing. The materials for its structure had all

et as great a distance as he could between his neighbour and himself. And as a matter of fact the Reddys and the Mountains were a sort of Capulets and Montagues, and had hated each other for generations. Samson and Abel kept up the ancient grudge in all its ancient force. They were of the same age within a week or two

d vent, but no pretty young woman ever looked or sounded foolish to the eyes or ears of her lovers. Mountain and Eeddy were among her solicitors. She liked them both, and had not quite made up her mind as to which, if either of them, she would choose, when suddenly the knowledge of the other's occasional presence in her sitting-room made the house odious to each, and they surrendered the chase almost at the same hour. Miss Jenny satisfied herself with a cousin of her own, married without changing her name, had children, was passa

un hung low in the western sky, lustreless as a wafer, but ruddy. The fields were powdered with thin snow, and the earth was black by contrast

g countenance, carefully and even daintily dressed, and holding up his head as if he were a lord of the soil and knew it. The boy and the labourer were talking, and on the frosty silence of the fields the clear treble of the boy's speech rang out cl

hink it's very w

poke with the Barfield drawl, and his features, which were stiffen

companion, 'maybe, Master Richard, it mi

Mountain when I'm a

urlier still, and throwing up his head with a listening air, and hold

thy mind, Master Rich

mind, Ichabod?' asked th

niver have it said as thee wast

ht us, and we were going to stop, but he made us go on, and he saw fair. Then he made us shake hands after. Joe Mountain wouldn't say he

is the squire. And there's no sort or kind o' sport

se we'd be friends,' said Master

,' said Ichabod. The two were almost at the bridge

the boy asked. 'What

' the country i' my grandfeyther's daysen-it amounts to this. Look here! 'He and the boy arrested their steps on the bridge, and Ichabod pointed

chard. 'He was Lord Protector of

t day-he was thy grandfeyther's grand-feyther as like as not-maybe he was his grandfeyther for aught as I can tell, for it's a deadly-dreadful heap o' time long past-the Reddy o' that day went to the wars, and

man with the gun had hitherto been concealed by the hedge beside which he had knelt to fasten his gaiter, and neither of the t

s rapped out sharp and clear. Master Richard and Ichabod turned with

s nose with a cold forefinger and grinned. Master Richard looked from one to the other with a frank and fearless interest and inqu

ng, scandal-mongering old liar! Wha

esponded Ichabod, his frosty features still creased with a

u're going to stuff that young monkey with

for his gun, threw it over his arm, and stared at Ichabod and his young companion with eyes of hatred and disdain. Then, having somewhat relieved his fe

an expression which belied these words of humility; 'but I put it to thee, Master Richard. Dost think that old

en he and the boy were at some distance from the surly

he brook, Ichabod?'

bring in four-score acres o' land as ud niver have been his by right. The Reddy o' that day died in the wars, and his widder could mek no head again

didn't do it,' s

What's bred i' the bone will come out i' the flesh. Afore thee makest

sing into silence,

'is a boy bound to be bad

to be worsted in argument for want of

s over a little while longer

bad grandfather had a go

this-the Mountains of Mountain Farm were hateful and contemptible. He had imbibed the belief with his mot

uarrel their own. There was a feudal spirit in the matter, and half the fights of this outlying district of the parish were provoked by that ancient history of the brook. At thi

ell, Ichabod?' Master Richard. asked, a

re,' said

, 'because Cromwell won, and everybody who was on his side had thei

intellect was not constructed for t

Richard,' he answered; 'he'll

ages in pursuit. The youthful savages had each an armful of snowballs, and they were pelting the child with more animus than seemed befitting. The very tightness with which the balls were pressed seemed to say that they were bent less on sport than mischief, and they came whooping and dancing round the corner with such rejoicing cruelty as only boys or uncivilised men can feel. The little girl was sobbing, half in distress, and half because of the haste she had made, and Master Richard's j

who skilfully evaded him and ran. The little maiden stood and trembled with clasped hands as she looked upon the fray. Ichabod lifted hi

ster Richard,' said Ichabod. 'Tek it

e-gray eyes still glistening and hands still clenched in the ardour of battle, turned upon the little girl, who was some two years younger than himself At the sight of her he turned shy and blushed, and the little girl turned shy and

her with disfavour. She looked shyly at him, but did not

said the child, in

me along, Master Richard, or else we

he shoulder drawn up a little, as if to shelter her, and looked after him. This exchange went on until Ichabod and the boy had turned the corner of the lane,

chabod, 'and then thee'dst do a heap better. I'm rusty n

r the small adventure of the last five minutes, and at the end of every mental history he traced,