The Green Bough

history. The world had taken him when he was twenty-three. He left Bridnorth, the mere speck upon the map it was and, with the wide affairs of life at his touch, the mere speck

they heard these infrequent accou

had would rise a haze of distance across which an untrained vision had power vaguely to transpor

best of it? He'll never co

time their father and mother di

e in the middle of the village through which the

n palings so that all who passed could see in the front windows, the unusually large garden at the back surrounded by a high b

re are. For it was not only the passers-by who looked in at the Throgmorton windows and could have told to a fraction of time when they had their meals, when Hannah was giving lessons to the children she taught, those hours that Fanny was

, reading, often writing their letters on blotting pads upon their laps, scarcely conscious that the little filtering stream of life in Bridnorth drew them there. For had they been questioned on the

were the movements of life, such as you see in a meadow stream and follow, dreaming in your mind, as they catch in the eddies and are whirled and twisted out

fe of its own. The old coach with its four horses, beating out the journey from Abbotscombe to King's Tracey, brought visitors from all parts; generally the same every year. For a few months they leased whatever

metimes they paid visits when the Summer was passed. They went out of Bridnorth themselves by the old coach, later returning, like pigeons homing, with the wind of the outside wor

tle available accommodation of that nature for any outsiders. They called Bridnorth theirs, and kept it to themselves. But every year, they had their di

afternoon the coach came rumbling up the hill past the Throgmortons' house

coach could be seen descending by twists and turns and serpentine progressions to the bottom of Bridnorth village, crossing the b

iron paling, the little cloud of dust or, in rainy weather, the black speck moving slowly like a fly crawli

t the gate in the iron palings might return casually into the house. But once they were out of sight of those on

ccupations, would look out with confessions of mild interest at the sound of the horses' hoofs on the ston

o that daily arrival as to find but little entertainment in the event. From their apparent indifference, he would never have believed that even their h