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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Amabel Channice, by Anne Douglas Sedgwick This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Amabel Channice Author: Anne Douglas Sedgwick Release Date: April 28, 2009 [EBook #28631] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMABEL CHANNICE *** Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Jennie Gottschalk and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Amabel Channice BY Anne Douglas Sedgwick AUTHOR OF "THE RESCUE," "PATHS OF JUDGEMENT," "A FOUNTAIN SEALED," ETC. NEW YORK The Century Co. 1908 Copyright, 1908, by THE CENTURY CO. _Published October, 1908_ THE DE VINNE PRESS AMABEL CHANNICE I Lady Channice was waiting for her son to come in from the garden. The afternoon was growing late, but she had not sat down to the table, though tea was ready and the kettle sent out a narrow banner of steam. Walking up and down the long room she paused now and then to look at the bowls and vases of roses placed about it, now and then to look out of the windows, and finally at the last window she stopped to watch Augustine advancing over the lawn towards the house. It was a grey stone house, low and solid, its bareness unalleviated by any grace of ornament or structure, and its two long rows of windows gazed out resignedly at a tame prospect. The stretch of lawn sloped to a sunken stone wall; beyond the wall a stream ran sluggishly in a ditch-like channel; on the left the grounds were shut in by a sycamore wood, and beyond were flat meadows crossed in the distance by lines of tree-bordered roads. It was a peaceful, if not a cheering prospect. Lady Channice was fond of it. Cheerfulness was not a thing she looked for; but she looked for peace, and it was peace she found in the flat green distance, the far, reticent ripple of hill on the horizon, the dark forms of the sycamores. Her only regret for the view was that it should miss the sunrise and sunset; in the evenings, beyond the silhouetted woods, one saw the golden sky; but the house faced north, and it w
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