FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95   96   97   98   99   100  
101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   >>   >|  
othing more than a sign of his own inward dreariness to read the Tables of Kindred and Affinity or speculate upon the Paschal full moons from the year 2200 to the year 2299 inclusive. But St. Margaret's, Meade Cantorum, was a different church from St. Jude's, Slowbridge, and for Esther Ogilvie to ignore the joyfulness of worshipping there in order to ponder idly the complexities of Golden Numbers and Dominical Letters could not be ascribed to inward dreariness. Besides, she wasn't dreary. Once Mark saw her coming down a woodland glade and almost turned aside to avoid meeting her, because she looked so fay with her wild blue eyes and her windblown hair, the colour of last year's bracken after rain. She seemed at once the pursued and the pursuer, and Mark felt that whichever she was he would be in the way. "Taking a quick walk by myself," she called out to him as they passed. No, she was certainly not dreary. But what was she? Mark abandoned the problem of Esther in the pleasure of meeting the Reverend Oliver Dorward, who arrived one afternoon at the Vicarage with a large turbot for Mrs. Ogilvie, and six Flemish candlesticks for the Vicar, announcing that he wanted to stay a week before being inducted to the living of Green Lanes in the County of Southampton, to which he had recently been presented by Lord Chatsea. Mark liked him from the first moment he saw him pacing the Vicarage garden in a soutane, buckled shoes, and beaver hat, and he could not understand why Mr. Ogilvie, who had often laughed about Dorward's eccentricity, should now that he had an opportunity of enjoying it once more be so cross about his friend's arrival and so ready to hand him over to Mark to be entertained. "Just like Ogilvie," said Dorward confidentially, when he and Mark went for a walk on the afternoon of his arrival. "He wants spiking up. They get very slack and selfish, these country clergy. Time he gave up Meade Cantorum. He's been here nearly ten years. Too long, nine years too long. Hasn't been to his duties since Easter. Scandalous, you know. I asked him, as soon as I'd explained to the cook about the turbot, when he went last, and he was bored. Nice old pussy cat, the mother. Hullo, is that the _Angelus_? Damn, I knelt on a thistle." "It isn't the _Angelus_," said Mark quietly. "It's the bell on that cow." But Mr. Dorward had finished his devotion before he answered. "I was half way through before you told me. You should h
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95   96   97   98   99   100  
101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

Dorward

 

Ogilvie

 

arrival

 

dreary

 

afternoon

 

meeting

 
Esther
 

Vicarage

 
Angelus
 
dreariness

turbot

 
Cantorum
 
entertained
 

confidentially

 
eccentricity
 

garden

 
pacing
 

soutane

 
buckled
 

moment


presented

 
Chatsea
 

beaver

 

enjoying

 

opportunity

 

friend

 

understand

 

laughed

 

thistle

 

mother


quietly

 

answered

 

finished

 
devotion
 
explained
 

country

 

clergy

 

selfish

 

spiking

 

Scandalous


Easter

 

duties

 
arrived
 

Dominical

 
Numbers
 
Letters
 

ascribed

 
Besides
 
Golden
 

complexities