Welcome to Scribd, the world's digital library. Read, publish, and share books and documents. See more
Download
Standard view
Full view
of .
Save to My Library
Look up keyword or section
Like this
2Activity
P. 1
Robert Elsmere by Ward, Humphry, Mrs., 1851-1920

Robert Elsmere by Ward, Humphry, Mrs., 1851-1920

Ratings: (0)|Views: 11 |Likes:
Published by Gutenberg.org

More info:

Published by: Gutenberg.org on Mar 30, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

Availability:

Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as TXT, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
See more
See less

05/08/2014

pdf

text

original

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Elsmere, by Mrs. Humphry Ward
#2 in our series by Mrs. Humphry Ward

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission.

Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.

**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****

Title: Robert Elsmere
Author: Mrs. Humphry Ward
Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8737]

[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]

[This file was first posted on August 6, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT ELSMERE ***

Produced by Andrew Templeton
[Italics are indicated by underscores.]

[Transcriber's note: In one section, marked by **, two Greek letters, delta and epsilon, are transcribed as de. The allusion is to a poem by Browning -- 'A Grammarian's Funeral']

---------------------------------------------------------------------
Robert Elsmere
by
Mrs. Humphrey Ward
Author of "Miss Bretherton"

BOSTON:
DeWOLFE, FISKE & CO.,
365 Washington Street

Dedicated to the memory
Of
MY TWO FRIENDS
SEPARATED, IN MY THOUGHT OF THEM, BY MUCH DIVERSITY OF

CIRCUMSTANCE AND OPINION; LINKED, IN MY FAITH ABOUT
THEM, TO EACH OTHER, AND TO ALL THE SNINING
ONES OF THE PAST, BY THE LOVE OF GOD
AND THE SERVICE OF MAN:

THOMAS HILL GREEN
(LAYE PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD)
Died March 26, 1882
AND
LAURA OCTAVIA MARY LYTTELTON
Died Easter Eve, 1886
---------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK I.
WESTMORELAND.
CHAPTER I.

It was a brilliant afternoon toward the end of May. The spring had
been unusually cold and late, and it was evident from the general
aspect of the lonely Westmoreland valley of Long Whindale that
warmth and sunshine had only just penetrated to its bare, green
recesses, where the few scattered trees were fast rushing into their
full summer dress, while at their feet, and along the bank of the
stream, the flowers of March and April still lingered, as though

they found it impossible to believe that their rough brother, the
east wind, had at last deserted them. The narrow road, which was
the only link between the farm-houses sheltered by the crags at the
head of the valley, and those far away regions of town and civilization
suggested by the smoke wreaths of Whinborough on the southern
horizon, was lined with masses of the white heckberry or bird-cherry,
and ran, an arrowy line of white through the greenness of the sloping
pastures. The sides of some of the little books running down into
the main river and, many of the plantations round the farms were
gay with the same tree, so that the farm-houses, gray-roofed and
gray-walled, standing in the hollows of the fells, seemed here and
there to have been robbed of all their natural austerity of aspect,
and to be masquerading in a dainty garb of white and green imposed
upon them by the caprice of the spring.

During the greater part of its course the valley of Long Whindale
is tame and featureless. The hills at the lower part are low and
rounded, and the sheep and cattle pasture over slopes unbroken
either by wood or rock. The fields are bare and close shaven by the
flocks which feed on them; the walls run either perpendicularly in
many places up the fells or horizontally along them, so that, save
for the wooded course of the tumbling river and the bush-grown
hedges of the road, the whole valley looks like a green map divided
by regular lines of grayish black. But as the walker penetrates
further, beyond a certain bend which the stream makes half-way from
the head of the dale, the hills grow steeper, the breadth between
them contracts, the enclosure lines are broken and deflected by
rocks and patches of plantation, and the few farms stand more boldly
and conspicuously forward, each on its spur of land, looking up to
or away from the great masses of frowning crag which close in the
head of the valley, and which from the moment they come into sight
give it dignity and a wild beauty.

On one of these solitary houses, the afternoon sun, about to descend
before very long behind the hills dividing Long Whindale from
Shanmoor, was still lingering on this May afternoon we are describing,
bringing out the whitewashed porch and the broad bands of white
edging the windows, into relief against the gray stone of the main
fabric, the gray roof overhanging it, and the group of sycamores
and Scotch firs which protected it from the cold east and north.
The Western light struck full on a copper beech, which made a welcome
patch of warm color in front of a long gray line of outhouses
standing level with the house, and touched the heckberry blossom
which marked the upward course of the little lane connecting the
old farm with the road; above it rose the green fell, broken here
and there by jutting crags, and below it the ground sank rapidly
through a piece of young hazel plantation, at this present moment
a sheet of bluebells, toward the level of the river. There was a
dainty and yet sober brightness about the whole picture. Summer
in the North is for Nature a time of expansion and of joy as it is
elsewhere, but there is none of that opulence, that sudden splendor
and superabundance, which mark it in the South. In these bare green
valleys there is a sort of delicate austerity even in the summer;
the memory of winter seems to be still lingering about these
wind-swept fells, about the farm-houses, with their rough serviceable
walls, of the same stone as the crags behind them, and the ravines
in which the shrunken brooks trickle musically down through the
_d bris_ of innumerable Decembers. The country is blithe, but

\ufffd

Activity (2)

You've already reviewed this. Edit your review.
1 thousand reads
1 hundred reads

You're Reading a Free Preview

Download
/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->