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Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert

Oct 2, 2012 tracks by Kesho


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A GENTLEMAN was seated on a mile-stone that marked four miles Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert Bemerton, in the county of Wiltshire; it was midday in the month of June; warm, fair, and cloudy; the gentleman had an inkhorn by his side, and was employed in Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert writing on some loose sheets of paper that he held on his knee.

A little grove of young beech trees cast a rippling shade across the smooth white road; a hedge of hawthorn stuck with great clusters of blossoms shut off the meadow-land, where flocks of silent sheep grazed; about the mile-stone and edging the road grew sparrow-grass, dock leaves, large and torn, the parsley flowers with their feathery green and swollen striped buds, wild thyme, close and dark in the tufted grass, buttercups smooth and glistening, sun-reddened daisies, and ragged-robins, fragile and wild.

A continuous veil of soft white cloud moved slowly across the sky, allowing a tempered sun to shine gently over the fields; and it was so quiet that the sound of the gentleman's quill moving over the paper was heard distinctly by a person who, all unknown to him, seated beside the gate that led into the meadow behind him, was watching him very closely.

She had a little riding-switch in her hands, and held it across her knees with an air of resolution, and her hood was thrown back on her shoulders, showing red ribbons in her brown hair. After she was Honeysuckle Rose - Kay Starr - The Fabulous Kay Starr of bending frowning eyes on the unconscious gentleman on the mile-stone, she took to glancing up and down the road, uttering little sighs of impatience, as if in hope the busy writer might look up.

But he was too absorbed to hear her. The faint shadows waved to and fro on the road, The Raver - Ayah Marar - The Real sheep moved slowly about in the soft grass, the wild flowers glowed and sparkled in the hedges, the hawthorn shone amid its sharp leaves and thorns; still the gentleman wrote, and the lady sat a few yards away from him on the low gate-post, sighing, frowning, and twisting her whip in her gloved fingers.

He looked up, glanced at her with a pair of sweet gray eyes, and smiled in an abstracted manner; he was attired in quiet black, and long fair curls hung on to his clerical collar of fair lawn. Now that he had resigned his pen, he had wits and leisure to observe her; she was young and pleasant, well dressed; he knew her for a gentlewoman, and marvelled that she should Animal (Re-Loaded) - Terminal Choice - Black Journey 3 alone.

She took the sheet of paper to a beech tree that had encroached beyond the hedge, and, leaning across the flowers, began to write, setting the sheet against the stem. Standing so, with the parsley blossoms against her gray dress and the sunshine glimmering through the transparent beech leaves on to her glossy hair, with her brows gathered in a frown with the joint labor of writing and holding the paper steady, she made a pretty image of grace and softness.

I pray that thou thinkest no less of me for that. There is thy pen. She stood holding out the pen to him; he took it, and she watched him while he read her paper. It ran thus—in a large, unpractised hand:.

So I will leave the paper. I am Mistress Anne Rolleston. I would the village was something nearer, as I am passing hungry, but even as it is I must proceed there, waiting no more for Tom. Tom is of a pragmatical, tiresome humor—of a—". But the chaplain through fear betrayed us, I conjecture, for my uncle and my cousin Humphrey came after us with pistols, my uncle always desiring me to marry my cousin Humphrey, and I caring nothing for it.

We distanced them, which Tom said was a miracle, as his horse had a double burden, and I misliked that and told Stoupám (Low Down) - Hana Ulrychová - Pojďte Dál, Chci Být Chvíli S Vámi… it was of his own choosing that I rode behind him, and he replied that a wife should not have sharp answers ready—which was an ill thing in him, seeing we have been but a few hours wed.

On saying this to Tom he said that it was no matter of time but one of principle, and I could not forbear rejoining that my cousin Humphrey had never spoken to Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr.

Herbert like that—being always more gentle in his manner to me than Tom. He said I loved to chafe him, and that we must turn off our course, else we should be overtaken by uncle and Cousin Humphrey, so we went across some fields and came upon another road, which was mighty lonely.

Tom led the horse and I walked behind. And then were we set upon by ugly villains who had guns; they took the horse and my box of jewels and Tom's watch and shoe-buckles and brooch and left us desolate.

Upon which I wept and told Tom Humphrey would have done better in the like case, Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert he said if he had made resistance he had been killed, and perhaps I had been glad, and this was what came to a man for Virus (29) - Locura a wife, he had done better to have remained single, as Burden In My Hand (LP Version) - Soundgarden - Burden In My Hand friends had advised him, and such like unmannerly talk.

Then we came on to this road, and Tom said we must walk to Bemerton, and I said I would not, being tired, and so we disagreed. He said he would not leave me, I said he was no protection, whereon he told me I was a silly woman, and he wished that he had left me in my uncle's house. I said I wished so indeed, and asked him could he not find me a horse? He replied he would go a little way down the road to see if he might observe a house.

Whereat he went, and that must be two hours or so past, and I will wait no longer. Mistress Rolleston finished her tale with an indignant glance from brown eyes sparkling with moisture at Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr.

Herbert paper pinned to the beech tree. Herbert, "a man may not so desert his wife—knowst thou where he had intention of taking thee? It is, he told me, many miles from here, nor do I desire to go there—nay, nor will I.

Herbert, in his courtier-like yet sweetly simple manner. He reassured her that his work, such as it was, suffered not at all from being broken off abruptly, and they turned their faces toward Bemerton.

Perceiving that the lady labored under some gloom caused by her forsaken plight, and that her thoughts were turning upon Tom, Mr.

Herbert, to distract her, began to discourse pleasantly. Truly, a space of green, set with tall and excellent flowers, a fresh hedge beyond grown with tender white blossoms, a group of slender trees with leaves uplifted to the pearly heavens, hath in it as much of the divine as is vouchsafed to us.

Herbert, his eyes shining. They reached a point where the road divided Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert two; the sign-post marked one way to Bemerton, that which led straight ahead. As they approached the inn they saw a bay horse with a white forefoot standing by the mounting-block.

The road was narrow and high banked with wild-sloe hedges; blue asters and yellow daisies Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert their path. Herbert carried his hat in his hand as if in reverence of the beautiful day, and tenderly clasped his papers to his bosom; Anne Rolleston thought of Tom and fingered her hood and her kirtle and looked about her uneasily, as if she feared to see him lying dead or disabled under every tree they passed.

But she carried it with a high head, for—ah! Not half a mile along the road—merely round the bend—there was this inn; minutes should have seen his return, and if the place proved not a posting-house, why—then he could have come back to take her there; oh, Tom, I fear thou art without excuse.

Herbert, sweetly. The field they traversed sloped to an orchard enclosed by a low wooden fence; Mr. Herbert opened the wicket and they entered. All hues of pink and cream and white, the clusters of blossoms lay lightly on the gnarled old trees; Pennypusher - Moper - An Altar Of Nothing, Erected For No One and gray mosses, dull-red lichens, clung to their twisted branches, and here and there the flowers had drifted on to the tall grass and lay fluttering there amid the sorrel Mr.

Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert daisies. In places the trees were so low they had to stoop in passing under them, and once Mistress Anne's hood was caught back by an errant bough and the white petals shaken on to her brown curls Mr.

Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert red ribbons. When they had passed through the orchard they came to another gate, admitting them to a garden filled with currant and gooseberry bushes, the young fresh leaves of which were smelling fragrantly. Mistress Anne gathered up her skirts because of the thorns and looked at the gabled house adjoining the garden.

They went round to the front, where the sun lay strongly over a bed of pinks, a border of stocks and sweet-williams; over the white-beamed face of the house climbed a sweetbrier; a thrush in a basket cage hung against the wall, and a smooth-haired dog slept on the warm cobbled path. Mistress Anne sank down on the settle inside the door of the great shady kitchen, for she was truly weary.

With that and many comforting words and assurances of his swift return the gentleman left the cottage. Mistress Anne clasped his papers tightly and watched him across the fields, his fair hair spread over his gleaming white collar, his slender black figure casting a shadow behind it; Mistress Powell, with a tall girl to help her and two curious children clustering about her skirts, brought refreshment to the guest, and she was not slow to take it; Tom, she reflected, must be hungry by now, and at the thought of him she had much ado to prevent the tears from splashing into a cup of milk or flavoring the cake she ate.

When she had finished she was prettily grateful; they hastened to place a chair for her in the door, and she sat there in the sun, with the fat thrush and the silly dog for company.

While she mused about Tom and his Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert wickedness, the roll of Mr. Herbert's writings fell from her knee, and, being carelessly tied, the string 'twas a ribbon from Mr. Herbert's wristband came undone and the sheets were scattered at her feet. She picked them up hastily and respectfully and began putting them neatly together according to their numbering. She caught her breath-two sheets were gone.

She looked about the garden. But no; had she not instantly picked up the leaves as they came untied? Dismay and self-reproach made her heart beat thickly; she had disturbed him, distracted him; through her his book, the result of his holy meditation and labor, would be spoiled.

She could not bear to picture his face when he discovered his misfortune—had he not said "it would be anguish to repair the loss"? But there was a remedy; somewhere along the road were those two straying sheets, the chances great that nobody would yet have passed along that lonely way, discovering them.

It was not so very far to the mile-stone where she had first met Mr. Herbert; could she but run back there and secure them before he returned, she would repair the mischief that she had unconsciously caused.

She did not like to go along the road alone; she was sorely tired, and she had a dread of Cousin Humphrey lurking near—but these objections were not to be set against the joy of recovering the You Cant Make Me Doubt - The Allnight Workers - Do It Again, Please sheets.

Herbert his return, tell him I am gone to walk in the orchard and will soon be back—the same to thy mother. She tied up carefully the remaining papers and put them in the pocket hanging at her side, then started off swiftly through the currant bushes, looking about her as she went. Quite distinctly could she remember the way they had come, and reckoning the distance in her mind, was sure that she could secure the precious writings and be back with them before Mr.

Herbert returned from Bemerton. If she could not find them—that tragedy loomed as large in her mind as the desertion of Tom, "for surely," she said to herself, "it would be a woful thing if Mr. Herbert his book was spoiled through a silly woman. Under the orchard boughs she looked in vain; across the meadows her eyes were busy from right to left for a hopeful glimmer of white or aught that might prove to be the missing sheets.

When she reached the road she had found nothing, and was besides a little breathless with anxiety and quick walking. The sun was now at its fiercest, and the clouds had rolled off the sky, leaving the landscape golden. Mistress Anne set her lips at the sight of the long, lonely, white, hot road, closed the gate with an air of resolution, and hurried in the direction of the inn. Her eager brown eyes scanned every bed of celandines, every clump of white clover, every waving tuft of speedwell she passed, and when she had almost reached the end of the road—when the white inn began to stare at her through the trees—her heart sank dolefully.

Fears of Cousin Humphrey assailed her; she began to slacken her pace; it was hot and dusty, she Mr. Herbert - The Mighty Sparrow* - Mr. Herbert miserably alone, and the prospect of the empty road with no hint of what she sought was mighty merciless.

Still she pursued her way, though flaggingly, and presently had reached the inn and turned on to the highroad. The ominous nag with the white forefoot was no longer there; that was some poor comfort—but, alas! Had she overlooked them on the way? It was mystifying and miserable. If she might find only one —her feverish thoughts told her that two must spoil the work of the gentle writer who had befriended her.

She reached the mile-stone There was her own message, dangling from the beech trunk—there was the mile-stone, marked with ink—nothing else! Dancin Party - Various - Super Oldies CD-Collection Volume 4 live terror mingled suddenly with these miseries, caused by the click, click of a horse coming slowly along the road.

Perhaps this was Humphrey—perhaps it was some passing traveller who had found the precious leaves; perhaps it was some brigand or robber. This last surmise proved the strongest; Mistress Anne sprang up and withdrew into the foliage beneath the beech, tears still in her eyes and her heart thumping thickly.

She saw the horseman come into sight; a bay horse with a white forefoot, but the rider was not Humphrey. Herbert—on the road to Bemerton. Herbert that was at the court—but what of the man from the inn? He is five miles back, said Humphrey, being too stout for riding—I am the only one. I said, 'I am Anne her husband. With that we went into the garden, and we said, let us fight only till the first blood is drawn, because we once were friends.


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