Deeply shocked and annoyed was Madam Tutterville.
“I think,” said the parson, “that I will take an hour’s rest in the garden. I would, my dear Sophia, you had as soothing an acquaintance, on such an occasion as Ovid.”
CHAPTER IV
A SHOCK AND A REVELATION
Into these sacred shades (quoth she)
How dar’st thou be so bold
To enter, consecrate to me,
Or touch this hallowed mould?
—Michael Drayton (Quest of Cynthia).
Ellinor sat on the stone bench in the Herb-Garden, gazing disconsolately at the flourishing bed of Euphrosinum—at the Star-of-Comfort—and reviewing the events of the past days with a heavy and discomforted heart.
It is but seldom now that she could find a few minutes of solitude, so many were the claims upon her time. For, besides the household duties and Master Simon’s unconscious tyranny, she was subjected to a kind of persecution of admiration on the part of Bindon’s male guests. There were times, indeed, when Colonel Harcourt’s shadowing attendance became so embarrassing that she was glad to turn to the protection which the boyish worship of Luke Herrick afforded.