Project Gutenberg's The Story of Bessie Costrell., by Mrs. Humphry Ward
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.net
Title: The Story of Bessie Costrell.
Author: Mrs. Humphry Ward
Release Date: April 27, 2004 [EBook #12181]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF BESSIE COSTRELL. ***
Produced by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, Carol David and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE WRITINGS OF
MRS HUMPHRY WARD
FENWICK'S CAREER
AND
THE STORY OF BESSIE COSTRELL
[Illustration: [[Latin inscription: TOVT BIEN OV BIEN]]]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
MDCCCCX
COPYRIGHT, 1895, 1905, 1906, BY MRS. HUMPHRY WARD
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
THE
STORY OF BESSIE COSTRELL
SCENE I
It was an August evening, still and cloudy after a day unusually chilly
for the time of year. Now, about sunset, the temperature was warmer than
it had been in the morning, and the departing sun was forcing its way
through the clouds, breaking up their level masses into delicate
latticework of golds and greys. The last radiant light was on the
wheat-fields under the hill, and on the long chalk hill itself. Against
that glowing background lay the village, already engulfed by the
advancing shadow. All the nearer trees, which the daylight had mingled
in one green monotony, stood out sharp and distinct, each in its own
plane, against the hill. Each natural object seemed to gain a new
accent, a more individual beauty, from the vanishing and yet lingering
sunlight.
An elderly labourer was walking along the road which led to the village.
To his right lay the allotment gardens just beginning to be alive with
figures, and the voices of men and children. Beyond them, far ahead,
rose the square tower of the church; to his left was the hill, and
straight in front of him the village, with its veils of smoke lightly
brushed over the trees, and its lines of cottages climbing the chalk
steeps behind it.
His eye as he walked took in a number of such facts as life had trained
it to notice. Once he stopped to bend over a fence, to pluck a stalk or
two of oats; he examined them car
|