ble flight of
steps to the principal entrance, over which was an equestrian
alto-relievo of Charles the Second. The flat roofs were surrounded by
balustrades, and the spaces between the long terrace of windows were
filled up with architraves and entablatures, which produced a rich and
picturesque though somewhat heavy effect. On one side the view ranged
over the town, with its fine churches, and the distant sweeps of
Sherwood Forest, and the nearer woods of Colwick Park. On the other
side lay a rich and varied expanse of country, with the silvery Trent
winding through the valley, and round many a bold and thickly wooded
promontory; while the hills of Derbyshire and Leicestershire formed a
beautiful background to the peaceful and smiling landscape.
Kate and Polly Deane, with Alethea Harwood, after taking a turn or two,
sat down on one of the stone benches on the terrace. This was the first
moment that they had had the opportunity of speaking together on the
subject of Jack's determination to leave home, though neither Alethea
nor Kate could believe he really purposed following the calling of a
drover. Polly, who knew him better, was not so sure on the subject. He
had often described to her in glowing language the life which he
proposed to lead, and she could not help sympathising with him in that
as in most other matters in which he took an interest.
"But surely he is formed for better things than that," observed Alethea,
and Polly thought she saw a slight blush rise on the cheek of her
friend.
"He would never consent to associate with the rude, rough men which
drovers surely must be, even though he might meet occasionally with the
adventures you describe," she exclaimed.
"Oh! but he intends not only to be a drover, but a grazier; and that, he
tells me, is a sure road to wealth and independence," observed Polly.
"Here he comes to answer for himself," said Kate, and the young ladies,
looking up, saw Jack advancing towards them, and presenting a very
becoming appearance in his grey suit, with his hair brushed as smoothly
back from his smooth open forehead as its curly nature would admit of,
and his hat in his hand, a fashion he gladly adopted, to avoid the
necessity of constantly removing it as he passed his numerous
acquaintances.
Polly's affectionate little heart bounded at seeing many friendly
glances thrown at him, and she whispered to Kate, in a tone which
Alethea overheard, "He does not look as if
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