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Joyce Morrell's Harvest
The Annals of Selwick Hall

written by "Holt, Emily Sarah, 1836-1893"
...should be to no good. Once is enough for all. Selwick Hall, November ye last. Such a fright have I had this morrow, I may scantly hold my pen. I set forth for the copse where I do meet with my Protection, and had well-nigh reached it,—verily, I could discern him coming through the trees to meet me—when from Nanny’s hut, right upon us, who should come out save Father, and Mother, and Edith, their own selves. I cast but a glint to him that he should not note me, and walked on to meet them. “Why, Milly!” saith Mother. “I wist not thou wert coming this way, child.” “Under your pleasure, Mother, no more did I of you,” said I. “Why, Milly, do but look at yon gentleman!” saith Edith, as he passed by us, taking no note of us at all. “Is it not the same we met on Saint Hubert’s Isle?” “Is it so?” said I, making believe to look after him, the rather since it gave me an excuse to turn my back on them. “He bears a green jerkin,—otherwise—” Wherein I am very sure I said no falsity, as whatso Father might say. “I do think it is the same,” saith Edith. “Came he ever to speak with you, Father?” “Nay, my lass, I mind him not,” saith Father. “He is not ill-looking,” saith Mother. “May-be not,” quoth Father. “Thou art a better judge of such matters than I, dear heart. I only note the way a man’s soul looketh out of his eyes, not the colour of the eyes whence it looketh.” “Now, Father, under your good leave, that is not well said,” Edith makes answer: “for you have your own self the fairest eyes ever a man’s soul looked forth of.” Father laughs at this, and doffs his cap merrily. “Your very humble servant, Mistress Editha Louvaine,” quoth he: “when I do desire to send forth to the world a book of all my beauties, learning,...

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