But the queen of beauty must be excused, my dear, and she is a queen, our Rachel.

We cannot help the moths getting round the candle, can we ?" After this I curtsied, and made my escape as quickly as possible.

"Poor young Hollingford! Oh, John, John! why have you brought yourself so low as this ?" I cried across the wood to the farm chimneys.
My children, there is a rambling old garden at the back of the hall, a spot which the sun never leaves.

Wild tangles of shadow fall now as then on the paths, from the gnarled branches of moss-eaten apple-trees.

In the season of fruit, blushing peaches and plums, yellow and transparent as honey, hung from its ancient lichen-covered walls.