Rest Harrow A Comedy of Resolution By: Maurice Henry Hewlett (1861-1923)
First Page: REST HARROW A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION BY MAURICE HEWLETT "Rest Harrow grows in any soil.... The seeds may be sown as soon as ripe in warm, sheltered spots out of doors.... It is a British plant." WEATHERS WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK CRAIG THI KANNICTHI CONTENTS BOOK I OF THE NATURE OF A PROLOGUE, DEALING WITH A BRUISED PHILOSOPHER IN RETIREMENT BOOK II SANCHIA AT WANLESS HALL BOOK III INTERLUDE OF THE RECLUSE PHILOSOPHER BOOK IV SANCHIA IN LONDON BOOK V OF THE NATURE OF AN EPILOGUE, DEALING WITH DESPOINA ILLUSTRATIONS Wrote deliberately to each of her sisters The hum of cities, and buzz of dinner tables . . sound in his ears not at all. The housekeeper! This person! He had eloquence, he thought, as he watched her, he had won. But he was anxious. She was such a deep one. Ploughman in the vales would sometimes see his gaunt figure on the sky line. "Well, Sanchia," he said, "here I am." The great music went sobbing and chiding through her frame, like wounded nightingales. Senhouse came back to her bedside and put a little flower into her hand [Illustration: Wrote deliberately to each of her sisters.] BOOK I OF THE NATURE OF A PROLOGUE, DEALING WITH A BRUISED PHILOSOPHER IN RETIREMENT I An observant traveller, homing to England by the Ostend Dover packet in the April of some five years ago, relished the vagaries of a curious couple who arrived by a later train, and proved to be both of his acquaintance. He had happened to be early abroad, and saw them come on. They were a lady of some personal attraction, comfortably furred, who, descending from a first class carriage, was met by a man from a third class, bare headed, free in the neck, loosely clad in grey flannel trousers which flapped about his thin legs in the sea breeze, a white sweater with a rolling collar, and a pair of sandals upon brown and sinewy feet uncovered by socks: these two. The man's garniture was extraordinary, but himself no less so. He had a lean and deeply bronzed face, hatchet shaped like a Hindoo's. You looked instinctively for rings in his ears. His moustache was black and sinuous, outlining his mouth rather than hiding it. His hair, densely black, was longish and perfectly straight. His eyes were far sighted and unblinking; he smiled always, but furtively, as if the world at large amused him, but must never know it. He seemed to observe everything, except the fact that everybody observed himself. To have once seen such a man must have provided for his recollection; and yet our traveller, who was young and debonnaire, though not so young as he seemed, first recognised the lady. "Mrs. Germain, by George!" This to himself, but aloud, "Now, where's she been all this time?" The frown which began to settle about his discerning eyes speedily dissolved in wonder as they encountered the strange creature in the lady's company. He stared, he gaped, then slapped his thigh. "Jack Senhouse! That's the man. God of battles, what a start! Now, what on earth is Jack Senhouse doing, playing courier to Mrs. Germain?" That was precisely the employment. His man had handed the lady out of her compartment, entered it when she left it, and was possessing himself of her littered vestiges while these speculations were afloat. Dressing case, tea basket, umbrellas, rugs, and what not, he filled his arms with them, handed them over to expectant porters, then smilingly showed their proprietress the carriage ridded. He led the way to the steamer, deposited his burdens and saw to the bestowal of others, fetched a chair, wrapped her in rugs, found her book, indicated her whereabouts to a mariner in case of need. All this leisurely done, in the way of a man who has privilege and duty for his warrants. Enquiring then, with an engaging lift of the eyebrows, whether she was perfectly comfortable, and receiving with a pleasant nod her answering nod of thanks, he left her and returned to the train. Tracked through the crowd, and easily by his height, bare head, and leisurely motions, he was next seen shouldering a canvas bag on his way back to the boat... Continue reading book >>

Rest Harrow A Comedy of Resolution By: Maurice Henry Hewlett (1861-1923)

First Page:

REST HARROW

A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION

MAURICE HEWLETT

"Rest Harrow grows in any soil.... The seeds may be sown as soon as ripe in warm, sheltered spots out of doors.... It is a British plant."

WEATHERS

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK CRAIG

THI KANNICTHI

CONTENTS

BOOK I OF THE NATURE OF A PROLOGUE, DEALING WITH A BRUISED PHILOSOPHER IN RETIREMENT

BOOK II SANCHIA AT WANLESS HALL

BOOK III INTERLUDE OF THE RECLUSE PHILOSOPHER

BOOK IV SANCHIA IN LONDON

BOOK V OF THE NATURE OF AN EPILOGUE, DEALING WITH DESPOINA

ILLUSTRATIONS

Wrote deliberately to each of her sisters

The hum of cities, and buzz of dinner tables . . sound in his ears not at all.

The housekeeper! This person!

He had eloquence, he thought, as he watched her, he had won. But he was anxious. She was such a deep one.

Ploughman in the vales would sometimes see his gaunt figure on the sky line.

"Well, Sanchia," he said, "here I am."

The great music went sobbing and chiding through her frame, like wounded nightingales.

Senhouse came back to her bedside and put a little flower into her hand

[Illustration: Wrote deliberately to each of her sisters.]

BOOK I

OF THE NATURE OF A PROLOGUE, DEALING WITH A BRUISED PHILOSOPHER IN RETIREMENT

An observant traveller, homing to England by the Ostend Dover packet in the April of some five years ago, relished the vagaries of a curious couple who arrived by a later train, and proved to be both of his acquaintance. He had happened to be early abroad, and saw them come on. They were a lady of some personal attraction, comfortably furred, who, descending from a first class carriage, was met by a man from a third class, bare headed, free in the neck, loosely clad in grey flannel trousers which flapped about his thin legs in the sea breeze, a white sweater with a rolling collar, and a pair of sandals upon brown and sinewy feet uncovered by socks: these two. The man's garniture was extraordinary, but himself no less so. He had a lean and deeply bronzed face, hatchet shaped like a Hindoo's. You looked instinctively for rings in his ears. His moustache was black and sinuous, outlining his mouth rather than hiding it. His hair, densely black, was longish and perfectly straight. His eyes were far sighted and unblinking; he smiled always, but furtively, as if the world at large amused him, but must never know it. He seemed to observe everything, except the fact that everybody observed himself.

To have once seen such a man must have provided for his recollection; and yet our traveller, who was young and debonnaire, though not so young as he seemed, first recognised the lady. "Mrs. Germain, by George!" This to himself, but aloud, "Now, where's she been all this time?" The frown which began to settle about his discerning eyes speedily dissolved in wonder as they encountered the strange creature in the lady's company. He stared, he gaped, then slapped his thigh. "Jack Senhouse! That's the man. God of battles, what a start! Now, what on earth is Jack Senhouse doing, playing courier to Mrs. Germain?"

That was precisely the employment. His man had handed the lady out of her compartment, entered it when she left it, and was possessing himself of her littered vestiges while these speculations were afloat. Dressing case, tea basket, umbrellas, rugs, and what not, he filled his arms with them, handed them over to expectant porters, then smilingly showed their proprietress the carriage ridded. He led the way to the steamer, deposited his burdens and saw to the bestowal of others, fetched a chair, wrapped her in rugs, found her book, indicated her whereabouts to a mariner in case of need. All this leisurely done, in the way of a man who has privilege and duty for his warrants. Enquiring then, with an engaging lift of the eyebrows, whether she was perfectly comfortable, and receiving with a pleasant nod her answering nod of thanks, he left her and returned to the train. Tracked through the crowd, and easily by his height, bare head, and leisurely motions, he was next seen shouldering a canvas bag on his way back to the boat... Continue reading book >>

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