(7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green Read Online Free Page A
Author: Miss Read
Tags: England, Country Life, Country Life - England, Pastoral Fiction
share your admiration, Robert, and you couldn't have given me anything more precious.'
He held the thin hand in his for a moment. It felt as frail as a bird's frame.
'I must see Milly before I go,' he said, turning towards the door. 'I'll come again, Robert.'
'You must come soon then,' called Robert after him, as the rector made his way towards the kitchen, blinking tears away before facing brave Milly.
It was past six o'clock before the rector turned his car towards Ella's cottage where Dimity awaited him.
He was, as she had surmised, awash with many cups of tea and had vague indigestion. Beside him lay the beautiful parting present from Robert in company with a large bag full of cooking apples which had been pressed upon him at his final visit in Nidden.
In some ways it had been a sad afternoon, thought the good rector, slowing down to let a pheasant stalk majestically across the lane, and yet there had been beauty too. He remembered Robert's loving look as he had presented him with the book, and the kindly welcome he had received at all the homes he had visited.
He gradually approached Thrush Green. The sun had set, and dusk was falling over the wintry scene.
' "Light thickens," ' said the rector aloud, ' "and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood." '
He savoured the sonority of the phrase. What a comfort it was to have a retentive memory! He corrected himself quickly. His memory, he reminded himself, was certainly not retentive when it came to practical matters, as Dimity frequently told him. Where on earth, for instance, had he left the key to the vestry? And what had he done with that slip for the cleaners which Dimity had given him only that morning?
Nevertheless, he comforted himself, it was a never-failing joy to find a happy phrase surfacing to add to the pleasures of daily life.
He looked approvingly at the white landscape against a darkening sky. In the distance he caught a glimpse of Lulling Woods, black against a steely-grey background.
'Rooky, indeed!' said the rector aloud. Who but Shakespeare could have thought of a crow making wing to a rooky wood, thus adding blackness to blackness?
He drew up outside Ella's cottage. The light glowed from her windows, shining a welcome, but the good rector sat still for a moment or two remembering his afternoon.
He would visit Robert again within the next day or two. Meanwhile he proposed to read some of the poems, which they both loved, before he slept that night. He wanted his old friend to know how much this last gift had meant to him.
But now he had other duties. He emerged into the chilly owl-light, and hurried up the path to collect his wife.
3. Unknown at The Fuchsia Bush
THE SNOW lasted for a full week. For the first three days the pristine purity which had so delighted Charles Henstock continued to enchant most of the inhabitants of Lulling and Thrush Green. The trees glittered in the frosty sunshine. Walls and hedges, capped in white, reflected the radiance of the clear sky. Underfoot the snow crunched to hard ice, and skaters were out in force on the shallow reaches of the River Pleshey and local ponds.
But overnight the weather changed, and by the fourth day a slow thaw had begun.
Snow fell from the outstretched branches of the vicarage cedar tree with soft flumps and clouds of snow dust. It slithered from walls and hedges. It dropped dramatically from the roofs of the houses and shops in Lulling High Street, much to the disgust and discomfiture of those walking below about their proper occasions. Two respectable ladies, about to enter The Fuchsia Bush in search of morning coffee, were engulfed in a miniature avalanche which descended from the guttering, and were obliged to spend their coffee break hatless and coatless as these garments were dried on the cafe's radiators.
At Thrush Green, Mr Jones's ancient spaniel, dozing peacefully in its kennel, was completely covered and had to be rescued by its alarmed owners from a four-foot fall of
He held the thin hand in his for a moment. It felt as frail as a bird's frame.
'I must see Milly before I go,' he said, turning towards the door. 'I'll come again, Robert.'
'You must come soon then,' called Robert after him, as the rector made his way towards the kitchen, blinking tears away before facing brave Milly.
It was past six o'clock before the rector turned his car towards Ella's cottage where Dimity awaited him.
He was, as she had surmised, awash with many cups of tea and had vague indigestion. Beside him lay the beautiful parting present from Robert in company with a large bag full of cooking apples which had been pressed upon him at his final visit in Nidden.
In some ways it had been a sad afternoon, thought the good rector, slowing down to let a pheasant stalk majestically across the lane, and yet there had been beauty too. He remembered Robert's loving look as he had presented him with the book, and the kindly welcome he had received at all the homes he had visited.
He gradually approached Thrush Green. The sun had set, and dusk was falling over the wintry scene.
' "Light thickens," ' said the rector aloud, ' "and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood." '
He savoured the sonority of the phrase. What a comfort it was to have a retentive memory! He corrected himself quickly. His memory, he reminded himself, was certainly not retentive when it came to practical matters, as Dimity frequently told him. Where on earth, for instance, had he left the key to the vestry? And what had he done with that slip for the cleaners which Dimity had given him only that morning?
Nevertheless, he comforted himself, it was a never-failing joy to find a happy phrase surfacing to add to the pleasures of daily life.
He looked approvingly at the white landscape against a darkening sky. In the distance he caught a glimpse of Lulling Woods, black against a steely-grey background.
'Rooky, indeed!' said the rector aloud. Who but Shakespeare could have thought of a crow making wing to a rooky wood, thus adding blackness to blackness?
He drew up outside Ella's cottage. The light glowed from her windows, shining a welcome, but the good rector sat still for a moment or two remembering his afternoon.
He would visit Robert again within the next day or two. Meanwhile he proposed to read some of the poems, which they both loved, before he slept that night. He wanted his old friend to know how much this last gift had meant to him.
But now he had other duties. He emerged into the chilly owl-light, and hurried up the path to collect his wife.
3. Unknown at The Fuchsia Bush
THE SNOW lasted for a full week. For the first three days the pristine purity which had so delighted Charles Henstock continued to enchant most of the inhabitants of Lulling and Thrush Green. The trees glittered in the frosty sunshine. Walls and hedges, capped in white, reflected the radiance of the clear sky. Underfoot the snow crunched to hard ice, and skaters were out in force on the shallow reaches of the River Pleshey and local ponds.
But overnight the weather changed, and by the fourth day a slow thaw had begun.
Snow fell from the outstretched branches of the vicarage cedar tree with soft flumps and clouds of snow dust. It slithered from walls and hedges. It dropped dramatically from the roofs of the houses and shops in Lulling High Street, much to the disgust and discomfiture of those walking below about their proper occasions. Two respectable ladies, about to enter The Fuchsia Bush in search of morning coffee, were engulfed in a miniature avalanche which descended from the guttering, and were obliged to spend their coffee break hatless and coatless as these garments were dried on the cafe's radiators.
At Thrush Green, Mr Jones's ancient spaniel, dozing peacefully in its kennel, was completely covered and had to be rescued by its alarmed owners from a four-foot fall of
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