Bristol Bells: A Story of the Eighteenth Century

'Well, never mind; but this is what I want to say, and Betty is quite of my mind. Do let me go to Bristol. Jack Henderson heard old Mrs Lambert say she would like a bright, shar...

The next morning the poor old farmer came down to the plentiful breakfast prepared by Dorothy Burrow looking ten years older than when he had left the kitchen the night before....

Bryda had just reached the cross roads where she had met the Squire when a heavy lumbering cart came slowly in sight, which she recognised as Mrs Henderson's. If Jack was drivin...

Jack Henderson was up before the sun the next morning. He had thought it better not to take a horse and cart from his mother's stable, but trust to his own powers of locomotion.

Jack Henderson found the morning very long, and finally stretched himself on one of the benches of the pump-room and slept away the time, rousing himself at intervals as a group...

It was one evening early in June, when the days were almost at their longest, that Mrs Chatterton sprang to the door of her modest little dwelling in Redcliffe Street to greet h...

Bryda watched her opportunity, and finding Mr Lambert alone in the parlour, on the first Sunday morning of her residence in Dowry Square, she laid before him her grandfather's t...

And now Bryda listened to the song of Rowley, the priest of St John, as Chatterton poured it in her ear with almost fiery eloquence. She could scarcely believe the apprentice ta...

What did anyone care for him or his disappointments and continually deferred hope that Mr Walpole would at least return the manuscripts, at first so graciously received, and now...

Bryda had nearly reached the entrance to Dowry Square, fearing she might be reprimanded for delay, when her heart beat fast as she recognised the Squire, Mr Bayfield, crossing o...

Mrs Lambert became more and more dependent on Bryda. She was an utterly selfish old lady, and selfish people have a strange power of getting all they want out of those who minis...

To Betty's simple soul a kiss under the mistletoe bough was of no further significance. She had been kissed by Jack, and even her Aunt Dorothy had received a kiss from a neighbo...

Never once in all the months that Bryda had spent under Mr Lambert's roof had Jack Henderson failed to appear at the door of the house in Dowry Square on Sunday afternoons to in...

The next week was spent by Chatterton in bidding his friends good-bye, presenting some young ladies of his acquaintance with gingerbread, the boyish side of his nature coming to...

She was longing for news, and yet dare not ask a question lest she should betray Jack Henderson's share in the scene on the hillside the day before. She was haunted by the memor...

During the drive to Rock House the kind-hearted surgeon did his best to divert Bryda from dwelling upon the past or the dreaded interview with Mr Bayfield. He did not know how s...

The old farm had passed into other hands, and little fair-haired children played under the boughs of the orchard, whence many of the old trees had been cleared and young ones pl...