Waynflete

Margaret Waynflete sat at an upstairs window of a large square stone house, looking across a garden, filled with brilliant flowers and smoke-dulled shrubs, over lovely undulatio...

Constancy Vyner was sitting at a table, sorting and arranging a little pile of manuscripts, neatly clipped together, and written in the distinct upright hand of the modern high-...

Constancy made Godfrey tell her all the story of the loss of Waynflete, of the traitor's ghost, and of the Guy who was too late, as they walked home round the paddock, and looke...

"Very few people appreciate the feeling of a place. Hardly any one can feel the London atmosphere," said Constancy Vyner, one Sunday afternoon nearly five years after the events...

Cuthbert Staunton was a man with a history, and rather a sad one. He had been engaged to be married to a girl who had died within a week of the wedding-day. In the first shock o...

Under a great copper-beech on the lawn at Ingleby one hot afternoon, Godfrey Waynflete was enjoying the "summer feeling" on which Constancy Vyner had expatiated in London, and w...

Guy had really returned from London with a "new-fangled idea," or, rather, with plans for carrying out one long entertained, and with more courage than usual for putting it forw...

After a few moments Guy recalled himself from his despair, and, turning his face to the light of the open window, began, with what courage he might, to consider the situation. A...

"Cousin Susan," said Guy, a few days after he had been left behind at Ingleby, "I promised Miss Vyner that she and her friends should see the mills. If it suits you, I should li...

When old Margaret Waynflete drove up to the door of Waynflete Hall in the Rilston fly--for the old stables were not calculated for the accommodation of valuable horses--she neve...

In the soft interrupted stillness of the summer night Godfrey Waynflete leant out of his window, and lived over again the hours of the day. The country stillness was constantly...

Florella Vyner lay awake in the cool misty light of a moorland morning, and thought, not for the first time, of her conversation with Guy Waynflete. She had the power of intense...

Kirk Hinton was a little station on the branch line which connected Rilston with the junction for Ingleby. It was four miles from Moorhead, and six from Waynflete, and as it con...

Guy despatched his petulant little note to his aunt before he started, and, perhaps, it was edged by his own discomfort, for he could hardly endure to be the subject of discussi...

Shortly after this day at the Rabys, Mrs Joshua Palmer went up to Waynflete ostensibly because she thought that she could be of some use to Aunt Waynflete in getting comfortably...

Some few days before the stay at Moorhead came to an end, Kitty Staunton received a letter, which surprised her greatly, as it came from a person of whose existence she had neve...

Mrs Waynflete said nothing about the effects of her fall on the bridge, but she did not quite recover from the shock of it; and, accidental as it had been, she knew quite well t...

Mrs Waynflete never told any one that she had sent for Guy. She did not know that he could not get a conveyance at Kirk Hinton, nor that her letter had been late for the post; a...

The old man sat staring at the brief words, as their sense gradually bore itself in upon him, first their meaning, and then their grievousness, the blank space in life left by t...

There could not be much sorrow at Waynflete for so new a comer, but there was much respectful interest. All the villagers crowded into the little church and churchyard on the st...

Godfrey paid but scant attention to poor old Cooper's feelings when he reached the mill. He hardly took the trouble to glance round him, and never realised that he was, in part,...

After Godfrey's wild visit to Moorhead, the first news that came to Constancy and Florella from Waynflete, was the announcement to their aunt from Mrs Joshua Palmer of the death...

Fifty thousand pounds! For a penniless girl to find herself suddenly possessed of such a golden dower is a very wonderful experience. This was the fate which, towards the end of...

In the meantime Godfrey, stung to the very quick by Constancy's shallow answer to the confession which he had forced from the depths of his soul, was kicking against the pricks...

"I hope you will allow me to thank you for your lovely drawing. It gave me a happy Christmas. The harebells say to me all that you would say yourself. They do indeed help me. Ag...

Godfrey's brief glimpse of Constancy had sent his "forgetfulness" to the winds. He had written a very proper letter to Jeanie's trustee uncle, telling him, in confidence, the ex...

Mrs John Palmer replied by a handsome subscription to the letter informing her of the condition of Waynflete church. "Miss S.J. Palmer" sent fifty pounds as a tribute to her dea...

Guy went to Waynflete. The sweet, clear atmosphere, fresh from the moors, delighted him, and he felt daily stronger and better, while his inborn love for the home of his fathers...

But Art is impersonal. Downy palms and snown blackthorn may be offered to an artist as subjects for a sketch, just as well as if they would not also serve as tokens of love and...

Constancy's college career ended, as had always been anticipated, with credit, and even with a share of renown. She helped to prove the power of her sex to compete for laurels f...

There was a little commotion in front of the verandah, caused by some new arrivals, as Guy and Constancy approached it from the side. A stout lady in a bonnet and a handsome tra...

One sunny afternoon towards the end of August, Florella was sitting on the wall of old Peggy Outhwaite's garden, sketching a tuft of house-leek that adorned the roof of the anci...

Godfrey had come to Waynflete Vicarage for a couple of nights, to make his final arrangements as to the timber. He was walking along the lane at the top of Flete Wood, in the du...

And Guy did not die. At first he lay in a state of collapse, hardly kept alive from hour to hour, silent, motionless, and apparently unconscious of all around him; but gradually...