After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park: he was moving that way; and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also; and, holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, “I have been walking in the grove some time, in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?” and then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight.
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“I thought you had left England.”
[37] [ Sparta and Lacedaemon are here treated as two different places, though in other parts of the poem it is clear that the writer understands them as one. The catalogue in the “Iliad,” which the writer is here presumably following, makes the same mistake (“Il.” ii. 581, 582)]
As morning mowers, who side by side slowly and seethingly advance their scythes through the long wet grass of marshy meads; even so these monsters swam, making a strange, grassy, cutting sound; and leaving behind them endless swaths of blue upon the yellow sea.*
Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads Deep through fair forests, and a length of meads, And stalls, and folds, and scatter’d cots between; And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene.
“As he has said it,” returned madame, lifting her eyebrows a little, “it is probably false. But it may be true.”
Two seamen came. The golden-hued Tahitian and the grizzly Manxman. “Take the reel, one of ye, I’ll heave.”
HAMLET. I would you did, sir; yet in faith if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir?
“They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to them, and we parted without another word on either side.
Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened: it was impossible to think of anything else; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy’s sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground.
“Where else should I be?” he answered, listlessly. “None of the chaps will speak to me now.”
Here herds of oxen march, erect and bold, Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold, And speed to meadows on whose sounding shores A rapid torrent through the rushes roars: Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand, And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band. Two lions rushing from the wood appear’d; And seized a bull, the master of the herd: He roar’d: in vain the dogs, the men withstood; They tore his flesh, and drank his sable blood. The dogs (oft cheer’d in vain) desert the prey, Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay.
I have dealt with this passage somewhat more fully in my “Authoress of the Odyssey”, p. 136-138. See also p. 256 of the same book.]
On the second day, numbers of Right Whales were seen, who, secure from the attack of a Sperm Whaler like the Pequod, with open jaws sluggishly swam through the brit, which, adhering to the fringing fibres of that wondrous Venetian blind in their mouths, was in that manner separated from the water that escaped at the lip.
“‘Pray excuse me,’ said I. ‘Under the circumstances, no.’
“Forward, there! Heave the log!”
“Can it be true,” said Defarge, in a low voice, looking down at his wife as he stood smoking with his hand on the back of her chair: “what he has said of Ma’amselle Manette?”
OSRIC. I know you are not ignorant,—
“You here, Adrian?” muttered Dorian.
Pride and Prejudice — Chapter 41: Chapter XXXV