A LOST LOVE BY ASHFORD OWEN. "C'est bien à l'amour qu'il en faut venir à toute époque, en toutes circonstances, A NEW EDITION. LONDON: SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 1862. A LOST LOVE. CHAPTER I. Ir was a dull autumn-day; the leaves of the sycamores had nearly all fallen, and strewed the short drive (avenue it could hardly be called) which led to Grainthorpe Park. The trees were so diminutive, that to an eye not accustomed to the stunted growths on the northern coasts of England, they would immediately have suggested the idea of Chinese trees, whose branches, in the circumference of a flower-pot, imitate those of the gnarled, knotted forest oaks. Park, too; the place had nothing of that excepting the name, for "down in our country" they call fields parks," and a large one which lay in front of the house was nearly all the "pleasaunce" which belonged to the mansion. 66 B An iron railing separated the field from a few stiff flower-beds which fronted the windows. The frost had blackened the dahlias, and nothing seemed to prosper except the box-edging, which was both luxuriant and disorderly. Several firs, which had grown in spite of the east wind, and if not tall, were not very stunted, stood on the grass, and were the only things which gave an idea of shelter about the house: a dark brick building, with a front of four heavy square windows. The sea, some half a mile off, hardly formed a redeeming point in the landscape, seen as it was through the gaps in the low sand-hills, called "links" in that country, thrown up all along the shore, their size and shape often altered, on the side next the sea, by every strong wind; whilst, to the landward, their form received some consistency from the coarse grass, or rather rushes, which grew there. Flat fields, red-roofed cottages, a coal-pit, and the straight lines of two plantations, were the principal features of the country which could be seen from the four front windows of Grainthorpe. A girl was looking from the drawing-room window; sometimes working and sometimes studying the landscape, with that expression of face which may betoken either deep thought or utter vacancy, one cannot always decide which. She rose as she heard |