The Reflections of Ambrosine - A Novel | Page 4

some people of the name of Gurrage--does
not it sound a fat word! They are a mother and son, but they have been
at Bournemouth ever since we came, six months ago. It is a frightful
place, and although it is miles in the country it looks like a suburban
villa; the outside is all stucco, and nasty, common-looking pots and bad

statues ornament the drive. They pulled down the smaller original
Jacobean house that was there when they bought the place, we have
heard. They are coming home soon, so perhaps we shall see them, but I
can't think Gurrage could be the name of really nice people. The parson,
of the church came to call at once, but grandmamma nearly made him
spoil his hat, he fidgeted with it so, and he hardly dared to ask for more
than one subscription--she is so beautifully polite, and she often is
laughing in her sleeve. She says so few people can see the comic side
of things and that it is a great gift and chases away foolish migraines. I
think she has a grand scheme in her head for me, and that is what we
are saving up every penny for.
Grandpapa's people lived in the next county to this, in a place called
Dane Mount. He was a younger son and in the diplomatic service
before he made his bêtise, but if he was alive now he would be over a
hundred years old, so during that time the family has naturally
branched off a good deal, and we can't be said to be very nearly related
to them. The place was not entailed, and went with the female line into
the Thornhirst family, who live there now. They are rather new
baronets, created by George II. However, I believe grandmamma's
scheme is for us to become acquainted with them, and for me to marry
whichever of them is the right age. The present baronet's name is Sir
Antony; it is a pretty name, I think. How this is to come about I do not
know, and of course I dare not question grandmamma.
How I wish it was summer again! I hate these damp, cold days, and the
east winds, and the darkness. I wish I might stay in bed until eleven, as
grandmamma does. We have our chocolate at seven, which Hephzibah
brings up, and then when I am dressed I practise for an hour; after that
there are the finishing touches to be put to our sitting-room, and the
best Sèvres and the miniatures to be dusted. Grandmamma would not
trust any one to do it but me, but by ten I can get out for a walk.
It used to be dreadfully tiresome until we came here, because I was
never allowed to go out without Hephzibah, and she was so busy we
never got a chance in the morning, but since we came here I have had
such a pleasure. A dear, clever collie for a friend--we got him from the

lost dogs' home, and no one can know the joy he is to me.
Grandmamma considers him a kind of chaperon, and I am allowed to
go alone for quite long walks now, and when we are out of sight and no
one is looking we run, and it is such fun. Yesterday there was an
excitement--the hunt passed! It is the first time I have seen one close.
That must be delightful to rush along on horseback! I could feel my
heart beating just looking at them, and my dear Roy barked all the time,
and if I had not held his collar I am sure he would have joined the other
dogs to go and catch the fox. Some of the men in their red coats looked
so handsome, and there was one all covered with mud; he must have
had a tumble. His stirrup-leather gave way just as he got up to the
mound where Roy and I were standing, and he was obliged to get off
his horse and settle it. I am sure by his face he was swearing to himself
at being delayed. His fall had evidently broken some strap and he was
fumbling in his pocket for a knife to mend it.
I always wear a little gold chatelaine that belonged to Ambrosine
Eustasie de Calincourt and is marked with her coronet and initials; it
has a tiny knife among the other things hanging from it. The muddy
hunter could not find one; he searched in every pocket. At last he
turned to me and said: "Do you happen to have a knife by chance?" and
then when he saw I was a girl he took off his hat. It was gray with clay,
and so was