Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Philippa

Philippa

Mrs Molesworth

Paperback

Fiction Anthologies

ISBN10: 1502797615
ISBN13: 9781502797612
Publisher: Createspace
Published: Oct 12 2014
Pages: 194
Weight: 0.78
Height: 0.41 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
Autumn-scarcely late autumn yet-and the day had been mild. But as the afternoon wore on towards evening, there came the chilliness and early gloom inevitable at the fall of the year-accompanied, to those who are sensitive to such things, by the indescribable touch of melancholy never present in the same way at other seasons. Philippa Raynsworth shivered slightly, though half-unconscious that she did so, and turned towards the shelter of the friendly porch just at her side. As she moved, a hand was laid on her shoulder. Come in, you silly girl, said its owner. Do you want to catch cold? Philippa had been watching the gradual disappearance of a carriage down the long drive, till a turn in the road suddenly hid it altogether. Others had been watching it too, but she was standing somewhat aloof-she had no special interest in the departing guests; she had never seen them till to-day, and might very probably never see them again. But something nevertheless had impressed her-the kind of day, the approach of the gloaming, the evening scents from the garden, the little shy breeze that murmured and grew silent again-there was a plaintive harmony in it all, and even the prosaic, measured sound of the horses' feet, growing fainter and fainter, and the carriage receding from sight while the good-byes still seemed hovering about, all fitted in. She did not seek to define what it reminded her of, or what feelings it awakened in her. It was just a scene-a passing impression, or possibly a lasting one. There is never any accounting for the permanence of certain spots in our experience-why some entirely trivial incident or sensation should remain indented on our memory for ever; while others which we would fain recall, some which it seems extraordinary that we should ever be able to forget, fade as if they had never been-who can say?

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