To the left of this, and in great sweeps along
the horizon stretched the forests. As one looked at these forests, the
fields of com, the scattered houses, the pastures dotted with cattle,
the city, all signs of civilization, seemed like a forlorn hope sent
against these dense barriers of nature; yet it was that forlorn hope
that is destined always to win.
"Do you know, I like it?" said Lady Dacre turning to her hostess. "I
think it all very nice. So does Sir Temple. Yet I don't see how you can
get along without a bit of London, sometimes. London is the spice, you
know, the flavor of the cake, the bouquet of the wine."
"Only, it differs from these, since one cannot get too much of it,"
answered Madam Archdale smiling, thinking as her eyes swept over the
landscape that there were charms in her own land which it would be hard
to lose.
Lady Dacre settled herself comfortably in one of the chairs of the
cupola, and turning to her companion, said abruptly:
"Dear Madam Archdale, what is going to be done about that poor son of
yours; he is in a terrible situation?"
"Indeed, he is."
"When is he going to get out? Have you done anything about it?"
"Done anything? Everything, rather.
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