From the window of his new apartment Francis Scrymgeour commanded a
complete view into the garden of the house with the green blinds.
Immediately below him a very comely chestnut with wide boughs
sheltered a pair of rustic tables where people might dine in the
height of summer. On all sides save one a dense vegetation
concealed the soil; but there, between the tables and the house, he
saw a patch of gravel walk leading from the verandah to the garden-
gate. Studying the place from between the boards of the Venetian
shutters, which he durst not open for fear of attracting attention,
Francis observed but little to indicate the manners of the
inhabitants, and that little argued no more than a close reserve
and a taste for solitude. The garden was conventual, the house had
the air of a prison. The green blinds were all drawn down upon the
outside; the door into the verandah was closed; the garden, as far
as he could see it, was left entirely to itself in the evening
sunshine. A modest curl of smoke from a single chimney alone
testified to the presence of living people.
In order that he might not be entirely idle, and to give a certain
colour to his way of life, Francis had purchased Euclid's Geometry
in French, which he set himself to copy and translate on the top of
his portmanteau and seated on the floor against the wall; for he
was equally without chair or table.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190