The Abbey was to her only
an old Gothic melancholy ruin, not worthy of a glance, but the breezy
air of the Cheddar Hills, the lovely cliffs, and the charm of the open
country, with its strange islands of hills dotted about, raised her
spirits, as she rode through the meadows where hay was being tossed,
and the scent came fragrant on the breeze. Mr. Dove would tell her
over his shoulder the names of places and their owners when they came
to parks bordering the road, and castles "bosomed high in the tufted
trees." Or he would regale her with legends of robberies and point
to the frightful gibbets, one so near to the road that she shut her
eyes and crouched low behind him to avoid seeing the terrible burthen.
She had noted the White Horse, and shuddered at the monument at Devizes
commemorating the judgment on the lying woman, and a night had been
spent at Marlborough that "Miss" might see a strolling company of
actors perform in a barn; but as the piece was the _Yorksire Tragedy_,
the ghastly performance overcame her so completely that Mrs. Dove had
to take her away, declaring that no inducement should ever take her to
a theatre again.
Mr. Dove was too experienced a traveller not to choose well his
quarters for the night, and Aurelia slept in the guest chambers
shining with cleanliness and scented with lavender, Mrs.
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