Explore "A Waif's Progress" by Rhoda Broughton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A year and a day had passed since Lady Bletchley's obsequies. (The word is what she would herself have liked to hear applied to them.) All the presidencies, vice-presidencies, memberships of committees and governing bodies which she had so stirringly filled, had been apportioned among half a dozen less active-minded holders; and though the newspapers of the day had pronounced her loss to be an irreparable one, to the naked eye it seemed already repaired. On the other hand, her memory probably lurked unsuspected in the breasts of recipients of her least trumpeted benefactions. The winter had been mild, and the season promised to be a forward one.
"Through wood and stream and field and hill and ocean, / A quickening life from the earth's heart had burst; / As it has ever done with change and motion, / From the great Morning of the world when first / God dawned on chaos."