Explore "The Nether Millstone" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There were the lodge-gates at last, with the arms of the Dashwoods carved in mossy stone, and the great iron gates from the cunning hand of Quentin Matsys himself. Beyond, the noble elms planted in the days of Elizabeth led to the house, a great Tudor mansion with gabled and latticed windows covered with ivy to the quaintly carved roof-tree. The gardens spread wide on either side; there was a thick hedge of crimson roses bounding the park, and in its purple shade the dappled deer reposed. Ralph Darnley drew a great breath as he took in the splendid beauty and serenity of it all. For three hundred years the reign of the Dashwoods had lasted, and not a stain had shown itself on the family escutcheon all that time. Darnley could excuse all Mary's pride.
"It is exquisitely beautiful," he said, with a queer catch in his voice. "How vividly it recalls Tennyson's line -- 'a haunt of ancient peace. ' I am trying to make due allowances for your feelings, Miss Dashwood. If I had been brought up here, my views might be the same as yours. I love old houses."