Explore "The Sowers" by Henry Seton Merriman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Below the windows of a long, low, stone house, in its architecture remarkably like a fortified farm -- below these deep-embrasured windows the river Oster mumbled softly. One of the windows was wide open, and with the voice of the water a wonderful music rolled out to mingle and lose itself in the hum of the pinewoods.
The room was a small one; beneath the artistic wallpaper one detected the outline of square-hewn stones. There were women's things lying about; there were flowers in a bowl on a low, strong table. There were a few good engravings on the wall; deep-curtained windows, low chairs, a sofa, a fan. But it was not a womanly room. The music filling it, vibrating back from the grim stone walls, was not womanly music. It was more than manly. It was not earthly, but almost divine. It happened to be Grieg, with the halting beat of a disabled, perhaps a broken, heart in it, as that master's music usually has.