Occasionally a curious sight-seer, or a poet-worshiper, had been known
to stray across the grounds or to climb a tree in order to view the
green retired spot; but as a rule Tennyson could still wander
unwatched and unseen through the garden, over the downs, and stand
alone on the shore of the great sea.
It was already afternoon when we arrived dusty and travel-stained at
the hospitable door, which was wide open, shaded by vines, showing the
interior dark and cool. Mrs. Tennyson, in her habitual and simple
costume of a long gray dress and lace kerchief over her head, met us
with her true and customary cordiality, leading us to the low drawing-
room, where a large oriel window opening on the lawn and the half-
life-size statue of Wordsworth were the two points which caught my
attention as we entered. Her step as she preceded us was long and
free. Something in her bearing and trailing dress, perhaps, gave her a
mediaeval aspect which suited with the house. The latter, I have been
told, was formerly a baronial holding, and the fair Enid and the young
Elaine appeared to be at one with her own childhood. They were no
longer centuries apart from the slender fair-haired lady who now lay
on a couch by our side,--they were a portion of her own existence, of
a nature obedient to tradition, obedient to home, obedient to love.
The world has made large advance, and the sound of the wheels of
progress were not unheard in the lady's room at Farringford.
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