When I came to the stile
, I stopped a minute, looked round and listened, with an idea that a horse's hoofs might ring on the causeway again, and that a rider in a cloak, and a Gytrash-like Newfoundland dog, might be again apparent: I saw only the hedge and a pollard willow before me, rising up still and straight to meet the moonbeams; I heard only the faintest waft of wind roaming fitful among the trees round Thornfield, a mile distant; and when I glanced down in the direction of the murmur, my eye, traversing the hall-front, caught a light kindling in a window: it reminded me that I was late, and I hurried on.
LUCIE scrambled up the stile
with the bundle in her hand; and then she turned to say "Good-night," and to thank the washer-woman-- But what a VERY odd thing
Sophie swung her new-bought English boots, as she sat on the stile
overlooking Friars Pardon, behind the Clokes's barn.
Dammit on the flat of his back, on the same side of the stile
from which he had started.
The walking party had crossed the lane, and were surmounting an opposite stile
, and the Admiral was putting his horse in motion again, when Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment to say something to his sister.
So saying, Robin Hood stepped forth from the shade of the beech tree, crossed the stile
, and stood in the middle of the road, with his hands on his hips, in the stranger's path.
Just beyond the brook and the trees, and not far from one of the three stone stiles which afforded entrance, at various points, to the church-yard, rose the white marble cross that distinguished Mrs.
I returned to the church, and walked round it till I came to the back of the building; then crossed the boundary wall beyond, by another of the stone stiles, and found myself at the head of a path leading down into a deserted stone quarry.
If the gentleman's servant would wheel along the paths, he could keep nigh us, and we could lift it over the stiles
, and that.
are quite pretty in Riverboro and those at Meeting quite ellergant more so than in Temperance.
I picture heartbroken lovers parting forever at lonely wayside stiles
, while the sad twilight deepens around them, and only the tinkling of a distant sheep-bell breaks the sorrow-laden silence.
Sometimes of a fine Sunday afternoon she would put on her best dress, a pair of stout boots, a large grey hat trimmed with a black feather (I've seen her in that finery), seize an absurdly slender parasol, climb over two stiles
, tramp over three fields and along two hundred yards of road--never further.