Only think of bands of pilgrims coming across the moor there!"
"Yes, in their gowns and rope girdles, with wallets and
scallop-shells," said Bessie. "It must have been a curious old world
then: one could sit here and muse by the hour on all that has come and
gone. I often bring up my work or my book here in summer and think of
it."
"I do like old things," said Mrs. Parker, "and old families and old
names. Our name, for instance, has no smack of age about it, and it is
so short and perky: it must have been given to some one who had to do
with parks."
"But parks may be a very old institution," said Bessie, "if we looked
into the thing, though not so old as Forrester: that is an ancient
name," glancing at Edwin, who was leaning against a sentry-box
listening and watching the sun putting out the lights in his
bed-chamber; "yet not nearly so ancient as Ormiston. I always feel
it is fitting we should live in an old castle, we are so ancient
ourselves."
"Are we?" said John: "I never knew that before."
"Ormiston," she said, "is perhaps as pure a Saxon word as now exists.
It was during the Roman invasion our ancestor led an army through a
dense mist against the invaders: just as he came up with them the sun
shone out and the mist. The legions were taken by surprise, for the
advancing enemy had been hidden by the mist, and they were utterly
routed. The Saxon king--"
"What was his name?" asked John.
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