unusually severe: it frequently is so after a very hot summer; labour was scarce, food was dear: and a great deal of illness prevailed. So that you perceive all things were not so flourishing in and about Eagle's Nest as they might have been, and Major Raynor's bed was not entirely one of rose-leaves.
But, unpleasant things that are out of sight, are, it is said, for the most part out of mind—Mr. Blase Pellet told us so much a chapter or two ago—and the discomfort out-of-doors did not disturb the geniality within. At Eagles' Nest, the days floated on in a round of enjoyment; they seemed to be one continuous course of pleasure that would never end. Daisy Raynor had never been so happy in all her life: Eagles' Nest, she said, was perfection.
The music and wax-lights, the flowers and evergreens rendered the rooms at Sir Philip Stane's a scene of enchantment. At least it seemed so to Alice