href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@36235@[email protected]#CHAPTER_XXVI" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">CHAPTER XXVI. Good-morning
CHAPTER XXVII. Love Lane from Kensington to Fulham
CHAPTER XXVIII. Unborn To-morrow and Dead Yesterday
CHAPTER XXIX. Under the Great Dome
CHAPTER XXX. Wave or Flame
CHAPTER XXXI. A Boat upon the Water
CHAPTER XXXII. Trust me
CHAPTER XXXIII. Circumstance
CHAPTER XXXIV. White Roses
CHAPTER XXXV. 'Only George'
CHAPTER XXXVI. The Slow Sad Hours
CHAPTER XXXVII. In an Empty Room
CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Pollard-trees
CHAPTER XXXIX. Thus far the Miles are Measured from thy Friend
CHAPTER XL. Under the Clock-tower
CHAPTER XLI. I bring you Three Letters—I pray you read One
CHAPTER XLII. Rachel
CHAPTER XLIII. Crags and Fresh Air
CHAPTER XLIV. White with Gazing
CHAPTER XLV. What Aunt Sarah left for Dolly
CHAPTER XLVI. The Sorrowful Message
CHAPTER XLVII. From Heart of very Heart
CHAPTER XLVIII. An Explanation
CHAPTER XLIX. Sheep-shearing
CHAPTER L. Tempered Winds
CHAPTER LI. 'Sing Hoarse, with Tears between'
CHAPTER LII. An Andante of Haydn's
CHAPTER LIII. That thou art blamed shall not be thy Defect
CHAPTER LIV. Holy St. Francis, what a Change is here!
CHAPTER LV. See you not something beside Masonry?
CHAPTER LVI. The Play is played, the Curtain drops

THE WORKS OF MISS THACKERAY

OLD KENSINGTON.

CHAPTER I.

BRICKS AND IVY.

A quarter of a century ago the shabby tide of progress had not spread to the quiet old suburb where Lady Sarah Francis's house was standing, with its many windows dazzling as the sun travelled across the old-fashioned house-tops to set into a distant sea of tenements and echoing life. The roar did not reach the old house. The children could listen to the cawing of the rooks, to the echo of the hours, as they struck on from one