Rambles in Search of Wild Flowers, and How to Distinguish Them (Classic Reprint)

Excerpt from Rambles in Search of Wild Flowers, and How to Distinguish Them

As her mother closed the door, Fanny's eye still dwelt on the outward view. She was not gazing on the beach with its small complement of pedestrians, nor upon the waters of the Severn, with which the fresh tide of the channel was now striving, nor yet upon the grey line of the Welsh coast and the scarcely less faint outline of the flat and steep Holmes; but her eye was fixed with a yearning look Of inquiry upon the distant thread where sky and water meet, and that look seemed to ask, What is there in the future for me? Is there rest? For my spirit is weary of all that has been.

She turned slowly as her mother's footsteps receded, and addressed Esther.

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