"I could believe in saints when I am with thee," murmured
Stephen; "Good night,--SYBIL."
Book 2 Chapter 9
When Gerard and his friend quitted the convent they proceeded
at a brisk pace, into the heart of the town. The streets were
nearly empty; and with the exception of some occasional burst
of brawl or merriment from a beer-shop, all was still. The
chief street of Mowbray, called Castle Street after the ruins
of the old baronial stronghold in its neighbourhood, was as
significant of the present civilization of this community as
the haughty keep had been of its ancient dependence. The
dimensions of Castle Street were not unworthy of the
metropolis: it traversed a great portion of the town, and was
proportionately wide; its broad pavements and its blazing gas-
lights indicated its modern order and prosperity; while on
each side of the street rose huge warehouses, not as beautiful
as the palaces of Venice, but in their way not less
remarkable; magnificent shops; and here and there, though
rarely, some ancient factory built among the fields in the
infancy of Mowbray by some mill-owner not sufficiently
prophetic of the future, or sufficiently confident in the
energy and enterprise of his fellow-citizens, to foresee that
the scene of his labours would be the future eye-sore of a
flourishing posterity.
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