United States or Republic of the Congo ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


But now she was hurt indeed; the remembrance of his kisses ached upon her lips. When Tor di Rocca had asked her to go away with him she had felt that it might be worth while, that it would be pleasant to be cared for and loved, to eat and drink and die on the morrow, but the man himself had been nothing to her. A means to an end.

At any rate, he saw the soldiers coming for him at the double, spreading themselves to head him off, and as they came he broke and ran straight up the slope towards the head of the tor. 'This violent exercise didn't suit him at all, and glad enough he was, after two minutes of it, to note that the soldiers were shortening the distance hand over fist.

It was therefore not surprising that Stradella should find himself in Tor di Nona within the hour, solidly chained to the wall in a dark cell; and so he was left to reflect upon the consequences of his rashness, though not to regret it, if indeed his gnawing anxiety for Ortensia left him room to think of anything else.

He passed between the sleeping farms, and only watch-dogs barked out of the silence, for Gidleigh folks were all abroad that night. Pressing onwards, the native hurried to Scorhill, then crossed the Teign below Batworthy Farm, passed through the farmyard, and so proceeded to the common beneath Yes Tor. He whistled as he went, then stopped a moment to listen.

Feeling a little better than you were, aren't you?" "Yes doc tor. Rather rotten though Be all right to-morrow " "Sure you will! Still a little rest won't do you any harm. We'll send you down for a couple of weeks, and then you will be fit enough to have another go at the boche." So saying he turned him over to an assistant, and went on with his work.

It had not availed her, and she had nothing else. She was stripped now, naked, alone and defenceless in a hard world. "Carissima, be still. Have patience. I love you, and I shall come for you," whispered Tor di Rocca, and she tried to believe him, and to persuade herself that the flame in his brown eyes would burn for her always.

Here is Lafter Hall, which was mentioned in the narrative. There is a house indicated here which may be the residence of the naturalist Stapleton, if I remember right, was his name. Here are two moorland farmhouses, High Tor and Foulmire. Then fourteen miles away the great convict prison of Princetown. Between and around these scattered points extends the desolate, lifeless moor.

The next day news reached the Black Tor that the witches had been seen again by two different miners, and in each case the tale was the same. The witches were crowding together in a huddled way, in their long cloaks, over a fire. A caldron was hung from three sticks, joined together at the top, and one of the men declared that they must have been busy over some unhallowed work.

His skin was rough and hairy as a satyr's; his odor was foul; his feet were cleft; his horns sharp and terrible. He flung him from him horrified. Quick as lightning the demon rose again, and tilted fiercely at him once more. It was a death fight between those two for that rocky platform. Should Satan thus usurp St. Michael's Tor? Ten thousand times, no! Yield, yield! No surrender!

It is not safe, they say, to go near it without dropping a pin as an offering between the chinks of the rock not a very costly way of buying immunity. In Sheeps Tor churchyard in the valley below lies Sir James Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak, who died near there in 1868.