Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
"This week the Queen rests in her progress with your neighbor, the Earl, and the town will be crowded with mummers and players, grooms, cutpurses, quacksalvers, and cockatrices, travellers and courtiers whom the north wind hath nipped! 'Sblood, Mortimer, I had rather sleep in this grave old place!" "With Judas who knows himself at last?" asked Ferne, coldly, without moving from his place.
Then there was the Vicar of Ferne, a bearded, fine figure of a man: his wife had been forced to leave him because of his cruelty, and she had filled the neighbourhood with stories of his immorality. The Vicar of Surle, a tiny hamlet by the sea, was to be seen every evening in the public house a stone's throw from his vicarage; and the churchwardens had been to Mr. Carey to ask his advice.
Stumbling over the sand, he fell beside the man whose soul cried in vain unto Robert Baldry to return and claim his vengeance, and wrenched at the hand that seemed to have grown to the sword-hilt. "You are not kind!" he wailed. "Oh, let me have it!" "Kind!" echoed Ferne, slowly. "In this sick universe there is no kindness no, nor never was! There is the space between rack and torch."
Dressed in flame she bore down upon, struck, and sunk the Phoenix.... Now we are the Mere Honour and the Marigold, and we go under press of sail because behind us, whitening the waters that we have left, is the plate-fleet from Cartagena." "Where is Robert Baldry?" asked Ferne. "In the hands of Don Luiz de Guardiola dead or living we know not.
"Hadst thou known when to hold it, much might have been different.... Thy father served us well, and once we slept at his ancient house of Ferne, rich only in the valor and loyal deeds of its masters, from old times until our own.... What is lost is lost, and other and greater matters clamor for our attention. Go! hold thyself a prisoner, at our pleasure, in thy house of Ferne!
And a third of our men we left with the Sea Wraith. But Sir Mortimer Ferne and I my name is Robin-a-dale we took all the boats to go as far as we might by way of the river. And my master rowed strongly in the first boat, and I rowed strongly in the second, for we rowed for hate and love; but the other boats came on feebly, for they were rowed by ghosts "
"For God's sake!" cried Arden; and the boy, snatching with despairing haste at the interruption, ceased his singing, and in the heavy silence that followed crept nearer and nearer to his master until he touched a listless hand. "Ay, Robin," said Ferne, absently, and laid the hand upon his head. "And the bloody ghosts they pass."
Neither at home in England nor here in Spanish dominions was there English soldier or sailor who knew not name and record of Sir Mortimer Ferne. Among the adventurers about the market-cross were not lacking men who in old days had viewed, admired, envied, and, for final tribute, contemned him. These broke ranks, pressing as closely as was mannerly towards the group about the litter.
But now that I have sold this house I at present go no more." "Sold this house!" echoed Arden, and with a more and more perturbed countenance began to pace the floor. "I did never think to hear of Ferne House fallen to strange hands! Your father " He paused before a picture set in the panelled wall. "Your father loved it well."
Upon Ferne, waiting in inaction, looking out over the vast, dim panorama of earth and ocean, there fell, after the fever and exaltation, the stress and exertion of the past hours, a strange mood of quiet, of dreaming, and of peace. Sitting there in listless strength, he thought in quietude and tenderness of other things than gold, and fame, and the fortress which must be taken of Nueva Cordoba.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking