Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 5, 2025
There was the quick shuffling of feet, as though these men and women had suddenly been released from some power which had struck them motionless, and eager faces were turned towards the doorway. Barbara did not move. Her eyes were still fixed on Lord Rosmore's face, her arm was still outstretched to prevent a renewal of the fight.
Men still surrounded Lenfield. It was whispered amongst them that, although Monmouth was a prisoner, there was another important traitor yet to capture. They had been told so by Lord Rosmore, under whose command they were. Now they were ordered to draw in closer, and to take anyone who attempted to escape. "Capture him if possible, but, if not, shoot him down," was Rosmore's command.
Sir John lifted his shoulders a little as though the point were too trivial to discuss, and he tried to remember what coloured eyes young Sydney Fellowes had. "I am not sure whether Lord Rosmore's eyes are grey or not; I rather think they are," he said slowly. "Lord Rosmore!" Laughter sounded along the terrace, and several people came towards them, Lord Rosmore and Sydney Fellowes amongst them.
This is glorious comedy!" and Fellowes laughed aloud. "What! A hint of tragedy in it, too!" A naked sword was in Rosmore's hand. "A woman's honour must be defended," hissed Rosmore. "Gad! I'll not spoil the play for want of pantomime," cried Fellowes, still laughing. "Why don't you all laugh at such excellent fooling?"
You played Lord Rosmore's game for him. How do we know that you are speaking the truth now?" "I hate him! Love turned to hate do you know what that means?" said the girl, turning upon him like some wild animal. "To-night I waited for him and he did not come. Servants saw me and laughed; then one man, jeering at me, told me the truth.
Sir John had made a step forward to interfere, but had hesitated and stopped. No one else moved, and there was silence as steel touched steel breathless silence. For a moment Barbara was hardly conscious of what was happening about her. It seemed only an instant ago that she had cried out, and now naked swords and the shadow of death. Lord Rosmore's face looked evil, sinister, devilish.
"It is the way I should prefer the story to end," Crosby returned. Rosmore pushed back the table, then the swords rang from their scabbards. The girl behind the curtain did not move. She had watched Rosmore's face to try and learn whether Crosby's story were true.
On the ground, at a little distance from him, lay a heavy coat, just as Barbara had thrown it from the coach last night, and a growling oath came from Rosmore's dry lips. He wished with all his heart that he had delivered her into Judge Jeffreys' hands in Dorchester. She would have been just such a delicate morsel as the loathsome brute would have gloated over.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking