Hereward the Wake; "last of the English"
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Book Description
General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1866 Original Publisher: Macmillan Subjects: Great Britain Fiction / Classics Fiction / Historical Fiction / Literary Fiction / Biographical Literary Criticism / European / English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or ...
MoreGeneral Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1866 Original Publisher: Macmillan Subjects: Great Britain Fiction / Classics Fiction / Historical Fiction / Literary Fiction / Biographical Literary Criticism / European / English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: CHAPTER IV. HOW HEREWARD GATHERED AN ARMY. The voyage round the Norfolk coast was rough and wild. Torfrida was ill; the little girl was ill; the poor old mother was so ill that she could not even say her prayers. Packed uncomfortably under the awning on the poop, Torfrida looked on from beneath it upon the rolling water-waste, with a heart full of gloomy forebodings, and a brain whirling with wild fancies. The wreaths of cloud were grey witches, hurrying on with the ship to work her woe; the low red storm-dawn was streaked with blood; the water which gurgled all night under the lee was alive with hoarse voices ; and again and again she started from fitful slumber to clasp the child closer to her, or look up for comfort to the sturdy figure of her husband, as he stood, like a tower of strength, steering and commanding, the long night through. Yes ; on him she could depend. On his courage, on his skill. And as for his love, had she not that utterly ? and what more did woman need ? But she was going, she scarce knew whither; and shescarce knew for what. At least, on a fearful adventure, which might have a fearful end. She looked at the fair child, and reproached herself for a moment; at the poor old mother, whining and mumbling, her soft southern heart quite broken by the wild chill northern sea-breeze ; and reproached herself still more. But was it not her duty ? Him she loved, and his she was; and ...
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