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The Prince and the Page; a story of the last crusade by Charlotte Mary Yonge
page 15 of 244 (06%)
The so-called forest was in many parts mere open heath, thickly
adorned by the beautiful purple ling, blending into a rich carpet
with the dwarf furze, and backed by thickets of trees in the hollows
of the ground.

Across this wild country the tall forester conducted his captives in
silence--moving along with a pace that evidently cost him so little
exertion, and was so steady and even, that his companions might have
supposed it slow, had they only watched it, and not been obliged to
keep up with it. Light of foot as the youth was, he was at times
reduced to an almost breathless run; and Adam plodded along, with
strides that worked his arms and shoulders in sympathy.

After about three miles, when the boy was beginning to feel as if he
must soon be in danger of lagging, they came into a dip of the ground
where stood a long, low, irregular building, partly wood and partly
stone, roofed with shingle in some parts, in others with heather.
The last addition, a deep porch, still retained the fresh tints of
the bark on the timber sides, and the purple of the ling that roofed
it.

Sheds and out-houses surrounded it; dogs in couples, horses, grooms,
and foresters, were congregated in the background; but around this
new porch were gathered a troop of peasant women, children, and aged
men. The fine bald brow and profile of the old peasant, the eager
face of the curly-haired child, the worn countenance of the hard-
tasked mother, were all uplifted towards the doorway, in which stood,
slightly above them, a lady, with two long plaited flaxen tresses
descending on her shoulders, under a black silken veil, that
disclosed a youthful countenance, full of pure calm loveliness, of a
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