X
In this same Her Ladyship’s mount is shot
dead under her in Epstowe Forest, and
she makes off on Tom Kidde’s horse.
This young gentleman now stood looking from a window of his uncle’s house, upon all the dewy leafing beauty of the Park at May. His brow was knit, his lips tight shut, his hand amid his ruffles clenched.
At the table sat Kennaston, inky-fingered, scribbling; eyes now rolling to the ceiling, now roving hither and yon.