A. T. Quiller-Couch

“ And “Oh, Joan!” I cried, “my comrade I left upon the road. Brighter courage and truer heart never man proved, and yet left by me in the rebels' hands. Alas! that I could neither save nor help, but must still ride on: and here is the issue—to lie struck down within ten mile of my goal—I, that have travelled two hundred. And if the Cornishmen be not warned to give fight before Lord Stamford come up, all's lost. Even now they be out-number'd. So lift me, Joan, and set me astride Molly, and I'll win to Bodmin yet.” ”

“ And then, as something took me by the throat—“Joan, Joan—to see what thou seest!”
A long time I leant by the door-post there, drinking in the sound that now was renewed at quicker intervals. Yet, for as far as I could see, 'twas the peacefullest scene, though dreary—quiet sunshine on the hills, and the sheep dotted here and there, cropping. But down yonder, over the edge of the moors, men were fighting and murdering each other: and I yearn'd to see how the day went. ”

“ Indoors, the old savage had been drinking steadily; and still sat before the fire, with the cat on one knee, and his keg on the other. I sat up and strain'd my ears. Surely, if Joan had not failed, the royal generals would march out and give battle at once: and surely, if they were fighting, not ten miles away, some sound of it would reach me. But beyond the purring of the cat, I heard nothing. ”