H. De Vere Stacpoole

“ We wandered, locked together, through the dusk of the garden. We found the dark yew tree walk by instinct; there was a seat and we sat down. We could scarcely see each other, we were utterly dumb, confounded with love. ”

“ A confused noise, it seemed like the noise of a battle in the distance. I tossed back my hair, and my left hand worked at the hilt of my sword. Yes, it must be a battle, a great battle in the distance. I caught the cry, "Sinclair, Sinclair," and then a cry like the distant sound of a thousand voices, "For the King." I heard the far-off tramp of horses, the vague cries, the clash of steel. Then the imperious call of a trumpet, the call of a battle-trumpet. I sprung to my feet from my stooping attitude. I swung the trumpet from behind me, and seizing it, placed the silver mouthpiece to my lips ”