Summary

Portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson Robert Louis Stevenson The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition…

Now the King’s daughter was aware of a crone that sat upon the beach. The sea-foam ran to her feet, and the dead leaves swarmed about her back, and the rags blew about her face in the blowing of the wind.
“Now,” said the King’s daughter, and she named a holy name, “this is the most unhappy old crone between two seas.”
“Daughter of a King,” said the crone, “you dwell in a stone house, and your hair is like the gold: but what is your profit? Life is not long, nor lives strong; and you live after the way of simple men, and have no thought for the morrow and no power upon the hour.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson Robert Louis Stevenson The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition…

Van Tromp was naturally the first to recover; he put out his hand with a fine gesture.
“And you know my little lass, my Esther?” he said. “This is pleasant, this is what I have conceived of home. A strange word for the old rover; but we all have a taste for home and the homelike, disguise it how we may. It has brought me here, Mr. Naseby,” he concluded, with an intonation that would have made his fortune on the stage, so just, so sad, so dignified, so like a man of the world and a philosopher, “and you see a man who is content.”
“I see,” said Dick.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson Robert Louis Stevenson The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition…

Eh, deary me, to think that life should run to such a puddle! And I remember long syne when I was strong, and the blood all hot and good about me, and I loved to run, too—deary me, to run! Well, that’s all by. You’d better pray to be took early, Nance, and not live on till you get to be like me, and are robbed in your grey old age, your cold, shivering, dark old age, that’s like a winter’s morning”; and he bitterly shuddered, spreading his hands before the fire.
“Come now,” said Nance, “the more you say the less you’ll like it, Uncle Jonathan
Source: Gutenberg

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