Edwin Brothertoft. Theodore Winthrop

Edwin Brothertoft - Theodore Winthrop


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       Theodore Winthrop

      Edwin Brothertoft

      Published by Good Press, 2020

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066412753

       Part I.

       Chapter I.

       Chapter II.

       Chapter III.

       Chapter IV.

       Chapter V.

       Chapter VI.

       Chapter VII.

       Chapter VIII.

       Chapter IX.

       PART II.

       Chapter I.

       Chapter II.

       Chapter III.

       Chapter IV.

       Chapter V.

       Chapter VI.

       Chapter VII.

       Chapter VIII.

       PART III.

       Chapter I.

       Chapter II.

       Chapter III.

       Chapter IV.

       Chapter V.

       Chapter VI.

       Chapter VII.

       Chapter VIII.

       Chapter IX.

       Chapter X.

       Chapter XI.

       Chapter XII.

       Chapter XIII.

       Chapter XIV.

       Chapter XV.

       Chapter XVI.

       Chapter XVII.

       Chapter XVIII.

       Chapter XIX.

       Chapter XX.

       Chapter XXI.

       Chapter XXII.

       Chapter XXIII.

       Chapter XXIV.

       Chapter XXV.

       Chapter XXVI.

      Chapter I.

       Table of Contents

      The Cavaliers always ran when they saw Puritan Colonel Brothertoft and his troop of white horses coming.

      They ran from the lost battle of Horncastle, in the days of the great rebellion, and the Colonel chased.

      North and West he chased over the heaths and wolds of his native Lincolnshire. Every leap took him farther away from the peaked turrets of Brothertoft Manor-House—his home, midway between the towers of Lincoln Cathedral and Boston on the Witham.

      Late at night he rode wearily back to Horncastle. He first took care that those famous horses were fed a good feed, after their good fight and brave chase, and then laid himself down in his cloak to sleep beside Cromwell and Fairfax. Presently a youth on a white horse came galloping into the town, up to the quaint house where the Colonel quartered, and shouted for him. Brothertoft looked out at the window. By the faint light he recognized young Galsworthy, son of his richest tenant and trustiest follower.

      “The King’s people have attacked the Manor-House,” cried the boy. “My lady is trying to hold it with the servants. I come for help.”

      In a moment a score of men were mounted and dashing southward. Ten miles to go. They knew every foot of it. The twenty white horses galloped close, and took their leaps together steadily—an heroic sight to be seen in that clear, frosty night of October!

      The fire of dawn already glimmered


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