Yours sincerely,
G. A. Henty.
Chapter 1: A Spy in the Household.
On the borders of Lancashire and Westmoreland, two centuries since,
stood Lynnwood, a picturesque mansion, still retaining something of
the character of a fortified house. It was ever a matter of regret
to its owner, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs, that his grandfather had so
modified its construction, by levelling one side of the quadrangle,
and inserting large mullion windows in that portion inhabited by
the family, that it was in no condition to stand a siege, in the
time of the Civil War.
Sir Marmaduke was, at that time, only a child, but he still
remembered how the Roundhead soldiers had lorded it there, when his
father was away fighting with the army of the king; how they had
seated themselves at the board, and had ordered his mother about as
if she had been a scullion, jeering her with cruel words as to what
would have been the fate of her husband, if they had caught him
there, until, though but eight years old, he had smitten one of the
troopers, as he sat, with all his force. What had happened after
that, he did not recollect, for it was not until a week after the
Roundheads had ridden away that he found himself in his bed, with
his mother sitting beside him, and his head bandaged with cloths
dipped in water.
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