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The Dove in the Eagle's Nest by Charlotte Mary Yonge
page 41 of 393 (10%)
victualled not the castle well."

The fearful steepness of the ground absorbed all Christina's
attention. The road, or rather stairs, came down to the stream at
the bottom of the fissure, and then went again on the other side up
still more tremendous steeps, which Hugh climbed with a staff,
sometimes with his hand on the bridle, but more often only keeping a
watchful eye on the sure-footed mule, and an arm to steady his
daughter in the saddle when she grew absolutely faint with giddiness
at the abyss around her. She was too much in awe of him to utter cry
or complaint, and, when he saw her effort to subdue her mortal
terror, he was far from unkind, and let her feel his protecting
strength.

Presently a voice was heard above--"What, Sorel, hast brought her!
Trudchen is wearying for her."

The words were in the most boorish dialect and pronunciation, the
stranger to Christina's ears, because intercourse with foreign
merchants, and a growing affectation of Latinism, had much refined
the city language to which she was accustomed; and she was surprised
to perceive by her father's gesture and address that the speaker must
be one of the lords of the castle. She looked up, and saw on the
pathway above her a tall, large-framed young man, his skin dyed red
with sun and wind, in odd contrast with his pale shaggy hair,
moustache, and beard, as though the weather had tanned the one and
bleached the other. His dress was a still shabbier buff suit than
her father had worn, but with a richly-embroidered belt sustaining a
hunting-horn with finely-chased ornaments of tarnished silver, and an
eagle's plume was fastened into his cap with a large gold Italian
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