Category: Historical Novels
The red sun rose slowly, achingly across the high Scottish moor, touching with melancholy gold the patching hoar frost and purple heath. For this was a land of pain, and stark beauty, and restless dream. Here the spirits of the dead walked by night through grim castles of shad...
The red sun rose slowly, achingly across the high Scottish moor, touching with melancholy gold the patching hoar frost and purple heath. For this was a land of pain, and stark b...
2. Chapter 2Mary felt something cool being pressed against her forehead, and at the same time a warmth and lightness of being for which she could in no way account. Remembering the vision s...