The Project Gutenberg EBook of VC -- A Chronicle of Castle Barfield and of
the Crimea, by David Christie Murray

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Title: VC -- A Chronicle of Castle Barfield and of the Crimea

Author: David Christie Murray

Release Date: August 8, 2007 [EBook #22275]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VC, A CHRONICLE ***

Produced by David Widger

VC -- A CHRONICLE OF CASTLE BARFIELD AND OF THE CRIMEA

By David Christie Murray

CHATTO & WINDUS

1904

LONDON

V. C.

CHAPTER I

The people of Castle Barfield boast that the middle of their High
Street is on a level with the cross of St. Paul's Cathedral. The whole
country-side is open, and affords a welcome to storm from whatever
corner of the compass it may blow. You have to get right away into
the Peak district before you can find anything like an eminence of
distinction, though the mild slopes of Quarry-moor and Cline, a few
miles to the westward, save the prospect from complete monotony. East,
and a trifle to the north, rises Beacon Hargate, on the top whereof one
of the innumerable bonfires which warned England of the coming of the
Armada hung out its flaming banner in the sight of three counties.
Topping that high tableland, Beacon Hargate is familiar with wild
weather at the proper seasons, and by dint of use takes very little
notice of it. But on the evening on which this story has its proper
beginning such a storm raged round and over the old Beacon as no man or
woman of that region could even remember. It began in the grey of the
dawn in wild and fitful gusts, driving thick squalls of rain before
them, but long before midday it lost its first waywardness and settled
down to business with a steady purpose. It grew in force from hour to
hour, and almost from minute to minute, until all living things sought
shelter. The disconsolate cattle huddled under the sparse hedgerows,
looking down their broad, dripping noses in a meek abandonment to fate.
The sheep packed themselves in any hollowed corner they could find,
and hugged their soaked fleeces close to each other in uncomplaining
patience. The trees fought the blast with impotent