Read "A Pixy in Petticoats" by John Trevena online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The first beauty of the moor is young bracken, gorse is the second, and the third and best is heather. It was out at last, the pink heather, making the slopes rosy; so Beatrice proposed an expedition. They would climb up the great wet mountain called Cawsand, and search for white heather.
Burrough was quite strong again. He could walk any distance. He was no longer an invalid; the nurse had gone, and the doctor's visits were few and far between. But he still wore the bandage, not because it was necessary, but because he did not dare to remove it. He had looked into the glass and seen the extent of his disfigurement, and straightway the last hope had gone. What would Beatrice say, Beatrice who had fled in terror from the fisherman with the wooden leg? And yet he could not tell her. He must keep her as long as he could. He continued his deceit, telling her the bandage was still necessary, promising it should come off soon, assuring her that the injury was only slight. He declared that his eye was not yet strong enough to bear the light.