Explore "Moreton Bay" by F.W. Mole on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The sun shone fair over England, and no cloud dulled its brilliancy as Mary Worthington, mounted on Lucifer, rode along the high road into Tavistock. Dressed in her high-necked bodice of navy blue with a smart habit laced with gold, no other costume could have done more justice to her graceful figure. She wore her looped hat of black beaver, from which a golden feather trailed backwards to mingle with her red-gold hair. There was in every line of her something cool, determined, and self-reliant.
Peasants curtsied and yeomen touched their hats to her as she passed them by on the broad highway, for she was known to them all--Mary Worthington of Pentecost farm. Not as a princess or a peeress of the realm was she known to them, but as a yeoman's daughter, with all the ease and grace of perfect maidenhood. To all she had a kind word and a pleasant smile as she rode on her well groomed colt, unaccompanied by page or esquire, and her questing eyes reflected the flawless sky of a perfect June day.