Explore "In Love's Hands" by Bertha M. Clay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Who that knows Northumberland has not roamed delightedly beside the lovely Coquet, that tricksome little river which sometimes murmurs softly along its rocky bed, and anon -- swollen and turbid -- fiercely dashes against its steep banks, rushing on toward the ocean with a force and rapidity that carries everything before it.
Those who have visited this capricious stream will remember Heriton Priory, one of the fairest and finest estates through which it wanders. Surrounded on three sides by hills which protect it from the keen winds, then sloping gently toward the river, the grounds are worthy the house, which is a fine specimen of the Tudor style of architecture. The ruins of the first priory -- formerly the residence of a community of monks -- still exist; and, owing to the care of their owners, are almost in as good condition as when the demesne was bestowed upon a certain Ralph de Heriton by Henry VIII.