Read "My Merry Rockhurst" by Egerton Castle online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
A red dawn was breaking over London; through the undrawn curtains of the parlour in Lord Rockhurst's small house in Whitehall, abutting by the Holbein gateway, the first rays darted in to mingle with the dying gleam of a pair of candles that guttered in their sockets.
Chitterley-my lord's old confidential servant, who had shared with him all fortune's vicissitudes, through prosperity and peace, through war and exile, since the last reign-rose from the high-backed chair upon which he had been dozing, and stretched his stiffened limbs wearily. Muttering to himself, as old people will, he fell with sudden alacrity to replenishing (only just in time, for it was fast going out) the small cresset which burned at his hand.