I do not see it can do you much good, John, but neither do I see that it can do you any harm; therefore, if you have set your mind on it, read it, my boy." It was a stormy evening in the first week of November, 1688.

The wind was blowing in fierce gusts, making every door and casement quiver in Davenant Castle, while, between the gusts, the sound of the deep roar of the sea on the rocks far below could be plainly heard.

Mrs.Davenant was sitting in a high-backed chair, on one side of the great fireplace, in which a pile of logs was blazing.

Her son had just laid down a book, which he could no longer see to read, while her daughter-in-law was industriously knitting.

Walter was wandering restlessly between the fire and the window, looking out at the flying clouds, through which the moon occasionally struggled.
"Do sit down, Walter," his mother said at last.