Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Rose and the Key, Vol. 1 of 3
One, indeed, is little more than a rotten stump, some twelve feet high; all bend eastwards, shorn of their boughs nearly to the top, and stretching the arms that remain, some yellow and stripped of their bark, in the same direction, as if signalling together to the same distant point. These slanting fir-trees look like the masts of a mighty wreck sub merged; and antiquaries say that they are the monumental relics of a forest that lies buried under the peat.
A young lady, her dress of dark serge, with a small black straw-hat, a little scarlet feather in it, and wearing a pair of boots, Such as a country artist might produce, made of good strong leather, with thick soles, but, in spite of coarse work and clumsy material, showing a wonderfully pretty little foot, is leaning lightly against one of these great firs. Her companion, an elderly lady, slight and merry, sits on a hillock of turf at her feet.
The dress of the elder lady corresponds with that of the younger. It is that of a person inured to the practice of a strict but not uncomfortable economy.
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