The opening of Chapter 1
There are none of England’s daughters that bear a prouder presence.
*****
And a kingly blood sends glances up, her princely eye to trouble,
And the shadow of a monarch’s crown is softened in her hair.--ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
The sun shone slanting over a spacious park, the undulating ground here turning a broad lawn towards the beams that silvered every blade of grass; there, curving away in banks of velvet green; shadowed by the trees; gnarled old thorns in the holiday suit whence they take their name, giant’s nosegays of horse-chestnuts, mighty elms and stalwart oaks, singly or in groups, the aristocracy of the place; while in the background rose wooded coverts, where every tint of early green blended in rich masses of varied foliage.