{"product_id":"2940013741058","title":"Dark Rosaleen","description":"The boy was building a small fort in the Orangery, of toy bricks, mud,\u003cbr\u003eand sticks. The Orangery was empty. Only a few, dry, fragrant leaves from\u003cbr\u003elast year remained in the corners and on the wide sills of the windows\u003cbr\u003ewhich reached from floor to ceiling. On the other side a magnificent\u003cbr\u003etapestry was carefully hung and the figures on it seemed to fill the\u003cbr\u003elarge building.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the boy glanced up from his fort he was acutely aware of all these\u003cbr\u003estrange, tall figures, which were moving in a stately cavalcade towards\u003cbr\u003ethe corner where he lay: white elephants, camels of a pale honey colour,\u003cbr\u003egiraffes and zebra speckled and striped, princes turbanned and wearing\u003cbr\u003earmour that sparkled with gold thread, slaves leading monstrous beasts by\u003cbr\u003escarlet cords, and captives, their arms bound behind them--all these\u003cbr\u003eseemed, to the lonely boy, to watch him at his play; and as the sun,\u003cbr\u003epouring in through the long panes of glass, caught here a strand of\u003cbr\u003ebullion, there a thread of silk, they appeared to move as if about to\u003cbr\u003espeak.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbove the corner where the boy worked was the Triumphal Car bearing the\u003cbr\u003eHero of this parade, and close by the heavy wheel was a Negro who helped\u003cbr\u003eto push the majestic chariot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe expression of this figure, which seemed bent, not only in labour but\u003cbr\u003ein supplication, and the way in which he rolled his eyes, as if in a\u003cbr\u003efrenzy of terror, affected the little boy. The man was a slave and\u003cbr\u003eplainly expected punishment. As the boy returned to his work, laying out\u003cbr\u003ehis lines and galleries and ramparts according to the drawing in Indian\u003cbr\u003eink beside him, marking the places for each cannon and building up the\u003cbr\u003ecitadel where the flag should fly at last, he was conscious of the shadow\u003cbr\u003ethrown over him by the suffering of another--a picture only, but terribly\u003cbr\u003ereal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe vaguely regretted that his mother and stepfather Mr. Ogilvie had not\u003cbr\u003eremained to keep him company, and presently he sat up with a sigh,\u003cbr\u003ebrushing the dried earth off his hands and with his back to the tapestry,\u003cbr\u003egazed out through the open door on to an expanse of lawn and park where\u003cbr\u003eall the grass, trees and flowers seemed to shimmer in the sun.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe long silence was broken by the first of two visits which were to make\u003cbr\u003ethat day memorable. As he stared through the open door another boy put\u003cbr\u003ehis head round it and smiled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I was told to come and play with you. May I do so?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe child nodded with grave courtesy. Visitors to the Château were not\u003cbr\u003erare, but this one spoke English and that was a little uncommon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'My mother sent you?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Oh, yes,' the stranger advanced. 'Her Grace said that the other little\u003cbr\u003elords and ladies were away, but that I might have the honour of coming\u003cbr\u003ehere to play with your Lordship.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe boy did not at all like this way of speaking. He felt embarrassed by\u003cbr\u003ethe other's fawning awkwardness. The stranger was a little younger than\u003cbr\u003ehimself, sharp, shrewd and precocious in manner.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Oh, what a beautiful fort you are making here, may I look at it?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe other rose, his natural sweetness struggling with a dislike of this\u003cbr\u003eintruder. He brushed the powdered earth from the knees of his trousers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Of course you may look at it, but there is not very much to see. I have\u003cbr\u003eonly half finished, there is a good deal of work but I like to do it all\u003cbr\u003emyself. You are English, are you not?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Oh, no, like your Lordship, I am Irish--I was born in Dublin.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'My name is Edward and if you have come to visit us there is no need for\u003cbr\u003eyou to be so formal.'","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47070246174960,"sku":"2940013741058","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013741058_p0.jpg?v=1763589633","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013741058","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}