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Good evening.

Tonight, I'll be reading Chapter 7 and 8 of The Black Arrow, a tale of two roses by Robert Louis Stevenson.

So let your eyes fall heavy and your breath soften as we settle in for a peaceful night's sleep.

Chapter 7 The Hooded Face

They awoke in the grave the morning. The birds were not yet in full song, but twitted ear and dare among the woods.

The sun was not yet up, but the eastern sky was barred with solemn colours.

Half-staffed and over weary as they were, they lay without moving.

Sun can a delightful lastitude, and as they lay thus, the clang of a bell fell suddenly upon their ears.

A bell said Dick, sitting up. Can we be, then, so near to Hollywood?

A little after the bell clanged again, but this time somewhat nearer hand, and from that time forth, and still drawing nearer and nearer, it continued to sound brokenly abroad in the silence of the morning.

Nay, what should this bettoken, said Dick, who was now broad awake?

It is someone walking, returned matchem, and the bell tolleth ever as he moves.

I see that, said Dick, but wherefore, what makeeth he in tons' tall woods? Jack, he added, laugh at me as ye will, but I like not the hollow sound of it.

Nay, said matchem, with a sure, it hath a dull full tone, and the day were not come.

But just then, the bell, quickening its pace, began to ring thick and hurried, and then it gave a single jackhammering jangle, and was silent for a space.

...