Wyllard's Weird
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Оглавление
Braddon Mary Elizabeth. Wyllard's Weird
WYLLARD'S WEIRD
CHAPTER I. IN A CORNISH VALLEY
CHAPTER II. AFTER THE INQUEST
CHAPTER III. JOSEPH DISTIN
CHAPTER IV. BOTHWELL DECLINES TO ANSWER
CHAPTER V. PEOPLE WILL TALK
CHAPTER VI. A CLERICAL WARNING
CHAPTER VII. A RAPID CONVERSION
CHAPTER VIII. A VALUABLE ALLY
CHAPTER IX. FEVER DREAMS
CHAPTER X "TOUCH LIPS AND PART WITH TEARS."
CHAPTER XI. A FATAL LOVE
WYLLARD'S WEIRD
CHAPTER I. LÉONIE'S MISSION
CHAPTER II. A STUDENT OF MEN AND WOMEN
CHAPTER III. BOTHWELL BEGINS TO SEE HIS WAY
CHAPTER IV. THE HOME OF THE PAST
CHAPTER V. A FACE FROM THE GRAVE
CHAPTER VI. STRUCK DOWN
CHAPTER VII. THE GENERAL RECEIVES A SUMMONS
CHAPTER VIII. WIDOWED AND FREE
CHAPTER IX. TWO WOMEN
CHAPTER X. ROSES ON A GRAVE
WYLLARD'S WEIRD
CHAPTER I. WEDDING GARMENTS
CHAPTER II. LADY VALERIA FIGHTS HER OWN BATTLE
CHAPTER III. AN ELOPEMENT ON NEW LINES
CHAPTER IV. IN THE LAND OF BOHEMIA
CHAPTER V. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND
CHAPTER VI. HOW SUCH THINGS END
CHAPTER VII. ONE WHO MUST REMEMBER
CHAPTER VIII. THE LAST LINK
CHAPTER IX. WAITING FOR HIS DOOM
CHAPTER X "ALIKE IS HELL, OR PARADISE, OR HEAVEN."
CHAPTER XI "SWEET IS DEATH FOR EVERMORE."
CHAPTER XII "WHO KNOWS NOT CIRCE?"
CHAPTER XIII "HOW LIKE A WINTER HATH THY ABSENCE BEEN."
Отрывок из книги
There are some travellers who think when they cross the Tamar, over that fairy bridge of Brunel's, hung aloft between the blue of the river and the blue of the sky, that they have left England behind them on the eastern shore – that they have entered a new country, almost a new world. This land of quiet woods and lonely valleys, and bold brown hills, barren, solitary – these wild commons and large moorlands of Cornwall seem to stand apart, as they did in the days gone by, when this province was verily a kingdom, complete in itself, and owning no sovereignty but its own.
It is a beautiful region which the traveller sees, perchance for the first time, as the train skims athwart the quaint little waterside village of Saltash, and pierces the rich depths of the woodland, various, enchanting. Now the line seems strung like a thread of iron in mid-air above a deep gorge, now winds sinuous as a snake through a labyrinth of hills. A picturesque bit of road, this between Plymouth and Bodmin Road, at all times; but, perhaps, loveliest in the still evening hour, when the summer sunset steeps the land in golden light, while the summer wind scarcely stirs the woods.
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"Why do you ask me for your freedom, as if it were so great a favour?" Heathcote said bitterly, as he lifted her up from her knees. "Do you think I would have you – this mere beautiful clay – now that your heart has gone from me? Do you think I, who love you a hundred times better than I love myself, would stand between you and happiness? You are free, Dora. I have seen this misery coming upon me ever since this stranger came into your mother's house."
"And you will forgive me?" she pleaded, with clasped hands, looking at him with streaming eyes, sorry for him, deeply ashamed of her infidelity.
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