Lorimer of the Northwest
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Bindloss Harold. Lorimer of the Northwest
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I. THE FIRST SOWING
CHAPTER II. THE CHURCH PARADE
CHAPTER III “THE LAND OF PROMISE”
CHAPTER IV. AN UNPLEASANT APPRENTICESHIP
CHAPTER V. A BID FOR FORTUNE
CHAPTER VI. THE FIRST CROP
CHAPTER VII. HARVEST HOME
CHAPTER VIII. HELD UP
CHAPTER IX. A RECKONING
CHAPTER X. A FORWARD POLICY
CHAPTER XI. ON THE RAILROAD
CHAPTER XII. THE UNEXPECTED
CHAPTER XIII. ADVOCATES OF TEMPERANCE
CHAPTER XIV. THE HIRED TEAMSTER
CHAPTER XV. UNDER THE SHADOW OF DEATH
CHAPTER XVI. WHEN THE WATERS ROSE
CHAPTER XVII. THE RETURN
CHAPTER XVIII. THE OPENING OF THE LINE
CHAPTER XIX. A GENEROUS OFFER
CHAPTER XX. THE RETURN TO THE PRAIRIE
CHAPTER XXI. THE STOLEN CATTLE
CHAPTER XXII. A RACE WITH TIME
CHAPTER XXIII. ON THE GOLD TRAIL
CHAPTER XXIV. THE BRINK OF ETERNITY
CHAPTER XXV. ORMOND’S LAST JOURNEY
CHAPTER XXVI. THE TRIAL
CHAPTER XXVII. THE ROAD TO DAKOTA
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE RECALL OF ADAM LEE
CHAPTER XXIX. CONCERNING THE DAY SPRING MINE
CHAPTER XXX. CARRINGTON ASSERTS HIS AUTHORITY
CHAPTER XXXI. THE DEPOSED RULER
CHAPTER XXXII. THE NEW RULER OF CARRINGTON
CHAPTER XXXIII. A BOUNTIFUL HARVEST
Отрывок из книги
It was late in autumn, and the heather had faded into dingy brown, though long streaks of golden fern crept winding down, when Grace Carrington first talked with me of the Canadian Dominion on the bleak slopes of Starcross Moor. There was a hollow in the hillside where a few pale-stemmed birches and somber firs formed, as it were, a rampart between the poor, climbing meadows and the waste of gorse and fern, and we two beneath them seemed utterly alone in the moorland solitude.
Grace sat on a lichened boulder with the sunlight upon her, gazing down across the levels of Lancashire. I was just twenty years old, and she seemed the incarnation of all that was fresh and good in early womanhood. Still, it was not only her beauty that attracted me, though she was the well-dowered daughter of a race which has long been famous for fair women, but a certain grave dignity that made her softly spoken wishes seem commands that it would be a pleasure to obey. Grace was nineteen then, and she lived in Western Canada with her widowed father, Colonel Carrington, who had made himself a power in that country. Yet she was English by birth and early training, of the fair-haired, gray-eyed, old Lancashire stock, and had lost nothing by her sojourn on the prairie as youthful mistress of Carrington Manor.
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I laughed at the warning, though I had occasion to remember it, and looking for Alice I said, “I am driving in to church to-night. Would you like to come with me?”
Now Alice Lorimer possessed her father’s keen perception, and when he kept his temper he was perhaps the shrewdest man I ever met; so when she looked me straight in the face I dropped my eyes, because I really was not anxious for her company, and should not have gone except in the hope of seeing Grace Carrington.
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