Waynflete

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Coleridge Christabel Rose. Waynflete

Part 1, Chapter I. The Family

Part 1, Chapter II. The House

Part 1, Chapter III. The Inheritance

Part 1, Chapter IV. Hereditary Foes

Part 1, Chapter V. Interesting

Part 1, Chapter VI. Good Comrades

Part 1, Chapter VII. The Cupboard in the Wall

Part 1, Chapter VIII. The Skeleton in the Cupboard

Part 1, Chapter IX “Go Back, My Lord, Across the Moor.”

Part 1, Chapter X “The One Maid for Me.”

Part 1, Chapter XI “Striving for Dear Existence.”

Part 2, Chapter I. A Big Situation

Part 2, Chapter II. Crossing the Flete

Part 2, Chapter III. Ministers of Grace

Part 2, Chapter IV. Throwing Down the Gauntlet

Part 2, Chapter V. The Mother’s Book

Part 2, Chapter VI

Part 2, Chapter VII. Waiting for Guy

Part 2, Chapter VIII “Unadvisedly with his Lips.”

Part 2, Chapter IX. The White Wreath

Part 2, Chapter X. Grit

Part 2, Chapter XI. Helping and Hindering

Part 2, Chapter XII. Harebells in Snow

Part 3, Chapter I. Handicapped

Part 3, Chapter II “A Little Hint – A Mystic Flash.”

Part 3, Chapter III. Saint Michael

Part 3, Chapter IV. The Family Face

Part 3, Chapter V. T’ Owd Gen’leman

Part 3, Chapter VI. Hopes and Fears

Part 3, Chapter VII. Life and Death

Part 3, Chapter VIII. Mr Van Brunt

Part 3, Chapter IX. The Arch-Fear

Part 3, Chapter X. Two, or Three?

Part 3, Chapter XI. Waynflete of Waynflete

Отрывок из книги

The splendid sunset of a late August day in the year 1885 was staining the smoky atmosphere which enveloped the manufacturing district of Ingleby with rich and subtle tints.

Margaret Waynflete sat at an upstairs window of a large square stone house, looking across a garden, filled with brilliant flowers and smoke-dulled shrubs, over lovely undulations of wood and field, and unlovely forms of mill and chimney half veiled in tawny, luminous mist, Beyond, hill behind hill, and moor above moor, in endless succession, were lost in grey-gold smoke and fog. She was an old woman, with a line strong face of marked outline, and a tall, strong frame, dressed handsomely in sober and dignified garments suitable to her years and position. Her face was wrinkled and weather-beaten, with the look that comes of facing hard weather through a long life; but it told of perfect health, of unimpaired strength of mind and body.

.....

“That Guy who was too late was an awful duffer, if he wasn’t drunk!” said Godfrey. “I’d have got over the river, ghost or highwayman, or been killed on the spot.”

“It’s not a nice story,” said Guy. “I should think Waynflete was haunted by all their ghosts!”

.....