Johnny Ludlow, First Series

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Henry Wood. Johnny Ludlow, First Series

I. LOSING LENA

II. FINDING BOTH OF THEM

III. WOLFE BARRINGTON’S TAMING

IV. MAJOR PARRIFER

V. COMING HOME TO HIM

VI. LEASE, THE POINTSMAN

VII. AUNT DEAN

VIII. GOING THROUGH THE TUNNEL

IX. DICK MITCHEL

X. A HUNT BY MOONLIGHT

XI. THE BEGINNING OF THE END

XII “JERRY’S GAZETTE.”

XIII. SOPHIE CHALK

XIV. AT MISS DEVEEN’S

XV. THE GAME FINISHED

XVI. GOING TO THE MOP

XVII. BREAKING DOWN

XVIII. REALITY OR DELUSION?

XIX. DAVID GARTH’S NIGHT-WATCH

XX. DAVID GARTH’S GHOST

XXI. SEEING LIFE

XXII. OUR STRIKE

XXIII. BURSTING-UP

XXIV. GETTING AWAY

XXV. OVER THE WATER

XXVI. AT WHITNEY HALL

Отрывок из книги

Squire Todhetley was rich. But he lived in the plain, good old-fashioned way that his forefathers had lived; almost a homely way, it might be called, in contrast with the show and parade that have sprung up of late years. He was respected by every one, and though hotheaded and impetuous, he was simple-minded, open-handed, and had as good a heart as any one ever had in this world. An elderly gentleman now, was he, of middle height, with a portly form and a red face; and his hair, what was left of it, consisted of a few scanty, lightish locks, standing up straight on the top of his head.

The Squire had married, but not very early in life. His wife died in a few years, leaving one child only; a son, named after his father, Joseph. Young Joe was just the pride of the Manor and of his father’s heart.

.....

I don’t write it exactly as she spoke; I shouldn’t know how to spell it: we made a guess at half the words. Tod, who had grown white again, put on his boots, and lifted up the opening of the tent.

I had never seen any scene like it; I don’t suppose I shall ever see another. About a foot from the ground was a raised surface of some sort, thickly covered with dark green rushes, just the size and shape of a gravestone. A little child, about as old as Lena, lay on it, a white cloth thrown over her, and just touching the white, still face. A torch, blazing and smoking away, was thrust into the ground and lighted up the scene. Whiter the face looked now, because it had been tawny in life. I would rather see one of our faces in death than a gipsy’s. The contrast between the white face and dress of the child, and the green bed of rushes it lay on was something remarkable. A young woman, dark too, and handsome enough to create a commotion at the fair, knelt down, her brown hands uplifted; a gaudy ring on one of the fingers, worth sixpence perhaps when new, sparkled in the torchlight. Tod strode up to the dead face and looked at it for full five minutes. I do believe he thought at first that it was Lena.

.....