Luttrell Of Arran
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Оглавление
Lever Charles James. Luttrell Of Arran
CHAPTER I. A WILD LANDSCAPE
CHAPTER II. A YACHTING PARTY
CHAPTER III. AN OLD STORY
CHAPTER IV. ON BOARD
CHAPTER V. HOW THE SPOIL WAS DIVIDED
CHAPTER VI. ON THE SEA-SHORE AT NIGHT
CHAPTER VII. A COTTAGE IN WALES
CHAPTER VIII. AN OLD BACHELOR’S HOUSE
CHAPTER IX. MR. M’KINLAY’S TRIALS
CHAPTER X. THE SHEBEEN
CHAPTER XI. THE LEGEND OF LUTTRELL AND THE —
CHAPTER XII. THE WALK IN THE MOUNTAINS
CHAPTER XIII. THE PROJECT
CHAPTER XIV. A DISCUSSION
CHAPTER XV. Mr. M’KINLAY’S MISSION
CHAPTER XVI. THE OLD LEAVES
CHAPTER XVII. THE NOR’-WESTER
CHAPTER XVIII. A SKIPPER
CHAPTER XIX. THE LAWYER “ABROAD.”
CHAPTER XX. THE SUPPER AT ARRAN
CHAPTER XXI. A WELCOME HOME
CHAPTER XXII. SOME WORDS AT PARTING
CHAPTER XXIII. MALONE IN GOOD COMPANY
CHAPTER XXIV. A QUIET TALK IN A GARDEN
CHAPTER XXV. THE TWO PUPILS
CHAPTER XXVI. THE DINNER IN THE SCHOOLROOM
CHAPTER XXVII. KITTY
CHAPTER XXVIII. SIR WITHIN “AT HOME.”
CHAPTER XXIX. MR. M’KINLAY IS PUZZLED
CHAPTER XXX. SCANDAL
CHAPTER XXXI. DERRYVARAGH
CHAPTER XXXII. MR. M’KINLAY IN ITALY
CHAPTER XXXIII. SIR WITHIN AND HIS WARD
CHAPTER XXXIV. SIR WITHIN’S GUESTS
CHAPTER XXXV. A WALK BEFORE DINNER
CHAPTER XXXVI. A NEW FRIENDSHIP
CHAPTER XXXVII. A WOODLAND RIDE
CHAPTER XXXVIII. SCHEMING
CHAPTER XXXIX. WITH DOCTORS
CHAPTER XL. A SUDDEN REVERSE
CHAPTER XLI. THE DARK TIDINGS
CHAPTER XLII. THE SANDS AT SUNSET
CHAPTER XLIII. THE INSULT
CHAPTER XLIV. THE FLIGHT
CHAPTER XLV. ON ARRAN
CHAPTER XLVI. THE STRANGER AT THE WELL
CHAPTER XLVII. HOW KATE WAS TASKED
CHAPTER XLVIII. HOW THE TASK TRIED HER
CHAPTER XLIX. MR. O’RORKE ABROAD
CHAPTER L. TWO OF A TRADE
CHAPTER LI. THE BOAR’S HEAD
CHAPTER LII. THE NIGHT AT SEA
CHAPTER LIII. THE GAOL PARLOUR
CHAPTER LIV. IN CONCLAVE
CHAPTER LV. STILL CONSPIRING
CHAPTER LVI. A HEAVY BLOW
CHAPTER LVII. THE HOME OF SORROW
CHAPTER LVIII. SIR WITHIN ABROAD
CHAPTER LIX. MR. GRENFELL’S ROOM
CHAPTER LX. MR. M’KINLAY IN THE TOILS
CHAPTER LXI. MR. M’KINLAY’S “INSTRUCTIONS.”
CHAPTER LXII. FISHING IN TROUBLED WATERS
CHAPTER LXIII. WITH LAWYERS
CHAPTER LXIV. ON THE ISLAND
CHAPTER LXV. THE LUTTRELL BLOOD
CHAPTER LXVI. A CHRISTMAS AT ARRAN
CHAPTER LXVII. A CHRISTMAS ABROAD
CHAPTER LXVIII. TRUSTFULNESS
CHAPTER LXIX. THE END
Отрывок из книги
In a beautiful little bay on the north-east of Innishmore, land-locked on all sides but the entrance, a handsome schooner yacht dropped her anchor just as the sun was setting. Amidst the desolate grandeur of those wild cliffs, against which the sea surged and plashed till the very rocks were smooth worn, that graceful little craft, with her tall and taper spars, and all her trim adjuncts, seemed a strange vision. It was the contrast of civilisation with barbarism; they were the two poles of what are most separated in life – wealth and poverty.
The owner was a Baronet, a certain Sir Gervais Vyner – one of those spoiled children of fortune which England alone rears; for while in other lands high birth and large fortune confer their distinctive advantages, they do not tend, as they do with us, to great social eminence, and even political influence. Vyner had got almost every prize in this world’s lottery; all, indeed, but one; his only child was a daughter, and this was the drop that sufficed to turn to bitterness much of that cupful of enjoyment Fate had offered to his lips. He had seen a good deal of life – done a little of everything – on the turf – in the hunting-field – on the floor of the House he had what was called “held his own.” He was, in fact, one of those accomplished, well-mannered, well-looking people, who, so long as not pushed by any inordinate ambition into a position of undue importance, invariably get full credit for all the abilities they possess, and, what is better still, attract no ill will for the possessing them. As well as having done everything, he had been everywhere: up the Mediterranean, up the Baltic, into the Black Sea, up the St. Lawrence – everywhere but to Ireland – and now, in a dull autumn, when too late for a distant tour, he had induced his friend Grenfell to accompany him in a short cruise, with the distinct pledge that they were not to visit Dublin, or any other of those cognate cities of which Irishmen are vain, but which to Mr. George Grenfell represented all that was an outrage on good taste, and an insult to civilisation. Mr. Grenfell, in one word, entertained for Ireland and the Irish sentiments that wouldn’t have been thought very complimentary if applied to Fejee islanders, with certain hopeless forebodings as to the future than even Fejee itself might have resented as unfair.
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“I don’t exactly mean by force, my dear boy; I intended to say, by persuasion.”
Either the view now submitted to him was not very clear, or that it was combined with other element, but he made no reply.
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