Vicissitudes of a Gentlewoman |
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Author:
| Vicissitudes, |
ISBN: | 978-0-217-65164-6 |
Publication Date: | Aug 2009 |
Publisher: | General Books LLC
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Book Format: | Paperback |
List Price: | USD $19.99 |
Book Description:
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: 45 CHAPTER III. Mr Tudor sat alone by his fireside, musing, in the early autumn evening. The book in his hand was unread, it was too dusk to read, but he would not have opened it if there had been more light. His mouth twitched, and the veins in his forehead swelled. He sat there alone in the firelight,...
More DescriptionPurchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: 45 CHAPTER III. Mr Tudor sat alone by his fireside, musing, in the early autumn evening. The book in his hand was unread, it was too dusk to read, but he would not have opened it if there had been more light. His mouth twitched, and the veins in his forehead swelled. He sat there alone in the firelight, and took a retrospective view of life; what it had been to him, ?what it was, ?and the future, ?and the hereafter, what would that be ? Mr Tudor's communings were bitter; he bore them alone, shut them up within his own breast, and was regarded by those who knew him as a genial, happy- tempered man, over whose head thestorms of life passed lightly. But there is a secret chamber in most hearts into which even chosen friends cannot enter. Mr Tudor's thoughts had passed into that dim region, and images, and .pictures, and figures, once bright, loving, living figures, now passed away, and cast into the shade by daily avocations, and pleasant society, and the duties and cares of every-day life, stood prominently forth. It was a moment in which a gentle voice, a gentle pressure from a loving hand, would have been comfort inexpressible. Mr Tudor looked round; all that met his eye was the fire-light dancing and flickering on the walls of the room, the half-revealed forms of the furniture, and his unopened book. There was nobody to comfort him now; nobody who knew that he needed comfort. Tom was as usual engaged with his books, and Harry ?no one ever attempted to know Harry's whereabouts, though, if Mr Tudor's eye had been able to pierce stone walls and penetrate the darkness, he might have seen his eldest son collecting materials for the fifth of November's bonfire, andat that moment pulling down and shouldering the decaying door of a farmer's barn. Janet was sitting down by the ki