Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Dawn of a To-morrow by Frances Hodgson Burnett (good story books to read TXT) 📖
- Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
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The curate bowed his head reverently.
“Perhaps it was.”
The girl Glad sat clinging to her knees, her eyes wide and awed and with a sudden gush of hysteric tears rushing down her cheeks.
“That ‘s the wye! That ‘s the wye!” she gulped out. “No one won’t never believe—they won’t, NEVER. That’s what she sees, Miss Montaubyn. You don’t, ‘E don’t,” with a jerk toward the curate. “I ain’t nothin’ but ME, but blimme if I don’t—blimme!”
Sir Oliver Holt grew paler still. He felt as he had done when Jinny Montaubyn’s poor dress swept against him. His voice shook when he spoke.
“So do I,” he said with a sudden deep catch of the breath; “it was the Answer.”
In a few moments more he went to the girl Polly and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I shall take you home to your mother,” he said. “I shall take you myself and care for you both. She shall know nothing you are afraid of her hearing. I shall ask her to bring up the child. You will help her.”
Then he touched the thief, who got up white and shaking and with eyes moist with excitement.
“You shall never see another man claim your thought because you have not time or money to work it out. You will go with me. There are to-morrows enough for you!”
Glad still sat clinging to her knees and with tears running, but the ugliness of her sharp, small face was a thing an angel might have paused to see.
“You don’t want to go away from here,” Sir Oliver said to her, and she shook her head.
“No, not me. I told yer wot I wanted. Lemme do it.”
“You shall,” he answered, “and I will help you.”
The things which developed in Apple Blossom Court later, the things which came to each of those who had sat in the weird circle round the fire, the revelations of new existence which came to herself, aroused no amazement in Jinny Montaubyn’s mind. She had asked and believed all things—and all this was but another of the Answers.
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Dawn of A To-morrow
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