Read FICTION books online

Reading books fiction 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.



Fiction genre suitable for people of all ages. Everyone will find something interesting for themselves. Our electronic library is always at your service. Reading online free books without registration. Nowadays ebooks are convenient and efficient. After all, don’t forget: literature exists and develops largely thanks to readers.
The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖

Book online «He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖». Author Anthony Trollope



1 ... 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 ... 176
Go to page:
>letter to Camilla at once; and he would marry Arabella at once on any

day that might be fixed on condition that Camilla would submit to her

defeat without legal redress. If legal redress should be demanded, he

would put in evidence the fact that her own mother had been compelled

to caution the tradesmen of the city in regard to her extravagance.

 

He did write his letter in an agony of spirit. ‘I sit down, Camilla,

with a sad heart and a reluctant hand,’ he said, ‘to communicate to you

a fatal truth. But truth should be made to prevail, and there is

nothing in man so cowardly, so detrimental, and so unmanly as its

concealment. I have looked into myself, and have inquired of myself,

and have assured myself, that were I to become your husband, I should

not make you happy. It would be of no use for me now to dilate on the

reasons which have convinced me, but I am convinced, and I consider it

my duty to inform you so at once. I have been closeted with your

mother, and have made her understand that it is so.

 

I have not a word to say in my own justification but this: that I am

sure I am acting honestly in telling you the truth. I would not wish to

say a word animadverting on yourself. If there must be blame in this

matter, I am willing to take it all on my own shoulders. But things

have been done of late, and words have been spoken, and habits have

displayed themselves, which would not, I am sure, conduce to our mutual

comfort in this world, or to our assistance to each other in our

struggles to reach the happiness of the world to come.

 

I think that you will agree with me, Camilla, that when a man or a

woman has fallen into such a mistake as that which I have now made, it

is best that it should be acknowledged. I know well that such a change

of arrangements as that which I now propose will be regarded most

unfavourably. But will not anything be better than the binding of a

matrimonial knot which cannot be again unloosed, and which we should

both regret?

 

I do not know that I need add anything further. What can I add further?

Only this, that I am inflexible. Having resolved to take this step and

to bear the evil things that may be said of me, for your happiness and

for my own tranquillity, I shall not now relinquish my resolution. I do

not ask you to forgive me. I doubt much whether I shall ever be quite

able to forgive myself. The mistake which I have made is one which

should not have been committed. I do not ask you to forgive me; but I

do ask you to pray that I may be forgiven.

 

Yours, with feelings of the truest friendship,

 

THOMAS GIBSON.’

 

The letter had been very difficult, but he was rather proud of it than

otherwise when it was completed. He had felt that he was writing a

letter which not improbably might become public property. It was

necessary that he should be firm, that he should accuse himself a

little in order that he might excuse himself much, and that he should

hint at causes which might justify the rupture, though he should so

veil them as not to appear to defend his own delinquency by ungenerous

counter-accusation. When he had completed the letter, he thought that

he had done all this rather well, and he sent the despatch off to

Heavitree by the clerk of St. Peter’s Church, with something of that

feeling of expressible relief which attends the final conquest over

some fatal and all but insuperable misfortune. He thought that he was

sure now that he would not have to marry Camilla on the 29th of the

month and there would probably be a period of some hours before he

would be called upon to hear or read Camilla’s reply.

 

Camilla was alone when she received the letter, but she rushed at once

to her mother. ‘There,’ said she; ‘there I knew that it was coming!’

Mrs French took the paper into her hands and gasped, and gazed at her

daughter without speaking. ‘You knew of it, mother.’

 

‘Yesterday when he told me, I knew of it.’

 

‘And Bella knows it.’

 

‘Not a word of it.’

 

‘She does. I am sure she does. But it is all nothing. I will not accept

it. He cannot treat me so. I will drag him there, but he shall come.’

 

‘You can’t make him, my dear.’

 

‘I will make him. And you would help me, mamma, if you had any spirit.

What, a fortnight before the time, when the things are all bought! Look

at the presents that have been sent! Mamma, he doesn’t know me. And he

never would have done it, if it had not been for Bella, never. She had

better take care, or there shall be such a tragedy that nobody ever

heard the like. If she thinks that she is going to be that man’s wife

she is mistaken.’ Then there was a pause for a moment.

 

‘Mamma,’ she said, ‘I shall go to him at once. I do not care in the

least what anybody may say. I shall go to him at once.’ Mrs French felt

that at this moment it was best that she should be silent.

CHAPTER LXXV

THE ROWLEYS GO OVER THE ALPS

 

By the thirteenth of May the Rowley family had established itself in

Florence, purposing to remain either there or at the baths of Lucca

till the end of June, at which time it was thought that Sir Marmaduke

should begin to make preparations for his journey back to the Islands.

Their future prospects were not altogether settled. It was not decided

whether Lady Rowley should at once return with him, whether Mrs

Trevelyan should return with him, nor was it settled among them what

should be the fate of Nora Rowley. Nora Rowley was quite resolved

herself that she would not go back to the Islands, and had said as much

to her mother. Lady Rowley had not repeated this to Sir Marmaduke, and

was herself in doubt as to what might best be done. Girls are

understood by their mothers better than they are by their fathers. Lady

Rowley was beginning to be aware that Nora’s obstinacy was too strong

to be overcome by mere words, and that other steps must be taken if she

were to be weaned from her pernicious passion for Hugh Stanbury. Mr

Glascock was still in Florence. Might she not be cured by further

overtures from Mr Glascock? The chance of securing such a son-in-law

was so important, so valuable, that no trouble was too great to be

incurred, even though the probability of success might not be great.

 

It must not, however, be supposed that Lady Rowley carried off all the

family to Italy, including Sir Marmaduke, simply in chase of Mr

Glascock. Anxious as she was on the subject, she was too proud, and

also too well-conditioned, to have suggested to herself such a journey

with such an object. Trevelyan had escaped from Willesden with the

child, and they had heard again through Stanbury that he had returned

to Italy. They had all agreed that it would be well that they should

leave London for awhile, and see something of the continent; and when

it was told to them that little Louis was probably in Florence, that

alone was reason enough for them to go thither. They would go to the

city till the heat was too great and the mosquitoes too powerful, and

then they would visit the baths of Lucca for a month. This was their

plan of action, and the cause for their plan; but Lady Rowley found

herself able to weave into it another little plan of her own, of which

she said nothing to anybody. She was not running after Mr Glascock; but

if Mr Glascock should choose to run after them or her, who could say

that any harm had been done?

 

Nora had answered that proposition of her lover’s to walk out of the

house in Manchester Street, and get married at the next church, in a

most discreet manner. She had declared that she would be true and firm,

but that she did not wish to draw upon herself the displeasure of her

father and mother. She did not, she said, look upon a clandestine

marriage as a happy resource. But this she added at the end of a long

and very sensible letter: she intended to abide by her engagement, and

she did not intend to go back to the Mandarins. She did not say what

alternative she would choose in the event of her being unable to obtain

her father’s consent before his return. She did not suggest what was to

become of her when Sir Marmaduke’s leave of absence should be expired.

But her statement that she would not go back to the islands was

certainly made with more substantial vigour, though, perhaps, with less

of reasoning, than any other of the propositions made in her letter.

Then, in her postscript, she told him that they were all going to

Italy. ‘Papa and mamma think that we ought to follow poor Mr Trevelyan.

The lawyer says that nothing can be done while he is away with the boy.

We are therefore all going to start to Florence. The journey is

delightful. I will not say whose presence will be wanting to make it

perfect.’

 

Before they started there came a letter to Nora from Dorothy, which

shall be given entire, because it will tell the reader more of

Dorothy’s happiness than would be learned from any other mode of

narrative.

 

‘The Close, Thursday.

 

Dearest Nora,

 

I have just had a letter from Hugh, and that makes me feel that I

should like to write to you. Dear Hugh has told me all about it, and I

do so hope that things may come right and that we may be sisters. He is

so good that I do not wonder that you should love him. He has been the

best son and the best brother in the world, and everybody speaks well

of him except my dear aunt, who is prejudiced because she does not like

newspapers. I need not praise him to you, for I dare say you think

quite as well of him as I do. I cannot tell you all the beautiful

things he says about you, but I dare say he has told them to you

himself.

 

I seem to know you so well because Priscilla has talked about you so

often. She says that she knew that you and my brother were fond of each

other because you growled at each other when you were together at the

Clock House, and never had any civil words to say before people. I

don’t know whether growling is a sign of love, but Hugh does growl

sometimes when he is most affectionate. He growls at me, and I

understand him, and I like to be growled at. I wonder whether you like

him to growl at you.

 

And now I must tell you something about myself because if you are to be

my sister you ought to know it all. I also am going to be married to a

man whom I love oh, so dearly! His name is Mr Brooke Burgess, and he is

a great friend of my aunt’s. At first she did not like our being

engaged, because of some family reason—but she has got over that,

1 ... 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 ... 176
Go to page:

Free ebook «He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment