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 Knave of Diamonds by Ethel May Dell (book recommendations for teens TXT) 📖
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more alluring of roses and honeysuckle in the garden in front. Beyond the garden the common lay in the rosy dusk of the afterglow under a deep blue sky. The clang of a distant cow-bell came dreamily through the silence.
She stood leaning against the door-post with her face to the night. It was a night of wonder, of marvellous, soul-stilling peace. Yet her brows were slightly drawn as she waited there. She seemed to be puzzling over something.
"Say it out loud," said Nap.
She did not start at the words though he had come up behind her without sound. She stretched out her hand without turning and drew his arm through hers.
"Why did we choose this place?" she said.
"You didn't choose it," said Nap.
"Then you?"
"I chose it chiefly because I knew you hated it," he said, a queer vibration of recklessness in his voice.
"My dear Nap, am I to believe that?"
He looked at her through the falling dusk, and his hand closed tense and vital upon her arm. "It's the truth anyway," he said. "I knew you hated the place, that you only came to it for my sake. And I--I made you come because I wanted you to love it."
"For your sake, Nap?" she said softly.
"Yes, and for another reason." He paused a moment; speech seemed suddenly an effort to him. Then: "Anne," he said, "you forgave me, I know, long ago; but I want you here--on this spot--to tell me that what happened here is to you as if it had never been. I want it blotted out of your mind for ever. I want your trust--your trust!"
It was like a hunger-cry rising from the man's very soul. At sound of it she turned impulsively.
"Nap, never speak of this again! My dearest, we need not have come here for that. Yet I am glad now that we came. It will be holy ground to me as long as I live. As long as I live," she repeated very earnestly, "I shall remember that it was here that the door of paradise was opened to us at last, and that God meant us to enter in."
She lifted her eyes to his with a look half-shy, half-confident. "You believe in God," she said.
He did not answer at once. He was looking out beyond her for the first time, and the restless fire had gone out of his eyes. They were still and deep as a mountain pool.
"Nap," she said in a whisper.
Instantly his look came back to her. He took her face between his hands with a tenderness so new that it moved her inexplicably to tears.
"I believe in the Power that casts out devils," he said very gravely. "Luke taught me that much. I guess my wife will teach me the rest."
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She stood leaning against the door-post with her face to the night. It was a night of wonder, of marvellous, soul-stilling peace. Yet her brows were slightly drawn as she waited there. She seemed to be puzzling over something.
"Say it out loud," said Nap.
She did not start at the words though he had come up behind her without sound. She stretched out her hand without turning and drew his arm through hers.
"Why did we choose this place?" she said.
"You didn't choose it," said Nap.
"Then you?"
"I chose it chiefly because I knew you hated it," he said, a queer vibration of recklessness in his voice.
"My dear Nap, am I to believe that?"
He looked at her through the falling dusk, and his hand closed tense and vital upon her arm. "It's the truth anyway," he said. "I knew you hated the place, that you only came to it for my sake. And I--I made you come because I wanted you to love it."
"For your sake, Nap?" she said softly.
"Yes, and for another reason." He paused a moment; speech seemed suddenly an effort to him. Then: "Anne," he said, "you forgave me, I know, long ago; but I want you here--on this spot--to tell me that what happened here is to you as if it had never been. I want it blotted out of your mind for ever. I want your trust--your trust!"
It was like a hunger-cry rising from the man's very soul. At sound of it she turned impulsively.
"Nap, never speak of this again! My dearest, we need not have come here for that. Yet I am glad now that we came. It will be holy ground to me as long as I live. As long as I live," she repeated very earnestly, "I shall remember that it was here that the door of paradise was opened to us at last, and that God meant us to enter in."
She lifted her eyes to his with a look half-shy, half-confident. "You believe in God," she said.
He did not answer at once. He was looking out beyond her for the first time, and the restless fire had gone out of his eyes. They were still and deep as a mountain pool.
"Nap," she said in a whisper.
Instantly his look came back to her. He took her face between his hands with a tenderness so new that it moved her inexplicably to tears.
"I believe in the Power that casts out devils," he said very gravely. "Luke taught me that much. I guess my wife will teach me the rest."
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Publication Date: 01-08-2010
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