The Secret Power by Marie Corelli (dark academia books to read .TXT) đ
- Author: Marie Corelli
- Performer: -
Book online «The Secret Power by Marie Corelli (dark academia books to read .TXT) đ». Author Marie Corelli
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the etext or this âsmall print!â statement. You may however, if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, including any form resulting from conversion by word processing or hypertext software, but only so long as EITHER:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and does not contain characters other than those intended by the author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may be used to convey punctuation intended by the author, and additional characters may be used to indicate hypertext links; OR [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the program that displays the etext (as is the case, for instance, with most word processors); OR [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form).[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this âSmall Print!â statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the gross profits you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you donât derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are payable to âProject Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundationâ the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to let us know your plans and to work out the details.
WHAT IF YOU WANT TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DONâT HAVE TO? Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine readable form.
The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. Money should be paid to the: âProject Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.â
If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: hart@pobox.com
[Portions of this header are copyright © 2001 by Michael S. Hart and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] [Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or software or any other related product without express permission.]
*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.07/27/01*END*
This etext was produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE SECRET POWER
BY MARIE CORELLI
AUTHOR OF
âGodâs Good Manâ âThe Master Christianâ âInnocent,â âThe Treasure of Heaven,â etc.
THE SECRET POWER
CHAPTER I
A cloud floated slowly above the mountain peak. Vast, fleecy and white as the crested foam of a sea-wave, it sailed through the sky with a divine air of majesty, seeming almost to express a consciousness of its own grandeur. Over a spacious tract of Southern California it extended its snowy canopy, moving from the distant Pacific Ocean across the heights of the Sierra Madre, now and then catching fire at its extreme edge from the sinking sun, which burned like a red brand flung on the roof of a roughly built hut situated on the side of a sloping hollow in one of the smaller hills. The door of the hut stood open; there were a couple of benches on the burnt grass outside, one serving as a table, the other as a chair. Papers and books were neatly piled on the table,âand on the chair, if chair it might be called, a man sat reading. His appearance was not prepossessing at a first glance, though his actual features could hardly be seen, so concealed were they by a heavy growth of beard. In the way of clothing he had little to trouble him. Loose woollen trousers, a white shirt, and a leathern belt to keep the two garments in place, formed his complete outfit, finished off by wide canvas shoes. A thatch of dark hair, thick and ill combed, apparently served all his need of head covering, and he seemed unconscious of, or else indifferent to, the hot glare of the summer sky which was hardly tempered by the long shadow of the floating cloud. At some moments he was absorbed in reading,âat others in writing. Close within his reach was a small note-book in which from time to time he jotted down certain numerals and made rapid calculations, frowning impatiently as though the very act of writing was too slow for the speed of his thought. There was a wonderful silence everywhere,âa silence such as can hardly be comprehended by anyone who has never visited wide-spreading country, over-canopied by large stretches of open sky, and barricaded from the further world by mountain ranges which are like huge walls built by a race of Titans. The dwellers in such regions are fewâthere is no traffic save the coming and going of occasional pack-mules across the hill tracksâno sign of modern civilisation. Among such deep and solemn solitudes the sight of a living human being is strange and incongruous, yet the man seated outside his hut had an air of ease and satisfied proprietorship not always found with wealthy owners of mansions and park-lands. He was so thoroughly engrossed in his books and papers that he hardly saw, and certainly did not hear, the approach of a woman who came climbing wearily up the edge of the sloping hill against which his cabin presented itself to the view as a sort of fitment, and advanced towards him carrying a tin pail full of milk. This she set down within a yard or so of him, and then, straightening her back, she rested her hands on her hips and drew a long breath. For a minute or two he took no notice of her. She waited. She was a big handsome creature, sun-browned and black- haired, with flashing dark eyes lit by a spark that was not originally caught from heaven. Presently, becoming conscious of her presence, he threw his book aside and looked up.
âWell! So youâve come after all! Yesterday you said you wouldnât.â
She shrugged her shoulders.
âI do not wish you to starve.â
âVery kind of you! But nothing can starve me.â
âIf you had no foodââ
âI should find someââhe saidââYes!âI should find some,â somewhere! I want very little.â
He rose, stretching his arms lazily above his head,âthen, stooping, he lifted the pail of milk and carried it into his cabin. Disappearing for a moment, he returned, bringing back the pail empty.
âI have enough for two days now,â he saidââand longer. What you brought me at the beginning of the week has turned beautifully sour,âa âlovely curdâ as our cook at home used to sayâ, and with that âlovely curdâ and plenty of fruit Iâm living in luxury.â Here he felt in his pockets and took out a handful of coins. âThatâs right, isnât it?â
She counted them over as he gave them to herâbit one with her strong white teeth and nodded.
âYou donât pay MEââshe said, emphaticallyââItâs the Plaza you pay.â
âHow many times will you remind me of that!â he replied, with a laughââOf course I know I donât pay YOU! Of course I know I pay the Plaza!âthat amazing hotel and âsanatoriumâ with a tropical garden and no comfortââ
âIt is more comfortable than thisââshe said, with a disparaging glance at his log dwelling.
âHow do YOU know?â and he laughed againââWhat have YOU ever experienced in the line of hotels? You are employed at the Plaza to fetch and carry;âto wait on the wretched invalids who come to California for a âcureâ of diseases incurableââ
âYOU are not an invalid!â she said with a slight accent of contempt.
âNo! I only pretend to be!â
âWhy do you pretend?â
âOh, Manella! What a question! Why do we all pretend?âall!âevery human being from the child to the dotard! Simply because we dare not face the truth! For example, consider the sun! It is a furnace with flames five thousand miles high, but we âpretendâ it is our beautiful orb of day! We must pretend! If we didnât we should go mad!â
Manella knitted her black brows perplexedly.
âI do not understand youââshe saidââWhy do you talk nonsense about the sun? I suppose you ARE ill after all,âyou have an illness of the head.â
He nodded with mock solemnity.
âThatâs it! Youâre a wise woman, Manella! Thatâs why Iâm here. Not tubercles on the lungs,âtubercles on the brain! Oh, those tubercles! They could never stand the Plaza!âthe gaiety, the brilliancyâtheâthe all-too dazzling social round!. . .â he paused, and a gleam of even white teeth under his dark moustache gave the suggestion of a smileââThatâs why I stay up here.â
âYou make fun of the Plazaââsaid Manella, biting her lips vexedlyâ âAnd of me, too. I am nothing to you!â
âAbsolutely nothing, dear! But why should you be any thing?â
A warm flush turned her sunburnt skin to a deeper tinge.
âMen are often fond of womenââshe said.
âOften? Oh, more than often! Too often! But what does that matter?â
She twisted the ends of her rose-coloured neckerchief nervously with one hand.
âYou are a manââshe replied, curtlyââYou should have a woman.â
He laughedâa deep, mellow, hearty laugh of pleasure.
âShould I? You really think so? Wonderful Manella? Come here!âcome quite close to me!â
She obeyed, moving with the soft tread of a forest animal, and, face to face with him, looked up. He smiled kindly into her dark fierce eyes, and noted with artistic approval the unspoiled beauty of natural lines in her form, and the proud poise of her handsome head on her full throat and splendid shoulders.
âYou are very good-looking, Manellaââhe then remarked, lazilyâ âQuite the model for a Juno. Be satisfied with yourself. You should have scores of lovers!â
She stamped her foot suddenly and impatiently.
âI have none!â she saidââAnd you know it! But you do not care!â
He shook a reproachful forefinger at her.
âManella, Manella, you are naughty! Temper, temper!
Comments (0)