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A big variety of genres offers in worldlibraryebook.com. Today we will discuss romance as one of the types books, which are very popular and interesting first of all for girls. They like to dream about their romantic future rendezvous, about kisses under the stars and many flowers. Girls are gentle, soft and sweet. In their minds everything is perfect. The ocean, white sand, burning sun….He and she are enjoying each other.
Nowadays we are so lacking in love and romantic deeds. This electronic library will fill our needs with books by different authors.


What is Romance?


Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, there’s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. It’s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.It’s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in “fairytale love story.”




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Read books online » Romance » He Fell In Love With His Wife by Edward Payson Roe (best books to read for students TXT) 📖

Book online «He Fell In Love With His Wife by Edward Payson Roe (best books to read for students TXT) 📖». Author Edward Payson Roe



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looking in her face.

 

“I could for your sake,” she began.

 

“No, it wouldn’t be for my sake. I don’t wish you to go, and wouldn’t let

you. If you should let the Oakville rabble drive you away, I WOULD be in

danger, and so would others, for I’d be worse on ‘em than an earthquake.

After the lesson they’ve had tonight, they’ll let us alone, and I’ll let them

alone. You know I’ve tried to be honest with you from the first. Believe me,

then, the trouble’s over unless we make more for ourselves. Now, promise

you’ll do as I say and let me manage.”

 

“I’ll try,” she breathed softly.

 

“No, no! That won’t do. I’m beginning to find you out. You may get some

foolish, self-sacrificing notion in your head that it would be best for me,

when it would be my ruination. Will you promise?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Famous! Now you can bathe my head all you please for it feels a little

queer.”

 

“It’s an awful wound,” she said in tones of the deepest sympathy. “Oh, I’m so

sorry!”

 

“Pshaw! My head is too hard for that little scamp of a Weeks to break. His

turn’ll come next.”

 

She cut away the blood-clotted hair and bound up the rather severe scalp wound

with a tenderness and sympathy that expressed itself even in her touch. She

was too confused and excited to be conscious of herself, but she had received

some tremendously strong impressions. Chief among them was the truth that

nothing which had happened made any difference in him—that he was still the

same loyal friend, standing between her and the world she dreaded—yes,

between her and her own impulses toward self-sacrifice. Sweetest of all was

the assurance that he did this for his own sake as well as hers. These facts

seemed like a foothold in the mad torrent of feeling and shame which had been

sweeping her away. She could think of little more than that she was

safe—safe because he was brave and loyal—and yes, safe because he wanted her

and would not give her up. The heart of a woman must be callous indeed, and

her nature not only trivial but stony if she is not deeply touched under

circumstances like these.

 

In spite of his laughing contempt of danger, she trembled as she saw him ready

to go out again; she wished to accompany him on his round of observation, but

he scouted the idea, although it pleased him. Standing in the door, she

strained her eyes and listened breathlessly. He soon returned and said,

“They’ve all had enough. We won’t be disturbed again.”

 

He saw that her nerves needed quieting, and he set about the task with such

simple tact as he possessed. His first step was to light his pipe in the most

nonchalant manner, and then he burst out laughing. “I’ll hang that hickory up.

It has done too good service to be put to common use again. Probably you

never heard of a skimelton, Alida. Well, they are not so uncommon in this

region. I suppose I’ll have to own up to taking part in one myself when I was

a young chap. They usually are only rough larks and are taken good-naturedly.

I’m not on jesting terms with my neighbors, and they had no business to come

here, but I wouldn’t have made any row if they hadn’t insulted you.”

 

Her head bowed very low as she faltered, “They’ve heard everything.”

 

He came right to her and took her hand. “Didn’t I hear everything before they

did?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, Alida, I’m not only satisfied with you, but I’m very grateful to you.

Why shouldn’t I be when you are a good Christian woman? I guess I’m the one

to be suited, not Oakville. I should be as reckless as the devil if you should

go away from me. Don’t I act like a man who’s ready to stand up for and

protect you?”

 

“Yes, too ready. It would kill me if anything happened to you on my account.”

 

“Well, the worst would happen,” he said firmly, “if we don’t go right on as

we’ve begun. If we go quietly on about our own affairs, we’ll soon be let

alone and that’s all we ask.”

 

“Yes, yes indeed! Don’t worry, James. I’ll do as you wish.”

 

“Famous! You never said ‘James’ to me before. Why haven’t you?”

 

“I don’t know,” she faltered, with a sudden rush of color to her pale face.

 

“Well, that’s my name,” he resumed, laughing. “I guess it’s because we are

getting better acquainted.

 

She looked up and said impetuously, “You don’t know how a woman feels when a

man stands up for her as you did tonight.”

 

“Well, I know how a man feels when there is a woman so well worth standing up

for. It was a lucky thing that I had nothing heavier in my hand than that

hickory.” All the while he was looking at her curiously; then he spoke his

thought. “You’re a quiet little woman, Alida, most times, but you’re capable

of a thunder gust now and then.”

 

“I’ll try to be quiet at all times,” she replied, with drooping eyes.

 

“Oh, I’m not complaining!” he said, laughing. “I like the trait.”

 

He took a small pitcher and went to the dairy. Returning, he poured out two

glasses of milk and said, “Here’s to your health and happiness, Alida; and

when I don’t stand up for the woman who started out to save me from a mob of

murderers, may the next thing I eat or drink choke me. You didn’t know they

were merely a lot of Oakville boys, did you?”

 

“You can’t make so light of it,” said she. “They tried to close on you, and if

that stone had struck you on the temple, it might have killed you. They swore

like pirates, and looked like ruffians with their blackened faces. They

certainly were not boys in appearance.”

 

“I’m afraid I swore too,” he said sadly.

 

“You had some excuse, but I’m sorry. They would have hurt you if you hadn’t

kept them off.”

 

“Yes, they’d probably have given me a beating. People do things in hot blood

they wish they hadn’t afterward. I know this Oakville rough-scuff. Since

we’ve had it out, and they know what to expect, they’ll give me a wide berth.

Now go and sleep. You were never safer in your life.”

 

She did not trust herself to reply, but the glance she gave him from her

tearful eyes was so eloquent with grateful feeling that he was suddenly

conscious of some unwonted sensations. He again patrolled the place and tied

the dog near the barn.

 

“It’s barely possible that some of these mean cusses might venture to kindle a

fire, but a bark from Towser will warn ‘em off. She IS a spirited little

woman,” he added, with a sharp change in soliloquy. “There’s nothing

milk-and-water about her. Thunder! I felt like kissing her when she looked

at me so. I guess that crack on my skull has made me a little light-headed.”

 

He lay down in his clothes so that he might rush out in case of any alarm, and

he intended to keep awake. Then, the first thing he knew, the sun was shining

in the windows.

 

It was long before Alida slept, and the burden of her thoughts confirmed the

words that she had spoken so involuntarily. “You don’t know how a woman feels

when a man stands up for her as you did.” It is the nature of her sex to

adore hardy, courageous manhood. Beyond all power of expression, Alida felt

her need of a champion and protector. She was capable of going away for his

sake, but she would go in terror and despair. The words that had smitten her

confirmed all her old fears of facing the world alone. Then came the

overpowering thought of his loyalty and kindness, of his utter and almost

fierce repugnance to the idea of her leaving him. In contrast with the man

who had deceived and wronged her, Holcroft’s course overwhelmed her very soul

with a passion of grateful affection. A new emotion, unlike anything she had

ever known, thrilled her heart and covered her face with blushes. “I could die

for him!” she murmured.

 

She awoke late in the morning. When at last she entered the kitchen she

stopped in deep chagrin, for Holcroft had almost completed preparations for

breakfast. “Ha, ha!” he laughed, “turn about is fair play.”

 

“Well,” she sighed, “there’s no use of making excuses now.”

 

“There’s no occasion for any. Did you ever see such a looking case as I am

with this bandage around my head?”

 

“Does it pain you?” she asked sympathetically.

 

“Well, it does. It pains like thunder.”

 

“The wound needs dressing again. Let me cleanse and bind it up.”

 

“Yes, after breakfast.”

 

“No, indeed; now. I couldn’t eat my breakfast while you were suffering so.”

 

“I’m more unfeeling then than you are, for I could.”

 

She insisted on having her way, and then tore up her handkerchief to supply a

soft linen bandage.

 

“You’re extravagant, Alida,” but she only shook her head.

 

“Famous! That feels better. What a touch you have! Now, if you had a broken

head, my fingers would be like a pair of tongs.”

 

She only shook her head and smiled.

 

“You’re as bad as Jane used to be. She never said a word when she could shake

or nod her meaning.”

 

“I should think you would be glad, after having been half talked to death by

her mother.”

 

“As I said before, take your own way of doing things. It seems the right way

after it is done.”

 

A faint color came into her face, and she looked positively happy as she sat

down to breakfast. “Are you sure your head feels better?” she asked.

 

“Yes, and you look a hundred per cent better. Well, I AM glad you had such a

good sleep after all the hubbub.”

 

“I didn’t sleep till toward morning,” she said, with downcast eyes.

 

“Pshaw! That’s too bad. Well, no matter, you look like a different person

from what you did when I first saw you. You’ve been growing younger every

day.”

 

Her face flushed like a girl’s under his direct, admiring gaze, making her all

the more pretty. She hastened to divert direct attention from herself by

asking, “You haven’t heard from anyone this morning?”

 

“No, but I guess the doctor has. Some of those fellows will have to keep

shady for a while.”

 

As they were finishing breakfast, Holcroft looked out of the open kitchen door

and exclaimed, “By thunder! We’re going to hear from some of them now. Here

comes Mrs. Weeks, the mother of the fellow who hit me.”

 

“Won’t you please receive her in the parlor?”

 

“Yes, she won’t stay long, you may be sure. I’m going to give that Weeks

tribe one lesson and pay off the whole score.”

 

He merely bowed coldly to Mrs. Weeks’ salutation and offered her a chair. The

poor woman took out her handkerchief and began to mop her eyes, but Holcroft

was steeled against her, not so much on account of the wound inflicted by her

son as for the reason that he saw in her an accomplice with her husband in the

fraud of Mrs. Mumpson.

 

“I hope you’re not badly hurt,” she began.

 

“It might be worse.”

 

“Oh, Mr. Holcroft!” she broke out sobbingly, “spare my son. It would kill me

if you

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