Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life. Ann S. Stephens
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Название: Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life
Автор: Ann S. Stephens
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066220808
isbn:
CHAPTER XLIII. A CONSULTATION WITH LOTTIE.
CHAPTER XLIV. THE MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER XLV. BAFFLED AND DEFEATED.
CHAPTER XLVI. LOTTIE OWNS HERSELF BEATEN.
CHAPTER XLVII. MR. LEE SENDS IN THE ACCOUNT OF HIS GUARDIANSHIP.
CHAPTER XLVIII. COMING OUT OF A DANGEROUS ILLNESS.
CHAPTER XLIX. LOTTIE SEEMS TREACHEROUS.
CHAPTER L. CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE WIDOW AND MRS. LEE.
CHAPTER LI. THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER LII. THE FATAL LETTER.
CHAPTER LIII. DEATH IN THE TOWER-CHAMBER.
CHAPTER LIV. MRS. LEE'S FUNERAL.
CHAPTER LV. OLD MRS. BOSWORTH'S VISIT.
CHAPTER LVI. LOTTIE'S REVELATIONS.
CHAPTER LVII. MRS. DENNISON URGES LAWRENCE TO PROPOSE.
CHAPTER LVIII. AFTER THE PROPOSAL.
CHAPTER LIX. A HEART-STORM ABATING.
CHAPTER LXI. THE DEPARTING GUEST.
CHAPTER LXII. WHOLLY DESERTED.
CHAPTER LXIII. OLD-FASHIONED POLITENESS.
CHAPTER LXIV. NEWS FROM ABROAD.
CHAPTER LXV. LOTTIE LEAVES A LETTER AND A BOOK.
CHAPTER LXVI. MRS. DENNISON'S JOURNAL.
CHAPTER LXVII. OUR FIRST VISITOR.
CHAPTER LXVIII. THE WATERFALL.
CHAPTER LXIX. THE THREATENED DEPARTURE.
CHAPTER LXX. THE MIDNIGHT WALK.
CHAPTER LXXII. OUT IN THE WORLD AGAIN.
CHAPTER LXXIII. FIRST WIDOWHOOD.
CHAPTER LXXIV. LOTTIE'S LETTER.
CHAPTER LXXV. LOTTIE IN PARIS.
CHAPTER LXXVI. THE CASKET OF DIAMONDS.
CHAPTER LXXVII. ALL TOGETHER AGAIN.
WIVES AND WIDOWS.
CHAPTER I.
LEAVING MY HOME.
At ten years of age I was the unconscious mistress of a heavy stone farm-house and extensive lands in the interior of Pennsylvania, with railroad-bonds and bank-stock enough to secure me a moderate independence. I shall never, never forget the loneliness of that old house the day my mother was carried out of it and laid down by her husband in the churchyard behind the village. The most intense suffering of life often comes in childhood. My mother was dead; I could almost feel her last cold kisses on my lip as I sat down in that desolate parlor, waiting for the guardian who was expected to take me from my dear old home to his. The window opened into a field of white clover, where some cows and lambs were pasturing drowsily, as I had seen them a hundred times; but now their very tranquillity grieved me. It seemed strange that they would stand there so content, with the white clover dropping from their mouths, and I going away forever. My mother's canary-bird, which hung in the window, began to sing joyously over my head, as if no funeral had passed from that room, leaving its shadows behind, and, more grievous still, as if it did not care that I might never sit and listen to it again.
One of the neighbors had kindly volunteered to take charge of the gloomy old house till my guardian came, but her presence disturbed me more than funereal stillness would have done. I had a family of dolls up stairs, and any amount of tiny household furniture, which I would have given the world to take with me; but this thrifty neighbor protested against it. She said that I was almost a young lady and must forget such childish things, now that I was going into the world to be properly educated.
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