SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 15 | Next

Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

They flashed fire under the scrutiny. "Yes, it is all
over; I could not despise and love. I am dead to him, as he is dead to
France."
This was joyful news to Rose. "I hoped it would be so," said she; "but
you frightened me. My noble sister, were I ever to lose your esteem, I
should die. Oh, how awful yet how beautiful is your scorn. For worlds
I would not be that Cam"--Josephine laid her hand imperiously on Rose's
mouth. "To mention his name to me will be to insult me; De Beaurepaire
I am, and a Frenchwoman. Come, dear, let us go down and comfort our
mother."
They went down; and this patient sufferer, and high minded conqueror, of
her own accord took up a commonplace book, and read aloud for two mortal
hours to her mother and Aubertin. Her voice only wavered twice.
To feel that life is ended; to wish existence, too, had ceased; and so
to sit down, an aching hollow, and take a part and sham an interest in
twaddle to please others; such are woman's feats. How like nothing at
all they look!
A man would rather sit on the buffer of a steam-engine and ride at the
Great Redan.


Pages:
3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27