Rosary

L. Barclay Florence

Description

The Rosary was released to remarkable success in 1909, eventually becoming the bestselling book of 1910. Still popular more than a century after its publication, the novel centers on Jane Champion, an independent spirit who has many male friends, but who has never found true love. When a friendly acquaintance begins to turn into something more, Jane is puzzled and uncertain -- and her doubts cast a pall over the budding relationship. Will Jane and her beau find a way to make this unlikely romance last forever?

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775561941
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE ROSARY
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FLORENCE L. BARCLAY
 
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The Rosary First published in 1909 ISBN 978-1-77556-194-1 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Enter the Duchess Chapter II - Introduces the Honourable Jane Chapter III - The Surprise Packet Chapter IV - Jane Volunteers Chapter V - Confidences Chapter VI - The Veil is Lifted Chapter VII - Garth Finds His Rosary Chapter VIII - Added Pearls Chapter IX - Lady Ingleby's House Party Chapter X - The Revelation Chapter XI - Garth Finds the Cross Chapter XII - The Doctor's Prescription Chapter XIII - The Answer of the Sphinx Chapter XIV - In Deryck's Safe Control Chapter XV - The Consultation Chapter XVI - The Doctor Finds a Way Chapter XVII - Enter—Nurse Rosemary Chapter XVIII - The Napoleon of the Moors Chapter XIX - The Voice in the Darkness Chapter XX - Jane Reports Progress Chapter XXI - Hard on the Secretary Chapter XXII - Dr. Rob to the Rescue Chapter XXIII - The Only Way Chapter XXIV - The Man's Point of View Chapter XXV - The Doctor's Diagnosis Chapter XXVI - Hearts Meet in Sightless Land Chapter XXVII - The Eyes Garth Trusted Chapter XXVIII - In the Studio Chapter XXIX - Jane Looks into Love's Mirror Chapter XXX - "The Lady Portrayed" Chapter XXXI - In Lighter Vein Chapter XXXII - An Interlude Chapter XXXIII - "Something is Going to Happen!" Chapter XXXIV - "Love Never Faileth" Chapter XXXV - Nurse Rosemary Has Her Reward Chapter XXXVI - The Revelation of the Rosary Chapter XXXVII - "In the Face of this Congregation" Chapter XXXVIII - Perpetual Light
Chapter I - Enter the Duchess
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The peaceful stillness of an English summer afternoon brooded over thepark and gardens at Overdene. A hush of moving sunlight and lengtheningshadows lay upon the lawn, and a promise of refreshing coolness madethe shade of the great cedar tree a place to be desired.
The old stone house, solid, substantial, and unadorned, suggestedunlimited spaciousness and comfort within; and was redeemed frompositive ugliness without, by the fine ivy, magnolia trees, andwistaria, of many years' growth, climbing its plain face, and nowcovering it with a mantle of soft green, large white blooms, and acascade of purple blossom.
A terrace ran the full length of the house, bounded at one end by alarge conservatory, at the other by an aviary. Wide stone steps, atintervals, led down from the terrace on to the soft springy turf of thelawn. Beyond—the wide park; clumps of old trees, haunted by shy browndeer; and, through the trees, fitful gleams of the river, a narrowsilver ribbon, winding gracefully in and out between long grass,buttercups, and cow-daisies.
The sun-dial pointed to four o'clock.
The birds were having their hour of silence. Not a trill sounded fromamong the softly moving leaves, not a chirp, not a twitter. Thestillness seemed almost oppressive. The one brilliant spot of colour inthe landscape was a large scarlet macaw, asleep on his stand under thecedar.
At last came the sound of an opening door. A quaint old figure steppedout on to the terrace, walked its entire length to the right, anddisappeared into the rose-garden. The Duchess of Meldrum had gone tocut her roses.
She wore an ancient straw hat, of the early-Victorian shape known as"mushroom," tied with black ribbons beneath her portly chin; a loosebrown holland coat; a very short tweed skirt, and Engadine "gouties."She had on some very old gauntlet gloves, and carried a wooden basketand a huge pair of scissors.
A wag had once remarked that if you met her Grace of Meldrum returningfrom gardening or feeding her poultry, and were in a charitable frameof mind, you would very likely give her sixpence. But, after you hadthus drawn her attention to yourself and she looked at you, Sir WalterRaleigh's cloak would not be in it! Your one possible course would beto collapse into the mud, and let the ducal "gouties" trample on you.This the duchess would do with gusto; then accept your apologies withgood nature; and keep your sixpence, to show when she told the story.
The duchess lived alone; that is to say, she had no desire for theperpetual companionship of any of her own kith and kin, nor for theconstant smiles and flattery of a paid companion. Her pale daughter,whom she had systematically snubbed, had married; her handsome son,whom she had adored and spoiled, had prematurely died, before thedeath, a few years since, of Thomas, fifth Duke of Meldrum. He had cometo a sudden and, as the duchess often remarked, very suitable end; for,on his sixty-second birthday, clad in all the splendours of his huntingscarlet, top hat, and buff corduroy breeches, the mare he wasmercilessly putting at an impossible fence suddenly refused, andThomas, Duke of Meldrum, shot into a field of turnips; pitched upon hishead, and spoke no more.
This sudden cessation of his noisy and fiery life meant a completetransformation in the entourage of the duchess. Hitherto she had had totolerate the boon companions, congenial to himself, with whom he choseto fill the house; or to invite those of her own friends to whom shecould explain Thomas, and who suffered Thomas gladly, out of friendshipfor her, and enjoyment of lovely Overdene. But even then the duchesshad no pleasure in her parties; for, quaint rough diamond though sheherself might appear, the bluest of blue blood ran in her veins; and,though her manner had the off-hand abruptness and disregard of otherpeople's feelings not unfrequently found in old ladies of high rank,she was at heart a true gentlewoman, and could always be trusted to sayand do the right thing in moments of importance: The late duke'slanguage had been sulphurous and his manners Georgian; and when he hadbeen laid in the unwonted quiet of his ancestral vault—"so unlike him,poor dear," as the duchess remarked, "that it is quite a comfort toknow he is not really there"—her Grace looked around her, and began torealise the beauties and possibilities of Overdene.
At first she contented herself with gardening, making an aviary, andsurrounding herself with all sorts of queer birds and beasts; upon whomshe lavished the affection which, of late years, had known no humanoutlet.
But after a while her natural inclination to hospitality, her humorousenjoyment of other people's foibles, and a quaint delight in paradingher own, led to constant succession of house-parties at Overdene, whichsoon became known as a Liberty Hall of varied delights where you alwaysmet the people you most wanted to meet, found every facility forenjoying your favourite pastime, were fed and housed in perfect style,and spent some of the most ideal days of your summer, or cheery days ofyour winter, never dull, never bored, free to come and go as youpleased, and everything seasoned everybody with the delightful "saucepiquante" of never being quite sure what the duchess would do or saynext.
She mentally arranged her parties under three heads—"freak parties,""mere people parties," and "best parties." A "best party" was inprogress on the lovely June day when the duchess, having enjoyed anunusually long siesta, donned what she called her "garden togs" andsallied forth to cut roses.
As she tramped along the terrace and passed through the little irongate leading to the rose-garden, Tommy, the scarlet macaw, opened oneeye and watched her; gave a loud kiss as she reached the gate anddisappeared from view, then laughed to himself and went to sleep again.
Of all the many pets, Tommy was prime favourite. He represented theduchess's one concession to morbid sentiment. After the demise of theduke she had found it so depressing to be invariably addressed withsuave deference by every male voice she heard. If the butler could havesnorted, or the rector have rapped out an uncomplimentary adjective,the duchess would have felt cheered. As it was, a fixed and settledmelancholy lay upon her spirit until she saw in a dealer's list anadvertisement of a prize macaw, warranted a grand talker, with avocabulary of over five hundred words.
The duchess went immediately to town, paid a visit to the dealer, hearda few of the macaw's words and the tone in which he said them, boughthim on the spot, and took him down to Overdene. The first evening hesat crossly on the perch of his grand new stand, declining to say asingle one of his five hundred words, though the duchess spent herevening in the hall, sitting in every possible place; first close tohim; then, away in a distant corner; in an arm-chair placed behind ascreen; reading, with her back turned, feigning not to notice him;facing him with concentrated attention. Tommy merely clicked his tongueat her every time she emerged from a hiding-place; or, if the ratherworried butler or nervous under-footman passed hurriedly through thehall, sent showers of kisses after them, and then went into fits ofventriloquial laughter. The duchess, in despair, even tried remindinghim in a whisper of the remarks he had made in the shop; but Tommy onlywinked at her and put his claw over his beak. Still, she enjoyed hisflushed and scarlet appearance, and retired to rest hopeful and in nowise regretting her bargain.
The next morning it became instantly evident to the house-maid whoswept the hall, the footman who sorted the letters, and the butler whosounded the breakfast gong, that a good night's rest had restored toTommy the full use of his vocabulary. And when the duchess came sailingdown the stairs, ten minutes a