Categories
- Antiques & Collectibles 13
- Architecture 36
- Art 48
- Bibles 22
- Biography & Autobiography 815
- Body, Mind & Spirit 144
- Business & Economics 28
- Children's Books 15
- Children's Fiction 12
- Computers 4
- Cooking 94
- Crafts & Hobbies 4
- Drama 346
- Education 63
- Family & Relationships 59
- Fiction 11841
- Foreign Language Study 1
- Games 19
- Gardening 17
- Health & Fitness 35
- History 1382
- House & Home 1
- Humor 147
- Juvenile Fiction 1877
- Juvenile Nonfiction 202
- Language Arts & Disciplines 89
- Law 16
- Literary Collections 687
- Literary Criticism 179
- Mathematics 13
- Medical 43
- Music 40
- Nature 181
- Non-Classifiable 1768
- Performing Arts 7
- Periodicals 1453
- Philosophy 65
- Photography 2
- Poetry 897
- Political Science 205
- Psychology 44
- Reference 154
- Religion 516
- Science 128
- Self-Help 86
- Social Science 83
- Sports & Recreation 34
- Study Aids 3
- Technology & Engineering 60
- Transportation 23
- Travel 463
- True Crime 29
Catherine A. Warfield
Catherine A. Warfield (1816–1877) was an American novelist and poet, known for her contributions to Southern Gothic literature. Born in Mississippi, she often explored themes of romance, mystery, and the supernatural in her works. Her most famous novels include "The Household of Bouverie" (1860) and "The Romance of Beauseincourt" (1867), both of which delve into the lives and struggles of Southern aristocracy. Warfield, along with her sister Eleanor Percy Lee, also wrote poetry under the pen name "The Two Sisters of the West."
Author's Books:
Sort by:
CHAPTER I. My father, Reginald Monfort, was an English gentleman of good family, who, on his marriage with a Jewish lady of wealth and refinement, emigrated to America, rather than subject her and himself to the commentaries of his own fastidious relatives, and the incivilities of a clique to which by allegiance of birth and breeding he unfortunately belonged. Her own family had not been less averse to...
more...
It was a calm and hazy morning of Southern summer that on which I turned my face seaward from the "keep" of Beauseincourt, never, I knew, to see its time-stained walls again, save through the mirage of memory. There is an awe almost as solemn to me in a consciousness like this as that which attends the death-bed parting, and my straining eye takes in its last look of a familiar scene as it...
more...