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Showing: 1-10 results of 12

by Duchess
The Duchess "The story of my first novel" My first novel! Alas! for that first story of mine—the raven I sent out of my ark and never see again! Unlike the proverbial curse, it did not come home to roost, it stayed where I had sent it. The only thing I ever heard of it again was a polite letter from the editor in whose office it lay, telling me I could have it back if I enclosed stamps for the amount of twopence halfpenny, otherwise he... more...

by Duchess
How to marry well Some girls start in life with the idea that to snub the opposite sex is the surest way of bringing it to their feet. All such imaginings are vain! A man may be amused by the coquettish impertinences of a girl, he may even be attracted by it to a certain extent, but in the end he feels repulsion, and unless it be the exception that proves the rule, hastens away presently to lay his name and fortune at the disposal of some more... more...

by Duchess
To sit down in cold blood and deliberately set to cudgel one's brains with a view to dragging from them a plot wherewith to make a book is (I have been told) the habit of some writers, and those of no small reputation. Happy people! What powers of concentration must be theirs! What a belief in themselves—that most desirable of all beliefs, that sweet propeller toward the temple of fame. Have faith in yourself, and all me, will have faith in... more...

by Duchess
"Philosophy triumphs easily over past and over future evils, but present evils triumph over philosophy." "A letter from my father," says Mr. Monkton, flinging the letter in question across the breakfast-table to his wife. "A letter from Sir George!" Her dark, pretty face flushes crimson. "And such a letter after eight years of obstinate silence. There! read it," says her husband, contemptuously. The contempt is all for the writer of the... more...

by Duchess
"Perplex'd in the extreme." "The memory of past favors is like a rainbow, bright, vivid andbeautiful." The professor, sitting before his untasted breakfast, is looking the very picture of dismay. Two letters lie before him; one is in his hand, the other is on the table-cloth. Both are open; but of one, the opening lines—that tell of the death of his old friend—are all he has read; whereas he has read the other from start to... more...


by Duchess
CHAPTER I. HOW DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND, AND HOW THE SPARKS FLEW. The windows are all wide open, and through them the warm, lazy summer wind is stealing languidly. The perfume of the seringas from the shrubbery beyond, mingled with all the lesser but more delicate delights of the garden beneath, comes with the wind, and fills the drawing-room of The Place with a vague, almost drowsy sense of sweetness. Mrs. Bethune, with a face that smiles always,... more...

by Duchess
CHAPTER I. "A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman."—Love's Labors Lost. The gates are thrown wide open, and the carriage rolls smoothly down the long dark avenue, beneath the waving branches of the tall elms and the copper beeches, through which the dying sun is flinging its parting rays. The horses, sniffing the air of home, fling up their heads and make still greater haste, until... more...

by Duchess
CHAPTER I. "A heap of dust alone remains of thee:'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!"—Pope. In an upper chamber, through the closed blinds of which the sun is vainly striving to enter, Reginald Branscombe, fifth Earl of Sartoris, lies dead. The sheet is reverently drawn across the motionless limbs; the once restless, now quiet, face is hidden; all around is wrapt in solemn unutterable silence,—the silence that belongs to... more...

by Duchess
The sun has "dropped down," and the "day is dead." The silence and calm of coming night are over everything. The shadowy twilight lies softly on sleeping flowers and swaying boughs, on quiet fountains—the marble basins of which gleam snow-white in the uncertain light—on the glimpse of the distant ocean seen through the giant elms. A floating mist hangs in the still warm air, making heaven and earth mingle in one sweet confusion. The... more...

by Duchess
CHAPTER I. "And was it only a dream, Aileen?" "Only a dream, miss, but it consarned me greatly. Shure an' I never had the taste of a sweet sound sleep since I dramed it!" Honor Blake laughs, and passes her slim hand over the old woman's ruddy tanned cheek. "You dear silly old thing to bother your head about a dream! It will be time enough to fret when we've something real to fret about." "Ah, mavourneen, may yez never see that day!" nurse... more...