Fiction Books

CHAPTER I THE NIGHT OF THE STORM It had been a magnificent afternoon, so wonderful that Leslie hated to break the spell. Reluctantly she unrolled herself from the Indian blanket, from which she emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon, draped it over her arm, picked up the book she had not once opened, and turned for a last, lingering look at the ocean. A lavender haze lay lightly along the horizon.... more...

CHAPTER I. One may as well begin with Helen's letters to her sister. "Howards End, "Tuesday. "Dearest Meg, "It isn't going to be what we expected. It is old and little, and altogether delightful—red brick. We can scarcely pack in as it is, and the dear knows what will happen when Paul (younger son) arrives to-morrow. From hall you go right or left into dining-room or... more...

THE 'BLUE PETER' Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong. The university bells toll out in strength of tone that tells of south-west winds and misty weather. On the street below my window familiar city noises, unheeded by day, strike tellingly on the ear—hoof-strokes and rattle of wheels, tramp of feet on the stone flags, a snatch of song from a late reveller, then silence, broken in a little by... more...

I.OF THE SOWER.Behold a sower going forthTo scatter o'er his field,The seed that in the harvest timeA rich return will yield.And as he sow'd some precious seeds,Were by the way-side thrown;The fowls of heaven descried them there,And soon the seed were gone.And other seeds fell from his handOn stony places round,And forthwith they sprung up, becauseThey had no depth of ground.But when the sun... more...

The 25th of May, 1866, was no doubt to many a quite indifferent date, but to two persons it was the saddest day of their lives. Charles Randall that day left Bonn, Germany, to catch the steamer home to America, and Ida Werner was left with a mountain of grief on her gentle bosom, which must be melted away drop by drop, in tears, before she could breathe freely again. A year before, Randall, hunting for... more...

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCED. Eurie Mitchell shut the door with a bang and ran up the stairs two steps at a time. She nearly always banged doors, and was always in a hurry. She tapped firmly at the door just at the head of the stairs; then she pushed it open and entered. "Are you going?" she said, and her face was all in a glow of excitement and pleasure. The young lady to whom she spoke measured the... more...

It was almost dark when he awoke, and lay on the bed, motionless and trembling, his heart sinking in the knowledge that he should never have slept. For almost half a minute, eyes wide with fear, he lay in the silence of the gloomy room, straining to hear some sound, some indication of their presence. But the only sound was the barely audible hum of his wrist watch and the dismal splatter of raindrops... more...

CHAPTER I. [Colonel Annesley's Story] The crossing from Dover to Calais had been rough; a drizzling rain fell all the time, and most of the passengers had remained below. Strange to say, they were few enough, as I saw on landing. It was a Sunday in late July, and there ought to have been a strong stream setting towards Central Europe. I hardly expected to find much room in the train; not that it... more...

I. THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET "BUT the man's almost dead." The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that had overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a sombre group of men. "Leave him here," said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. "He's the fellow sent... more...

1. DISASTER The Throg task force struck the Terran Survey camp a few minutes after dawn, without warning, and with a deadly precision which argued that the aliens had fully reconnoitered and prepared that attack. Eye-searing lances of energy lashed back and forth across the base with methodical accuracy. And a single cowering witness, flattened on a ledge in the heights above, knew that when the last... more...