John Halifax, Gentleman (Historical Novel). Dinah Craik. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Dinah Craik
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4057664559548
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       Dinah Craik

      John Halifax, Gentleman

      (Historical Novel)

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2019 OK Publishing

      EAN 4057664559548

      Table of Contents

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       Chapter 39

       Chapter 40

      Chapter 1

       Table of Contents

      “Get out o’ Mr. Fletcher’s road, ye idle, lounging, little —”

      “Vagabond,” I think the woman (Sally Watkins, once my nurse), was going to say, but she changed her mind.

      My father and I both glanced round, surprised at her unusual reticence of epithets: but when the lad addressed turned, fixed his eyes on each of us for a moment, and made way for us, we ceased to wonder. Ragged, muddy, and miserable as he was, the poor boy looked anything but a “vagabond.”

      “Thee need not go into the wet, my lad. Keep close to the wall, and there will be shelter enough both for us and thee,” said my father, as he pulled my little hand-carriage into the alley, under cover, from the pelting rain. The lad, with a grateful look, put out a hand likewise, and pushed me further in. A strong hand it was — roughened and browned with labour — though he was scarcely as old as I. What would I not have given to have been so stalwart and so tall!

      Sally called from her house-door, “Wouldn’t Master Phineas come in and sit by the fire a bit?”— But it was always a trouble to me to move or walk; and I liked staying at the mouth of the alley, watching the autumnal shower come sweeping down the street: besides, I wanted to look again at the stranger-lad.

      He had scarcely stirred, but remained leaning against the wall — either through weariness, or in order to be out of our way. He took little or no notice of us, but kept his eyes fixed on the pavement — for we actually boasted pavement in the High Street of our town of Norton Bury — watching the eddying rain-drops, which, each as it fell, threw up a little mist of spray. It was a serious, haggard face for a boy of only fourteen or so. Let me call it up before me — I can, easily, even after more than fifty years.

      Brown eyes, deep-sunken, with strongly-marked brows, a nose like most other Saxon noses, nothing particular; lips well-shaped, lying one upon the other, firm and close; a square, sharply outlined, resolute chin, of that type which gives character and determination