Mary Barton. Элизабет Гаскелл
Читать онлайн.| Название | Mary Barton |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Элизабет Гаскелл |
| Жанр | Классическая проза |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Классическая проза |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9780007480548 |
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: A Mysterious Disappearance
Chapter 2: A Manchester Tea-Party
Chapter 3: John Barton’s Great Trouble
Chapter 4: Old Alice’s History
Chapter 5: The Mill on Fire – Jem Wilson to the Rescue
Chapter 7: Jem Wilson’s Repulse
Chapter 8: Margaret’s Début as a Public Singer
Chapter 9: Barton’s London Experiences
Chapter 10: Return of the Prodigal
Chapter 11: Mr Carson’s Intentions Revealed
Chapter 13: A Traveller’s Tales
Chapter 14: Jem’s Interview with Poor Esther
Chapter 15: A Violent Meeting between the Rivals
Chapter 16: Meeting Between Masters and Workmen
Chapter 17: Barton’s Night Errand
Chapter 19: Jem Wilson Arrested on Suspicion
Chapter 20: Mary’s Dream – and the Awakening
Chapter 21: Esther’s Motive in Seeking Mary
Chapter 22: Mary’s Efforts to Prove an Alibi
Chapter 25: Mrs Wilson’s Determination
Chapter 26: The Journey to Liverpool
Chapter 27: In the Liverpool Docks
Chapter 28: ‘John Cropper’, Ahoy!
Chapter 29: A True Bill against Jem
Chapter 30: Job Legh’s Deception
Chapter 31: How Mary Passed the Night
Chapter 32: The Trial and Verdict – ‘Not Guilty!’
Chapter 33: Requiescat in Pace
Chapter 35: ‘Forgive us our Trespasses’
Chapter 36: Jem’s Interview with Mr Duncombe
Chapter 37: Details Connected with the Murder
Classic Literature: Words and Phrases Adapted from the Collins English Dictionary
Three years ago I became anxious (from circumstances that need not be more fully alluded to) to employ myself in writing a work of fiction. Living in Manchester, but with a deep relish and fond admiration for the country, my first thought was to find a frame-work for my story in some rural scene; and I had already made a little progress in a tale, the period of which was more than a century ago, and the place on the borders of Yorkshire, when I bethought me how deep might be the romance in the lives of some of those who elbowed me daily in the busy streets of the town in which I resided. I had always felt a deep sympathy with the care-worn men, who looked as if doomed to struggle through their lives in strange alternations between work and want; tossed to and fro by circumstances, apparently in even a greater degree than other men. A little manifestation of this sympathy, and a little attention to the expression of feelings on the part of some of the work-people with whom I was acquainted, had laid open to me the hearts of one or two of the more thoughtful among them; I saw that they were sore and irritable against the rich, the even tenor of whose seemingly happy lives appeared to increase the anguish caused by the lottery-like nature of their own. Whether the bitter complaints made by them of the neglect which they experienced from the prosperous – especially from the masters whose fortunes they had helped to build up – were well-founded or no, it is not for me to judge. It is enough to say, that this belief of the injustice and unkindness which they endure from their fellow-creatures