St. George and St. Michael. George MacDonald
Читать онлайн.| Название | St. George and St. Michael |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | George MacDonald |
| Жанр | Языкознание |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Языкознание |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 4064066246990 |
CHAPTER I. DOROTHY AND RICHARD.
CHAPTER II. RICHARD AND HIS FATHER.
CHAPTER III. THE WITCH.
CHAPTER IV. A CHAPTER OF FOOLS.
CHAPTER V. ANIMADVERSIONS.
CHAPTER VI. PREPARATIONS.
CHAPTER VII. REFLECTIONS.
CHAPTER VIII. AN ADVENTURE.
CHAPTER IX. LOVE AND WAR.
CHAPTER X. DOROTHY'S REFUGE.
CHAPTER XI. RAGLAN CASTLE.
CHAPTER XII. THE TWO MARQUISES.
CHAPTER XIII. THE MAGICIAN'S VAULT.
CHAPTER XIV. SEVERAL PEOPLE.
CHAPTER XV. HUSBAND AND WIFE.
CHAPTER XVI. DOROTHY'S INITIATION.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER XVII. THE FIRE-ENGINE.
CHAPTER XVIII. MOONLIGHT AND APPLE-BLOSSOMS.
CHAPTER XIX. THE ENCHANTED CHAIR.
CHAPTER XX. MOLLY AND THE WHITE HORSE.
CHAPTER XXI. THE DAMSEL WHICH FELL SICK.
CHAPTER XXII. THE CATARACT.
CHAPTER XXIII. AMANDA—DOROTHY—LORD HERBERT.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE GREAT MOGUL.
CHAPTER XXV. RICHARD HEYWOOD.
CHAPTER XXVI. THE WITCH'S COTTAGE.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE MOAT OF THE KEEP.
CHAPTER XXVIII. RAGLAN STABLES.
CHAPTER XXIX. THE APPARITION.
CHAPTER XXX. RICHARD AND THE MARQUIS.
CHAPTER XXXI. THE SLEEPLESS.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE TURRET CHAMBER.
CHAPTER XXXIII. JUDGE GOUT.
CHAPTER XXXIV. AN EVIL TIME.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE DELIVERER.
CHAPTER XXXVI. THE DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE HOROSCOPE.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE EXORCISM.
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
CHAPTER XXXIX. NEWBURY.
CHAPTER XL. DOROTHY AND ROWLAND.
CHAPTER XLI. GLAMORGAN.
CHAPTER XLII. A NEW SOLDIER.
CHAPTER XLIII. LADY AND BISHOP.
CHAPTER XLIV. THE KING.
CHAPTER XLV. THE SECRET INTERVIEW.
CHAPTER XLVI. GIFTS OF HEALING.
CHAPTER XLVII. THE POET-PHYSICIAN.
CHAPTER XLVIII. HONOURABLE DISGRACE.
CHAPTER XLIX. SIEGE.
CHAPTER L. A SALLY.
CHAPTER LI. UNDER THE MOAT.
CHAPTER LII. THE UNTOOTHSOME PLUM.
CHAPTER LIII. FAITHFUL FOES.
CHAPTER LIV. DOMUS DISSOLVITUR.
CHAPTER LV. R. I. P.
CHAPTER LVI. RICHARD AND CASPAR.
CHAPTER LVII. THE SKELETON.
CHAPTER LVIII. LOVE AND NO LEASING.
CHAPTER LIX. AVE! VALE! SALVE!
ST. GEORGE AND ST. MICHAEL.
CHAPTER I.
DOROTHY AND RICHARD.
It was the middle of autumn, and had rained all day. Through the lozenge-panes of the wide oriel window the world appeared in the slowly gathering dusk not a little dismal. The drops that clung trickling to the dim glass added rain and gloom to the landscape beyond, whither the eye passed, as if vaguely seeking that help in the distance, which the dripping hollyhocks and sodden sunflowers bordering the little lawn, or the honeysuckle covering the wide porch, from which the slow rain dropped ceaselessly upon the pebble-paving below, could not give—steepy slopes, hedge-divided into small fields, some green and dotted with red cattle, others crowded with shocks of bedraggled and drooping corn, which looked suffering and patient.
The room to which the window having this prospect belonged was large and low, with a dark floor of uncarpeted oak. It opened immediately upon the porch, and although a good fire of logs blazed on the hearth, was chilly to the sense of the old man, who, with his feet on the skin of a fallow-deer, sat gazing sadly into the flames, which shone rosy through the thin hands spread out before them. At the opposite corner of the great low-arched chimney sat a lady past the prime of life, but still beautiful, though the beauty was all but merged in the loveliness that rises from the heart to the face of such as have taken the greatest step in life—that is, as the old proverb says, the step out of doors. She was plainly yet rather richly dressed, in garments of an old-fashioned and well-preserved look. Her hair was cut short above her forehead, and frizzed out in bunches of little curls on each side. On her head was a covering of dark stuff, like a nun's veil, which fell behind and on her shoulders. Close round her neck was a string of amber beads, that gave a soft harmonious light to her complexion. Her dark eyes looked as if they found repose there, so quietly did they rest on the face of the old man, who was plainly a clergyman. It was a small, pale, thin, delicately and symmetrically formed face, yet not the less a strong one, with endurance on the somewhat sad brow, and force in the closed lips, while a good conscience looked clear out of the grey eyes.
They had been talking about the fast-gathering tide of opinion which, driven on by the wind of words, had already begun to beat so furiously against the moles and ramparts of Church and kingdom. The execution of lord Strafford was news that had not yet begun to 'hiss the speaker.'
'It is indeed an evil time,' said the old man. 'The world has seldom seen its like.'
'But tell me, master Herbert,' said the lady, 'why comes it in this our day? For our sins or for the sins of our fathers?'
'Be