Read online or download a free book: A Mother's Son
Publisher: General Books LLC (15 Jan. 2012)
By: Beatrice Fry (Author)
Book format: pdf doc docx mobi djvu epub ibooks (*An electronic version of a printed book that can be read on a computer or handheld device designed specifically for this purpose.)
This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1908. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XXIII FOR ENGLAND IX months after Mark's arrival at Cape Town, O on a certain gloomy and muggy afternoon in November, Mary Lovell came downstairs from Madeleine's bedroom, where a little new Mark lay in a cradle beside his mother's bed, sleeping peacefully, eager to see if a letter had come from Mark. As she came down the stairs she saw that his study door, the room which had been his father's, stood open, and glancing into it she saw distinctly Dick Lovell in the centre of the room, looking at her. So vivid was the vision that she exclaimed involuntarily 'Dick!'--and went forward to the room. But the vision vanished as she came, and in a moment she recollected herself. She did not think then of her Scottish ancestry, with its many legends of clairvoyance, but imagined that her brain must have relaxed its usual energies in the long service devoted to Madeleine, and had left her a prey to phantasies. With a mental effort she braced herself bodily and intellectually, and went into her morning-room. The folded newspapers lay on the writing-table, and on a little table by the fire the afternoon's post: one of the letters was from Mark. It contained an account of some fighting, and the probable movements of the irregulars, to whom he was attached, and then concluded in this manner--'We have never encouraged ourselves--have we?--to anticipate misfortune, or to dwell on morbid possibilities, but I feel now that I must write to tell you something which I should like you to know, in case a foreboding which sticks in my mind, as Matechley goose-grass was wont to stick in my clothes, should chance to prove true. When we spent those jolly holidays with Uncle Malcolm he seemed to be in some strange way a memory of my childhood. I had an invisible playmate in those da...
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