Category: Novels

A Life for a Life, Volume 2 (of 3)

|I ended the last page with “I shall write no more here.” It used to be my pride never to have broken a promise nor changed a resolution. Pride! What have I to do with pride?

Chapters

3. CHAPTER III. HER STORY.

A month and four days ago, I sat here, waiting for papa and Penelope to come home from their dinner party. Trying to be cheerful--wondering why I was not so: yet with my heart a...

2. CHAPTER II. HIS STORY.

Such was, I solemnly aver--from no fixed intention: I meant only to go as an ordinary doctor--in order, if possible, to serve the life that was valuable in itself, and most prec...

4. CHAPTER IV. HER STORY.

Papa and I have been here a week. At the last moment Penelope declined going, saying that some one ought to keep house at Rock-mount. I wished to do so; but she would not allow me.

13. CHAPTER XII. HIS STORY.

I trust you may never read this letter, which, as a preventive measure, I am about to write; I trust we may burn it together, and that I may tell you its contents at accidental...

6. CHAPTER VI. HER STORY.

Things are strange. The utmost I can say of them is, that they seem very strange. One would suppose, if one liked a friend, and there existed no reasonable cause for not shewing...

1. CHAPTER I. HIS STORY.

|I ended the last page with “I shall write no more here.” It used to be my pride never to have broken a promise nor changed a resolution. Pride! What have I to do with pride?

8. CHAPTER VIII HER STORY.

|Penelope has brought me my desk to pass away the long day during her absence in London--whither she has gone up with Mrs. Granton to buy the first instalment of her wedding-clo...

12. letter I ever had from Max.

It came early in the morning, the morning after that evening which will always seem to us two, I think, something like what we read of, that “the evening and the morning were th...

10. CHAPTER X. HER STORY.

|I am at home again. I sit by my bed-room fire in a new easy-chair. Oh, such care am I taken of now! I cast my eyes over the white waves of moorland:--=

5. CHAPTER V. HIS STORY.

_Dec. 31st,_ 1855. |The merry-making of my neighbours in the flat above--probably Scotch or Irish, both of which greatly abound in this town--is a sad counteraction of work for...

9. CHAPTER IX. HIS STORY.

I wish to write down how it was I chanced to see you, though chance is hardly the right word. I _would_ have seen you, even if I had waited all day and all night, like a thief,...

7. CHAPTER VII. HIS STORY.

|I continue these letters, having hitherto been made aware of no reason why they should cease. If that reason comes, they shall cease at once, and for ever; and these now existi...

11. CHAPTER XI. HER STORY.