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قراءة كتاب Kate Danton, or, Captain Danton's Daughters: A Novel
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Kate Danton, or, Captain Danton's Daughters: A Novel
KATE DANTON;
OR
CAPTAIN DANTON'S DAUGHTERS
A Novel
BY MAY AGNES FLEMING,
AUTHOR OF "NORINE'S REVENGE," "GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "A WONDERFUL WOMAN," "A TERRIBLE SECRET," "A MAD MARRIAGE," "ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY," ETC.
Printed and Stereotyped by
The Globe Printing Company,
26 & 28 King Street East,
Toronto.
Bound by
Hunter, Rose & Co.
Toronto.
TORONTO:
BELFORD BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS.
MDCCCLXXVII.
In the field, or on the sward."
Each fair in the face,
And their laughter with music
Filled all the green place;
As they wove pleasant thoughts
With the threads of their lace.
The flowers in the glen,
Of the birds—the brown robin,
The wood dove, the wren,
They talked—but their thoughts
Were of three little men!"
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.—Grace Danton
CHAPTER II.—Kate Danton
CHAPTER III.—A Change of Dynasty
CHAPTER IV.—Rose Danton
CHAPTER V.—Seeing a Ghost
CHAPTER VI.—Rose's Adventure
CHAPTER VII.—Hon. Lieutenant Reginald Stanford
CHAPTER VIII.—The Ghost Again
CHAPTER IX.—A Game for Two to Play at
CHAPTER X.—The Revelation
CHAPTER XI.—One Mystery Cleared Up
CHAPTER XII.—Harry Danton
CHAPTER XIII.—Love-making
CHAPTER XIV.—Trying to be True
CHAPTER XV.—One of Earth's Angels
CHAPTER XVI.—Epistolary
CHAPTER XVII.—"She Took Up the Burden of Life Again."
CHAPTER XVIII.—"It's an Ill Wind Blows Nobody Good"
CHAPTER XIX.—Via Crucis
CHAPTER XX.—Bearing the Cross
CHAPTER XXI.—Dr. Danton's Good Works
CHAPTER XXII.—After the Cross, the Crown
CHAPTER XXIII.—"Long have I been True to You, now I'm True no Longer"
CHAPTER XXIV.—Coals of Fire
CHAPTER XXV.—At Home
By May Agnes Fleming.
KATE DANTON.
CHAPTER I.
GRACE DANTON.
A low room, oblong in shape, three high narrow windows admitting the light through small, old-fashioned panes. Just at present there was not much to admit, for it was raining hard, and the afternoon was wearing on to dusk; but even the wet half-light showed you solid mahogany furniture, old-fashioned as the windows themselves, black and shining with age and polish; a carpet soft and thick, but its once rich hues dim and faded; oil paintings of taste and merit, some of them portraits, on the papered walls, the red glow of a large coal fire glinting pleasantly on their broad gilded frames.
At one of the windows, looking out at the ceaseless rain, a young lady sat—a young lady, tall, rather stout than slender, and not pretty. Her complexion was too sallow; her features too irregular; her dark hair too scant, and dry and thin at the parting; but her eyes were fine, large, brown and clear; her manner, self-possessed and lady-like. She was very simply but very tastefully dressed, and looked every day of her age—twenty six.
The rainy afternoon was deepening into dismal twilight; and with her cheek resting on her hand, the young lady sat with a thoughtful