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A Prince of Sinners - ebook
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Data wydania:
2 października 2019
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A Prince of Sinners - ebook
Elegantly written novel, which tells about a young man who can not forgive his newly found father, because he left him and his mother. But after many living trials in many ways teach them both, they realize that there are other more important priorities and forces. A pleasant, easy-to-read, and thought-out essay.
| Kategoria: | Classic Literature |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8148-599-9 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 2,7 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
Contents
PART I
I. MR. KINGSTON BROOKS, POLITICAL AGENT
II. THE BULLSOM FAMILY AT HOME
III. KINGSTON BROOKS HAS A VISITOR
IV. A QUESTION FOR THE COUNTRY
V. THE MARQUIS OF ARRANMORE
VI. THE MAN WHO WENT TO HELL
VII. A THOUSAND POUNDS
VIII. KINGSTON BROOKS MAKES INQUIRIES
IX. HENSLOW SPEAKS OUT
X. A TEMPTING OFFER
XI. WHO THE DEVIL IS BROOKS?
XII. MR. BULLSOM GIVES A DINNER-PARTY
XIII. CHARITY THE "CRIME"
XIV. AN AWKWARD QUESTION
XV. A SUPPER-PARTY AT THE "QUEEN'S"
XVI. UNCLE AND NIECE
XVII. FIFTEEN YEARS IN HELL
XVIII. MARY SCOTT PAYS AN UNEXPECTED CALL
XIX. THE MARQUIS MEPHISTOPHELES
XX. THE CONFIDENCE OF LORD ARRANMORE
PART II
I. LORD ARRANMORE'S AMUSEMENTS
II. THE HECKLING OF HENSLOW
III. MARY SCOTT'S TWO VISITORS
IV. A MARQUIS ON MATRIMONY
V. BROOKS ENLISTS A RECRUIT
VI. KINGSTON BROOKS, PHILANTHROPIST
VII. BROOKS AND HIS MISSIONS
VIII. MR. BULLSOM IS STAGGERED
IX. GHOSTS
X. A NEW DON QUIXOTE
I. AN ARISTOCRATIC RECRUIT
II. MR. LAVILETTE INTERFERES
III. THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF MARY SCOTT
IV. LORD ARRANMORE IN A NEW ROLE
V. LADY SYBIL LENDS A HAND
VI. THE RESERVATION OF MARY SCOTT
VII. FATHER AND SON
VIII. THE ADVICE OF MR. BULLSOM
IX. A QUESTION AND AN ANSWER
X. LADY SYBIL SAYS "YES"
XI. BROOKS HEARS THE NEWS
XII. THE PRINCE OF SINNERS SPEAKS OUTPART I
CHAPTER I
MR. KINGSTON BROOKS, POLITICAL AGENT
Already the sweepers were busy in the deserted hall, and the lights burned low. Of the great audience who had filled the place only half-an-hour ago not one remained. The echoes of their tumultuous cheering seemed still to linger amongst the rafters, the dust which their feet had raised hung about in a little cloud. But the long rows of benches were empty, the sweepers moved ghostlike amongst the shadows, and an old woman was throwing tealeaves here and there about the platform. In the committee-room behind a little group of men were busy with their leave-takings. The candidate, a tall, somewhat burly man, with hard, shrewd face and loosely knit figure, was shaking hands with every one. His tone and manner savoured still of the rostrum.
“Good-night, sir! Good-night, Mr. Bullsom! A most excellent introduction, yours, sir! You made my task positively easy. Good-night, Mr. Brooks. A capital meeting, and everything very well arranged. Personally I feel very much obliged to you, sir. If you carry everything through as smoothly as this affair to-night, I can see that we shall lose nothing by poor Morrison’s breakdown. Good-night, gentlemen, to all of you. We will meet at the club at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning. Eleven o’clock precisely, if you please.”
The candidate went out to his carriage, and the others followed in twos and threes. A young man, pale, with nervous mouth, strongly-marked features and clear dark eyes, looked up from a sheaf of letters which he was busy sorting.
“Don’t wait for me, Mr. Bullsom,” he said. “Reynolds will let me out, and I had better run through these letters before I leave.”
Mr. Bullsom was emphatic to the verge of gruffness.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he declared. “I tell you what it is, Brooks. We’re not going to let you knock yourself up. You’re tackling this job in rare style. I can tell you that Henslow is delighted.”
“I’m much obliged to you for saying so, Mr. Bullsom,” the young man answered. “Of course the work is strange to me, but it is very interesting, and I don’t mean to make a mess of it.”
“There is only one chance of your doing that,” Mr. Bullsom rejoined, “and that is if you overwork yourself. You need a bit of looking after. You’ve got a rare head on your shoulders, and I’m proud to think that I was the one to bring your name before the committee. But I’m jolly well certain of one thing. You’ve done all the work a man ought to do in one day. Now listen to me. Here’s my carriage waiting, and you’re going straight home with me to have a bite and a glass of wine. We can’t afford to lose our second agent, and I can see what’s the matter with you. You’re as pale as a ghost, and no wonder. You’ve been at it all day and never a break.”
The young man called Brooks had not the energy to frame a refusal, which he knew would be resented. He took down his overcoat, and stuffed the letters into his pocket.
“You’re very good,” he said. “I’ll come up for an hour with pleasure.”
They passed out together into the street, and Mr. Bullsom opened the door of his carriage.
“In with you, young man,” he exclaimed. “Home, George!”
Kingston Brooks leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of relief.
“This is very restful,” he remarked. “We have certainly had a very busy day. The inside of electioneering may be disenchanting, but it’s jolly hard work.”
Mr. Bullsom sat with clasped hands in front of him resting upon that slight protuberance which denoted the advent of a stomach. He had thrown away the cigar which he had lit in the committee-room. Mrs. Bullsom did not approve of smoking in the covered wagonette, which she frequently honoured with her presence.
“There’s nothing in the world worth having that hasn’t to be worked for, my boy,” he declared, good-humoredly.
“By other people!” Brooks remarked, smiling.
“That’s as it may be,” Mr. Bullsom admitted. “To my mind that’s where the art of the thing comes in. Any fool can work, but it takes a shrewd man to keep a lot of others working hard for him while he pockets the oof himself.”
“I suppose,” the younger man remarked, thoughtfully, “that you would consider Mr. Henslow a shrewd man?”
“Shrewd! Oh, Henslow’s shrewd enough. There’s no question about that!”
“And honest?”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
PART I
I. MR. KINGSTON BROOKS, POLITICAL AGENT
II. THE BULLSOM FAMILY AT HOME
III. KINGSTON BROOKS HAS A VISITOR
IV. A QUESTION FOR THE COUNTRY
V. THE MARQUIS OF ARRANMORE
VI. THE MAN WHO WENT TO HELL
VII. A THOUSAND POUNDS
VIII. KINGSTON BROOKS MAKES INQUIRIES
IX. HENSLOW SPEAKS OUT
X. A TEMPTING OFFER
XI. WHO THE DEVIL IS BROOKS?
XII. MR. BULLSOM GIVES A DINNER-PARTY
XIII. CHARITY THE "CRIME"
XIV. AN AWKWARD QUESTION
XV. A SUPPER-PARTY AT THE "QUEEN'S"
XVI. UNCLE AND NIECE
XVII. FIFTEEN YEARS IN HELL
XVIII. MARY SCOTT PAYS AN UNEXPECTED CALL
XIX. THE MARQUIS MEPHISTOPHELES
XX. THE CONFIDENCE OF LORD ARRANMORE
PART II
I. LORD ARRANMORE'S AMUSEMENTS
II. THE HECKLING OF HENSLOW
III. MARY SCOTT'S TWO VISITORS
IV. A MARQUIS ON MATRIMONY
V. BROOKS ENLISTS A RECRUIT
VI. KINGSTON BROOKS, PHILANTHROPIST
VII. BROOKS AND HIS MISSIONS
VIII. MR. BULLSOM IS STAGGERED
IX. GHOSTS
X. A NEW DON QUIXOTE
I. AN ARISTOCRATIC RECRUIT
II. MR. LAVILETTE INTERFERES
III. THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF MARY SCOTT
IV. LORD ARRANMORE IN A NEW ROLE
V. LADY SYBIL LENDS A HAND
VI. THE RESERVATION OF MARY SCOTT
VII. FATHER AND SON
VIII. THE ADVICE OF MR. BULLSOM
IX. A QUESTION AND AN ANSWER
X. LADY SYBIL SAYS "YES"
XI. BROOKS HEARS THE NEWS
XII. THE PRINCE OF SINNERS SPEAKS OUTPART I
CHAPTER I
MR. KINGSTON BROOKS, POLITICAL AGENT
Already the sweepers were busy in the deserted hall, and the lights burned low. Of the great audience who had filled the place only half-an-hour ago not one remained. The echoes of their tumultuous cheering seemed still to linger amongst the rafters, the dust which their feet had raised hung about in a little cloud. But the long rows of benches were empty, the sweepers moved ghostlike amongst the shadows, and an old woman was throwing tealeaves here and there about the platform. In the committee-room behind a little group of men were busy with their leave-takings. The candidate, a tall, somewhat burly man, with hard, shrewd face and loosely knit figure, was shaking hands with every one. His tone and manner savoured still of the rostrum.
“Good-night, sir! Good-night, Mr. Bullsom! A most excellent introduction, yours, sir! You made my task positively easy. Good-night, Mr. Brooks. A capital meeting, and everything very well arranged. Personally I feel very much obliged to you, sir. If you carry everything through as smoothly as this affair to-night, I can see that we shall lose nothing by poor Morrison’s breakdown. Good-night, gentlemen, to all of you. We will meet at the club at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning. Eleven o’clock precisely, if you please.”
The candidate went out to his carriage, and the others followed in twos and threes. A young man, pale, with nervous mouth, strongly-marked features and clear dark eyes, looked up from a sheaf of letters which he was busy sorting.
“Don’t wait for me, Mr. Bullsom,” he said. “Reynolds will let me out, and I had better run through these letters before I leave.”
Mr. Bullsom was emphatic to the verge of gruffness.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he declared. “I tell you what it is, Brooks. We’re not going to let you knock yourself up. You’re tackling this job in rare style. I can tell you that Henslow is delighted.”
“I’m much obliged to you for saying so, Mr. Bullsom,” the young man answered. “Of course the work is strange to me, but it is very interesting, and I don’t mean to make a mess of it.”
“There is only one chance of your doing that,” Mr. Bullsom rejoined, “and that is if you overwork yourself. You need a bit of looking after. You’ve got a rare head on your shoulders, and I’m proud to think that I was the one to bring your name before the committee. But I’m jolly well certain of one thing. You’ve done all the work a man ought to do in one day. Now listen to me. Here’s my carriage waiting, and you’re going straight home with me to have a bite and a glass of wine. We can’t afford to lose our second agent, and I can see what’s the matter with you. You’re as pale as a ghost, and no wonder. You’ve been at it all day and never a break.”
The young man called Brooks had not the energy to frame a refusal, which he knew would be resented. He took down his overcoat, and stuffed the letters into his pocket.
“You’re very good,” he said. “I’ll come up for an hour with pleasure.”
They passed out together into the street, and Mr. Bullsom opened the door of his carriage.
“In with you, young man,” he exclaimed. “Home, George!”
Kingston Brooks leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of relief.
“This is very restful,” he remarked. “We have certainly had a very busy day. The inside of electioneering may be disenchanting, but it’s jolly hard work.”
Mr. Bullsom sat with clasped hands in front of him resting upon that slight protuberance which denoted the advent of a stomach. He had thrown away the cigar which he had lit in the committee-room. Mrs. Bullsom did not approve of smoking in the covered wagonette, which she frequently honoured with her presence.
“There’s nothing in the world worth having that hasn’t to be worked for, my boy,” he declared, good-humoredly.
“By other people!” Brooks remarked, smiling.
“That’s as it may be,” Mr. Bullsom admitted. “To my mind that’s where the art of the thing comes in. Any fool can work, but it takes a shrewd man to keep a lot of others working hard for him while he pockets the oof himself.”
“I suppose,” the younger man remarked, thoughtfully, “that you would consider Mr. Henslow a shrewd man?”
“Shrewd! Oh, Henslow’s shrewd enough. There’s no question about that!”
“And honest?”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
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