-
W empik go
The Wyvern Mystery - ebook
Wydawnictwo:
Data wydania:
29 maja 2020
Format ebooka:
EPUB
Format
EPUB
czytaj
na czytniku
czytaj
na tablecie
czytaj
na smartfonie
Jeden z najpopularniejszych formatów e-booków na świecie.
Niezwykle wygodny i przyjazny czytelnikom - w przeciwieństwie do formatu
PDF umożliwia skalowanie czcionki, dzięki czemu możliwe jest dopasowanie
jej wielkości do kroju i rozmiarów ekranu. Więcej informacji znajdziesz
w dziale Pomoc.
Multiformat
E-booki w Virtualo.pl dostępne są w opcji multiformatu.
Oznacza to, że po dokonaniu zakupu, e-book pojawi się na Twoim koncie we wszystkich formatach dostępnych aktualnie dla danego tytułu.
Informacja o dostępności poszczególnych formatów znajduje się na karcie produktu.
Format
MOBI
czytaj
na czytniku
czytaj
na tablecie
czytaj
na smartfonie
Jeden z najczęściej wybieranych formatów wśród czytelników
e-booków. Możesz go odczytać na czytniku Kindle oraz na smartfonach i
tabletach po zainstalowaniu specjalnej aplikacji. Więcej informacji
znajdziesz w dziale Pomoc.
Multiformat
E-booki w Virtualo.pl dostępne są w opcji multiformatu.
Oznacza to, że po dokonaniu zakupu, e-book pojawi się na Twoim koncie we wszystkich formatach dostępnych aktualnie dla danego tytułu.
Informacja o dostępności poszczególnych formatów znajduje się na karcie produktu.
Multiformat
E-booki sprzedawane w księgarni Virtualo.pl dostępne są w opcji
multiformatu - kupujesz treść, nie format. Po dodaniu e-booka do koszyka
i dokonaniu płatności, e-book pojawi się na Twoim koncie w Mojej
Bibliotece we wszystkich formatach dostępnych aktualnie dla danego
tytułu. Informacja o dostępności poszczególnych formatów znajduje się na
karcie produktu przy okładce. Uwaga: audiobooki nie są objęte opcją
multiformatu.
czytaj
na tablecie
Aby odczytywać e-booki na swoim tablecie musisz zainstalować specjalną
aplikację. W zależności od formatu e-booka oraz systemu operacyjnego,
który jest zainstalowany na Twoim urządzeniu może to być np. Bluefire
dla EPUBa lub aplikacja Kindle dla formatu MOBI.
Informacje na temat zabezpieczenia e-booka znajdziesz na karcie produktu
w "Szczegółach na temat e-booka". Więcej informacji znajdziesz w dziale
Pomoc.
czytaj
na czytniku
Czytanie na e-czytniku z ekranem e-ink jest bardzo wygodne i nie męczy
wzroku. Pliki przystosowane do odczytywania na czytnikach to przede
wszystkim EPUB (ten format możesz odczytać m.in. na czytnikach
PocketBook) i MOBI (ten fromat możesz odczytać m.in. na czytnikach Kindle).
Informacje na temat zabezpieczenia e-booka znajdziesz na karcie produktu
w "Szczegółach na temat e-booka". Więcej informacji znajdziesz w dziale
Pomoc.
czytaj
na smartfonie
Aby odczytywać e-booki na swoim smartfonie musisz zainstalować specjalną
aplikację. W zależności od formatu e-booka oraz systemu operacyjnego,
który jest zainstalowany na Twoim urządzeniu może to być np. iBooks dla
EPUBa lub aplikacja Kindle dla formatu MOBI.
Informacje na temat zabezpieczenia e-booka znajdziesz na karcie produktu
w "Szczegółach na temat e-booka". Więcej informacji znajdziesz w dziale
Pomoc.
Czytaj fragment
Pobierz fragment
Pobierz fragment w jednym z dostępnych formatów
LUB
12,50 zł za tytuł
przy zakupie abonamentu Go Mini w cenie 24,99 zł / 30 dni
Sprawdź
Słuchaj i czytaj w abonamencie Empik Go Mini za 24,99 zł / 30 dni. Subskrypcja Go Mini daje możliwość dodania 2 tytułów do biblioteki w mies. Wybierasz z ponad 100 tys. audiobooków, ebooków i podcastów.
The Wyvern Mystery - ebook
There are two vampires in this story: the traditional bloodsucker Carmilla and the information vampire Laura. Ever since reading Pride and prejudice, she has suspected that a delicate „English rose” is a threat to others. A married-up girl living in the wilderness will complicate the life of anyone, whether you are at least a rich bachelor, even an ancient vampire. Information hunger pushes to terrible crimes. Dying from boredom, the girl will turn inside out any guest for the sake of new gossip.
| Kategoria: | Classic Literature |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8217-101-3 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 3,0 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
Contents
VOLUME I
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
VOLUME II
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
VOLUME III
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CONCLUSIONVOLUME I
CHAPTER I
ALICE MAYBELL.
In the small breakfast parlour of Oulton, a pretty girl, Miss Alice Maybell, with her furs and wrappers about her, and a journey of forty miles before her–not by rail–to Wyvern, had stood up to hug and kiss her old aunt, and bid her good-bye.
“Now, do sit down again; you need not be in such a hurry–you’re not to go for ten minutes or more,” said the old lady; “do, there’s a darling.”
“If I’m not home before the sun goes down, aunt, Mr. Fairfield will be so angry," said the girl, laying a hand on each shoulder of kind old Lady Wyndale, and looking fondly, but also sadly, into her face.
“Which Mr. Fairfield, dear–the old or the young one?”
“Old Mr. Fairfield, the Squire, as we call him at Wyvern. He’ll really be angry, and I’m a little bit afraid of him, and I would not vex him for the world–he has always been so kind.”
As she answered, the young lady blushed a beautiful crimson, and the old lady, not observing it, said–
“Indeed, I don’t know why I said young–young Mr. Fairfield is old enough, I think, to be your father; but I want to know how you liked Lord Tremaine. I told you how much he liked you. I’m a great believer in first impressions. He was so charmed with you, when he saw you in Wyvern Church. Of course he ought to have been thinking of something better; but no matter–the fact was so, and now he is, I really think, in love–very much–and who knows? He’s such a charming person, and there is everything to make it–I don’t know what word to use–but you know Tremaine is quite a beautiful place, and he does not owe a guinea.”
“You dear old auntie,” said the girl, kissing her again on the cheek, “wicked old darling–always making great matches for me. If you had remained in India, you’d have married me, I’m sure, to a native prince.”
“Native fiddlestick; of course I could if I had liked, but you never should have married a Mahomedan with my consent. Never mind though; you’re sure to do well; marriages are made in heaven, and I really believe there is no use in plotting and planning. There was your darling mamma, when we were both girls together, I said I should never consent to marry a soldier or live out of England, and I did marry a soldier, and lived twelve years of my life in India; and she, poor darling, said again and again, she did not care who her husband might be, provided he was not a clergyman, nor a person living all the year round in the country–that no power could induce her to consent to, and yet she did consent, and to both one and the other, and married a clergyman, and a poor one, and lived and died in the country. So, after all, there’s not much use in planning beforehand.”
“Very true, auntie; none in the world, I believe.”
The girl was looking partly over her shoulder, out of the window, upward towards the clouds, and she sighed heavily; and recollecting herself, looked again in her aunt’s face and smiled.
“I wish you could have stayed a little longer here,” said her aunt.
“I wish I could,” she answered slowly, “I was thinking of talking over a great many things with you–that is, of telling you all my long stories; but while those people were staying here I could not, and now there is not time."
“What long stories, my dear?”
“Stupid stories, I should have said,” answered Alice.
“Well come, is there anything to tell?” demanded the old lady, looking in her large, dark eyes.
“Nothing worth telling–nothing that is–” and she paused for the continuation of her sentence.
“That is what?” asked her aunt.
“I was going to talk to you, darling,” answered the girl, “but I could not in so short a time–so short a time as remains now,” and she looked at her watch–a gift of old Squire Fairfield’s. “I should not know how to make myself understood, I have so many hundred things, and all jumbled up in my head, and should not know how to begin.”
“Well, I’ll begin for you. Come–have any visitors looked in at Wyvern lately?” said her aunt.
“Not one,” she answered.
“No new faces?”
“No, indeed.”
“Are there any new neighbours?” persisted the old lady.
“Not one. No, aunt, it isn’t that.”
“And where are these elderly young gentlemen, the two Mr. Fairfields?” asked the old lady.
The girl laughed, and shook her head.
“Wandering at present. Captain Fairfield is in London.”
“And his charming younger brother–where is he?” asked Lady Wyndale.
“At some fair, I suppose, or horse-race; or, goodness knows where,” answered the girl.
“I was going to ask you whether there was an affair of the heart,” said her aunt. “But there does not seem much material; and what was the subject? Though I can’t hear it all, you may tell me what it was to be about.”
“About fifty things, or nothings. There’s no one on earth, auntie, darling, but you I can talk anything over with; and I’ll write, or, if you let me, come again for a day or two, very soon–may I?”
“Of course, no,” said her aunt gaily. “But we are not to be quite alone, all the time, mind. There are people who would not forgive me if I were to do anything so selfish, but I promise you ample time to talk–you and I to ourselves; and now that I think, I should like to hear by the post, if you will write and say anything you like. You may be quite sure nobody shall hear a word about it.”
By this time they had got to the hall-door.
“I’m sure of that, darling,” and she kissed the kind old lady.
“And are you quite sure you would not like a servant to travel with you; he could sit beside the driver?”
“No, dear auntie, my trusty old Dulcibella sits inside to take care of me."
“Well, dear, are you quite sure? I should not miss him the least.”
“Quite, dear aunt, I assure you.”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
VOLUME I
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
VOLUME II
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
VOLUME III
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CONCLUSIONVOLUME I
CHAPTER I
ALICE MAYBELL.
In the small breakfast parlour of Oulton, a pretty girl, Miss Alice Maybell, with her furs and wrappers about her, and a journey of forty miles before her–not by rail–to Wyvern, had stood up to hug and kiss her old aunt, and bid her good-bye.
“Now, do sit down again; you need not be in such a hurry–you’re not to go for ten minutes or more,” said the old lady; “do, there’s a darling.”
“If I’m not home before the sun goes down, aunt, Mr. Fairfield will be so angry," said the girl, laying a hand on each shoulder of kind old Lady Wyndale, and looking fondly, but also sadly, into her face.
“Which Mr. Fairfield, dear–the old or the young one?”
“Old Mr. Fairfield, the Squire, as we call him at Wyvern. He’ll really be angry, and I’m a little bit afraid of him, and I would not vex him for the world–he has always been so kind.”
As she answered, the young lady blushed a beautiful crimson, and the old lady, not observing it, said–
“Indeed, I don’t know why I said young–young Mr. Fairfield is old enough, I think, to be your father; but I want to know how you liked Lord Tremaine. I told you how much he liked you. I’m a great believer in first impressions. He was so charmed with you, when he saw you in Wyvern Church. Of course he ought to have been thinking of something better; but no matter–the fact was so, and now he is, I really think, in love–very much–and who knows? He’s such a charming person, and there is everything to make it–I don’t know what word to use–but you know Tremaine is quite a beautiful place, and he does not owe a guinea.”
“You dear old auntie,” said the girl, kissing her again on the cheek, “wicked old darling–always making great matches for me. If you had remained in India, you’d have married me, I’m sure, to a native prince.”
“Native fiddlestick; of course I could if I had liked, but you never should have married a Mahomedan with my consent. Never mind though; you’re sure to do well; marriages are made in heaven, and I really believe there is no use in plotting and planning. There was your darling mamma, when we were both girls together, I said I should never consent to marry a soldier or live out of England, and I did marry a soldier, and lived twelve years of my life in India; and she, poor darling, said again and again, she did not care who her husband might be, provided he was not a clergyman, nor a person living all the year round in the country–that no power could induce her to consent to, and yet she did consent, and to both one and the other, and married a clergyman, and a poor one, and lived and died in the country. So, after all, there’s not much use in planning beforehand.”
“Very true, auntie; none in the world, I believe.”
The girl was looking partly over her shoulder, out of the window, upward towards the clouds, and she sighed heavily; and recollecting herself, looked again in her aunt’s face and smiled.
“I wish you could have stayed a little longer here,” said her aunt.
“I wish I could,” she answered slowly, “I was thinking of talking over a great many things with you–that is, of telling you all my long stories; but while those people were staying here I could not, and now there is not time."
“What long stories, my dear?”
“Stupid stories, I should have said,” answered Alice.
“Well come, is there anything to tell?” demanded the old lady, looking in her large, dark eyes.
“Nothing worth telling–nothing that is–” and she paused for the continuation of her sentence.
“That is what?” asked her aunt.
“I was going to talk to you, darling,” answered the girl, “but I could not in so short a time–so short a time as remains now,” and she looked at her watch–a gift of old Squire Fairfield’s. “I should not know how to make myself understood, I have so many hundred things, and all jumbled up in my head, and should not know how to begin.”
“Well, I’ll begin for you. Come–have any visitors looked in at Wyvern lately?” said her aunt.
“Not one,” she answered.
“No new faces?”
“No, indeed.”
“Are there any new neighbours?” persisted the old lady.
“Not one. No, aunt, it isn’t that.”
“And where are these elderly young gentlemen, the two Mr. Fairfields?” asked the old lady.
The girl laughed, and shook her head.
“Wandering at present. Captain Fairfield is in London.”
“And his charming younger brother–where is he?” asked Lady Wyndale.
“At some fair, I suppose, or horse-race; or, goodness knows where,” answered the girl.
“I was going to ask you whether there was an affair of the heart,” said her aunt. “But there does not seem much material; and what was the subject? Though I can’t hear it all, you may tell me what it was to be about.”
“About fifty things, or nothings. There’s no one on earth, auntie, darling, but you I can talk anything over with; and I’ll write, or, if you let me, come again for a day or two, very soon–may I?”
“Of course, no,” said her aunt gaily. “But we are not to be quite alone, all the time, mind. There are people who would not forgive me if I were to do anything so selfish, but I promise you ample time to talk–you and I to ourselves; and now that I think, I should like to hear by the post, if you will write and say anything you like. You may be quite sure nobody shall hear a word about it.”
By this time they had got to the hall-door.
“I’m sure of that, darling,” and she kissed the kind old lady.
“And are you quite sure you would not like a servant to travel with you; he could sit beside the driver?”
“No, dear auntie, my trusty old Dulcibella sits inside to take care of me."
“Well, dear, are you quite sure? I should not miss him the least.”
“Quite, dear aunt, I assure you.”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
więcej..
