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The Floating Press - Anthony Hope

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245 pages

English

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Description

Anthony Hope's early literary output consisted largely of court romances packed with action-adventure elements, but in the later phases of his development as an artist, he toned down the fantasy and began to focus on grittier, more realistic topics. Double Harness is a gripping in-depth character study that follows the ups and downs of an assortment of married couples and unmarried singles over the course of their lives.

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 octobre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776592395
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

DOUBLE HARNESS
* * *
ANTHONY HOPE

*
Double Harness First published in 1904 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-239-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-240-1 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Some Views of the Institution Chapter II - The Fairy Ride Chapter III - The Worldly Mind Chapter IV - Initiation Chapter V - The Birth of Strife Chapter VI - Not Peace but a Sword Chapter VII - A Vindication of Conscience Chapter VIII - Ideals and Aspirations Chapter IX - A Successful Mission Chapter X - The Flinty Wall Chapter XI - The Olive Branch Chapter XII - Images and Their Work Chapter XIII - The Dead and its Dead Chapter XIV - For His Love and His Quarrel Chapter XV - In the Teeth of the Storm Chapter XVI - The Upper and the Nether Stone Chapter XVII - Wandering Wits Chapter XVIII - The Rising Generation Chapter XIX - In the Corner Chapter XX - The Hour of Wrath Chapter XXI - An Uncompromising Expression Chapter XXII - Aspirations and Common Sense Chapter XXIII - A Thing of Fear Chapter XXIV - Friends Chapter XXV - Picking Up the Pieces Chapter XXVI - The Great Wrong Chapter XXVII - Samples of the Bulk Chapter XXVIII - To Life and Light Again Chapter XXIX - With Open Eyes
Chapter I - Some Views of the Institution
*
The house—a large, plain white building with no architecturalpretensions—stood on a high swell of the downs and looked across thevalley in which Milldean village lay, and thence over rolling stretchesof close turf, till the prospect ended in the gleam of waves and thesilver-grey mist that lay over the sea. It was a fine, open, free view.The air was fresh, with a touch of salt in it, and made the heat of thesun more than endurable—even welcome and nourishing. Tom Courtland,raising himself from the grass and sitting up straight, gave utteranceto what his surroundings declared to be a very natural exclamation:
"What a bore to leave this and go back to town!"
"Stay a bit longer, old chap," urged his host, Grantley Imason, who layfull length on his back on the turf, with a straw hat over his eyes andnose, and a pipe, long gone out, between his teeth.
"Back to my wife!" Courtland went on, without noticing the invitation.
With a faint sigh Grantley Imason sat up, put his hat on his head, andknocked out his pipe. He glanced at his friend with a look of satiricalamusement.
"You're encouraging company for a man who's just got engaged," heremarked.
"It's the devil of a business—sort of thing some of those fellows wouldwrite a book about. But it's not worth a book. A page of strong andindiscriminate swearing—that's what it's worth, Grantley."
Grantley sighed again as he searched for his tobacco-pouch. The sighseemed to hover doubtfully between a faint sympathy and a resignedboredom.
"And no end to it—none in sight! I don't know whether it's legalcruelty to throw library books and so on at your husband's head—"
"Depends on whether you ever hit him, I should think; and they'dprobably conclude a woman never would."
"But what an ass I should look if I went into court with that sort ofstory!"
"Yes, you would look an ass," Grantley agreed. "Doesn't she giveyou—well, any other chance, you know?"
"Not she! My dear fellow, she's most aggressively the other way."
"Then why don't you give her a chance?"
"What, you mean—?"
"Am I so very cryptic?" murmured Grantley as he lit his pipe.
"I'm a Member of Parliament."
"Yes, I forgot. That's a bit awkward."
"Besides, there are the children. I don't want my children to thinktheir father a scoundrel." He paused, and added grimly: "And I don'twant them to be left to their mother's bringing-up either."
"Then we seem to have exhausted the resources of the law."
"The children complicate it so. Wait till you have some of your own,Grantley."
"Look here—steady!" Grantley expostulated. "Don't be in such a hurry togive me domestic encumbrances. The bloom's still on my romance, oldchap. Talking of children to a man who's only been engaged a week!" Hismanner resumed its air of languid sympathy as he went on: "You needn'tsee much of her, Tom, need you?"
"Oh, needn't I?" grumbled Courtland. He was a rather short, sturdilybuilt man, with a high colour and stiff black hair which stood up on hishead. His face was not wanting in character, but a look of plaintiveworry beset it. "You try living in the same house with a woman—with awoman like that, I mean!"
"Thanks for the explanation," laughed Grantley.
"I must go and wire when I shall be back, or Harriet'll blow the roofoff over that. You come too; a stroll'll do you good."
Grantley Imason agreed; and the two, leaving the garden by a little sidegate, took their way along the steep road which led down to the village,and rose again on the other side of it, to join the main highway acrossthe downs a mile and a half away. The lane was narrow, steep, and fullof turns; the notice "Dangerous to Cyclists" gave warning of itscharacter. At the foot of it stood the Old Mill House, backing on to alittle stream. Farther on lay the church and the parsonage; opposite tothem was the post-office, which was also a general shop and also hadrooms to let to visitors. The village inn, next to the post-office, anda dozen or so of labourers' cottages exhausted the shelter of the littlevalley, though the parish embraced several homesteads scattered about indips of the downs, and a row of small new red villas at the junctionwith the main road. Happily these last, owing to the lie of the ground,were out of sight from Grantley Imason's windows, no less than from thevillage itself.
"And that's the home of the fairy princess?" asked Courtland as theypassed Old Mill House, a rambling, rather broken-down old place, coveredwith creepers.
"Yes; she and her brother moved there when the old rector died. You mayhave heard of him—the Chiddingfold who was an authority on Milton. No?Well, he was, anyhow. Rather learned all round, I fancy—Fellow ofJohn's. But he took this living and settled down for life; and when hedied the children were turned out of the rectory and took Old MillHouse. They've got an old woman—well, she's not very old—with theuneuphonious name of Mumple living with them. She's been a sort ofnurse-housekeeper-companion: a mixed kind of position—breakfast andmidday dinner with the family, but didn't join his reverence's eveningmeal. You know the sort of thing. She's monstrously fat; but Sibyllaloves her. And the new rector moved in a fortnight ago, and everybodyhates him. And the temporary curate, who was here because the new rectorwas at Bournemouth for his health, and who lodged over the post-office,has just gone, and everybody's dashed glad to see the last of him. Andthat's all the news of the town. And, behold, Tom, I'm the squire of it,and every man, woman, or child in it is, by unbroken tradition andcustom, entitled to have as much port wine out of my cellar as his, her,or its state of health may happen to require."
He threw off this chatter in a gay self-contented fashion, and TomCourtland looked at him with affectionate envy. The world had been verygood to him, and he, in return, was always amiable to it. He had beenborn heir and only child of his father; had inherited the largest sharein a solid old-fashioned banking-house; was now a director of the greatjoint-stock undertaking in which the family business had consented tomerge itself on handsome terms; had just as much work to do as he liked,and possessed, and always had enjoyed, more money than he needed. He wasthirty-three now, and had been a social favourite even before he leftschool. If it was difficult to say what positive gain his existence hadbeen to society, there was no doubt that his extinction would at anytime have been considered a distinct loss.
"A country squire with a rosy-cheeked country girl for wife! That's afunny ending for you, Grantley."
"She's not rosy-cheeked—and it's not an ending—and there's thepost-office. Go in, and be as civil as you can to Lady Harriet."
A smile of pity, unmistakably mingled with contempt, followed Courtlandinto the shop. The tantrums of other men's wives are generally receivedwith much the same mixture of scepticism and disdain as the witticismsof other parents' children. Both are seen large, very large indeed, bysufferers and admirers respectively.
The obligation of being as civil as he could to his wife causedCourtland to take three or four minutes in framing his telegram, andwhen he came out he found Grantley seated on the bench that stood by theinn and conversing with a young man who wore a very old coat and roughtweed knickerbockers. Grantley introduced him as Mr. JeremyChiddingfold, and Courtland knew that he was Sibylla's brother. Sibyllaherself he had not yet seen. Jeremy had a shock of sandy hair, a widebrow, and a wide mouth; his eyes were rather protuberant, and his noseturned up, giving prominence to the nostrils.
"No family likeness, I hope?" Courtland found himself thinking; forthough Jeremy was a vigorous, if not a handsome, masculine type, thelines were far from being those of feminine beauty.
"And he's enormously surprised and evidently rather shocked to hear I'mgoing to marry his sister—oh, we can talk away, Jeremy; Tom Courtlanddoesn't matter. He knows all the bad there is about me, and wants toknow all the good there is about Sibylla."
One additional auditor by no means embarrassed Jeremy; perhaps not ahundred would have.
"Though, of cou