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The Floating Press - Sheridan Le Fanu

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351 pages

English

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After standing empty for years, the grand home known as Malory is suddenly found to be occupied. Understandably, the villagers of Cardyllian, the quaint town closest to Malory, are curious about the new tenants. Little do they know that the newcomers have brought with them a puzzling series of mysteries.

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 septembre 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776586431
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.

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THE TENANTS OF MALORY
* * *
SHERIDAN LE FANU

*
The Tenants of Malory First published in 1867 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-643-1 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-644-8 © 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
*
VOLUME I Chapter I - Concerning Two Ladies Who Sat in the Malory Pew Chapter II - All that the Draper's Wife Could Tell Chapter III - Home to Ware Chapter IV - On the Green of Cardyllian Chapter V - A Visit to Hazelden Chapter VI - Malory by Moonlight Chapter VII - A View from the Refectory Window Chapter VIII - A Night Sail Chapter IX - The Reverend Isaac Dixie Chapter X - Reading an Epitaph Chapter XI - Farewell Chapter XII - In Which Cleve Verney Waylays an Old Lady Chapter XIII - The Boy with the Cage Chapter XIV - News About the Old Man of the Mountains Chapter XV - Within the Sanctuary Chapter XVI - An Unlooked-for Visitor Chapter XVII - They Visit the Chapel of Penruthyn Again Chapter XVIII - Cleve Again Before His Idol Chapter XIX - Cleve Verney Takes a Bold Step Chapter XX - His Fate Chapter XXI - Captain Shrapnell Chapter XXII - Sir Booth Speaks Chapter XXIII - Margaret Has Her Warning Chapter XXIV - Sir Booth in a Passion Chapter XXV - In Which the Ladies Peep into Cardyllian VOLUME II Chapter I - In the Oak Parlour—A Meeting and Parting Chapter II - Judæus Apella Chapter III - Mr. Levi Visits Mrs. Mervyn Chapter IV - Mr. Benjamin Levi Recognises an Acquaintance Chapter V - A Council of Three Chapter VI - Mr. Dingwell Arrives Chapter VII - Mr. Dingwell Makes Himself Comfortable Chapter VIII - The Lodger and His Landlady Chapter IX - In Which Mr. Dingwell Puts His Hand to the Poker Chapter X - Cleve Verney Sees the Chateau de Cresseron Chapter XI - She Comes and Speaks Chapter XII - Cleve Verney Has a Visitor Chapter XIII - The Rev. Isaac Dixie Sets Forth on a Mission Chapter XIV - Over the Herring-Pond Chapter XV - Mr. Cleve Verney Pays a Visit to Rosemary Court Chapter XVI - In Lord Verney's Library Chapter XVII - An Ovation Chapter XVIII - Old Friends on the Green Chapter XIX - Vane Etherage Greets Lord Verney Chapter XX - Rebecca Mervyn Reads Her Letter Chapter XXI - By Rail to London Chapter XXII - Lady Dorminster's Ball VOLUME III Chapter I - A Lark Chapter II - A New Voice Chapter III - Cleve Comes Chapter IV - Love's Remorse Chapter V - Mrs. Mervyn's Dream Chapter VI - Tom Has a "Talk" with the Admiral Chapter VII - Arcadian Red Brick, Lilac, and Laburnum Chapter VIII - The Triumvirate Chapter IX - In Verney House Chapter X - A Thunder-Storm Chapter XI - The Pale Horse Chapter XII - In Which His Friends Visit the Sick Chapter XIII - Mr. Dingwell Thinks of an Excursion Chapter XIV - A Surprise Chapter XV - Clay Rectory by Moonlight Chapter XVI - An Alarm Chapter XVII - A New Light Chapter XVIII - Mr. Dingwell and Mrs. Mervyn Converse Chapter XIX - The Greek Merchant Sees Lord Verney Chapter XX - A Break-Down Chapter XXI - Mr. Larkin's Two Moves Chapter XXII - Conclusion
*
TO THE
RIGHT HON. THE LADY DUFFERIN,
This Tale is inscribed,
BY
THE AUTHOR.
VOLUME I
*
Chapter I - Concerning Two Ladies Who Sat in the Malory Pew
*
THERE were tenants at last in Malory; and the curiosity of the honestresidents of Cardyllian, the small and antique town close by, was atonce piqued and mortified by the unaccountable reserve of these people.
For four years, except from one twisted chimney in the far corner of theold house, no smoke had risen from its flues. Tufts of grass had grownup between the paving-stones of the silent stable-yard, grass had creptover the dark avenue, which, making a curve near the gate, is soon lostamong the sombre trees that throw a perpetual shadow upon it; the grovesof nettles had spread and thickened among their trunks; and in thesigns of neglect and decay, the monastic old place grew more than ever triste .
The pretty little Welsh town of Cardyllian stands near the shingle of abroad estuary, beyond which tower the noble Cambrian mountains. High anddim, tier above tier, undulating hills, broken by misty glens, andclothed with woods, rise from the opposite shore, and are backed, rangebehind range, by the dim outlines of Alpine peaks and slopes, andflanked by purple and gold-tinted headlands, rising dome-like from thesea.
Between the town and the gray shingle stretches a strip of bright greensward, the Green of Cardyllian, along which rows of pleasant houses,with little gardens in front, look over the sea to the mountains.
It is a town quaint, old, and quiet. Many of the houses bear dateanterior to the great civil wars of England, and on the oak beams ofsome are carved years of grace during which Shakespeare was still livingamong his friends, in Stratford-on-Avon.
At the end of long Castle Street rise the battlements and rooflesstowers of that grand old feudal fortress which helped to hold theconquest of Wales for the English crown in the days of tabards, lances,and the long-bow. Its other chief street strikes off at right angles,and up hill from this, taking its name from the ancient church, which,with its churchyard, stands divided from it by a low wall of redsandstone, surmounted by one of those tall and fanciful iron rails, theknack of designing which seems to be a lost art in these countries.
There are other smaller streets and by-lanes, some dark with a monasticstillness, others thinly built, with little gardens and old plum andpear trees peeping over grass-grown walls, and here and there you lightupon a fragment of that ancient town wall from which, in the greattroubles which have helped to build up the glory of England, plumedcavaliers once parleyed with steel-capped Puritans. Thus the tints andshadows of a great history rest faintly even upon this out-of-the-wayand serene little town.
The permanent residents of Cardyllian for half the year are idle, andfor mere occupation are led to inquire into and report one another'ssins, vanities, and mishaps. Necessity thus educates them in that mutualinterest in one another's affairs, and that taste for narrative, whichpusillanimous people call prying and tattle. That the people nowresiding in Malory, scarcely a mile away, should have so totallydefeated them was painful and even irritating.
It was next to impossible to take a walk near Cardyllian without seeingMalory; and thus their failure perpetually stared them in the face.
You can best see Malory from the high grounds which, westward of thetown, overlook the estuary. About a mile away you descry a dark andrather wide-spread mass of wood, lying in a gentle hollow, which, Ithink, deepens its sombre tint. It approaches closely to the long rippleof the sea, and through the foliage are visible some old chimneys andglimpses of gray gables. The refectory of the friary that once stoodthere, built of gray and reddish stones, half hid in ivy, now does dutyas a barn. It is so embowered in trees, that you can scarcely, here andthere, gain a peep from without at its tinted walls; and the whole placeis overhung by a sadness and silence that well accord with itscloistered traditions. That is Malory.
It was Sunday now. Over the graves and tombstones of those who will hearits sweet music no more, the bell had summoned the townsfolk andvisitors to the old church of Cardyllian.
The little town boasts, indeed, a beautiful old church, Gothic, withside-aisles, and an antique stained window, from which gloried saintsand martyrs look down, in robes as rich and brilliant as we seenow-a-days only upon the kings and queens of our court cards. It hasalso some fine old monuments of the Verney family. The light is solemnand subdued. There is a very sweet-toned organ, which they say is as oldas the reign of Charles I., but I do not know how truly. In the porchare hung in chains two sacrilegious round-shot, which entered the churchwhen Cromwell's general opened his fire, in those days of sorrow whenthe liberties of England were in the throes of birth. Beside thebrilliant stained window, engraven upon a brass plate, is a record ofthe same "solemn times," relating how certain careful men, to whom weare obliged, had taken down, enclosed in boxes, and buried, in hope of atypical resurrection, the ancient window which had for so longbeautified "this church," and thus saved it from the hands of "violentand fanatical men."
When "the season" is still flourishing at Cardyllian, the church issometimes very full. On the Sunday I speak of it was so. One pew,indeed, was quite relieved from the general pressure. It was the largepanelled enclosure which stands near the communion rails, at the rightas you look up the aisle toward the glowing window. Its flooring israised a full foot higher than the surrounding level. This is the seatof the Verney family.
But one person performed his devotions in it, upon the day of which Ispeak. This was a tall, elegantly slight young man, with theindescribable air of careless fashion; and I am afraid he was much morepeeped at and watched than he ought to have been by good Christiansduring divine service.
Sometimes people saw but the edge of his black whisker, and the waves ofhis dark hair, and his lavender-gloved hand resting on the edge of thepew. At other times—when, for instance, during the Litany, he leanedover with his arms resting on the edge of the pew—he was verysatisfactorily revealed, and elicited a considerable variety ofcriticism. Most people said he was very handsome, and so, I think, hewas—