BLTC Press Titles

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The Pictorial Key to the Tarot

Arthur Edward Waite

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

A. Conan Doyle

Knowledge of Higher Worlds and its Attainment

Rudolf Steiner

The Count of Monte Cristo

Alexandre Dumas


by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley




art; 1iii liidg: rcijuch, pale and wasted, an altered "chil'd— %it his heart was the same, and -lie': adh'ered tenaciously to one idea.

'•'•**'»»••• *

' Nurse,' he said one day, to the woman who had attended him from his birth, ' I wish you • would take pen and paper, and write down what I am going to say. Or if that is too much trouble, I wish you would remember every word and repeat it to my father. I cannot speak to him. He does not love mamma as he used ; he is unjust, and 1 cannot speak to him — but I wish to tell every little thing that happened, that people may see that what I say is true — and be as sure as I am that mamma never meant to go away.

" ' When we met the strange gentleman first, we walked along the lane, and I ran about gathering flowers — yet I remember I kept thinking, why is mamma offended with that gentleman? — what right has he to displease her? and I came back with it in my mind to tell him that he should not say anything to annoy mamma; but when I took her hand, she seemed no longer angry, but very, very sorry. I remember she said — "I grieve deeply for you, Rupert"—and then she added —" My good wishes are all I have to give"— I remember the words, for they made me fancy, in a most childish manner, mamma must have left her purse at home—and I began to think of my own—but seeing him so well dressed, I felt a few shillings would do him no good. Mamma talked on very softly—looking up in the stranger's face; he was tall—taller, younger-—and better looking than papa : and I ran on again, for I did not know what they were talking about. At one time mamma called me and said she would go back, and I was very glad, for it was growing late and I felt hungry—but the stranger said : " Only a little further—to the end of the lane only," so we walked on and he talked about her forgetting him, and she said something that that was best—and he ought to forget her. On this he burst forth very angrily, and I grew angry too—but he changed, and asked her to forgive him—and so we reached the end of the lane.

" 'We stopped there, and mamma held out her hand and said—Farewell!—and something more—when suddenly we heard the sound of wheels, and a carriage came at full speed round from a turn in the road ; it stopped close to us—her hand trembled which held mine— and the stranger said—" You see I said true—I am going—and shall soon be far distant; I ask but for one half hour—sit in the carriage, it is getting cold."—Mamma said: " No, no—it is late—farewell;" but as she spoke, the stranger as it were led her forward, and in a moment

lifted her up; he seemed stronger than any two men—and put her in the carriage—and got in himself, crying to me to jump after, which I would have done, but the postillion whipped the horses. I was thrown almost under the wheel by the sudden motion—I heard mamma scream, but when I got up the carriage was already a long way off—and though I called as loud as I could—and ran after it—it never stopped, and the horses were going at full gallop. I ran on—thinking it would stop or turn back— and I cried out on mamma—while I ran so fast that I was soon breathless—and she was out of hearing—and then I shrieked and cried, and threw myself on the ground—till I thought I heard wheels, and I got up and ran again—but it was only the thunder—and that pealed, and the wind roared, and the rain came down— and I could keep my feet no longer, but fell on the ground and forgot every thing, except that mamma must come back and I was watching for her. And this, nurse, is my story— Every word is true—and is it not plain that mamma was carried away by force ?'

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