英语小说网

 Mrs. Ferrars died on the night of the 16th–17th September—a Thursday. I was sent for at eight o’clock on the morning of Friday the 17th. 

One bright morning in August little Mary Louise put on her hat and went trudging across the meadow to the beach.

The next thing I recall with any definiteness was a tete-a-tete conversation which I held with my lover on a certain yellow divan at the end of one of the halls. To the right of this divan rose a curtained recess, highly suggestive of romance, called "the alcove." As this alcove figures prominently in my story, I will pause here to describe it. It was originally intended to contain a large group of statuary which our host, Mr. Ramsdell, had ordered from Italy to adorn his new house. He is a man of original ideas in regard to such matters, and in this instance had gone so far as to have this end of the house constructed with a special view to an advantageous display of this promised work of art. Fearing the ponderous effect of a pedestal large enough to hold such a considerable group, he had planned to raise it to the level of the eye by having the alcove floor built a few feet higher than the main one. A flight of low, wide steps connected the two, which, following the curve of the wall, added much to the beauty of this portion of the hall. The group was a failure and was never shipped; but the alcove remained, and, possessing as it did all the advantages of a room in the way of heat and light, had been turned into a miniature retreat of exceptional beauty. The seclusion it offered extended, or so we were happy to think, to the solitary divan at its base on which Mr. Durand and I were seated. With possibly an undue confidence in the advantage of our position, we were discussing a subject interesting only to ourselves, when Mr. Durand interrupted himself to declare: "You are the woman I want, you and you only. And I want you soon. When do you think you can marry me? Within a week—if—" Did my look stop him? I was startled. I had heard no incoherent phrase from him before. "No," he peremptorily put in, yet with a certain hesitancy which seemed to speak of doubts he hardly acknowledged to himself, "I will not marry you if I must expose you to privation or to the genteel poverty I hate. I love you more than you realize, and wish to make your life a happy one. I can not give you all you have been accustomed to in your rich uncle's house, but if matters prosper with me, if the chance I have built on succeeds—and it will fail or succeed tonight—you will have those comforts which love will heighten into luxuries and—and—" He was becoming incoherent again, and this time with his eyes fixed elsewhere than on my face. Following his gaze, I discovered what had distracted his attention. The lady with the diamond was approaching us on her way to the alcove. She was accompanied by two gentlemen, both strangers to me, and her head, sparkling with brilliants, was turning from one to the other with an indolent grace. I was not surprised that the man at my side quivered and made a start as if to rise. She was a gorgeous image. In comparison with her imposing figure in its trailing robe of rich pink velvet, my diminutive frame in its sea-green gown must have looked as faded and colorless as a half-obliterated pastel. "A striking woman," I remarked as I saw he was not likely to resume the conversation which her presence had interrupted. "And what a diamond!" The glance he cast me was peculiar. "Did you notice it particularly?" he asked. Astonished, for there was something very uneasy in his manner so that I half expected to see him rise and join the group he was so eagerly watching without waiting for my lips to frame a response, I quickly replied: "It would be difficult not to notice what one would naturally expect to see only on the breast of a queen. But perhaps she is a queen. I should judge so from the homage which follows her."

In five masterful stories, H. G. Wells uses the medium of science fiction to explore the eternal truths of human nature. The tales take place in the pre-historic past through centuries in the future. Always evincing his Victorian sensibilities, Wells drew some interesting and often highly accurate pictures of the future. Even his misses usually contained some flavor of what would eventually come to pass. A must-read for any science fiction fan!

Almost everyone is familiar with King Solomon's Mines, She and Alan Quatermain etc but I have encountered relatively few readers of Nada the Lily. This is extraordinary since it is one of Haggard's greatest stories. Given the scenario of an adventure/love story spread out accross the South African landscape during the ruthless and absolute rule of the Zulu king Chaka, this is, as they say, a story that has everything. In this regard I have often wondered that whilst Haggard is one the most filmed if not over filmed authors, Nada the Lily has never made it to the cinema even though it reads as if it was written for the big sreen and the bigger the screen the better.

Lord of the World is a 1908 apocalyptic novel by Robert Hugh Benson. It is sometimes deemed one of the first modern dystopias. In purpose, however, it is somewhat more similar to the recent Left Behind series, if radically different in theology. Michael D. O'Brien's Catholic apocalyptic series, Children of the Last Days follows a very similar theme as well.

爱伦·坡短篇小说代表作，并分为惊悚小说、心理小说、推理小说和幻想小说四大类，清晰展现了爱伦·坡在各个领域的杰出成就，爱伦·坡是文学史上罕见的全才，在许多文学领域都成果斐然。他是恐怖小说大师，也是推理小说的开山鼻祖和科幻小说的先驱。在人类共同的精神世界，爱伦·坡的想象力和冒险精神无可替代，他一个人开创了推理、科幻和惊悚小说。侦探悬疑小说的至高奖项“爱伦·坡奖”以他的名字命名。

《伊索寓言》原书名为《埃索波斯故事集成》，是古希腊民间流传的讽喻故事，经后人加工，成为现在流传的《伊索寓言》。《伊索寓言》是一部世界上最早的寓言故事集。同时，《伊索寓言》是世界文学史上流传最广的寓言故事之一。

The Diary of a Nobody, an English comic novel written by George Grossmith and his brother Weedon Grossmith with illustrations by Weedon, first appeared in the magazine Punch in 1888 – 89, and was first printed in book form in 1892. It is considered a classic work of humour and has never been out of print. The diary is the fictitious record of fifteen months in the life of Mr. Charles Pooter, a middle aged city clerk of lower middle-class status but significant social aspirations, living in the fictional 'Brickfield Terrace' in Upper Holloway which was then a typical suburb of the impecuniously respectable kind. Other characters include his wife Carrie (Caroline), his son Lupin, his friends Mr Cummings and Mr Gowing, and Lupin's unsuitable fiancée, Daisy Mutlar. The humour derives from Pooter's unconscious gaffes and self-importance, as well as the snubs he receives from those he considers socially inferior, such as tradesmen. In The Diary of a Nobody the Grossmiths create an accurate if amusing record of the manners, customs and experiences of the Londoners of the late Victorian era. The book has spawned the word "Pooterish" to describe a tendency to take oneself excessively seriously. Pooter is mentioned in John Betjeman's poem about Wembley.