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Near the end of February 1857, I think about the 20th or so, though it don’t much matter; I only know it was near the latter end of summer, burning hot, with the bushfires raging like volcanoes on the ranges, and the river reduced to a slender stream of water, almost lost upon the broad white flats of quartz shingle.
Near the end of February 1857, I think about the 20th or so, though it don't much matter; I only know it was near the latter end of summer, burning hot, with the bushfires raging like volcanoes on the ranges, and the river reduced to a slender stream of water, almost lost upon the broad white flats of quartz shingle. It was the end of February, I said, when Major Buckley, Captain Brentwood (formerly of the Artillery), and I, Geoffry Hamlyn, sat together over our wine in the veranda at Baroona, gazing sleepily on the grey plains that rolled away east and north-east towards the sea.
We had sat silent for some time, too lazy to speak, almost to think. The beautiful flower-garden which lay before us, sloping towards the river, looked rather brown and sere, after the hot winds, although the orange-trees were still green enough, and vast clusters of purple grapes were ripening rapidly among the yellowing vine-leaves. On the whole, however, the garden was but a poor subject of contemplation for one who remembered it in all its full November beauty, and so my eye travelled away to the left, to a broad paddock of yellow grass which bounded the garden on that side, and there I watched an old horse feeding.
A very old horse indeed, a horse which seemed to have reached the utmost bounds of equine existence. And yet such a beautiful beast. Even as I looked some wild young colts were let out of the stockyard, and came galloping and whinnying towards him, and then it was a sight to see the old fellow as he trotted towards them, with his nose in the air, and his tail arched, throwing his legs out before him with the ease and grace of a four-year-old, and making me regret that he wasn't my property and ten years younger; - altogether, even then, one of the finest horses of his class I had ever seen, and suddenly a thought came over me, and I grew animated.
"Major Buckley," I said, "what horse is that?"
"What horse is that?" repeated the major very slowly. "Why, my good fellow, old Widderin, to be sure."
"Bless me!" I said; "You don't mean to say that that old horse is alive still?"
"He looks like it," said the major. "He'd carry you a mile or two, yet."
"I thought he had died while I was in England," I said. "Ah, major, that horse's history would be worth writing."
"If you began," answered the major, "to write the history of the horse, you must write also the history of every body who was concerned in those circumstances which caused Sam to take a certain famous ride upon him. And you would find that the history of the horse would be reduced into very small compass, and that the rest of your book would assume proportions too vast for the human intellect to grasp."
"How so?" I said.
He entered into certain details, which I will not give. "You would have," he said, "to begin at the end of the last century, and bring one gradually on to the present time. Good heavens! just consider."
"I think you exaggerate," I said.
"Not at all," he answered. "You must begin the histories of the Buckley and Thornton families in the last generation. The Brentwoods also, must not be omitted - why there's work for several years. What do you say, Brentwood?"
"The work of a life-time;" said the captain.
"But suppose I were to write a simple narrative of the principal events in the histories of the three families, which no one is more able to do than myself, seeing that nothing important has ever happened without my hearing of it - how, I say, would you like that?"
"If it amused you to write it, I am sure it would amuse us to read it," said the major.
"But you are rather old to turn author," said Captain Brentwood; "you'll make a failure of it; in fact, you'll never get through with it."
I replied not, but went into my bedroom, and returning with a thick roll of papers threw it on the floor - as on the stage the honest notary throws down the long-lost will - and there I stood for a moment with my arms folded, eyeing Brentwood triumphantly.
"It is already done, captain," I said. "There it lies."
The captain lit a cigar, and said nothing; but the major said, "Good gracious me! and when was this done?"
"Partly here, and partly in England. I propose to read it aloud to you, if it will not bore you."
"A really excellent idea," said the major. "My dear!"- this last was addressed to a figure which was now seen approaching us up a long vista of trellised vines. A tall figure dressed in grey. The figure, one could see as she came nearer, of a most beautiful old woman.
Dressed I said in grey, with a white handkerchief pinned over her grey hair, and a light Indian shawl hanging from her shoulders. As upright as a dart: she came towards us through the burning heat, as calmly and majestically as if the temperature had been delightfully moderate. A hoary old magpie accompanied her, evidently of great age, and from time to time barked like an old bulldog, in a wheezy whisper.
"My dear," said the major; "Hamlyn is going to read aloud some manuscript to us."
"That will be very delightful, this hot weather," said Mrs. Buckley. "May I ask the subject, old friend?"
"I would rather you did not, my dear madam; you will soon discover, in spite of a change of names, and perhaps somewhat of localities."
"Well, go on," said the major; and so on I went with the next chapter, which is the first of the story.
The reader will probably ask:
"Now, who on earth is Major Buckley? and who is Captain Brentwood? and last not least, who the Dickens are you?" If you will have patience, my dear sir, you will find it all out in a very short time - Read on.
Janice, the long-forgotten legitimate heiress, made her way back to her family, pouring her heart into winning their hearts. Yet, she had to relinquish her very identity, her academic credentials, and her creative works to her foster sister. In return for her sacrifices, she found no warmth, only deeper neglect. Resolute, Janice vowed to cut off all emotional bonds. Transformed, she now stood as a master of martial arts, adept in eight languages, an esteemed medical expert, and a celebrated designer. With newfound resolve, she declared, "From this day forward, no one in this family shall cross me."
Rosalynn's marriage to Brian wasn't what she envisioned it to be. Her husband, Brian, barely came home. He avoided her like a plague. Worse still, he was always in the news for dating numerous celebrities. Rosalynn persevered until she couldn't take it anymore. She upped and left after filing for a divorce. Everything changed days later. Brian took interest in a designer that worked for his company anonymously. From her profile, he could tell that she was brilliant and dazzling. He pulled the stops to find out her true identity. Little did he know that he was going to receive the greatest shocker of his life. Brian bit his finger with regret when he recalled his past actions and the woman he foolishly let go.
Kallie, a mute who had been ignored by her husband for five years since their wedding, also suffered the loss of her pregnancy due to her cruel mother-in-law. After the divorce, she learned that her ex-husband had quickly gotten engaged to the woman he truly loved. Holding her slightly rounded belly, she realized that he had never really cared for her. Determined, she left him behind, treating him as a stranger. Yet, after she left, he scoured the globe in search of her. When their paths crossed once more, Kallie had already found new happiness. For the first time, he pleaded humbly, "Please don't leave me..." But Kallie's response was firm and dismissive, cutting through any lingering ties. "Get lost!"
Natalie used to think she could melt Connor’s icy heart, but she was sorely mistaken. When at last she decided to leave, she discovered that she was pregnant. Even so, she chose to quietly leave his world, prompting Connor to mobilize all of his resources and expand his business to a global scale—all in a bid to find her. But there was no trace of Natalie. Connor slowly spiraled into madness, turning the city upside down and leaving chaos in his wake. Natalie finally surfaced years later, with wealth and power of her own, only to find herself entangled with Connor once again.
Five years ago, Alessia La Rosa's life took a drastic turn when, suffering from memory loss, she wed to Dominic Carter under her grandfather's mysterious arrangement. But their marriage was a facade, bringing her only humiliation and heartache as Dominic showed no love, and she couldn't conceive. Upon discovering Dominic's infidelity, Alessia sought liberation through divorce. Yet, fate had more in store for her. Five years later, spurred by an anonymous email hinting at her lost child's whereabouts, she returns to the city with her twin babies in tow, determined to uncover the truth. As she navigates the tangled web of her past, a surprising twist awaits. Dominic, upon meeting her again, finds himself drawn to the woman she has become, unaware of her true identity as his former wife. Little does he know, the woman he's falling for is not only his ex-wife but also a powerful Doctor and Master Hacker.
To the public, she was the CEO's executive secretary. Behind closed doors, she was the wife he never officially acknowledged. Jenessa was elated when she learned that she was pregnant. But that joy was replaced with dread as her husband, Ryan, showered his affections on his first love. With a heavy heart, she chose to set him free and leave. When they met again, Ryan's attention was caught by Jenessa's protruding belly. "Whose child are you carrying?!" he demanded. But she only scoffed. "It's none of your business, my dear ex-husband!"