Mother Meg by Catharine Shaw
Mother Meg by Catharine Shaw
UT 'im down, 'e can walk as well as anythink."
It was a cold day in May, when the sun was hidden behind leaden clouds, and the wind swept along the streets as if determined to clear them of every loiterer who should venture to assure himself that it was not March, and could not be so cold.
The few people who had ventured out in spring clothing bid fair to "repent it many a day," and those who were happy enough to have winter wraps drew them closer, and hurried along, the sooner to get into some shelter. The omnibus men dashed their arms across their breasts for warmth, and everybody, gentle or simple, looked nipped up with the strong east wind.
"Put 'im down," said a hard-featured woman, who was walking slowly along by the side of the road; "it won't matter 'is walkin' now."
The man thus addressed was a thin, brow-beaten looking individual, who was carrying a child of some three years old in his arms. His clothes were threadbare, his knees peeped through his worn trousers, and his whole appearance was most deplorable. The woman by his side was as poorly clad as himself, outwardly at least, but seemed to suffer less from it. She was not thin, and if looked at closely, appeared to be well fed, and perhaps to have no lack of drink either. She carried a small infant in her arms, wrapped in a large dirty shawl.
The three-year-old child had a pale, suffering little face, which looked as if tears were often very near. His eyes were terribly weak, and when he was set down by the man he looked as if he would have fallen. But the woman disengaged one of her hands, and said impatiently, dragging him towards her, "Come along, Dickie, none o' yer nonsense; walk on like a good boy."
The child gave one glance at her stern face, and then tottered on silently, occasionally rubbing his poor little eyes with the back of his tiny hand.
The wind met them round the corners; it seemed to be everywhere, and at every gust the miserable-looking party looked more miserable still.
"How much 'ave yer took?" asked the man, as if he could turn and run home.
The woman felt for her pocket, and after some fumbling she said in a low voice, "Two-and-eight, I should think."
"Won't that do?" said the man, shivering. Then glancing sideways at the child, he went on, "'E'll not walk many more steps, and if you don't take care 'e'll not be hout to-morrer, nor next day neither; 'e's most done, 'e is."
The woman turned round and was going to speak, when a respectable couple, dressed in warm cloth, silks, and furs, came in sight.
In a moment her manner changed. "Take 'im up," she said in a wheedling tone, "'e's tired, 'e is, and cold; carry 'im a bit, George."
The child, too cold and weary to care, was taken resistlessly into the man's arms, and laid his head on his shoulder, and the party paused, looking expectantly at the lady and gentleman who were fast approaching.
"My good woman, this is a bitter day for such little ones to be out," said the gentleman kindly; "have you far to go?"
"Over London Bridge, sir, down that way."
"That's a long distance," he exclaimed; "and you all look perished with the cold."
"That we are, sir," answered the woman, sniffing, "and my good man, sir, just now was a-saying that though we hadn't took a ha'penny, sir, this day, we must give it up. But it's hard to see 'em suffer, sir, and have no bread nor firing to give 'em."
The man shook his head dolorously at each sentence, and the weak little child shut his eyes, as a fresh gust of wind seemed ready to blind him altogether.
"That child ought not to be out on such a day as this at all," said the lady almost severely.
"What is poor folk to do, my lady?" asked the woman, "there's no work, and there's no food; and surely we'd be better to get a bit of broken victuals or a copper from some Christian gentleman than to starve at home, like rats in a hole!"
"Well, well," said the gentleman with a ponderous sigh, "it makes one's heart ache, Clarissa. Here, my good woman, go home now and buy some food and coals, and get that poor child warm."
He gave her a shilling and passed on, and the woman, catching sight of a policeman whom she recognized bearing down upon them, they hastily turned the other way and set off in the direction of London Bridge as fast as they could go.
The man knew it was useless to put Dickie down to walk, for he had seen all day that the child was very ill. His light weight, however, was not a great trouble, for he was very small for his age, and now was so thin and emaciated with hardship that the man doubted if he should ever carry him again.
"I wish yer'd git some one else," he exclaimed at last, for some remnants of humanity were left in his heart, and he had not carried that tender little mite for six months without some feeling as near akin to love as he was capable of.
His wife turned on him sharply. "Yer know we can't! There's lots o' reasons why 'e is the best one as we can git. Look at them soft brown curls of 'is, what allers takes the ladies, and 'is small size for carryin'; and then yer know as well as I do as 'is mother's dead, and 'is father ain't of no account, and is glad to git a pint or two in return for our havin' 'im. I wish you wouldn't be such a simpleton, George."
The man sighed. Long ago he had given up contending with his imperious wife, but sometimes as now, he walked along morosely, and his thoughts were best known to himself.
"I'd save 'im from it if I could," he muttered to himself, "but I've thought that 'afore, and it ain't no use. Still I shan't forgit-though I ain't no good at anythink now."
They had now reached London Bridge, and soon after turned down one of the narrow streets leading from the main thoroughfare, and again under a long low archway running beneath the first floor rooms of one of the houses, and so emerged into a court squalid and forlorn, which contained the house they called home.
Just as they were turning in at the door a crippled child of some thirteen or fourteen years came down the stairs to meet them. She silently held out her arms for little Dickie, and without vouchsafing more than one dark look at the woman's face, and then another hopeless one at her little brother's, she slowly ascended again, step by step, till weary and panting she laid him down on an old mattress in the corner of the crowded room where she lived.
"Dickie," she moaned, burying her face in his neck, where the soft waves of his golden-brown hair felt like silk against it, "Dickie, are they goin' to kill you right out? Dickie--!"
* * *
Left to Ourselves; or, John Headley's Promise. by Catharine Shaw
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
A year into the marriage, Thea rushed home with radiant happiness-she was pregnant. Jerred barely glanced up. "She's back." The woman he'd never let go had returned, and he forgot he was a husband, spending every night at her hospital bed. Thea forced a smile. "Let's divorce." He snapped, "You're jealous of someone who's dying?" Because the woman was terminal, he excused every jab and made Thea endure. When love went cold, she left the papers and stormed off. He locked down the city and caught her at the airport, eyes red, dropping to his knees. "Honey, where are you going with our child?"
When I was eight, Dante Moretti pulled me from the fire that killed my family. For ten years, the powerful crime boss was my protector and my god. Then, he announced his engagement to another woman to unite two criminal empires. He brought her home and named her the future mistress of the Moretti family. In front of everyone, his fiancée forced a cheap metal collar around my neck, calling me their pet. Dante knew I was allergic. He just watched, his eyes cold, and ordered me to take it. That night, I listened through the walls as he took her to his bed. I finally understood the promise he’d made me as a child was a lie. I wasn't his family. I was his property. After a decade of devotion, my love for him finally turned to ash. So on his birthday, the day he celebrated his new future, I walked out of his gilded cage for good. A private jet was waiting to take me to my real father—his greatest enemy.
In her past life, Vivian Grant was seen as a powerless beauty trapped by the cold and ruthless Alexander Brooks. Even he believed she never loved him. But when enemies closed in, it was Vivian who sacrificed everything, including her own family, to avenge him. Now reborn, Vivian refuses to hide her strength. She's revealing her true identity, claiming her power, and rewriting her fate. No more submission, no more misunderstandings-this time, she'll take control of her life and her love. As regretful brothers beg for forgiveness and powerful enemies fall at her feet, Vivian has one goal: to rise without mercy and make the man she once loved fall for her all over again-on her terms.
In her past life, she trusted the wrong people-and betrayed the one man who loved her most. Blinded by lies, she pushed her fiancé into ruin. Yet even as the world turned against him, he forgave her. And in the end, he slaughtered all her enemies, before using the final blade to follow her into death. Now reborn, she swears to rewrite her fate. This time, she tears apart the fake innocents, crushes the traitors, and rises in brilliance-only for one purpose: to win back the heart of the man she once destroyed. But little does she know. He never truly left. From the shadows, he has already laid his trap, created a world where she can only fall-back into his arms. A love once buried in blood and regret will now reignite amidst vengeance, redemption, and fate's cruel game.
It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him. In the face of his ex-wife’s countless admirers, Kristopher offered her 20 million dollars and proposed a new deal. “Let’s get married again.”
© 2018-now CHANGDU (HK) TECHNOLOGY LIMITED
6/F MANULIFE PLACE 348 KWUN TONG ROAD KL
TOP
GOOGLE PLAY