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Rosa Mundi and Other Stories by Ethel M. Dell
They lived in the rotten white bungalow at the end of the valley-Hope and the Magician. It stood in a neglected compound that had once been a paradise, when a certain young officer belonging to the regiment of Sikhs then stationed in Ghantala had taken it and made of it a dainty home for his English bride. Those were the days before the flood, and no one had lived there since.
The native men in the valley still remembered with horror that awful night when the monsoon had burst in floods and water-spouts upon the mountains, and the bride, too terrified to remain in the bungalow, had set out in the worst fury of the storm to find her husband, who was on duty up at the cantonments. She had been drowned close to the bungalow in a ranging brown torrent which swept over what a few hours earlier had been a mere bed of glittering sand. And from that time the bungalow had been deserted, avoided of all men, a haunted place, the abode of evil spirits.
Yet it still stood in its desolation, rotting year by year. No native would approach the place. No Englishman desired it. For it was well away from the cantonments, nearer than any other European dwelling to the native village, and undeniably in the hottest corner of all the Ghantala Valley.
Perhaps its general air of desolation had also influenced the minds of possible tenants, for Ghantala was a cheerful station, and its inhabitants preferred cheerful dwelling-places. Whatever the cause, it had stood empty and forsaken for more than a dozen years.
And then had come Hope and the Magician.
Hope was a dark-haired, bright-eyed English girl, who loved riding as she loved nothing else on earth. Her twin-brother, Ronald Carteret, was the youngest subaltern in his battalion, and for his sake, she had persuaded the Magician that the Ghantala Valley was an ideal spot to live in.
The Magician was their uncle and sole relative, an old man, wizened and dried up like a monkey, to whom India was a land of perpetual delight and novelty of which he could never tire. He was engaged upon a book of Indian mythology, and he was often away from home for the purpose of research. But his absence made very little difference to Hope. Her brother lived in the bungalow with her, and the people in the station were very kind to her.
The natives, though still wary, had lost their abhorrence of the place. They believed that the Magician, as they called him, had woven a spell to keep the evil spirits at a distance. It was known that he was in constant communication with native priests. Moreover, the miss-sahib who dwelt at the bungalow remained unharmed, so it seemed there was nought to fear.
Hope, after a very few months, cut off her hair and wore it short and curly. This also seemed to discourage the evil ones. So at length it appeared that the curse had been removed, or at least placed in abeyance.
As for Hope, she liked the place. Her nerves were generally good, and the joy of being near the brother she idolized outweighed every other consideration. The colonel's wife, Mrs. Latimer, was very kind to her from the outset, and she enjoyed all the Ghantala gaieties under her protection and patronage.
Not till Mrs. Latimer was taken ill and had to leave hurriedly for the Hills did it dawn upon Hope, after nearly eight happy months, that her position was one of considerable isolation, and that this might, under certain circumstances, become a matter for regret.
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From the book:When you come to reflect that there are only a few planks between you and the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, it makes you feel sort of pensive. "I beg your pardon?" The stranger, smoking his cigarette in the lee of the deck-cabins, turned his head sharply in the direction of the voice. He encountered the wide, unembarrassed gaze of a girl's grey eyes. She had evidently just come up on deck. "I beg yours," she rejoined composedly. "I thought at first you were some one else." He shrugged his shoulders, and turned away. Quite obviously he was not disposed to be sociable upon so slender an introduction. The girl, however, made no move to retreat. She stood thoughtfully tapping on the boards with the point of her shoe. "Were you playing cards last night down in the saloon?" she asked presently. "I was looking on." He threw the words over his shoulder, not troubling to turn. The girl shivered. The morning air was damp and chill.
A long, green wave ran up, gleaming like curved glass in the sunlight, and broke in a million sparkles against a shelf of shingle. Above the shingle rose the soft cliffs, clothed with scrubby grass and crowned with gorse.
Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins—a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. “It's time to reveal your true identity, darling.”
Veronica is an eighteen-year-old omega who falls into an emotional breakdown when her Mate, who was soon to be the Alpha of the Sun crest pack, turns against her, hurls hurtful words at her, and rejects her on the night of the full moon festival because he and everyone in the pack, including her, thinks she is an omega. As if the pain of rejection, helplessness, and worthlessness wasn't enough, she lost her best and only friend to the cold hands of death when rogue wolves attacked their pack. Right in the presence of her mate, she was tagged as someone who always attracted problems and calamities anywhere she went and he turned a blind eye and watched as she was banished from the pack. With hatred for her life, she runs deep into the woods that were off-limits and jumps off to end her life, but in a turn of events, something else happens. What would her mate do when he finds out that Veronica is not who he thinks she is? Will she be able to forgive him? What fate lies ahead for them?
After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."
Everyone was shocked to the bones when the news of Rupert Benton's engagement broke out. It was surprising because the lucky girl was said to be a plain Jane, who grew up in the countryside and had nothing to her name. One evening, she showed up at a banquet, stunning everyone present. "Wow, she's so beautiful!" All the men drooled, and the women got so jealous. What they didn't know was that this so-called country girl was actually an heiress to a billion-dollar empire. It wasn't long before her secrets came to light one after the other. The elites couldn't stop talking about her. "Holy smokes! So, her father is the richest man in the world?" "She's also that excellent, but mysterious designer who many people adore! Who would have guessed?" Nonetheless, people thought that Rupert didn't love her. But they were in for another surprise. Rupert released a statement, silencing all the naysayers. "I'm very much in love with my beautiful fiancee. We will be getting married soon." Two questions were on everyone's minds: "Why did she hide her identity? And why was Rupert in love with her all of a sudden?"
Dear readers, this book has resumed daily updates. It took Sabrina three whole years to realize that her husband, Tyrone didn't have a heart. He was the coldest and most indifferent man she had ever met. He never smiled at her, let alone treated her like his wife. To make matters worse, the return of the woman he had eyes for brought Sabrina nothing but divorce papers. Sabrina's heart broke. Hoping that there was still a chance for them to work on their marriage, she asked, "Quick question,Tyrone. Would you still divorce me if I told you that I was pregnant?" "Absolutely!" he responded. Realizing that she didn't mean shit to him, Sabrina decided to let go. She signed the divorce agreement while lying on her sickbed with a broken heart. Surprisingly, that wasn't the end for the couple. It was as if scales fell off Tyrone's eyes after she signed the divorce agreement. The once so heartless man groveled at her bedside and pleaded, "Sabrina, I made a big mistake. Please don't divorce me. I promise to change." Sabrina smiled weakly, not knowing what to do...
Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. Only when Emma's life teetered on the edge, pregnant with Ricky's child, did he recognize-the love of his life had always been Emma.