Sarah is a young woman who was orphaned at a very young age. Her fate seems normal and without much excitement, but her life takes an unexpected turn when she is hired as a governess in Thornfield where she meets Mr. Miller. There, a series of strange events begin to take place, and at the same time, love begins to bloom between them.
I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, Clark, and Georgiana Turner.
The said Eliza, Clark, and Georgiana were now clustered around their mama in the drawing room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarreling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group; saying, 'She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bes- sie, and could discover by her observation, that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more pleasant and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner- something lighter, franker, more natural, as it
were-she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children.'
'What does Bessie say I have done?' I asked.
'Sarah, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent.'
A breakfast room adjoined the drawing room, I slipped in there. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted into the window seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement.
Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At in-intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast.
I returned to my book-Bewick's History of British Birds: the letterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking; and yet there were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank. They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl; of 'the solitary rocks and promontories' by them only inhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern extremity, the
Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape-
'Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls, Boils round the naked, melancholy isles Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.'
Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Ice- land, Greenland, with 'the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space,-that reservoir of frost and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpine heights above heights, surround the pole and concentre the multiplied rigors of extreme cold.' Of these death-white realms, I formed an idea of my own: shadowy, like all the half-com- prehended notions that float dim through children's brains, but strangely impressive. The words in these introductory pages connected themselves with the
succeeding vignettes, and gave significance to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray; to the broken boat stranded on a desolate coast; to the cold and ghastly moon glancing through bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking.
I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the quite solitary
churchyard, with its inscribed headstone; its gate, its two trees, its low horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its new- ly-risen crescent, attesting the hour of eventide.
The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marine phantoms.
The fiend pinning down the thief's pack behind him, I passed
over quickly: it was an object of terror.
So was the black-horned thing seated aloof on a rock, surveying a distant crowd surrounding a gallows.
Each picture told a story; mysterious often to my developed understanding and imperfect feelings, yet ever profoundly interesting: as interesting as the tales Bessie sometimes narrated on winter evenings when she chanced to be in good humor; and when having brought her iron-ing-table to the nursery hearth, she allowed us to sit about it, and while she got up Mrs. Turner's lace frills, and crimped her nightcap borders, fed our eager attention with passages of love and adventure taken from old fairy tales and other ballads; or (as at a later period I
discovered) from the pages of Pamela, and Henry, Earl of Moreland.
With Bewick on my knee, I was then happy: happy at least in my way. I feared nothing but interruption, and that came too soon. The breakfast room door opened.
'Boh! Madam Mope!' cried the voice of Clark Turner; then he
paused: he found the room empty.
'Where the dickens is she!' he continued. 'Lizzy! Georgy! (calling to his sisters) Joan is not here: tell Mama she is run out into the rain-bad animal!'
'It is well I drew the curtain,' thought I; and I wished gently he might not discover my hiding place: nor would Clark Turner have found it out himself; he was not quick either of vision or conception, but Eliza just put her head in at the door, and said at once-
'She is in the window seat, to be sure, Jack.'
And I came out immediately, for I trembled at the idea of being dragged forth by the said Jack.
'What do you want?' I asked, with awkward diffidence. 'Say, 'What do you want, Master Turner?'' was the answer.
'I want you to come here;' and seating himself in an armchair, he intimated by a gesture that I was to approach and stand before him.
Clark Turner was a schoolboy of fourteen years old; four years older than I, for I was but ten: large and stout for his age, with a dingy and unwholesome skin; thick lineaments in a spacious visage, heavy limbs, and large extremities. He gorged himself habitually at the table, which made him bilious, and gave him a dim and bleared eye and flabby cheeks. He ought now to have been at school; but his mama had taken him home for a month or two, 'on account of his delicate health.' Mr. Miles, the master, affirmed that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats sent him from home; but the mother's heart turned from an opinion so harsh, and inclined rather to the more refined idea that Clark's sallowness was owing to over-application and, per- haps, to pining after home.
Clark did not have much affection for his mother and sisters,
and an antipathy to me. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually: every nerve I had feared him, and ev- every morsel of flesh in my bones shrank when he came near. There were moments when I was bewildered by the terror he inspired because I had no appeal whatever against either his menaces or his inflictions; the servants did not like
to offend their young master by taking my part against him, and Mrs. Turner was blind and deaf on the subject: she never saw him strike or heard him abuse me, though he did both now and
then in her very presence, more frequently, however, behind her back.
Habitually obedient to Clark, I came up to his chair: he spent some three minutes thrusting out his tongue at me as far as he could without damaging the roots: I knew he would soon strike, and while dreading the blow, I mused on the disgusting and ugly appearance of him who would presently deal it. I wonder if he read that notion in my face; for, all at once, without speaking, he struck suddenly and intensely. I tottered, and on regaining my equilibrium re- tired back a step or two from his chair.
'That is for your impudence in answering Mama awhile since,' said he, 'and for your sneaking way of getting behind curtains, and for the look you had in your eyes two minutes since, you rat!'
Accustomed to Clark Turner's abuse, I never had an idea of replying to it; my care was how to endure the blow that would certainly follow the insult.
'What were you doing behind the curtain?' he asked. 'I was reading.'
'Show the book.'
I returned to the window and fetched it thence.
'You have no business to take our books; you are a pendent, mama says; you have no money; your father left you none; you
ought to beg, and not live here with gentlemen's children
like us, and eat the same meals we do, and
wear clothes at our mama's expense. Now, I'll teach you to rummage my bookshelves: for they ARE mine; all the house belongs to me or will do in a few years. Go and stand by the door, out of the way of the mirror and the windows.'
I did so, not at first aware what was his intention; but when I saw him lift and poise the book and stand in act to hurl it, I instinctively started aside with a cry of alarm: not soon enough, however; the volume was flung, it hit me, and I fell, striking my head against the door and cutting it. The cut bled, and the pain was sharp: my terror had passed its climax; other feelings succeeded.
'Wicked and cruel boy!' I said. 'You are like a murderer-you are like a slave-driver-you are like the Roman emperors!'
I had read Goldsmith's History of Rome and had formed my opinion of Nero, Caligula, &c. Also, I had drawn parallels in silence, which I never thought to have declared aloud.
'What! what!' he cried. 'Did she say that to me? Did you hear her, Eliza and Georgiana? Won't I tell Mama? but first-'
He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate thing. I saw in him a tyrant, a murderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from my
head trickle down my neck, and was sensible of somewhat pungent suffering: these sensations for the time predominated over fear, and I received him in frantic sort. I don't very well know what I did with my hands, but he called me 'Rat! Rat!' and bellowed out aloud. Aid was near
him: Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Turner, who was gone upstairs: she now came upon the scene, followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot. We were parted: I heard the words-
'Dear! dear! What a fury to fly at Master Clark!' 'Did ever anybody see such a picture of passion!' Then Mrs. Turner subjoined-
'Take her away to the red room, and lock her in there.' Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.
The night before her wedding, her fiancé betrayed her by running off with his mistress, leaving her in a state of frustration and humiliation. So, she did something she never thought she would do - she asked the man standing in front of the Civil Affairs Office, President Mo, to marry her instead. Their marriage, however, came with a condition: she vowed that they would share the same bed, but nothing would happen between them. But fate had other plans. After their marriage, President Mo began to challenge her resolve, tempting her with his charm and sincerity. "If we don't try, how would we know?" he said, as he tried to break down the walls around her heart. And slowly but surely, she began to fall in love with him. Just as their love was blossoming, tragedy struck. They received news that the tumor in Mo Ziyan's body had grown larger, and they might have to abort their unborn child. With tears streaming down her face, Mo Ziyan asked, "Do I have no choice but to have an abortion?" But Gu Qingli, her husband, comforted her and promised to support her no matter what. "You are more important," he said, his voice unwavering. With the support of her loving husband, Mo Ziyan faced the difficult decision with strength and determination. Even as her body was failing her, she held onto the hope that they could save their child. Will they emerge stronger in love than ever before?
When Emily's heart is broken by her longtime boyfriend, she decides to start anew and move to a new city. Little did she know that this decision would lead her on a journey of self-discovery, love, and adventure. In Boston, Emily meets Sam, a charming and talented artist who helps her rediscover her passion for life. Together, they navigate the ups and downs of falling in love, building a life together, and facing the challenges that come with it. As Emily reflects on her journey, she realizes that every twist and turn was necessary to bring her to where she is now, in the arms of the man she loves. Through heartbreak, joy, and everything in between, Emily and Sam's love story proves that sometimes, the most unexpected paths lead to the greatest happiness. Tragedy befell Kadie's real parent, Emily and Sam so Kadie's life was continued. Saintcrow had been Kadie's lover for as long as she could remember. He was her rock, her safe haven, and her home. He was always there for her, no matter what, and he loved her with a fierce passion that never wavered. But it hadn't always been this way. In fact, Kadie had been searching for her true love for years, without any luck. She had been on countless dates and had even been engaged once, but nothing had ever felt right. That was until she met Saintcrow. He had swept her off her feet from the moment they met, and she had known in her heart that he was the one she had been searching for. But their love story wasn't without its challenges. Saintcrow was a vampire, and Kadie was a mere mortal. They had to keep their relationship a secret from the world, for fear of persecution and danger. But now, as Kadie lay in Saintcrow's arms, she knew that it had all been worth it. She had found her true love, and nothing else mattered. As the sun began to rise outside their window, Kadie knew that she had to leave soon. But for now, she would savor every moment she had with Saintcrow, knowing that they would be together forever. And as she closed her eyes, she whispered, "I love you, Saintcrow. Forever and always."
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."
The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?
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.
6 years ago, Lydia suffered a brutal betrayal orchestrated by her own husband and step-sister, who drugged her and framed her. In a twist of fate, she ended up having a one-night stand with a stranger. Don't even remember what he looked like. Later, in the throes of death, she discovered the truth about her mother's death all those years ago. In the blink of an eye, she lost everything. 6 years later, Lydia returned with her genius son, vowing to exact revenge on all her enemies! Little did she know, she encountered an incredibly familiar man at the airport! *** The man was briskly pushing open the door to the restroom, heading to the urinal. Even with such a mundane action, he did it with unparalleled elegance and grace. Lydia, following him in a daze, saw his fierce lower body and suddenly snapped back to reality. She let out a high-pitched scream, instinctively covering her eyes with her hands, her cheeks flushed, and stood there stiffly, unsure of what to do. Lambert furrowed his brows slightly but remained calm as he continued to relieve himself. The sound of water hitting the urinal made Lydia's face even redder. She angrily shouted, "You pervert!" Little did Lydia know that Lambert, seeing her in this state, had a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Memories from many years ago flashed through his mind, and his heart couldn't help but stir. It was her!
"Is it considered betrayal to develop feelings for your best friend's boyfriend? What about when fate intervenes, and he turns out to be your destined mate? You might think it's luck and thank the moon goddess for such a twist of fate. That's what I believed until the love of my life uttered those dreaded words: 'I want a divorce!' As I stared at the pregnancy test in my hands, I realized it was better to keep my secret to myself. My name is Violet, and this is my story."
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...