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- Herausgeber: Phoemixx Classics Ebooks
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
The Power of Darkness Edith Nesbit - The Power of Darkness was written in the year 1905 by Edith Nesbit. This book is one of the most popular novels of Edith Nesbit, and has been translated into several other languages around the world. Plot Summary: The figure of my wife came in it came straight towards the bed, its wide eyes were open and looked at me with love unspeakable, Edith Nesbit, best known as the author of The Railway Children and other children's classics, was also the mistress of the ghost story and tales of terror. She was able to create genuinely chilling narratives in which the returning dead feature strongly. Sadly, these stories have been neglected for many years, but now, at last, they are back in print. In this wonderful collection of eerie, flesh-creeping yarns, we encounter love that transcends the grave, reanimated corpses, vampiric vines, vengeful ghosts and other dark delights to make you feel fearful. These vintage spooky stories, tinged with horror, are told in a bold, forthright manner that makes them seem as fresh and unsettling as today's headlines.
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It was an enthusiastic send-off. Half the students from her atelier were there, and twice as many more from other studios. She had been the belle of the Artists' Quarter in Montparnasse for three golden months. Now she was off to the Riviera to meet her people, and everyone she knew was at the Gare de Lyon to catch the last glimpse of her. And, as had been more than once said late of an evening, "to see her was to love her". She was one of those agitating blondes, with the naturally rippled hair, the rounded rose-leaf cheeks, the large violet-blue eyes, that looked all things and meant Heaven alone knew how little. She held her court like a queen, leaning out of the carriage window and receiving bouquets, books, journals, long last words, and last longing looks. All eyes were on her, and her eyes were for all-and her smile. For all but one, that is. Not a single glance went Edward's way, and Edward-tall, lean, gaunt, with big eyes, straight nose, and the mouth somewhat too small, too beautiful-seemed to grow thinner and paler before one's eyes. One pair of eyes at least saw the miracle worked, the paling of what had seemed absolute pallor, the revelation of the bones of a face that seemed already covered but by the thinnest possible veil of flesh.
And the man whose eyes saw this rejoiced, for he loved her, like the rest, or not like the rest, and he had had Edward's face before him for the last month, in that secret shrine where we set the loved and the hated, the shrine that is lighted by a million lamps kindled at the soul's flame, the shrine that leaps into dazzling glow when the candles are out and one lies alone on hot pillows to outface the night and the light as best one may.
"Oh, goodbye; goodbye, all of you," said Rose. "I shall miss you. Oh, you don't know how I shall miss you all!"
She gathered the eyes of her friends and her worshippers in a glance, as one gathers jewels on a silken string. The eyes of Edward alone seemed to escape her.
"En voiture, messieurs et dames!"
Folk drew back from the train. There was a whistle.
And then at the very last little moment of all, as the train pulled itself together for the start, her eyes met Edward's eyes. And the other man saw the meeting, and he knew-which was more than Edward did.
So when, the light of life having been borne away in the retreating train, the broken-hearted group dispersed, the other man-whose name, by the way, was Vincent-linked his arm in Edward's and asked, cheerily:
"Whither away, sweet nymph?"
"I'm off home," said Edward. "The seven-twenty to Calais."
"Sick of Paris?"
"One has to see one's people sometimes, don't you know, hang it all!" was Edward's way of expressing the longing that tore him for the old house among the brown woods of Kent.
"No attraction here now, eh?"
"The chief attraction has gone, certainly," Edward made himself say.
"But there are as good fish in the sea-"
"Fishing isn't my trade," said Edward.
