PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
Project Gutenberg Archive
Complete unabridged public-domain literary work from the Project Gutenberg archive.
Project Ashabi is being built as the home of original African comics, webtoons, graphic novels, and fiction.
This third-party Novel / Book title is temporary preview content. Step by step, third-party titles will be phased out and replaced exclusively by Ashabi Originals created by African writers and artists.
I. THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW II. THE ATTIC. III. MISS AINSLIE IV. A GUEST V. THE RUMOURS OF THE VALLEY VI. THE GARDEN VII. THE MAN WHO HESITATES VIII. SUMMER DAYS IX. BY HUMBLE MEANS X. LOVE LETTERS XI. THE ROSE OF ALL THE WORLD XII. BRIDE AND GROOM XIII. PLANS XIV. “FOR REMEMBRANCE” XV. THE SECRET AND THE DREAM XVI. SOME ONE WHO LOVED HER XVII. DAWN
A rickety carriage was slowly ascending the hill, and from the place of honour on the back seat, the single passenger surveyed the country with interest and admiration. The driver of that ancient chariot was an awkward young fellow, possibly twenty-five years of age, with sharp knees, large, red hands, high cheek-bones, and abundant hair of a shade verging upon orange. He was not unpleasant to look upon, however, for he had a certain evident honesty, and he was disposed to be friendly to every one.
“Be you comfortable, Miss?” he asked, with apparent solicitude.
“Very comfortable, thank you,” was the quiet response. He urged his venerable steeds to a gait of about two miles an hour, then turned sideways.
The young woman smiled in listless amusement, but Joe took it for conversational encouragement. “City folks is dretful bashful when they's away from home,” he said to himself. He clucked again to his unheeding horses, shifted his quid, and was casting about for a new topic when a light broke in upon him.
“I guess, now, that you're Miss Hathaway's niece, what's come to stay in her house while she goes gallivantin' and travellin' in furrin parts, be n't you?”
“I am Miss Hathaway's niece, and I have never been here before. Where does she live?”
He flourished the discarded fish-pole which served as a whip, and pointed out a small white house on the brow of the hill. Reflection brought him the conviction that his remark concerning Miss Hathaway was a social mistake, since his passenger sat very straight, and asked no more questions.
Arthur Conan Doyle
