By Constance Fenimore Woolson
Constance Fenimore Woolson used to be the nice niece of James Fenimore Cooper and a detailed good friend and correspondent of Henry James. A profitable brief tale and novel author Woolson used to be one of many "local color", or American literary regionalism authors well known in late-nineteenth century the USA. She travelled greatly via the US and Europe the place she amassed fabric for her works. Woolson's tales concentrate on personality, dialects, customs and panorama which are exact to a area. Her stories are usually imbued with a feeling of nostalgia for an international no longer but in line with the fashionable international of improvement.
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Additional resources for Anne: A Novel
Respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw—so long dead—” Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the hospital procession of Negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody in their absurd baskets! ” She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he was than she. He made her another bow. “I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman’s protection.
Said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence. ” “There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson’s Bank. You must know Tellson’s Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown to drink. ’ It’s not long, you see, guard. ” Jerry started in his saddle. “That’s a Blazing strange answer, too,” said he, at his hoarsest. “Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. ” With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence of being asleep.
3 The Night Shadows A WONDERFUL fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this.
Anne: A Novel by Constance Fenimore Woolson