Voices (Paperback)

Book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1908. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER VIII THE discreet house where old John and Robert Astley stared at each other from carved gilt frames across the entrance, and where every stick of furniture came from the dull rooms in Lowport High Street, whence the Astleys sprang, was as odd a background for what was happening next night as could be imagined. But in real life things will happen out of their setting, and Stephen Astley went up the thickly carpeted stairs in the black tail coat he always wore in an evening with a sense of having somehow desecrated the good mahogany chairs and the bronze coat-rack in the hall. To be honest, upright, God-fearing folk without verging from the beaten track which thousands of sturdy northcountrymen had trodden hard, was a habit with the Astleys --as difficult to break as any other. Now Stephen felt himself to be wandering off into some bare field where there was nothing to be found but rank weeds. And Nellie. Nellie's friendship waited for him out there, though not her love, and he had to follow because he loved her. The baize doors at the top of the staircase stood ajar, and the clock on the landing outside pointed to two minutes to twelve. He paused while the heavy pendulum ticked away another minute. It was impossible to say how he hated all this mummery. Then he went into the room where Esther in her purple gown stood near the bed, while Nellie, with Mrs. Moor and the maid, sat as far away as space permitted. Mary lay still, her great eyes fixed on Esther, a look of supreme exaltation on her flushed, delicate face. Astley stationed himself near the door, and the clock on the stairs began to make the whirring sound which always came when it was about to strike. Esther turned a shade paler, and Mrs. Moor caught her breath audibly; Mary began to shudder with hysterical exciteme...