Charlotte Mary Brame's Books

Wife in Name Only

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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I cannot say that I am sorry," he continued, "for I love my wife very dearly; but I do wish now that I had been less hurried, less precipitate. My wife's great loveliness must be my excuse. She is the daughter of a poor curate, the Reverend Charles Trevor, who came two years ago to supply temporarily the place of the Rector of Lynton. He brought his daughter with him; and the first moment I saw her I fell in love with her. My heart seemed to go out from me and cleave to her. I loved her with what I can see now was the selfish ardor of a young man. I had but one thought--to win her. I wrote to my father, who was in Italy, and asked his consent. He refused it in the most decided manner, and told me to think no more of what after all was but a boy's fancy. He was then staying near the Lake of Como--staying for the benefit of his health--and I went over to see him. I pleaded, prayed, urged my great love--all in vain. The earl, my father, only laughed at me, and said all young men suffered from the fever called love. I came back to England, and found that Mr. Trevor was dead. Madaline, his daughter, was left alone in the world. She raised her beautiful face to mine, poor child, and tried to smile while she talked of going out into the world and of working hard for her daily bread; and, as I listened, my love seemed to grow stronger and deeper. I caught her in my arms, and swore that nothing should part us--that, come what would, she must be my wife. She was very unwilling--not that she did not love me, but because she was afraid of making my father angry; that was her great objection. She knew my love for him and his affection for me. She would not come between us. It was in vain that I prayed her to do as I wished. After a time she consented to a compromise--to marry me without my father's knowledge. It was a folly, I own; now I see clearly its imprudence--then I imagined it the safest and surest way. I persuaded her, as I had persuaded myself, that, when my father once knew that we were married, he would forgive us, and all would go well. We were married eleven mouths since, and I have been so happy since then that it has seemed to me but a single day. My beautiful young wife was frightened at the bold step we had taken, but I soothed her. I did not take her home to Wood Lynton, but, laying aside all the trappings of wealth and title, we have traveled from place to place as Mr. and Mrs. Charlewood, enjoying our long honeymoon. If we liked any one particular spot we remained in it. But a letter from Italy came like a thunderbolt--my father had grown rapidly worse and wanted to see me at once. If I had been content to go at once, all would have been well. I could not endure that he should die without seeing, loving, and blessing my wife Madaline. I told her my desire, and she consented most cheerfully to accompany me. I ought to have known that--in her state of health--traveling was most injurious; but I was neglectful of the fact--I listened only to my heart's desire, that my father should see my wife before he died. We started on our fatal journey--only this morning. At first my wife seemed to enjoy it; and then I saw all the color fading from her sweet face. I saw her lips grow white and tremble, and I became alarmed. It was not until we reached Castledene that she gave in and told me she could go no further. Still you say there is no danger, and that you do not think she will die?

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402

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Library of Alexandria

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ISBN 10

1465604634

ISBN 13

9781465604637

A Mad Love

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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A Mad Love

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

One can imagine the sensation that a bright, beautiful eagle would produce in a dove's nest; the presence of that beautiful, imperious child at the farm was very much the same. People looked at her in wonder; her beauty dazzled them; her defiance amused them. They asked each other where all her pride came from. Uncle Robert often said in his slow fashion that he retired from business when Leone was seven. At that early age he gave the management of everything into her baby hands. From the chickens in the yard to the blue and white pigeons on the roof. She could manage him, big as he was, with one stamp of her little foot, one flash of her bright eyes; he was powerless at once, like a great big giant bound hand and foot. She was a strange child, full of some wonderful power that she hardly understood herselfÑa child quite out of the common groove of life, quite above the people who surrounded her. They understood her beauty, her defiance, her pride, but not the dramatic instinct and power that, innate in her, made every word and action seem strange. Honest, stolid Robert Noel was bewildered by her; he did his best in every way, but he had an uneasy consciousness that his best was but a poor attempt. He sent her to school, the best in Rashleigh, but she learned anything and everything except obedience. She looked out of place even there, this dark-eyed Spanish girl, among the pretty pink and white children with fair hair and blue eyes. She bewildered even the children; they obeyed her, and she had the greatest influence over them. She taught them recitations and plays, she fired their imaginations by wonderful stories; she was a new, brilliant, wonderful element in their lives. Even the school mistress, meek through the long suffering of years, even she worshiped and feared herÑthe brilliant, tiresome girl, who was like a flash of light among the others. She had a face so grand and a voice so thrilling it was no unusual thing when she was reading aloud in the school-room for the others to suspend all work, thrilled to the heart by the sound of her voice. She soon learned all that the Rashleigh governess could teach herÑshe taught herself even more. She had little taste for drawing, much for music, but her whole heart and soul were in books. Young as she was, it was grand to hear her trilling out the pretty love speeches of Juliet, declaring the wrongs of Constance or Katherine, moaning out the woes of Desdemona. She had Shakespeare almost by heart, and she loved the grand old dramatist. When she was sixteen her uncle took her from school, and then the perplexities of his honest life began. He wanted her to take her place as mistress of the house, to superintend the farm and the dairy, to take affectionate interest in the poultry and birds, to see that the butter was of a deep, rich yellow, and the new laid eggs sent to market. From the moment he intrusted those matters in her hands, his life became a burden to him, for they were entirely neglected.

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496

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Library of Alexandria

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ISBN 10

1465604693

ISBN 13

9781465604699

The Shadow of a Sin

By: Charlotte Brame

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The Shadow of a Sin

By: Charlotte Brame

The Shadow of a Sin" by Charlotte M. Brame. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.

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284

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Litres

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ISBN 10

504062333X

ISBN 13

9785040623334

A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

Ê"How have I borne it all this time?" she asked herself, with a flush of anger on her fair face. "Yet, why should I be angry, and in what differ from them? Why should I be vexed or angry? Mattie would have talked for an hourÑwould have given a sensible answer, while I feel as though I had been insulted. They are my own mother and sisterÑwhy am I so different from them? Why does a bird of paradise differ from a homely linnet? Why does a carnation differ from a sun-flower? I cannot tell." She could not tell. It was not given to her to know that all the characteristics of race were strong within her. But that little scene decided her; there had been some faint doubt in her mind, some little leaning toward Earle, and his great wealth of poetry and loveÑsome lingering regret as to whether she was not forsaking the certain humble paths of peace and virtue for a brilliant but uncertain career. "If I do this," she had thought to herself, "I shall kill Earle," and the idea had filled her mind with strange pathos. But all that vanished under one unskillful touch. Writing her story, knowing her faults, I make no excuses for her; but if she had had more congenial surroundings the tragedy of her life might have been averted. She stood by the open window and thought it all over. The rich scent of the roses came in and clung to her dress and her hair; the blue sky had no cloud; the birds sang sweetly and clearly in the far distance; she heard the lowing of the cattle and the voices of the laborers. Then her whole heart turned in disgust from her quiet home; it had no charm for her; she wanted none of itÑshe wanted life, warmth, glitter, perfume, jewels, the praise of men, the envy of women; she wanted to feel her own power, and to be followed by homage. What was her bright loveliness for if not for this? Stay here, where all the people were persecuting her about marrying Earle, having a respectable home, and buying gray calico! No, not for such a commonplace life. The beauty of hill and sky, and quaint meadow and shady lane, of blooming flowers and green trees, was not for her; it was dull, tame and uninteresting. The greatest queen in all the wide world had admired her face. Was she to remain hidden in this humble, lowly house, where no one saw her but Earle and the few men whom business brought to the farm? It was not to be imagined. She raised her beautiful head with a clear, defiant gaze. "I do not care," she said to herself, "whether it is right or wrong; I do not care what the price or penalty may be, I will go and take my share of what men and women call life." And from that resolution, taken on a calm, bright summer day, under the golden light of heaven, with the song of the birds in her ears, she never once swerved or departed, let it cost her what it might.

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773

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Library of Alexandria

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ISBN 10

1465604715

ISBN 13

9781465604712

Married for her Beauty: Or A Bitter Atonement

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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Married for her Beauty: Or A Bitter Atonement

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

Diane Balfour was the only child of an artist who had begun life with high aspirations and ended it with disappointment. He had married young, while in France. He married a French girl, whose face was her only fortune, the daughter of an officer who died in Algiers--Diane de Lioncourt. He brought her to England, and although happy in his love and in his marriage, evil fortune seemed to pursue him. His health failed. He had genius, and if he had been strong would have left his mark on the age; the merits of Lawrence Balfour's pictures were not appreciated until after his death. He lived in France until after the birth of his daughter Diane, so named after her mother. Then they came to England and for six years remained in London. Then his wife died; and he betook himself to a wandering life. In his travels his daughter was his sole companion. Together they would wander through the cities of Italy and Spain, through Switzerland and the Rhine land, the artist teaching his daughter, imbuing her with his love of beauty and art. Lawrence Balfour preserved his daughter from all evil, from all knowledge of harm; she had no friends except the artists who visited her father's studio, and who respected the child as they would have done the presence of an angel. She not only grew up retaining all her innocence, but she learned nothing of the world. They had a reverent way of talking, these artists, and next to religion, taught her to love art. Of the shows, tricks, frauds, treachery, the deceit men and women practice she knew nothing. No one in her presence had ever talked of flirtation, love, or marriage; at sixteen she was ignorant of these things; she had never thought of a lover or of love; her father and the world of beauty filled her heart and soul. Then Lawrence Balfour found his health failing fast. Some one told him to try the warm Devonshire air, and he determined to do so.

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591

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Library of Alexandria

Published Date

ISBN 10

1465604677

ISBN 13

9781465604675

A Mad Love

By: Charlotte M. Brame

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A Mad Love

By: Charlotte M. Brame

Under a variety of pen names, author Charlotte M. Brame wrote hundreds of romance short stories and novels in the mid- to late-nineteenth century. "A Mad Love" is a wonderful tale of against-all-odds romance that will enthrall fans of classic Victorian-era love stories. As part of our mission to publish great works of literary fiction and nonfiction, Sheba Blake Publishing Corp. is extremely dedicated to bringing to the forefront the amazing works of long dead and truly talented authors.

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747

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Sheba Blake Publishing Corp.

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ISBN 10

122237837X

ISBN 13

9781222378375

Wife in Name Only

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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Wife in Name Only

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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402

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Library of Alexandria

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ISBN 10

1465604634

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9781465604637

The Shadow of a Sin

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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The Shadow of a Sin

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan lived at Queen's Chase in Derbyshire, a beautiful and picturesque place, known to artists, poets, and lovers of quaint old architecture. Queen's Chase had been originally built by good Queen Elizabeth of York, and was perhaps one of the few indulgences which that not too happy queen allowed herself. It was large, and the rooms were all lofty. The building was in the old Tudor style, and one of its peculiarities was that every part of it was laden with ornament: it seemed to have been the great ambition of the architect who designed it to introduce as much carving as possible about it. Heads of fauns and satyrs, fruit and flowersÑevery variety of carving was there; no matter where the spectator turned, the sculptor's work was visible. To Hyacinth Vaughan, dreamy and romantic, it seemed as though the Chase were peopled by these dull, silent, dark figures. Elizabeth of York did not enjoy much pleasure in the retreat she had built for herself. It was there she first heard of and rejoiced in the betrothal of her fair young daughter Marguerite, to James IV. of Scotland. A few years afterward she died, and the Chase was sold. Sir Dunstan Vaughan purchased it, and it had remained in the family ever since. It was now their principal residenceÑthe Vaughans of Queen's Chase never quitted it. Though it was picturesque it was not the most cheerful place in the world. The rooms were dark by reason of the huge carvings of the window frames and the shade of the trees, which last, perhaps, grew too near the house. The edifice contained no light, cheerful, sunny rooms, no wide large windows; the taste of the days in which it was built, led more toward magnificence than cheerfulness. Some additions had been made; the western wing of the building had been enlarged; but the principal apartments had remained unaltered; the stately, gloomy rooms in which the fair young princess had received and read the royal love-letters were almost untouched. The tall, spreading trees grew almost to the Hall door; they made the whole house dark and perhaps unhealthy. But no Vaughan ventured to cut them down; such an action would have seemed like a sacrilege. From father to son Queen's Chase had descended in regular succession. Sir Arthur, the present owner, succeeded when he was quite young. He was by no means of the genial order of men: he had always been cold, silent, and reserved. He married a lady more proud, more silent, more reserved than himselfÑa narrow-minded, narrow-hearted woman whose life was bounded by rigid law and formal courtesies, who never knew a warm or generous impulse, who lived quite outside the beautiful fairyland of love and poetry.

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278

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Library of Alexandria

Published Date

ISBN 10

1465604650

ISBN 13

9781465604651

Dora Thorne

By: Charlotte M. Brame

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Dora Thorne

By: Charlotte M. Brame

Though acclaimed romance novelist Charlotte M. Brame penned hundreds of short stories and book-length tales over the course of her illustrious literary career, fans and critics alike regard Dora Thorne as her most popular creation. This epic tale centers around romance that blooms among partners of different social classes. Is lasting love possible when the social pressure to say goodbye is so intense? Read Dora Thorne to find out.

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391

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The Floating Press

Published Date

ISBN 10

1776528786

ISBN 13

9781776528783

A Fair Mystery The Story of a Coquette

By: Charlotte M. Brame

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A Fair Mystery The Story of a Coquette

By: Charlotte M. Brame

“A Fair Mystery" is an ancient historical fiction story book written by Charlotte M. Brame. A Fair Mystery is an attractive mixture of romance and intrigue which will appeal to fanatics of historic fiction and thriller novels alike. Fictional art work provide each historic facts and a fascinating plot. The creator efficaciously weaves an internet of suspense that maintains the reader's interest with tough-hitting plot twists. The mystery of the main individual presents degrees of interest to the tale, retaining readers guessing until the end. Set in competition to the backdrop of a bygone technology, it brings readers to the social complexity and scandals of an extra society. The author's particular descriptions delivery site visitors to new locations and areas through recreating the generation's places of hobby, sounds, and smells.

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476

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BoD – Books on Demand

Published Date

ISBN 10

9361424181

ISBN 13

9789361424182

The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

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The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

By: Charlotte Mary Brame

ÊMost visitors to Brighton prefer the new pier; it is altogether a more magnificent affair. It is in the fashionable town, for fashion will go westward; it is larger, more commodious, more frequented. Go to the West Pier when you will, there is always something to see; beautiful women, pretty girls, fashionable belles promenade incessantly. There are times when it is crowded, and there is even a difficulty in making room for all who come. No wonder the elite of Brighton like the West Pier; it is one of the most enjoyable spots in England; every luxury and comfort is there; a good library, plenty of newspapers, elegant little shops, excellent refreshment rooms, fine music; and then the lovely blue, dimpling sea, the little boats with their white sails, like white-winged birds on the water, the grand stretch of the waves, the blue sky overhead, and the town, with its fine, tall houses shining in the sunlight, the line of white cliff and the beach where the children are at play. You go down to the wonderful jetty, which, to me, was one of the most mysterious and romantic of places. There the water is of the deepest, choicest emerald green, and it washes the wonderful net-work of poles with a soft, lapping sound beautiful to hear. You can stand there with only a rail between you and the green, deep water, watching the fisher-boats out on the deep; watching, perhaps, the steamer with its load of passengers, or looking over the wide sunlit waves, dreamingÑdreams born of the seaÑout of the world; alone in the kingdom of fancy; there is always something weird in the presence of deep, silent, moving waters. There is always plenty of life, gayety and fashion on the West Pier. It is a famous place, not for love-making but for flirtation; a famous place for studying human nature; a famous place for passing a pleasant hour. You may often meet great celebrities on the West Pier; faces familiar at the House of Lords, familiar at Court, familiar at the opera, are to be seen there during the season; beautiful faces that have grown pale and worn with the excitement of a London campaign, and here, as they are bent thoughtfully over the green waters, the bracing air brings sweet roses, the lines fade, the eyes brighten; there is no such beautifier as a sea breeze, no bloom so radiant and charming as that brought by the wind from the sea. On the West Pier you will find all the beauty, rank and fashion of Brighton; you will see costumes a ravir, dresses that are artistic and elegant; you will see faces beautiful and well-known; you will hear a charming ripple of conversation; you will witness many pleasant and piquant adventures; but if you want to dream; if you want to give up your whole heart and soul to the poetry of the sea; if you want to listen to its voice and hear no other; if you want to shut yourself away from the world; if you want to hear the music of the winds, their whispers, their lullabies, their mad dashes, their frantic rages, you must go to the Old Chain Pier. As a rule you will find few there, but you may know they are a special few; you will see the grave, quiet face of the thinker, who has chosen that spot because he does not want to be disturbed by the frou-frou of ladies' dresses, or the music of their happy voices; he wants to be alone with the sea and the wind.

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Library of Alexandria

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ISBN 10

1465604642

ISBN 13

9781465604644

Book's by Charlotte Mary Brame

Wife in Name Only

Wife in Name Only

A Mad Love

A Mad Love

The Shadow of a Sin

The Shadow of a Sin

A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

Married for her Beauty: Or A Bitter Atonement

Married for her Beauty: Or A Bitter Atonement

A Mad Love

A Mad Love

Wife in Name Only

Wife in Name Only

The Shadow of a Sin

The Shadow of a Sin

Dora Thorne

Dora Thorne

A Fair Mystery The Story of a Coquette

A Fair Mystery The Story of a Coquette

The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

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