Beyond The Rocks - Elinor Glyn (top 5 books to read TXT) 📗

Theodora had gone to meet her father and step-mother in Paris.

Her sisters were married and very happy, she hoped. Prosperity had wonderfully embellished their attractions, and even Sarah had found a mate.

And Lady Bracondale remained her placid, stately self. Her grief and disappointment over Hector's departure from England had passed away by now, as so had her treasured dream of receiving Morella Winmarleigh as a daughter. But Anne whispered to her that she need not worry forever, and some day soon her brother might choose a bride whom even she would love.

Hector had continued his wanderings over the world for many months after Josiah's death. He felt, should he return to England, nothing could keep him from Theodora.

And she, too, had travelled and explored fresh scenes, and was now a supremely beautiful and experienced woman—courted and flattered, and besieged by many adorers.

But she was still Theodora, with only one love in her heart and one dream in her soul—to meet Hector again and spend the rest of her life in the shelter of his arms.

She heard of him often through her step-mother; and sometimes she saw Anne—and both Hector and she understood, and knew the time would come when they could be happy.

Jane Anastasia Fitzgerald had romantic notions. This pretty pair, whom she looked upon as of her own producing, must meet again under her auspices in like circumstances as they had done on the happy and never-to-be-forgotten day when she herself had promised her heart and hand to Dominic Fitzgerald.

"There is something lucky about Versailles," she said, "and they shall experience it, too!"

So she planned a picnic, and arranged it with Hector before he reached Paris. He was not to show himself or communicate with Theodora; he was just to be there at the Réservoirs and wait for their arrival.

And the gods smiled—and the day was fine—and the trees were green—as had been another day, two years ago.

And oh, the wild, mad joy that surged up in their hearts when their eyes met once more!

They could not speak, it seemed, even the words of politeness; so they wandered away into the spring woods, silent and glad; and it was not until they reached the shrine of old Enceladus that Hector clasped Theodora again in his arms, and gave rein to all the passionate love and delirious happiness which was flooding his being.

There one can leave them—together—for always—looking out upon the realization of that fair dream of life.

Safe in each other's arms, in those smooth waters, beyond the rocks.

THE END

Now ready at the same price as "Beyond the Rocks"

The world has felt upon its hot lips the perfumed kisses of the beautiful heroine of "Three Weeks." The brilliant flame that was her life has blazed a path into every corner of the globe. It is a world-renowned novel of consuming emotion that has made the name of its author, Elinor Glyn, the most discussed of all writers of modern fiction.

WHAT THE CRITICS HAVE SAID ABOUT IT

Percival Pollard in Town Topics:

"It is a book to make one forget that the world is gray. Be as sad, as sane as you like, for all the other days of your life, but steal one mad day, I adjure you, and read 'Three Weeks.'"

The Western Christian Advocate:

"The power and beauty of its descriptions and the pathos of its scenes are undeniable."

The Brooklyn Eagle:

"A cleverly told tale, full of dainty sentiment, of poetic dreaming and dramatic incident."

The San Francisco Argonaut:

"We feel inclined to throw at her (the heroine) neither stones nor laurels, but rather to congratulate the author upon a powerful story that lays a grip upon the mind and heart."

The Detroit Free Press:

"No wonder that 'Three Weeks' is one of the best sellers."

They Were Alone....

The magic of the desert night had closed about them. Cairo, friends,—civilization as she knew it—were left far behind. She, an unbeliever, was in the heart of the trackless wastes with a man whose word was more than law.

And yet, he was her slave!

"I shall ask nothing of you until you shall love me," he promised. "You shall draw your curtains, and until you call, you shall go undisturbed."

And she believed him!

Do you want to see luxury beyond your imagination to conjure,—feel the softness of silks finer than the gossamer web of the spider—hear the night voices of the throbbing desert, or sway to the jolting of the clanking caravan?

Egypt, Arabia pass before your eyes. The impatient cursing of the camel men comes to your ears. Your nostrils quiver in the acrid smoke of the little fires of dung that flare in the darkness when the caravan halts. The night has shut off prying eyes. Yashmaks are lowered. White flesh gleams against burnished bands of gold. The children of Allah are at home.

And the promise he had given her?...let Joan Conquest, who knows and loves the East, tell you in

DESERT LOVE

For sale wherever books are sold, or from

The Macaulay Company

PUBLISHERS

15-17 W. 38th St. New York

"I have owned a hundred women!" he answered defiantly.

The girl recoiled as from a blow. Was this man who paraded his conquests before her the same one who had feasted so freely on her lips that moonlit night in Grand Canary?

She was his prisoner now. He had stolen her and brought her to his stronghold in the desert. Her father was also a captive. Pansy Langham's life had crashed in ruins about her. What good were her millions now? The mask had been removed. Raoul Le-Breton was the Sultan Casim El Ammeh!—a Mohammedan!

And yet she wanted no man's kisses but his. Love for him consumed her, but race and religion stood between them.

Little did she guess that the Arab had foreseen this minute, that he had trailed her father, Sir George for fifteen years. The Englishman, a captain at the time, had killed his father. Casim El Ammeh had not forgotten. Revenge was his at last!

He had intended having his way with her and then selling her as a slave—a fate more cruel than a white man could conceive. But love—an emotion an Arab scoffs at—had come to thwart him. Was he to forego his oath of an eye for an eye, or open the doors of his harem and seek forgetfulness?

Read

A Son of the Sahara

By Louise Gerard

Who gives you the real thrill of the Great Desert

For Sale wherever books are sold or from

THE MACAULAY COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

15-17 W. 38th Street New York

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THE MACAULAY COMPANY

15-17 West 38th Street New York

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