Mary Marston

Mary Marston

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Title: Mary Marston
Author: George MacDonald
Release Date: June, 2005 [EBook #8201] [Yes, we are more than one
year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on July 1, 2003]
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY
MARSTON ***

Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks, Juliet Sutherland and
the DP Team

MARY MARSTON
A NOVEL.
BY
GEORGE MACDONALD
AUTHOR OF "ANNALS OF A QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD,"
"ROBERT FALCONER," ETC., ETC.

CONTENTS.
I.-THE SHOP II.-CUSTOMERS III.-THE ARBOR AT THORNWICK
IV.-GODFREY WARDOUR V.-GODFREY AND LETTY VI.-TOM
HELMER VII.-DURNMELLING VIII.-THE OAK IX.-CONFUSION
X.-THE HEATH AND THE HUT XI.-WILLIAM MARSTON
XII.-MARY'S DREAM XIII.-THE HUMAN SACRIFICE
XIV.-UNGENEROUS BENEVOLENCE XV.-THE MOONLIGHT
XVI.-THE MORNING XVII.-THE RESULT XVIII.-MARY AND
GODFREY XIX.-MARY IN THE SHOP XX.-THE
WEDDING-DRESS XXI.-MR. REDMAIN XXII.-MRS. REDMAIN
XXIII.-THE MENIAL XXIV.-MRS. REDMAIN'S
DRAWING-ROOM XXV.-MARY'S RECEPTION XXVI.-HER
POSITION XXVII.-MR. AND MRS. HELMER XXVIII.-MARY
AND LETTY XXIX.-THE EVENING STAR XXX.-A SCOLDING
XXXI.-SEPIA XXXII.-HONOR XXXIII.-TUB INVITATION
XXXIV.-A STRAY SOUND XXXV.-THE MUSICIAN XXXVI.-A
CHANGE XXXVII.-LYDGATE STREET XXXVIII.-GODFREY
AND LETTY XXXIX.-RELIEF XL.-GODFREY AND SEPIA
XLI-THE HELPER XLII-THE LEPER XLIII.-MARY AND MR.

REDMAIN XLIV.-JOSEPH JASPER XLV.-THE SAPPHIRE
XLVL-REPARATION XLVII.-ANOTHER CHANGE
XLVIIL-DISSOLUTION XLIX.-THORNWICK L.-WILLIAM AND
MARY MARSTON LI.-A HARD TASK LII.-A SUMMONS LIII.-A
FRIEND IN NEED LIV.-THE NEXT NIGHT
LV.-DISAPPEARANCE LVI.-A CATASTROPHE LVII.-THE END
OF THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER I
THE SHOP
It was an evening early in May. The sun was low, and the street was
mottled with the shadows of its paving-stones--smooth enough, but far
from evenly set. The sky was clear, except for a few clouds in the west,
hardly visible in the dazzle of the huge light, which lay among them
like a liquid that had broken its vessel, and was pouring over the
fragments. The street was almost empty, and the air was chill. The
spring was busy, and the summer was at hand; but the wind was
blowing from the north.
The street was not a common one; there was interest, that is feature, in
the shadowy front of almost each of its old houses. Not a few of them
wore, indeed, something like a human expression, the look of having
both known and suffered. From many a porch, and many a latticed oriel,
a long shadow stretched eastward, like a death flag streaming in a wind
unfelt of the body--or a fluttering leaf, ready to yield, and flit away, and
add one more to the mound of blackness gathering on the horizon's
edge. It was the main street of an old country town, dwindled by the
rise of larger and more prosperous places, but holding and exercising a
charm none of them would ever gain.
Some of the oldest of its houses, most of them with more than one
projecting story, stood about the middle of the street. The central and
oldest of these was a draper's shop. The windows of the ground-floor
encroached a little on the pavement, to which they descended very
close, for the floor of the shop was lower than the street. But, although

they had glass on three oriel sides, they were little used for the
advertising of the stores within. A few ribbons and gay handkerchiefs,
mostly of cotton, for the eyes of the country people on market-days,
formed the chief part of their humble show. The door was wide and
very low, the upper half of it of glass--old, and bottle-colored; and its
threshold was a deep step down into the shop. As a place for purchases
it might not to some eyes look promising, but both the ladies and the
housekeepers of Testbridge knew that rarely could they do better in
London itself than at the shop of Turnbull and Marston, whether variety,
quality, or price, was the point in consideration. And, whatever the first
impression concerning it, the moment the eyes of a stranger began