George MacDonald - The Curate's Awakening, The Lady's Confession & The Baron's Apprenticeship (Complete Trilogy)

George MacDonald

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2017 OK Publishing

ISBN 978-80-7583-785-1

THOMAS WINGFOLD, CURATE (The Curate's Awakening) THOMAS WINGFOLD, CURATE (The Curate's Awakening) Table of Contents

PAUL FABER, SURGEON (The Lady's Confession)

THERE AND BACK (The Baron's Apprenticeship)

Table of Contents Table of Contents THOMAS WINGFOLD, CURATE (The Curate's Awakening) THOMAS WINGFOLD, CURATE (The Curate's Awakening) Table of Contents PAUL FABER, SURGEON (The Lady's Confession) THERE AND BACK (The Baron's Apprenticeship)

Table of Contents Table of Contents THOMAS WINGFOLD, CURATE (The Curate's Awakening) THOMAS WINGFOLD, CURATE (The Curate's Awakening) Table of Contents PAUL FABER, SURGEON (The Lady's Confession) THERE AND BACK (The Baron's Apprenticeship)

VOLUME I VOLUME I. Table of Contents

CHAPTER I. HELEN LINGARD

CHAPTER II. THOMAS WINGFOLD

CHAPTER III. THE DINERS

CHAPTER IV. THEIR TALK

CHAPTER V. A STAGGERING QUESTION

CHAPTER VI. THE CURATE IN THE CHURCHYARD

CHAPTER VII. THE COUSINS

CHAPTER VIII. THE GARDEN

CHAPTER IX. THE PARK

CHAPTER X. THE DWARFS

CHAPTER XI. THE CURATE AT HOME

CHAPTER XII. AN INCIDENT

CHAPTER XIII. A REPORT OF PROGRESS

CHAPTER XIV. JEREMY TAYLOR

CHAPTER XV. THE PARK GATE

CHAPTER XVI. THE ATTIC

CHAPTER XVII. POLWARTH'S PLAN

CHAPTER XVIII. JOSEPH POLWARTH

CHAPTER XIX. THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER

CHAPTER XX. A STRANGE SERMON

CHAPTER XXI. A THUNDERBOLT

CHAPTER XXII. LEOPOLD

CHAPTER XXIII. THE REFUGE

CHAPTER XXIV. HELEN WITH A SECRET

CHAPTER XXV. A DAYLIGHT VISIT

CHAPTER XXVI. LEOPOLD'S STORY

CHAPTER XXVII. LEOPOLD'S STORY CONCLUDED

CHAPTER XXVIII. SISTERHOOD

CHAPTER XXIX. THE SICK-CHAMBER

CHAPTER XXX. THE CURATE'S PROGRESS

CHAPTER XXXI. THE CURATE MAKES A DISCOVERY

CHAPTER XXXII. HOPES

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE RIDE

VOLUME II

CHAPTER I. RACHEL AND HER UNCLE

CHAPTER II. A DREAM

CHAPTER III. ANOTHER SERMON

CHAPTER IV. NURSING

CHAPTER V. GLASTON AND THE CURATE

CHAPTER VI. THE LINEN-DRAPER

CHAPTER VII. RACHEL

CHAPTER VIII. THE BUTTERFLY

CHAPTER IX. THE COMMON-PLACE

CHAPTER X. HOME AGAIN

CHAPTER XI. THE SHEATH

CHAPTER XII. INVITATION

CHAPTER XIII. A SERMON TO HELEN

CHAPTER XIV. A SERMON TO HIMSELF

CHAPTER XV. CRITICISM

CHAPTER XVI. A VANISHING GLIMMER

CHAPTER XVII. LET US PRAY!

CHAPTER XVIII. TWO LETTERS

CHAPTER XIX. ADVICE IN THE DARK

CHAPTER XX. INTERCESSION

CHAPTER XXI. HELEN ALONE

CHAPTER XXII. A HAUNTED SOUL

CHAPTER XXIII. COMPELLED CONFIDENCE

CHAPTER XXIV. WILLING CONFIDENCE

CHAPTER XXV. THE CURATE'S COUNSEL

CHAPTER XXVI. SLEEP

CHAPTER XXVII. DIVINE SERVICE

CHAPTER XXVIII. A SHOP IN HEAVEN

CHAPTER XXIX. POLWARTH AND LINGARD

CHAPTER XXX. THE STRONG MAN

CHAPTER XXXI. GEORGE AND LEOPOLD

CHAPTER XXXII. WINGFOLD AND HELEN

CHAPTER XXXIII. A REVIEW

CHAPTER XXXIV. A SERMON TO LEOPOLD

VOLUME III

CHAPTER I. AFTER THE SERMON

CHAPTER II. BASCOMBE AND THE MAGISTRATE

CHAPTER III. THE CONFESSION

CHAPTER IV. THE MASK

CHAPTER V. FURTHER DECISION

CHAPTER VI. THE CURATE AND THE DOCTOR

CHAPTER VII. HELEN AND THE CURATE

CHAPTER VIII. AN EXAMINATION

CHAPTER IX. IMMORTALITY

CHAPTER X. PASSAGES FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE WANDERING JEW

CHAPTER XI. THE WANDERING JEW

CHAPTER XII. THE WANDERING JEW

CHAPTER XIII. REMARKS

CHAPTER XIV. STRUGGLES

CHAPTER XV. THE LAWN

CHAPTER XVI. HOW JESUS SPOKE TO WOMEN

CHAPTER XVII. DELIVERANCE

CHAPTER XVIII. THE MEADOW

CHAPTER XIX. RACHEL AND LEOPOLD

CHAPTER XX. THE BLOOD-HOUND

CHAPTER XXI. THE BLOOD-HOUND TRAVERSED

CHAPTER XXII. THE BEDSIDE

CHAPTER XXIII. THE GARDEN

CHAPTER XXIV. THE DEPARTURE

CHAPTER XXV. THE SUNSET

CHAPTER XXVI. AN HONEST SPY

CHAPTER XXVII. WHAT HELEN HEARD,

CHAPTER XXVIII. WHAT HELEN HEARD MORE

CHAPTER XXIX. THE CURATE'S RESOLVE

CHAPTER XXX. HELEN AWAKE

CHAPTER XXXI. THOU DIDST NOT LEAVE

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

A swift, gray November wind had taken every chimney of the house for an organ-pipe, and was roaring in them all at once, quelling the more distant and varied noises of the woods, which moaned and surged like a sea. Helen Lingard had not been out all day. The morning, indeed, had been fine, but she had been writing a long letter to her brother Leopold at Cambridge, and had put off her walk in the neighbouring park till after luncheon, and in the meantime the wind had risen, and brought with it a haze that threatened rain. She was in admirable health, had never had a day's illness in her life, was hardly more afraid of getting wet than a young farmer, and enjoyed wind, especially when she was on horseback. Yet as she stood looking from her window, across a balcony where shivered more than one autumnal plant that ought to have been removed a week ago, out upon the old-fashioned garden and meadows beyond, where each lonely tree bowed with drifting garments—I was going to say, like a suppliant, but it was AWAY from its storming enemy—she did not feel inclined to go out. That she was healthy was no reason why she should be unimpressible, any more than that good temper should be a reason for indifference to the behaviour of one's friend. She always felt happier in a new dress, when it was made to her mind and fitted her body; and when the sun shone she was lighter-hearted than when it rained: I had written MERRIER, but Helen was seldom merry, and had she been made aware of the fact, and questioned why, would have answered—Because she so seldom saw reason.

She was what all her friends called a sensible girl; but, as I say, that was no reason why she should be an insensible girl as well, and be subject to none of the influences of the weather. She did feel those influences, and therefore it was that she turned away from the window with the sense, rather than the conviction, that the fireside in her own room was rendered even, more attractive by the unfriendly aspect of things outside and the roar in the chimney, which happily was not accompanied by a change in the current of the smoke.

The hours between luncheon and tea are confessedly dull, but dulness is not inimical to a certain kind of comfort, and Helen liked to be that way comfortable. Nor had she ever yet been aware of self-rebuke because of the liking. Let us see what kind and degree of comfort she had in the course of an hour and a half attained. And in discovering this I shall be able to present her to my reader with a little more circumstance.

She sat before the fire in a rather masculine posture. I would not willingly be rude, but the fact remains—a posture in which she would not, I think, have sat for her photograph—leaning back in a chintz-covered easy-chair, all the lines of direction about her parallel with the lines of the chair, her arms lying on its arms, and the fingers of each hand folded down over the end of each arm—square, straight, right-angled,—gazing into the fire, with something of the look of a sage, but one who has made no discovery.