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The Canadian Photoplay title of The Land of Promise By: D. Torbett |
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THE LAND OF PROMISE A Novelization of W. Somerset Maugham's Play by D. TORBETT Illustrated with Scenes from the Photoplay
A Paramount Picture
Starring Thomas Meighan [Illustration: LOVE FOR HER HUSBAND IS FINALLY BORN IN NORA.] Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers, New York
Made in the United States of America.
Copyright, 1914, by
Edward J. Clode THE LAND OF PROMISE
CHAPTER I
Nora opened her eyes to an unaccustomed consciousness of well being. She
was dimly aware that it had its origin in something deeper than mere
physical comfort; but for the moment, in that state between sleeping and
wakening, which still held her, it was enough to find that body and mind
seemed rested. Youth was reasserting itself. And it was only a short time ago that she
had felt that never, never, could she by any possible chance feel young
again. When one is young, one resents the reaction after any strain not
purely physical as if it were a premature symptom of old age. A ray of brilliant sunshine, which found its way through a gap in the
drawn curtains, showed that it was long past the usual hour for rising.
She smiled whimsically and closed her eyes once more. She remembered now
that she was not in her own little room in the other wing of the house.
The curtains proved that. How often in the ten years she had been with
Miss Wickham had she begged that the staring white window blind, which
decorated her one window, be replaced by curtains or even a blind of a
dark tone that she might not be awakened by the first ray of light. She
had even ventured to propose that the cost of such alterations be
stopped out of her salary. Miss Wickham had refused to countenance any
such innovation. Three years before, when the offending blind had refused to hold
together any longer, Nora had had a renewal of hope. But no! The new
blind had been more glaringly white than its predecessor, which by
contrast had taken on a grateful ivory tone in its old age. They had had
one of their rare scenes at its advent. Nora had as a rule an admirable
control of her naturally quick temper. But this had been too much. "I might begin to understand your refusal if you ever entered my room.
But since it would no more occur to you to do so than to visit the
stables, I cannot see what possible difference it can make," Nora had
stormed. Miss Wickham's smile, which at the beginning of her companion's outburst
had been faintly ironic, had broadened into the frankly humorous. "Stated with your characteristic regard for exactitude, my dear Miss
Marsh, it would never enter my head to do either. I prefer the white
blind, however. As you know, I have no taste for explanations. We will
let the matter rest there, if you please." Then she had added: "Some
day, I strongly suspect, some man will amuse himself breaking that fiery
temper of yours. I wish I were not so old, I think that I should enjoy
knowing that he had succeeded." And the incident had ended, as always,
with a few angry tears on Nora's part, as a preliminary to the
inevitable game of bezique which finished off each happy day! And this had been her life for ten years! A wave of pity, not for
herself but for that young girl of eighteen who had once been herself,
that proudly confident young creature who, when suddenly deprived of the
protection of her only parent, Nora's father had died when she was too
young to remember him, had so bravely faced the world, serene in the
consciousness that the happiness which was her right was sure to be hers
after a little waiting, dimmed her eyes for a moment. The dreams she had
dreamed after she had received Miss Wickham's letter offering her the
post of companion! She recalled how she had smiled to herself when the
agent with whom she had filed her application congratulated her warmly
on her good fortune in placing herself so promptly, and, by way of
benediction, had wished that she might hold the position for many years.
Many years indeed! That had been no part of her plan... Continue reading book >>
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