Richard Marsh

A Woman Perfected Richard Marsh

Publisher Marketing: Excerpt: ...clapped her hands together with such violence that she actually stung her tender palms, and cried-- "What a little beast I am! what a little beast!" Then, instantly, she resumed her packing, remembering that the trap was coming in less than half-an-hour, but not with quite so much zest as before. There was a vague consciousness in her somewhere that her conduct had not been--and still was not--altogether without reproach. When Nora got down-stairs she found the hall door open, a dog-cart without, a footman keeping guard over the single trunk which he had brought from her room, and Morgan, as it were, keeping watch and ward over him; otherwise the hall was deserted. Nora recognized the fact with something like a pang. She knew then that she had hoped that at least some of the servants would have been gathered together to wish her God-speed; then she told herself, with the quick philosophy which was eminently hers, that it did not matter after all. Morgan greeted her with a question. "Is there any more luggage?" "No; none." "What directions are there as to what is to be done with the contents of your own rooms--your two rooms, bedroom and boudoir? Perhaps I may be allowed to remark, Miss Lindsay, that I believe you've a right to whatever is in your own rooms; no one's a right to touch anything that's in them except you." "Thank you, Morgan; there are no directions. By the bye, if you like I will write you two or three lines, before I go, which you will be able to use as a reference when you are applying for another situation. I don't wish you to suffer by what has happened." "Thank you, Miss Lindsay, you are very good; but I don't propose to seek another situation. I am giving up service. I trust, Miss Lindsay, that in the future everything will turn out as you would like it to." "Thank you, Morgan, I hope it will. Say goodbye to the others for me, and say I wish them all well...". Contributor Bio:  Marsh, Richard About The Author Richard Marsh (1857 - 1915) was the pseudonym of the British author born Richard Bernard Heldmann. A best-selling and prolific author of the late 19th century and the Edwardian period, Marsh is best known now for his supernatural thriller novel The Beetle, which was published the same year as Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), and was initially even more popular. Marsh produced nearly 80 volumes of fiction and numerous short stories, in genres including horror, crime and romance. Many of these have been republished recently, beginning with The Beetle during 2004. Marsh's grandson Robert Aickman was a notable writer of short "strange stories."