The American Senator. Anthony Trollope
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Anthony Trollope
The American Senator
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4057664634412
Table of Contents
DILLSBOROUGH.
THE MORTON FAMILY.
THE MASTERS FAMILY.
THE DILLSBOROUGH CLUB.
REGINALD MORTON.
NOT IN LOVE.
THE WALK HOME.
THE PARAGON'S PARTY AT BRAGTON.
THE OLD KENNELS.
GOARLY'S REVENGE.
FROM IMPINGTON GORSE.
ARABELLA TREFOIL.
AT BRAGTON.
THE DILLSBOROUGH FEUD.
A FIT COMPANION,—FOR ME AND MY SISTERS.
MR. GOTOBED'S PHILANTHROPY.
LORD RUFFORD'S INVITATION.
THE ATTORNEY'S FAMILY IS DISTURBED.
"WHO VALUED THE GEESE?"
THERE ARE CONVENANCES.
THE FIRST EVENING AT RUFFORD HALL.
JEMIMA.
POOR CANEBACK.
THE BALL.
THE LAST MORNING AT RUFFORD HALL.
GIVE ME SIX MONTHS.
"WONDERFUL BIRD!"
MOUNSER GREEN.
THE SENATOR'S LETTER.
AT CHELTENHAM.
THE RUFFORD CORRESPONDENCE.
"IT IS A LONG WAY."
THE BEGINNING OF PERSECUTION.
MARY'S LETTER.
CHOWTON FARM FOR SALE.
MISTLETOE.
HOW THINGS WERE ARRANGED.
"YOU ARE SO SEVERE."
THE DAY AT PELTRY.
LORD RUFFORD WANTS TO SEE A HORSE.
THE SENATOR IS BADLY TREATED.
MR. MAINWARING'S LITTLE DINNER.
PERSECUTION.
"PARTICULARLY PROUD OF YOU."
LORD RUFFORD MAKES UP HIS MIND.
IT CANNOT BE ARRANGED.
"BUT THERE IS SOME ONE."
THE DINNER AT THE BUSH.
MISS TREFOIL'S DECISION.
"IN THESE DAYS ONE CAN'T MAKE A MAN MARRY."
THE SENATOR'S SECOND LETTER.
PROVIDENCE INTERFERES.
LADY USHANT AT BRAGTON.
ARABELLA AGAIN AT BRAGTON.
"I HAVE TOLD HIM EVERYTHING."
"NOW WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY?"
MRS. MORTON RETURNS.
THE TWO OLD LADIES.
THE LAST EFFORT.
AGAIN AT MISTLETOE.
THE SUCCESS OF LADY AUGUSTUS.
"WE SHALL KILL EACH OTHER."
CHANGES AT BRAGTON.
THE NEW MINISTER.
"I MUST GO."
IN THE PARK.
LORD RUFFORD'S MODEL FARM.
SCROBBY'S TRIAL.
AT LAST.
"MY OWN, OWN HUSBAND."
"BID HIM BE A MAN."
"IS IT TANTI?"
BENEDICT.
ARABELLA'S SUCCESS.
THE WEDDING.
THE SENATOR'S LECTURE.—NO. I.
THE SENATOR'S LECTURE.—NO. II.
THE LAST DAYS OF MARY MASTERS.
CONCLUSION.
VOLUME I.
CHAPTER I.
DILLSBOROUGH.
I never could understand why anybody should ever have begun to live at Dillsborough, or why the population there should have been at any time recruited by new comers. That a man with a family should cling to a house in which he has once established himself is intelligible. The butcher who supplied Dillsborough, or the baker, or the ironmonger, though he might not drive what is called a roaring trade, nevertheless found himself probably able to live, and might well hesitate before he would encounter the dangers of a more energetic locality. But how it came to pass that he first got himself to Dillsborough, or his father, or his grandfather before him, has always been a mystery to me. The town has no attractions, and never had any. It does not stand on a bed of coal and has no connection with iron. It has no water peculiarly adapted for beer, or for dyeing, or for the cure of maladies. It is not surrounded by beauty of scenery strong enough to bring tourists and holiday travellers. There is no cathedral there to form, with its bishops, prebendaries, and minor canons, the nucleus of a clerical circle. It manufactures nothing