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The Lord of the Sea by M. P. Shiel
In the Calle Las Gabias-one of those by-streets of Lisbon below St. Catherine-there occurred one New Year a little event in the Synagogue there worth a mention in this history of Richard, Lord of the Sea.
It was Kol Nidrè, eve of the Day of Atonement, and the little Beth-El, sweltering in a dingy air, was transacting the long-drawn liturgy, when, behind the curtain where the women sat, an old dame who had been gazing upward smote her palms together, and let slip a little scream: "The Day is coming...!"
She then fainted, and till near ten lay on her bed, lit by the Yom Kippur candle, with open eyes, but without speech, her sere face still beautiful, on each temple a little pyramid of plaits, with gold-and-coral ear-rings: a holy belle. About ten P.M. three women watching heard her murmur: "My child, Rebekah...!"
She was childless, and whom she meant was not known. However, soon afterwards there was a form at the amulet-guarded door, and Estrella sat up, saying: "Rebekah, my child..."
A young lady of twenty-two ran in and embraced her, saying: "I have been to Paris and Madrid with my father-just arrived, so flew to see you. We leave for London to-night".
"No: I shall keep you seven days. Tell Frankl I say so. What jewels! You have grown into a rose of glory, the eyes are profounder and blacker, and that brow was made for high purpose. Tell me-have you a lover?"
"No, mamma Estrella".
"Then, why the blush?"
"It is nothing at all," Miss Frankl answered: "five years ago when at school in Bristol I thrice saw through a grating a young man with whom I was frivolous enough to speak. Happily, I do not know what has become of him-a wild, divine kind of creature, of whom I am well rid, and never likely to see again".
The old lady mused. "What was he?"
"A sailor".
"Not a common sailor?"
"I fancy so, mamma".
"What name?"
"Hogarth-Richard".
"A Jew?"
"An Englishman!"
She laughed, as the old lady's eyes opened in sacred horror, and as she whispered: "Child!"
Within three months of that night, one midnight the people of Prague rose and massacred most of the Jewish residents; the next day the flame broke out in Buda-Pesth; and within a week had become a revolution.
On the twelfth morning one of two men in a City bank said to the other: "Come, Frankl, you cannot fail a man in this crisis-I only want 80,000 on all Westring-"
"No good to me, my lord," answered Frankl, who, though a man of only forty-short, with broad shoulders,-already had his skin divided up like a dry leaf; in spite of which, he was handsome, with a nose ruled straight and long, a black beard on his breast.
But the telephone rattled and Frankl heard these words at the receiver: "Wire to hand from Wertheimer: Austrian Abgeordneten-haus passed a Resolution at noon virtually expelling Jewish Race...."
When Frankl turned again he had already resolved to possess Westring Vale, and was saying to himself: "Within six months the value of English land should be-doubled".
The bargain was soon made now: and within one week the foresight of Frankl began to be justified.
Austria, during those days, was a nation of vengeful hearts: for the Jews had acquired half its land, and had mortgages on the other half: peasant, therefore, and nobleman flamed alike. And this fury was contagious: now Germany-now France had it-Anti-Semite laws-like the old May-Laws-but harsher still; and streaming they came, from the Leopoldstadt, from Bukowina, from the Sixteen Provinces, from all Galicia, from the Nicolas Colonies, from Lisbon, with wandering foot and weary breast-the Heines, Cohens, Oppenheimers-Sephardim, Aschkenasim. And Dover was the new Elim.
With alarm Britain saw them come! but before she could do anything, the wave had overflowed it; and by the time it was finished there was no desire to do anything: for within eight months such a tide of prosperity was floating England as has hardly been known in a country.
The reason of this was the increased number of hands-each making more things than its owner could consume himself, and so making every other richer.
There came, however, a change-almost suddenly-due to the new demand for land, the "owners" determining to await still further rises, before letting. This checked industry: for now people, debarred from the land, had only air.
In Westring Vale, as everywhere, times were hard. It was now the property of Baruch Frankl: for at the first failure of Lord Westring to meet terms, Frankl had struck.
Now, one of the yeomen of Westring was a certain Richard Hogarth.
* * *
Carrying a child left Adeline trapped in marriage to the ruthless and unhinged Waylon, and everyone doubted she'd survive to see the baby's first breath. Filled with dread but determined, she carefully won him over and soon became his lethal obsession. Yet on the day she planned to escape, Waylon drove their car to a cliff's edge, foot hovering over the gas. "I'm sorry, love—did you just say divorce?" His fingers skimmed her cheek, his tone a deadly whisper. "Defy me, and you pay." Later, drenched in blood and rain, he knelt before her, trembling, and pleaded, "Tell me how to keep you here."
After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."
Anabel found out she was pregnant and dialed her husband's number to share the good news to him. They have been married for two years without a child. Desmond's mother had been accusing her of being barren and unproductive. When the call was picked, she was flabbergasted and broken. She was hearing a loud moan of feminine voice. "Ohh! Yeah! Don't stop fucking me! Fuck me harder baby!" accompanied with sound of skins slapping against the other. She went home to confront her husband and end up receiving a divorce paper. Desmond divorced him for a lady his mother was rooting. Few months later when he found out that his ex-wife is a billionaire heiress and she is pregnant with twins, he went crazy!
Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"
Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"
"Is it considered betrayal to develop feelings for your best friend's boyfriend? What about when fate intervenes, and he turns out to be your destined mate? You might think it's luck and thank the moon goddess for such a twist of fate. That's what I believed until the love of my life uttered those dreaded words: 'I want a divorce!' As I stared at the pregnancy test in my hands, I realized it was better to keep my secret to myself. My name is Violet, and this is my story."