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       John Buchan

      The Half-Hearted

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664642899

       PART I

       CHAPTER I EVENING IN GLENAVELIN

       CHAPTER II LADY MANORWATER’S GUESTS

       CHAPTER III UPLAND WATERS

       CHAPTER IV AFTERNOON IN A GARDEN

       CHAPTER V A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS

       CHAPTER VI PASTORAL

       I

       II

       III

       IV

       CHAPTER VII THE MAKERS OF EMPIRE

       CHAPTER VIII MR. WRATISLAW’S ADVENT

       CHAPTER IX THE EPISODES OF A DAY

       CHAPTER X HOME TRUTHS

       I

       II

       III

       CHAPTER XI THE PRIDE BEFORE A FALL

       CHAPTER XII PASTORAL AND TRAGEDY

       CHAPTER XIII THE PLEASURES OF A CONSCIENCE

       CHAPTER XIV A GENTLEMAN IN STRAITS

       CHAPTER XV THE NEMESIS OF A COWARD

       CHAPTER XVI A MOVEMENT OF THE POWERS

       CHAPTER XVII THE BRINK OF THE RUBICON

       CHAPTER XVIII THE FURTHER BRINK

       CHAPTER XIX THE BRIDGE OF BROKEN HEARTS

       PART II

       CHAPTER XX THE EASTERN ROAD

       CHAPTER XXI IN THE HEART OF THE HILLS

       CHAPTER XXII THE OUTPOSTS

       CHAPTER XXIII THE DINNER AT GALETTI’S

       CHAPTER XXIV THE TACTICS OF A CHIEF

       CHAPTER XXV MRS. LOGAN’S BALL

       CHAPTER XXVI FRIEND TO FRIEND

       CHAPTER XXVII THE ROAD TO FORZA

       CHAPTER XXVIII THE HILL-FORT

       CHAPTER XXIX THE WAY TO NAZRI

       CHAPTER XXX EVENING IN THE HILLS

       CHAPTER XXXI EVENTS SOUTH OF THE BORDER

       CHAPTER XXXII THE BLESSING OF GAD

       Table of Contents

       EVENING IN GLENAVELIN

       Table of Contents

      FROM the heart of a great hill land Glenavelin stretches west and south to the wider Gled valley, where its stream joins with the greater water in its seaward course. Its head is far inland in a place of mountain solitudes, but its mouth is all but on the lip of the sea, and salt breezes fight with the flying winds of the hills. It is a land of green meadows on the brink of heather, of far-stretching fir woods that climb to the edge of the uplands and sink to the fringe of corn. Nowhere is there any march between art and nature, for the place is in the main for sheep, and the single road which threads the glen is little troubled with cart and crop-laden wagon. Midway there is a stretch of wood and garden around the House of Glenavelin, the one great dwelling-place in the vale. But it is a dwelling and a little more, for the home of the real lords of the land is many miles farther up the stream, in the moorland house of Etterick, where the Avelin is a burn, and the hills hang sharply over its source. To a stranger in an afternoon it seems a very vale of content, basking in sun and shadow, green, deep, and silent. But it is also a place of storms, for its name means the “glen of white waters,” and mist and snow are commoner in its confines than summer heats.

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