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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Coralie, by Charlotte M. Braeme This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Coralie Author: Charlotte M. Braeme Release Date: August 12, 2004 [EBook #13162] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORALIE *** Produced by Steven desJardins and Distributed Proofreaders. EVERYDAY LIFE LIBRARY No. 2 CORALIE By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME Author of "Dora Thorne," "The Mystery of Colde Fell," "The Belle of Lynn," "Madolin's Lover," "The Heiress of Hilldrop," Etc., Etc. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. "Eighty pounds a year!" My reader can imagine that this was no great fortune. I had little or nothing to spend in kid gloves or cigars; indeed, to speak plain, prosaic English, I went without a good dinner far oftener than I had one. Yet, withal, I was passing rich on eighty pounds a year. My father, Captain Trevelyan, a brave and deserving officer, died when I was a child. My mother, a meek, fragile invalid, never recovered his loss, but died some years after him, leaving me alone in the world with my sister Clare. When I was young I had great dreams of fame and glory. I was to be a brave soldier like my dear, dead father, or a great writer or a statesman. I dreamed of everything except falling into the common grooves of life--which was my fate in after years. My mother, believing in my dreams, contrived to send me to college--we both considered a college education the only preliminary to a golden future. How she managed it out of her slender means I cannot tell, but she kept me at college for three years. I was just trying to decide what profession to adopt, when a letter came summoning me suddenly home. My mother was ill, not expected to live. When I did reach home I found another source of trouble. My sister Clare, whom I had left a beautiful, blooming girl of eighteen, had been ill for the past year. The doctors declared it to be a spinal complaint, from which she was not likely to recover, although she might live for years. She was unable to move, but lay always on a couch or sofa. The first glimpse of her altered face, so sweet, so sad and colorless, made my heart ache. All th
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