The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕
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The Way We Live Now is Anthony Trollope’s longest novel, published in two volumes in 1875 after first appearing in serial form.
After an extended visit to Australia and New Zealand in 1872, Trollope was outraged on his return to England by a number of financial scandals, and was determined to expose the dishonesty, corruption, and greed they embodied. The Way We Live Now centers around a foreign businessman, Augustus Melmotte, who has come to prominence in London despite rumors about his past dealings on the Continent. He is immensely rich, and his daughter Marie is considered to be a desirable catch for several aristocratic young men in search of a fortune. Melmotte gains substantial influence because of his wealth. He rises in society and is even put up as a candidate for Parliament, despite a general feeling that he must be a fraudster and liar. A variety of sub-plots are woven around this central idea.
The Way We Live Now is generally considered to be one of Trollope’s best novels and is often included in lists of the best novels written in English.
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- Author: Anthony Trollope
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In order that she might give effectual aid she took Mrs. Pipkin into confidence, and prepared a plan of action in reference to Ruby. Mrs. Pipkin was to appear as chief actor on the scene, but the plan was altogether Mrs. Hurtle’s plan. On the day following John’s return to Bungay Mrs. Pipkin summoned Ruby into the back parlour, and thus addressed her. “Ruby, you know, this must come to an end now.”
“What must come to an end?”
“You can’t stay here always, you know.”
“I’m sure I work hard, Aunt Pipkin, and I don’t get no wages.”
“I can’t do with more than one girl—and there’s the keep if there isn’t wages. Besides, there’s other reasons. Your grandfather won’t have you back there; that’s certain.”
“I wouldn’t go back to grandfather, if it was ever so.”
“But you must go somewheres. You didn’t come to stay here always—nor I couldn’t have you. You must go into service.”
“I don’t know anybody as ’d have me,” said Ruby.
“You must put a ’vertisement into the paper. You’d better say as nursemaid, as you seems to take kindly to children. And I must give you a character;—only I shall say just the truth. You mustn’t ask much wages just at first.” Ruby looked very sorrowful, and the tears were near her eyes. The change from the glories of the music hall was so startling and so oppressive! “It has got to be done sooner or later, so you may as well put the ’vertisement in this afternoon.”
“You’re going to turn me out, Aunt Pipkin.”
“Well;—if that’s turning out, I am. You see you never would be said by me as though I was mistress. You would go out with that rapscallion when I bid you not. Now when you’re in a regular place like, you must mind when you’re spoke to, and it will be best for you. You’ve had your swing, and now you see you’ve got to pay for it. You must earn your bread, Ruby, as you’ve quarrelled both with your lover and with your grandfather.”
There was no possible answer to this, and therefore the necessary notice was put into the paper—Mrs. Hurtle paying for its insertion. “Because, you know,” said Mrs. Hurtle, “she must stay here really, till Mr. Crumb comes and takes her away.” Mrs. Pipkin expressed her opinion that Ruby was a “baggage” and John Crumb a “soft.” Mrs. Pipkin was perhaps a little jealous at the interest which her lodger took in her niece, thinking perhaps that all Mrs. Hurtle’s sympathies were due to herself.
Ruby went hither and thither for a day or two, calling upon the mothers of children who wanted nursemaids. The answers which she had received had not come from the highest members of the aristocracy, and the houses which she visited did not appal her by their splendour. Many objections were made to her. A character from an aunt was objectionable. Her ringlets were objectionable. She was a deal too flighty-looking. She spoke up much too free. At last one happy mother of five children offered to take her on approval for a month, at £12 a year, Ruby to find her own tea and wash for herself. This was slavery;—abject slavery. And she too, who had been the beloved of a baronet, and who might even now be the mistress of a better house than that into which she was to go as a servant—if she would only hold up her finger! But the place was accepted, and with brokenhearted sobbings Ruby prepared herself for her departure from aunt Pipkin’s roof.
“I hope you like your place, Ruby,” Mrs. Hurtle said on the afternoon of her last day.
“Indeed then I don’t like it at all. They’re the ugliest children you ever see, Mrs. Hurtle.”
“Ugly children must be minded as well as pretty ones.”
“And the mother of ’em is as cross as cross.”
“It’s your own fault, Ruby; isn’t it?”
“I don’t know as I’ve done anything out of the way.”
“Don’t you think it’s anything out of the way to be engaged to a young man and then to throw him over? All this has come because you wouldn’t keep your word to Mr. Crumb. Only for that your grandfather wouldn’t have turned you out of his house.”
“He didn’t turn me out. I ran away. And it wasn’t along of John Crumb, but because grandfather hauled me about by the hair of my head.”
“But he was angry with you about Mr. Crumb. When a young woman becomes engaged to a young man, she ought not to go back from her word.” No doubt Mrs. Hurtle, when preaching this doctrine, thought that the same law might be laid down with propriety for the conduct of young men. “Of course you have brought trouble on yourself. I am sorry that you don’t like the place. I’m afraid you must go to it now.”
“I am a-going—I suppose,” said Ruby, probably feeling that if she could but bring herself to condescend so far there might yet be open for her a way of escape.
“I shall write and tell Mr. Crumb where you are placed.”
“Oh, Mrs. Hurtle, don’t. What should you write to him for? It ain’t nothing to him.”
“I told him I’d let him know if any steps were taken.”
“You can forget that, Mrs. Hurtle. Pray don’t write. I don’t want him to know as I’m in service.”
“I must keep my promise. Why shouldn’t he know? I don’t suppose you care much now what he hears about you.”
“Yes I do. I wasn’t never in service before, and I don’t want him to know.”
“What harm can it do you?”
“Well, I don’t
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