Christina's eyes were big with horror as she clasped her tiny hands round her knees, and stared into the fire in front of her. She was in her father's library: a large dimly-lighted room with books lining the shelves on the walls from top to bottom. It was an afternoon in early autumn; the last rays of the setting sun were stealing in through a stained glass window and colouring the dingy writing-table with red and blue patches. It was a silent, unused room; but it seemed as if it wanted wise spectacled scholars in it, and not a small pale-faced child in a short frock and white frilled pinafore.…
Or read it translated: 日本語 · 中文 · हिन्दी · Español · العربية · Français · বাংলা · Português · Русский · Bahasa Indonesia · اردو · Deutsch · Kiswahili · 한국어