About 628 minutes
Shameless Wayne: A Romance of the last Feud of Wayne and Ratcliffe — Reading Companion
Historical Psychological Social Fiction
144,217 recorded words. 9 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #47674Red as a Rose is She: A Novel — Key Ideas to Explore can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 142,242 words, 10 hr 19 min estimated reading time, and 13 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 19.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Love stories,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Explore this collection
These alternatives are selected using recorded categories and estimated reading time.
About 628 minutes
Historical Psychological Social Fiction
144,217 recorded words. 9 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #47674About 636 minutes
Historical Psychological Social Fiction
146,142 recorded words. 17 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #43148About 646 minutes
Historical Psychological Social Fiction
148,538 recorded words. 27 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #44210Search stored excerpts and compare books → Choose by your preferences →
Choices use stored catalog measurements. Estimates vary with reading speed. A shared category is a catalog label, not a claim that two books have the same argument or literary quality.
Search reads excerpt text stored with this catalog and links to its associated Gutenberg record. The connection is stored in the site database; this tool does not recheck that every excerpt is word-for-word identical to that external record. Excerpt search does not cover every chapter and does not verify historical publication dates.
Catalog snapshot checked: 2026-09-26. Coverage: 98 public books, 98 available source excerpts.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Public-domain source text
The source text is kept in the dedicated reader, separate from this catalogue record and its commentary.
From its first sentence—'Have you ever been to Wales?'—Rhoda Broughton's novel establishes a narrator who directly addresses the reader, mixing self-deprecation ('rather squeakily and out of tune') with a claim to truth. The opening chapters move through a series of hypothetical travel vignettes, each building a sensory picture of Welsh landscapes: the dust of the Irish mail, the roses restored by scrambles on the Orme's Head, the pink trout at Capel Curig. This geographical specificity anchors the story, but the narrator's tone undercuts any pastoral ideal, noting the drunkenness of 'masculine Cymri' and the premature aging of 'feminine Cymri.' The structure thus alternates between inviting the reader into a setting and defamiliarizing it through ironic commentary.
The narrator does not merely tell a story but constantly comments on its telling. In the first chapter, she predicts a 'limited audience' and compares her work to a 'dull old ditty,' a self-conscious framing that recurs throughout. This voice shifts register abruptly: from playful banter about Angelina's appetite to the stark, unadorned prose of the deathbed scene in Chapter XXI. There, the narrator withdraws, letting actions and dialogue carry the weight—'She rises and walks into the hall, and looks at his g…' The contrast suggests a deliberate structural choice: the narrator's presence fades when grief becomes unspeakable.
Coldness functions as a physical and emotional motif. In the deathbed passage, Esther kisses Jack's 'still cheek' and feels 'the unearthly awful cold of the contact between the dead and the living.' This cold 'strikes a chilly shrinking along her veins and limbs.' Earlier, the narrator describes the 'dust and cinders' of travel, and the 'heavy-laden coach' swinging around corners—movement that generates heat and discomfort. The stillness of the corpse contrasts with the bustle of servants bringing tea and the 'stream of visitors in the kitchen.' Broughton uses temperature to mark the boundary between life and death, and between the living's attempts to cope and the dead's final immobility.
The novel's structure repeatedly moves characters from outdoor, communal settings to interior, solitary ones. The opening addresses the reader as part of a 'universal British public,' then narrows to the hypothetical 'you' traveling through Wales. The death scene shifts from the public hall—where Esther looks at Jack's gun—to the private bedroom, then back to the drawing-room where she sits 'with her hands folded in her lap.' Servants, neighbours, and Brandon circulate around her, but she remains isolated. This oscillation between social performance and personal grief is mirrored in the narrator's own shifts: she speaks to a crowd, then withdraws into the intimacy of a single consciousness.
Broughton scrutinizes the rituals that surround death without endorsing them. The servants bring 'incessant tea' as 'the necessary accompaniment of great grief'; Brandon keeps at bay the 'mothers and sisters' armed with 'bibles, hymnals, and Reflections for a Mourner.' Esther herself tries to 'be sorry' and 'try to weep,' but the narrative insists on her emotional numbness: she is 'soulless as the fair marble mask.' The quoted lines from a poem—'His lips are very mild and meek'—offer a literary consolation that the prose undercuts. The novel thus questions whether any external form can contain or express genuine loss, leaving Esther in a state of suspended animation.
Readers attentive to Broughton's craft will notice how the narrator's tone—by turns flippant and grave—shapes the emotional landscape. The Welsh setting is not mere backdrop but a character in its own right, its beauty and squalor mirroring the lovers' fortunes. The excerpts suggest a novel less concerned with plot than with the textures of feeling and the inadequacy of language to capture them. Approach the text as a study in contrasts: between movement and stillness, public and private, the comic and the tragic.
Reading the deathbed shift in Red as a Rose is She brought back a grey afternoon years ago, turning pages of "Ask Mamma"; or, The Richest Commoner In England — Edition Insights, where warmth inside a house felt fragile against the cold outside. That same quiet ache lingered—how a cheerful voice can stumble into sorrow without warning, and stay with you long after.
Your answers remain private and are stored only in this browser.