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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c768ca --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69494 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69494) diff --git a/old/69494-0.txt b/old/69494-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9571ff8..0000000 --- a/old/69494-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10177 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The professor's experiment, Vol. 1 (of -3), by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The professor's experiment, Vol. 1 (of 3) - A novel - -Author: Margaret Wolfe Hungerford - -Release Date: December 7, 2022 [eBook #69494] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROFESSOR'S EXPERIMENT, -VOL. 1 (OF 3) *** - - - THE PROFESSOR’S EXPERIMENT - - - - - MRS. HUNGERFORD’S NOVELS - - ‘_Mrs. Hungerford has well deserved the title of being one of the most - fascinating novelists of the day. The stories written by her are the - airiest, lightest, and brightest imaginable, full of wit, spirit, and - gaiety; but they contain, nevertheless, touches of the most exquisite - pathos. There is something good in all of them._’—ACADEMY. - - =A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN=, and other Stories. Post 8vo., illustrated - boards, 2s.; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= - -‘There is no guile in the novels of the authoress of “Molly Bawn,” nor -any consistency or analysis of character; but they exhibit a faculty -truly remarkable for reproducing the rapid small-talk, the shallow but -harmless “chaff” of certain strata of modern fashionable -society.’—_Spectator._ - - =IN DURANCE VILE=, and other Stories. Post 8vo., illustrated boards, - 2s.; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= - -‘Mrs. Hungerford’s Irish girls have always been pleasant to meet upon -the dusty pathways of fiction. They are flippant, no doubt, and often -sentimental, and they certainly flirt, and their stories are told often -in rather ornamental phrase and with a profusion of the first person -singular. But they are charming all the same.’—_Academy._ - - =A MENTAL STRUGGLE.= Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth limp, - =2s. 6d.= - -‘She can invent an interesting story, she can tell it well, and she -trusts to honest, natural, human emotions and interests of life for her -materials.’—_Spectator._ - - =A MODERN CIRCE.= Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth limp, - =2s. 6d.= - -‘Mrs. Hungerford is a distinctly amusing author.... In all her books -there is a “healthy absenteeism” of ethical purpose, and we have derived -more genuine pleasure from them than probably the most earnest student -has ever obtained from a chapter of “Robert Elsmere.”’—_Saturday -Review._ - - =MARVEL.= Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth, =2s. 6d.= - -‘The author has long since created an imaginary world, peopled with more -or less natural figures; but her many admirers acknowledge the easy -grace and inexhaustible _verve_ that characterize her scenes of -Hibernian life, and never tire of the type of national heroine she has -made her own.’—_Morning Post._ - - =LADY VERNER’S FLIGHT.= Crown 8vo., cloth extra, =3s. 6d.=; post 8vo., - illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth limp, =2s. 6d.= - -‘There are in “Lady Verner’s Flight” several of the bright young -people who are wont to make Mrs. Hungerford’s books such very -pleasant reading.... In all the novels by the author of “Molly Bawn” -there is a breezy freshness of treatment which makes them most -agreeable.’—_Spectator._ - - =THE RED-HOUSE MYSTERY.= Crown 8vo., cloth extra, =3s. 6d.= - -‘Mrs. Hungerford is never seen to the best advantage when not dealing -with the brighter sides of life, or seeming to enjoy as much as her -readers the ready sallies and laughing jests of her youthful personages. -In her present novel, however, the heroine, if not all smiles and mirth, -is quite as taking as her many predecessors, while the spirit of -uncontrolled mischief is typified in the American heiress.’—_Morning -Post._ - - =THE THREE GRACES.= 2 vols., crown 8vo., =10s.= net. - -‘It is impossible to deny that Mrs. Hungerford is capable of writing a -charming love-story, and that she proves her capacity to do so in “The -Three Graces.”’—_Academy._ - - LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. - - - - - THE - PROFESSOR’S EXPERIMENT - =A Novel= - - - BY - - MRS. HUNGERFORD - - AUTHOR OF - ‘MOLLY BAWN,’ ‘THE RED-HOUSE MYSTERY,’ ‘THE THREE GRACES,’ ‘LADY - VERNER’S FLIGHT,’ ETC. - -[Illustration] - - IN THREE VOLUMES - - VOL. I. - - - =London= - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1895 - - - - - THE - - PROFESSOR’S EXPERIMENT - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - ‘Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried.’ - - -The lamp was beginning to burn low; so was the fire. But neither of the -two people in the room seemed to notice anything. The Professor had got -upon his discovery again, and once there, no man living could check him. -He had flung his arms across the table towards his companion, and the -hands, with the palms turned upwards, marked every word as he uttered -it, thumping the knuckles on the table here, shaking some imaginary -disbeliever there—and never for a moment quiet—such old, lean, -shrivelled, capable hands! - -He was talking eagerly, as though the words flowed to him faster than he -could utter them. This invention of his—this supreme discovery—would -make a revolution in the world of science. - -The young man looking back at him from the other side of the table -listened intently. He was a tall man of about eight-and-twenty, and if -not exactly handsome, very close to it. His eyes were dark, and somewhat -sombre, and his mouth was thin-lipped, but kind, and suggestive of a -nature that was just, beyond everything, if hardly sympathetic. It was a -beautiful mouth, at all events, and as he was clean-shaven, one could -see it as it was, without veiling of any kind. Perhaps the one -profession of all others that most fully declares itself in the face of -its sons is that of the law. A man who has been five years a barrister -is seldom mistaken for anything else. Paul Wyndham was a barrister, and -a rising one—a man who loved his profession for its own sake, and strove -and fought to make a name in it, though no such struggle was needful for -his existence, as from his cradle his lines had fallen to him in -pleasant places. He was master of a good fortune, and heir to a title -and ten thousand a year whenever it should please Providence to take his -uncle, old Lord Shangarry, to an even more comfortable home than that -which he enjoyed at present. - -The Professor had been his tutor years ago, and the affection that -existed between them in those far-off years had survived the changes of -time and circumstance. The Professor loved him—and him only on all this -wide earth. Wyndham had never known a father; the Professor came as near -as any parent could, and in this new wild theory of the old man’s he -placed implicit faith. It sounded wild, no doubt—it was wild—but there -was not in all Ireland a cleverer man than the Professor, and who was to -say but it might have some grand new meaning in it? - -‘You are sure of it?’ he said, looking at the Professor with anxious but -admiring eyes. - -‘Sure! I have gone into it, I have studied it for twenty years, I tell -you. What, man, d’ye think I’d speak of it even to you, if I weren’t -sure? I tell ye—I tell ye’—he grew agitated and intensely Irish here—‘it -will shake the world!’ - -The phrase seemed to please him; he drew his arms off the table and lay -back in his chair as if revelling in it—as if chewing the sweet cud of -it in fancy. He saw in his mind a day when in that old college of his -over there, only a few streets away—in Trinity College—he should rise, -and be greeted by his old chums and his new pupils, and the whole world -of Dublin, with cheers and acclamations. Nay! it would be more than -that—there would be London, and Vienna, and Berlin. He put Berlin last -because, perhaps, he longed most of all for its applause; but in these -dreamings he came back always to old Trinity, and found the greatest -sweetness in the laurels to be gained there. - -‘There can’t be a mistake,’ he went on, more now as if reasoning with -himself than with his visitor, who was watching him, and was growing a -little uneasy at the pallor that was showing itself round his nose and -mouth—a pallor he had noticed very often of late when the old man was -unduly excited or interested. ‘I have gone through it again and again. -There is nothing new, of course, under the sun, and there can be little -doubt but that it is an anæsthetic known to the Indians of Southern -America years ago, and the Peruvians. There are records, but nothing -sufficient to betray the secret. It was by the merest accident, as I -have told you, that I stumbled on it. I have made many experiments. I -have gone cautiously step by step, until now all is sure. So much for -one hour. So much for six, so much for twenty-four, so much’—his voice -rose almost to a scream, and he thumped his hand violently on the -table—‘for seven days—for seven months!’ - -His voice broke off, and he sank back in his chair. The young man went -quickly to a cupboard and poured out a glass of some white cordial. - -‘Thank you—thank you,’ said the Professor, swallowing the nauseous -mixture hurriedly, as though regretting the waste of time it took to -drink it. - -‘Why talk any more to-night?’ said the young man anxiously; ‘I am going -abroad in a few days, but I can come again to see you to-morrow. It is -late.’ He glanced at the clock, which pointed to ten minutes past -eleven. The movement he made in pointing pushed aside his overcoat and -showed that he was in evening dress. He had evidently been dining out, -and had dropped in to see the Professor—an old trick of his—on his way -home. - -‘I must talk while I can,’ said the Professor, smiling. The cordial, -whatever it was, had revived him, and he sat up and looked again at his -companion with eyes that were brilliant. ‘As for this pain here,’ -touching his side, ‘it is nothing—nothing. What I want to say, Paul, is -this’—he bent towards Wyndham, and his lips quivered again with -excitement: ‘If I could send a human creature to sleep for seven months, -then why not for seven years—for ever?’ - -Wyndham looked at him incredulously. - -‘But the last time——’ - -‘The last time you were here, I had not quite perfected my discovery. -But since then some of my experiments have led me to think—to be -absolutely certain—that life can be sustained, with all the appearance -of death upon the subject, for a full week at all events.’ - -‘And when consciousness returns?’ - -‘The subject treated wakes to life again in exactly the same condition -as when he or she fell asleep—without loss of brain or body power.’ - -‘Seven days! A long time!’ The young man smiled. ‘You bring back old -thoughts and dreams. Are you a second Friar Laurence? Even he, though he -could make the fair Juliet sleep till all believed her dead, could not -prolong that unfortunate deception beyond a certain limit. - - ‘“And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death - Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours.” - -‘Less than two days—and yet, thou conjurer’—he slapped the Professor’s -arm gaily—‘you would talk of keeping one in death’s bonds for years!’ - -‘Ay, years!’ The Professor looked back at him, and his eyes shone. Old -age seemed to slip from him, and for the moment a transient youth was -his again. ‘This is but a beginning—a mere start; but if it succeeds—if -life can be sustained by means of this drug alone for seven days, why -not for months and years?’ - -‘You forget one thing,’ said the young man. ‘Who would care for it? Why -should one care to lie asleep for years?’ - -‘Many!’ said the Professor slowly. - -He ceased, and a strange gloom shadowed his face. His thoughts had -evidently gone backward into a long-dead past—a past that still lived. -‘Have you no imagination?’ he said at last reproachfully. ‘Think, -boy—think! When affliction falls on one, when a grievous sorrow tears -the heart, who would not wish for an oblivion that would be longer than -a sleeping-draught could give, and less pernicious than suicide?’ - -‘The same refusal in both cases to meet and face one’s doom,’ said the -young man. ‘You would create a new generation of cowards.’ - -‘Pshaw! there will be cowards without me,’ said the Professor. ‘But -here, again, take another case. A man, we will say, has had his leg cut -off—well, let him sleep until the leg is well, and he will escape all -the twinges, the agonizing pains of the recovery. This is but one -instance; all surgical cases could be treated so, and so much pain saved -in this most painful world.’ - -‘Ah, I confess a charm lies there!’ said Wyndham. - -‘It does. And yet it is to the other thought I lean—to the dread of -memory where grief and shame lie.’ The Professor’s gaunt face lost again -its short return of youth, and grew grim, and aged, and white. ‘See,’ he -leant towards Wyndham, and pressed him into a chair beside the dying -fire, ‘to you—to you alone I have revealed this matter: not so much -because you have been my pupil, as that you have a hold on me. You think -me dry, and hard, and old. All that is true. But’—his voice grew if -possible harsher than ever—‘I have an affection for you.’ - -It seemed almost ludicrous to think of the Professor as having an -affection for anything beyond his science and his discovery, with his -bald head, and his bleared eyes, and his cold, forbidding face. The -young man gazed at him with pardonable astonishment. That the Professor -liked him, trusted him, was quite easy to understand—but the word -‘affection’! - -‘It surprises you,’ said the old man slowly, perhaps a little sadly. -‘Yet there was a time——’ He moved and poked the fire into a sullen -blaze. ‘I married,’ he said presently. ‘And she—well, I loved her, I -think. It seems hard to remember now, it is so long ago, but I believe I -had a heart then, and it was hers. She died.’ He poked the fire again, -and most of it fell into the grate—it was all cinders by this time, and -the younger man shivered. ‘It was well. Looking back upon it now,’ said -the Professor coldly, ‘I am glad she died. She would have interfered -with my studies. Her death left me free; but for that freedom, I should -never have found out this.’ He tapped some papers lying loosely on the -table—three or four pages, no more, with only a line or two upon -them—vague suggestions of the great discovery that was to shake the -world, so vague as to be useless to anyone but himself. - -‘You had no children, then?’ asked Wyndham, who had never even heard -that he was married until now. - -‘One.’ The Professor paused, and the silence grew almost insupportable. -‘He, too, is dead. And that, too, is well. He was of no use. He only -burdened the world.’ - -‘But——’ - -‘Not a question——’ The old man silenced him. ‘I cast him off.’ There was -something terrible in the indifference with which he said this. ‘He was -a fool—a criminal one. I heard later that he had married—no doubt as -great a fool as himself. I hope so. Set a thief to catch a thief, you -know.’ - -He laughed bitterly—the cruel, mirthless laugh of the embittered old. -‘For the rest, I know nothing,’ he said. - -‘You made no inquiries?’ - -‘None. Why should I?’ - -‘He was your son.’ - -‘Well, does that make a black thing white? No—no! My son—my child is -here!’ He touched the loose papers with a loving hand. - -Wyndham did not pursue the subject further, and as if to show that it -was ended, he stooped and threw some coals upon the fire that now seemed -to be at its last gasp. A tiny smoke flew up between the fresh lumps, -and after that came a little uncertain blaze. The fire had caught the -coals. - -The Professor had gone back to his heart’s desire. - -‘To see the blossom of my labour bear fruit—that is my sole, my last -demand from life. I have so short a time to live that I would hasten the -fulfilment of my hopes.’ - -‘You mean——’ - -‘That I want to see the drug used on a human being. I have approached -the matter with some of the authorities at Kilmainham, with a view to -getting a condemned criminal to experiment upon; but up to this I have -been refused, and in such a presumptuous manner as leads me to fear I -shall never receive a better answer. Surely a man respited for seven -days, as has been the case occasionally, might as well risk those seven -days in the cause of science.’ - -Wyndham shrugged his shoulders. ‘I have never met that man,’ said he. -But the Professor did not hear him. - -‘The most humane people in the world,’ said he, ‘refuse help to the man -who has devoted twenty years of his life to the cause of humanity. Such -an anæsthetic as mine would work a revolution in the world of medicine. -As I have told you, a man might not only be unconscious whilst a limb -was being lopped off, but might remain so until the wound was healed, -and then, made free of pain and perfectly well, be able to take his part -in the world again.’ - -‘It sounds like a fairy-tale,’ said Wyndham, smiling. ‘You have, I -suppose, made many experiments?’ - -‘On animals, yes—and of late without a single failure; but on a human -body, no. As yet no opportunity has been afforded me. Either jealousy or -fear has stopped my march, which I feel would be a triumphal one were -the road made clear. I tell you I have addressed many leading men of -science on the subject. I have asked them to be present. I would have -everything above board, as you who know me can testify. I would have all -men look on and bear witness to the splendour of my discovery.’ Here -again the Professor’s strange deep eyes grew brilliant, once again that -queer flash of a youth long ago departed was his. ‘I would have it shown -to all the world in a blaze of light. But no man will take heed or -listen. They laugh. They scoff. They will not countenance the chance of -my killing someone; as if’—violently—‘the loss of one poor human life -was to be counted, when the relief of millions is in the balance.’ - -He sank back as if exhausted, and then went on, his tone hard, yet -excited: - -‘Now it has come to this. If the chance were given me of trying my -discovery on man, woman, or child, I should take it, without the -sanction of the authorities, and with it that other chance of being -hanged afterwards if the experiment failed.’ - -‘You feel so sure as that?’ questioned Wyndham. The old man’s enthusiasm -had caught him. He too was looking eager and excited. - -‘Sure!’ The Professor rose, gaunt, haggard, and with eyes that flashed -fire beneath the pent brows that overhung them. ‘I would stake my -soul—nay, more, my reputation—on the success of my discovery. Oh for a -chance to prove it!’ - -At this moment there was a low knock at the door. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - ‘Of all things tired thy lips look weariest.’ - * * * * * - ‘What shall I do to be for ever known?’ - - -The handle was turned, and the door opened with a considerable amount of -caution (the Professor did not permit interruptions). It was evidently, -however, the caution of one who was suppressing badly a wild desire to -make a rush into the room, and presently a man’s head appeared round the -corner of the door, and after it his body. He came a yard or two beyond -the threshold, and then stood still. His reddish hair was standing out a -little, and his small twinkling Irish eyes were blinking nervously. He -looked eagerly first at the younger man, who was his master, and then at -the Professor, and then back again at Wyndham. - -‘Well, Denis?’ said the latter, a little impatiently. - -‘If ye plaze, sir, there’s an unfortunate young faymale on the steps -below.’ - -The Professor frowned. As if such an ordinary occurrence as that should -be allowed to interfere with a discussion on the great discovery! -Wyndham spoke. - -‘If she is noisy or troublesome, you had better call a policeman,’ he -said indifferently. - -‘Noisy! Divil a sound out of her,’ said Denis. ‘She looks for all the -world, yer honour, as if there wasn’t a spark o’ life left in her. -Sthretched in the hall she is, an’ the colour o’ death.’ - -‘In the hall?’ said Wyndham quickly. ‘I thought you said she was on the -steps.’ - -‘She was. She’—cautiously—‘was. But——’ He paused and scanned anxiously -the two faces before him. ‘It’s bitther cowld outside to-night, so I tuk -her in.’ - -And, indeed, though the month was May, a searching wind was shaking the -city, and biting into the hearts of young and old. As often happens in -that ‘merrie month,’ a light fall of snow was whitening the tops of the -houses. - -‘I had better see to this,’ said the young man, rising. He left the -room, followed by Denis (who had stopped to throw a few more coals on -the now cheerful fire), and went down to the cold, bare, hideous hall -below. The light from the solitary gas-lamp scarcely lit it, and it took -him a few seconds to discern something that lay on the worn tarpaulin at -the lower end of it. At last he made it out, and, stepping nearer, saw -that it was the figure of a young and very slight girl. She was lying on -the ground, her back supported against a chair, and Wyndham could see -that Denis had folded an old coat of the Professor’s that usually hung -on the hat-stand, and placed it behind her head. - -The light was so dim that he could not see what she was like; but -stooping over her, he felt her hands, and found that they were cold as -ice. Instinct, however, told him that life still ran within her veins, -and lifting her quickly in his arms, he carried her upstairs to the room -he had just left, and where the Professor still sat, so lost in fresh -dreams of the experiment yet to be made that he started as Wyndham -re-entered the room with his strange burden; it was, indeed, with -difficulty that he brought his mind back to the present moment. He had -forgotten why the young man had left the room. - -‘She seems very ill,’ said Wyndham. His man had followed him, and now, -through a sign from his master, he pulled forward a huge armchair, in -which Wyndham placed the unconscious girl. - -The Professor came nearer and stared down at her. She was very -young—hardly eighteen—but already Misery or Want, or both, had seized -and laid their cruel hands upon her, dabbing in dark bistre shades -beneath her eyes, and making sad hollows in her pallid cheeks. The lips, -white now, were firmly closed as if in death, but something about the -formation of them suggested the idea that even in life they could be -firm too. - -It was a face that might be beautiful if health had warmed it, and if -joy had found a seat within the heart that now seemed at its last ebb. -The lashes lying on the white, cold cheek were singularly long and dark, -and Wyndham roused himself suddenly to find himself wondering what could -be the colour of the eyes that lay hidden behind that wonderful fringe. - -Her gown was of blue serge, neatly, even elegantly made, and the collar -and cuffs she wore were quite primitive in their whiteness and -simplicity. She had no hat or cloak with her, but a little gray woollen -shawl had been evidently twisted round her head. Now it had fallen back, -leaving all the glory of her rich chestnut hair revealed. - -Involuntarily the young man glanced at her left hand. - -There was no ring there. An intense wave of pity swept over him. -Another! Dear God! what cruel sorrows lie within this world of Yours! - -The face was so young, so free of hardness, vice, or taint of any kind, -that his very heart bled for her. Misery alone seemed to mark it. That -was deeply stamped. Looking at her, he almost hoped that she would never -wake again—that she was really dead; but even as this thought crossed -his mind, she stirred, sighed softly, and opened her eyes. - -For awhile she gazed at them—on the Professor, impassive, silent; on the -younger man, anxious, pained—and then with a sharp, quick movement she -released herself from the arm Wyndham had placed round her, and raised -herself to a sitting posture. There was such terror in her eyes as she -did this that the younger man hastened to reassure her. - -‘You are quite safe here,’ he said kindly. The girl looked at him, then -cast a frightened glance past him, and over his shoulder, as though -looking fearfully for some dreaded object. ‘My man found you on the -steps outside. You were ill—fainting, he said—so he brought you in here -to’—with a gesture towards the Professor—‘this gentleman’s house.’ - -The girl looked anxiously at the Professor, who nodded as in duty bound, -but who seemed unmistakably bored, for all that, and angry enough to -frighten her afresh. - -‘If you will tell us where you live,’ said Wyndham gently, ‘we shall see -that you are taken back there.’ - -The girl shrank visibly. She caught the little shawl that had slipped -from her, and drew it round her head once more, almost hiding her face. - -‘I can find my own way,’ she said. The voice was low, musical; it -trembled, and as she moved forward to pass Wyndham, so did she. She even -tottered, so much, indeed, that she was obliged to catch hold of a table -near to keep herself from falling. - -‘It is impossible for you to walk to-night,’ said the young man -earnestly. ‘And there is no necessity for it. My servant is at your -disposal; he can call a cab for you, and he is quite to be trusted; he -will see you to your home.’ - -The girl hesitated for a moment, then lifted her heavy eyes to his. - -‘I have no home,’ she said. - -It was a very forlorn answer, and it went to Wyndham’s heart. God help -her, poor girl! whoever she was. He glanced again at her clothes, which -were decidedly above the average of the extremely wretched, and he was -conscious of a certain curiosity with regard to her—a distinctly kindly -one. - -The girl caught the glance and turned away her head. - -‘You can at least say where you want to be driven,’ said he gravely, but -with sympathy; he hesitated for a moment, and then went on. ‘No -questions will be asked,’ he said. - -She made no answer to this, and while he waited for one the Professor -broke in impatiently: - -‘Come, girl, speak! Where do you want to go? Where do you live?’ - -On this followed another shorter silence, and then at last she spoke. - -‘I shall not go back,’ she said. Her tone was low, but defiant, and very -firm. - -‘That means you will not tell,’ said the Professor. ‘Then go—do you -hear—go! You are interrupting us here.’ He motioned towards the door, -where Denis stood mute as a sentinel; he was, indeed, an old soldier, -for the matter of that. - -The girl stepped quickly, eagerly forward, but Wyndham stopped her -imperatively, and standing between her and the door, he spoke to the -Professor. - -‘It is impossible to turn her out at this hour—in this weather.’ He -stopped, and now looked at the girl and spoke to her. - -‘Why can’t you trust us?’ he said, with angry reproach. ‘Why can’t you -let us do something for you? You must have a home somewhere, however -bad.’ - -The girl thus addressed turned upon him suddenly with miserable passion -shining in her large, dark eyes. - -‘I have not,’ she said. ‘Under the sky of God, there is no creature so -homeless as I am.’ - -Her passion was so great that it struck the listeners into silence. She -made a little gesture with her arms suggestive of awful weariness, then -spoke again: - -‘There was a place where I lived yesterday. It was not a home. I shall -not live there again. I have left it. I shall not go back.’ - -‘But where, then, are you going?’ asked Wyndham impulsively. - -‘I don’t know.’ She drew her breath slowly, heavily. It was hardly a -sigh. There was enough misery in it for ten sighs. But her passion was -all gone, and a terrible indifference had taken its place; and there was -such consummate despair in her tone as might have touched even the -Professor. But it did not. He had begun to study her. He was always -studying people, and now a curious expression had crept into his face. -He leaned forward and peered at her. There was no compassion in the -glance, no interest whatever in her as a suffering human thing; but -there was a sudden sharp interest in her as a means to a desired end. -Thought was in his glance, and a wild longing that was fast growing to a -hope. - -‘Have you no plans, then?’ asked the young man. His tone was sad. He had -looked into the depths of her dark eyes, and found there no guile at -all. - -‘None!’ She was silent awhile, and then very slowly she raised her head; -her brows contracted, and she looked past them both into vacancy. If she -was communing with her own heart, the results were very sad. Despair -itself gathered in her eyes. She turned presently and looked at Wyndham. -‘I wish,’ said she, with a forlorn look, ‘that I had the courage to -die.’ - -It was unutterably sad, this young creature, with all her life before -her, praying for courage to end it; craving for death in the midst of -life, wishing she had the courage to escape from a world that had -evidently given her but a sorry welcome. - -Wyndham looked round at the Professor as if expecting him to join in his -commiseration for this poor, unhappy child, but what he saw in the -Professor’s face checked him. It startled him, and stopped the tide of -sympathy for a time—as great floods will for the moment always catch and -carry with them the milder rushes of the rivers near. - -The Professor’s face was indeed a study. It was radiant—alight with a -strange and sudden hope. His piercing eyes were fixed immovably upon the -girl. They seemed to burn into her as though demanding and compelling an -answering glance from hers. - -She obeyed the call; slowly, languidly she lifted her head. - -‘So you would die?’ said he. - -‘Yes.’ The word fell listlessly from her lips; but she stared straight -at him as she said it, and her young unhappy face looked nearly as gray -as the old merciless one bending over it. - -‘Then why live?’ pursued he. ‘Death is easy.’ - -‘No, it is hard,’ she said. ‘And I am afraid of pain.’ - -‘If there were no pain, you would risk it, then?’ - -She hesitated. His glance was now, indeed, so wild, so full of frantic -eagerness, that it might readily have frightened one older in the -world’s ways. To Wyndham, waiting, watching, it occurred that the -Professor was like a spider creeping towards its prey. He shuddered. - -‘Speak, girl, speak!’ said the Professor. His agitation was intense, and -almost beyond control. Here—here to his hand was his chance. Was he to -have it at last, or lose it for ever? Wyndham could stand it no longer; -he went quickly forward, and, standing between the Professor and the -girl, took the former by the shoulders and pushed him gently backwards -and out of hearing. - -‘If this drug of yours possesses the lifegiving properties you speak -of,’ said he sternly, ‘why speak to her of death? Do you honestly -believe in this experiment? Or do you fear it—when you suggest this sort -of suicide to her?’ - -‘I fear nothing,’ said the old man. ‘But we are all mortal. We can all -err, even in our surest judgments. The very cleverest of us can be -deceived. The experiment—though I do not believe it—might fail.’ - -At the word ‘fail’ he roused. - -‘It will not! It cannot!’ he cried, with vehemence. ‘But in the meantime -I would give her her chance, too. She shall know the worst that may -befall her.’ - -‘Why not tell her all?’ said the young man anxiously. ‘It’—he hesitated -and coloured faintly—‘it would give her her chance perhaps in another -world if your experiment failed. It would take from her—in part—the sin -of deliberately destroying herself.’ - -The Professor shrugged his shoulders. He thought it waste of time, this -preparing for another world—another Judge. - -‘You think, then, that I should tell her?’ - -‘I do. I think, too,’ said Wyndham strongly, ‘that if your experiment -succeeds you should consider yourself indebted to her for ever.’ - -‘I shall see to her future, of course.’ - -‘If,’ said the young man gloomily, ‘anyone could see to the future of -such a one as she is!’ - -The Professor looked at him. - -‘You are out of sorts to-night,’ he said. ‘Your natural instinct is -deadened in you. That girl does not belong to the class of which you are -thinking. Whatever has driven her to her present desperate state of -mind, it is not impurity.’ - -‘You think that?’ Wyndham looked doubtful, but was still conscious of a -faint wave of relief; and the Professor, watching him, smiled, the -tolerant smile of one who understands the cranks and follies of poor -human nature. - -‘If so,’ said Wyndham quickly, ‘she should surely not be subjected to -this experiment at all. She——’ - -‘For all that, I shall not lose this chance,’ said the Professor -shortly. He turned and went back to the girl. - -She was sitting in the same attitude as when he left her—her hands -clenched upon her knees, her eyes staring into the fire. God alone knew -what she saw there. She did not change her position, but sat like that, -immovable as a statue, as the Professor expounded his experiment to her, -and then asked her the cold, unsympathetic question as to whether, now -she knew what the risk was, she would accept it. It might mean death, -but if not, it would mean safety and protection in the future. - -When he had finished, she turned her sombre eyes on his. - -‘I will take the risk,’ she said. - -Wyndham made a movement as if to speak, but the Professor checked him. - -‘Of course, if the experiment is successful,’ he said, ‘I shall provide -for you for life.’ - -‘I hope you will not have to provide for me,’ she said. - -At this, a little silence fell upon the room, that seemed to chill it. -The Professor broke it. - -‘You agree, then?’ - -‘I agree.’ She rose, and held out her hand. ‘Give me the draught.’ - -Wyndham started, his voice vibrating with horror. - -‘No, no!’ he cried. ‘She does not understand; and’—to the -Professor—‘neither do you. If this thing fails, it will mean murder. -Think, I entreat you, before it is too late to think. That -girl’—pointing to the young stranger, who was standing regarding him -with a dull curiosity—‘she is but a child. She cannot know her own mind. -She ought not to be allowed to settle so stupendous a question. Look at -her!’ His voice shook. ‘Many a happier girl at her age would still be in -her schoolroom. She is so young that, whatever her wrongs, her sorrows -may be, she has still time before her to conquer or live them down. -Professor, I implore you, do not go on with this.’ - -The Professor rested a contemptuous glance on him for a moment, then -swept it from him, and addressed the girl. - -‘You are willing?’ he said. - -‘Yes.’ She spoke quite firmly, but she was looking at Wyndham. It was a -strange look, made up of surprise and some other feeling hardly defined. - -‘She is not all,’ broke in Wyndham again, vehemently. ‘There is you to -be considered, too. If this sleep of your making terminates fatally, -have you considered the consequences to yourself?’ - -The Professor smiled. He pointed to the girl, who stood marble-white -beneath the dull gaslight. - -‘Like her, I take the risk,’ he said. ‘I think I told you a little while -ago that I would chance the hanging.’ His smile—a very unpleasant -one—faded suddenly, and his manner grew brusque and arrogant. -‘There—enough,’ he said. ‘Stand aside, man. Do you think that now—now -when at last my hour has come—I am likely to let it slip, though death -itself lay before me?’ - -‘For God’s sake, Professor, think yet a moment!’ said the younger man, -holding him in his grasp. ‘She is young—so young!... To take a life like -that!’ - -‘I am going to take no life’—coldly. ‘I see now that you never had any -faith in me at all.’ - -‘I believe in you as no other man does,’ rejoined Wyndham hotly. ‘But -surely at this supreme moment a doubt may be allowed me. If this thing -were done openly in the eye of day, in sight of all men, it were well; -but to try so deadly an experiment here, at midnight—with no witnesses, -as it were—great heavens! you must see the pitfall you are laying for -yourself. If this experiment fails——’ - -‘It will not fail,’ said the Professor coldly. ‘In the meantime’—he cast -a scornful glance at him—‘if you are afraid of being called as a -witness, it is’—pointing to the door—‘still open to you to avoid such a -disagreeability.’ - -Their eyes met. - -‘I don’t think I have deserved that,’ said the other proudly, and all at -once in this queer hour both men felt that the tie that had bound them -for years was stronger than they knew. - -‘Stay, then,’ said the Professor. - -He went into an inner room and returned with a phial and glass, and -advanced towards the girl with an almost buoyant step. There was, -indeed, an exhilaration in his whole air, that amounted almost to -madness. He looked wild—spectral, indeed—in the dim light of the -solitary lamp, with his white hair thrown back and his eyes shining -fiercely beneath the rugged brows. - -‘Are you ready?’ he asked. - -She made a slight gesture of assent, and went a step or two to meet him. -She was deadly pale, but she stood without support of any kind. The -Professor poured some of the pale fluid from the phial into the glass -with a hand that never faltered, and the girl took it with a hand that -faltered quite as little; but before she could raise it to her lips, -Wyndham caught her arm. - -‘Stop!’ cried he, as if choking. ‘Have you thought—have you considered -that there is no certainty in this drug?’ Her eyes rested for a moment -on his. - -‘I thought there was a certainty,’ she said slowly. - -‘A certainty of death, perhaps,’ said he, poignant fear in his tone. ‘At -this last moment I appeal to you, for your own sake. Don’t take it. If -you do, it is doubtful whether you will ever come back to life again.’ - -She looked at him steadily. - -‘I hope there is no doubt,’ she said. She raised the glass and drank its -contents to the dregs. - -As she did so, some clock in the silent city outside struck the midnight -hour. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - ‘A land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death; - without any order, and where the light is as darkness.’ - - -Morning had broken through the sullen gloom of night, and still the two -men watched beside the couch on which the girl lay, seemingly, in all -the tranquillity of death. The Professor’s drug had been calculated to -keep her asleep for exactly six hours. So long a time would be a test. -If she lived, and woke at the right time, then he would try again. He -would make it worth her while. For the younger man, during this anxious -vigil, there had been passing lapses of memory, that he, however, would -have disdained to acknowledge as sleep; but with the old man there had -been no question of oblivion, and now, as the vital moment drew near -that should test the truth of the great discovery, even Wyndham grew -abnormally wide-awake, and with nervous heart-sinkings watched the pale, -death-like face of the girl. - -Could it be unreal? Wyndham rose once and bent over her. No faintest -breath came from her lips or nostrils; the whole face had taken the -pinched, ashen appearance of one who had lain for a full day dead. The -hands were waxen, and the forehead too. He shuddered and drew back. At -that moment he told himself that she was dead, and that he had -undoubtedly assisted at a form of murder. - -He turned to the Professor, who was sitting watch in hand, counting the -moments. He would have spoken, but the old man’s grim face forbade him. -He was waiting. At twelve o’clock the girl had sunk into a slumber so -profound, so representative of death, that Wyndham had uttered an -exclamation of despair, and had told himself she was indeed struck down -by the Destroyer, and now when six o’clock strikes she ought to rise -from her strange slumbers if the Professor’s drug possessed the powerful -properties attributed to it by its discoverer. - -As Wyndham stood watching the Professor, a sound smote upon his ear. -One! Again the city clock was tolling the hour. The Professor rose; his -face was ghastly. One, two, three, four, five, six! - -Six! The Professor bent down over the girl, and Wyndham went near to -him, to be ready to help him when the moment came—when the truth was -made clear to him that his discovery had failed. Wyndham himself had -long ago given up hope, but he feared for the old man, to whom his -discovery had been more than life or love for over twenty years. - -The Professor still stood peering into the calm face. Six, and no sign, -no change! - -Already the sun’s rays were beginning to peep sharply through the -window; there was a slight stir in the street below. Six-thirty, and -still the Professor stood gazing on the quiet figure, as motionless as -it. Seven o’clock, and still no movement. The face, now lovely in its -calm, was as marble, and the limbs lay rigid, the fingers lightly -locked. Death, death alone could look like that! - -Half-past seven! As the remorseless clock recorded the time, the -Professor suddenly threw up his arms. - -‘She is dead!’ he said. ‘Oh, my God!’ - -He reeled forward, and the young man caught him in his arms. He was -almost insensible, and was gasping for breath. Wyndham carried him into -an adjoining room and laid him on a bed, and, finding him cold, covered -him with blankets. This, so far as it went, was well enough for the -moment, but what was the next step to be? The old man lay gasping, and -evidently there was but a short step between his state and that of his -victim outside. Yet how to send for a doctor with that victim outside? -To the Professor, whose hours were numbered, it would mean little or -nothing; but to him, Wyndham, it would mean, if not death, eternal -disgrace. He drew a long breath and bent over the Professor, who was now -again sensible. - -‘Shall I send for Marks or Drewd?’ he asked, naming two of the leading -physicians in Dublin. - -The Professor grasped his arm; his face grew frightful. - -‘No one—no one!’ he gasped. ‘Are you mad? Do you think I would betray my -failure to the world? To have them laugh—deride——’ He fell back, gasping -still, but menacing the young man with his eye. By degrees the fury of -his glance relaxed, and he fell into a sort of slumber, always holding -Wyndham’s arm, however, as if fearing he should go. He seemed stronger, -and Wyndham knelt by the bed, wondering vaguely what was going to be the -end of it all, and whether it would be possible to remove the corpse -outside without detection. There was Denis—Denis was faithful, and could -be trusted. - -Presently the Professor roused from his fit of unconsciousness. He -looked up at the young man, and his expression was terrible. Despair in -its worse form disfigured his features. The dream of a life had been -extinguished. He tried to speak, but at first words failed him, then, -‘All the years—all the years!’ he mumbled. Wyndham understood, and his -heart bled. The old man had given the best years of his life to his -discovery, and now—— - -‘I have killed her!’ went on the Professor, after a minute or two. - -‘Science has killed her,’ said Wyndham. - -‘No; I, with my cursed pride of belief in myself—I have killed her,’ -persisted the old man. ‘I would to God it were not so!’ He did not -believe in anything but science, yet he appealed to the Creator -occasionally, as some moderns still do to Jove. His lean fingers beat -feebly on the blankets. ‘A failure—a failure,’ he kept muttering, his -eyes fixed on vacancy. ‘I go to my grave a failure! I set my soul on it. -I believed in it, and it was naught.’ He was rambling, but presently he -sprang into a sitting posture, his eyes afire once more. ‘I believe in -it still!’ he shouted. ‘Oh, for time, for life, to prove.... O God, if -there is a God, grant me a few more days!’ He fell into a violent fit of -shivering, and Wyndham gently laid him back in his bed, and covered him -again with the blankets, where he lay sullen, powerless. - -‘Try not to think,’ implored the young man. - -‘Think—think—what else is left to me? Oh, Paul!’ He stretched out his -arm and caught Wyndham. ‘That it should be a failure after all. I -wish——’ He paused, and then went on: ‘I wish I had not tried it upon -her; she was young. She was a pretty creature, too. She was like ... -someone——’ He broke off. - -‘She was a mere waif and stray,’ said Wyndham, trying to harden his -voice. - -‘She was no waif or stray of the sort you mean,’ said the Professor. -‘Her face—was not like that. There’—pointing to the room outside—‘go; -look on her for yourself, and read the truth of what I say.’ - -‘It is not necessary,’ said the young man, with a slight shudder. And -again a silence fell between them. It was again broken by the Professor. - -‘She was full of life,’ he said; ‘and I took it.’ - -‘She wished you to take it,’ said Wyndham, who felt choking. Her blood -seemed to lie heavily on him. Had he not seen, countenanced her murder? -The Professor did not seem to hear him; his head had fallen forward, and -he was muttering again. - -‘She is dead!’ he whispered to himself. He made a vague but tragic -gesture; and then, after a little while, ‘Dead!’ he said again. His head -had sunk upon his breast. It was a strange scene. Here the Professor -dying—out there the girl dead—and between them he, Paul Wyndham. What -lay before him? - -He roused himself with an effort from his horrible thoughts, and made a -faint effort to withdraw his hand from the Professor’s; but though the -latter had fallen into a doze, he still felt the attempt at withdrawal, -and tightened his clutch on Wyndham; and all at once it seemed to the -young man as though the years had rolled backward, and he was still the -pupil, and this old man his tutor, and the days were once more present -when he had been ordered here and there, and had taken his directions -from him, and loved and reverenced him, stern and repellent as he was, -as perhaps no tutor had ever been reverenced before. - -After a little while the Professor’s grasp relaxed, and Wyndham rose to -his feet. A shrinking from entering the room beyond was combated by a -wild desire to go there and look once again upon the slender form of the -girl lying in death’s sweet repose upon her couch. He went to the door, -hesitated involuntarily for a second or two, and then entered. - -How still is death! And how apart! Nothing can approach it or move it. -He looked at her long and earnestly, and all at once it came to him that -she was beautiful. He had not thought her beautiful last night, but now -the dignity of death had touched her, and her fear and her indifference -and her despair had dropped from her, and the face shone lovely—the -features chiselled, and a vague smile upon the small, closed lips. He -noticed one thing, and it struck him as strange—that pinched look about -the features that he had noticed an hour ago was gone now. The mouth was -soft, the rounded chin curved as if in life. Almost there seemed a -little bloom upon the pale, cold cheeks. - -With a heavy sigh he turned away, and, leaning his arm upon the -mantelshelf, gave himself up a prey to miserable thought. The fire had -died out long ago, and the morning was cold and raw, and from under the -ill-fitting door a little harsh wind was rushing. The Professor, though -actually a rich man, had never cared to change the undesirable house -that had sheltered him when first he tried a fall with fortune, and, -conquering it, came out at once to the front as a man not to be despised -in the world of science. - -What was to be done? The Professor would have to see a doctor, even if -the medical man were brought in without his knowledge. Would it be -possible to remove the—that girl—and trust to to-night for her removal -to——To where? Again he lost himself in a sea of agonized doubt and -uncertainty. - -Denis would still be here, of course; but what could Denis do? He fell -back upon all the old methods of concealing dead bodies he had ever -heard of, but everything seemed impossible. What fools all those others -must have been! Well, he could give himself up and explain matters; but -then the Professor—to have his great discovery derided and held up to -ridicule! The old man’s look, as he saw it a little while ago, seemed to -forbid his betrayal of his defeat. Great heavens! what was to be done? - -He drew himself up with a heavy sigh, and passed his hand across his -eyes, then turned to go back to the inner room to see if the Professor -was still sleeping. As he went he tried to avoid glancing at the couch -where the dead form lay, but when he got close, some force stronger than -his will compelled him to look at it. And as he looked he felt turned -into stone. He seemed frozen to the spot on which he stood; his eyes -refused to remove themselves from what they saw. Staring like one -benumbed, he told himself at last that he was going mad. How otherwise -could he see this thing? Sweat broke out on his forehead, and a cry -escaped him. The corpse was looking at him! - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - ‘Look, then, into thine heart and write!’ - - -Very intently, too, and as if surprised or trying to remember. Her large -eyes seemed singularly brilliant, and for a while the only thing living -about her. But all at once, as though memory had returned, she sprang to -her feet and stood, strong, and utterly without support, and questioned -him with those eyes silently but eloquently. The queerest thing about it -all to Wyndham was that, instead of being enfeebled by the strange -draught she had drunk, she looked younger, more vigorous, and altogether -another person from the forlorn, poor child of eight hours ago. Her eyes -were now like stars, her lips red and warm; the drug had, beyond doubt, -a property that even the Professor had never dreamt of; it gave not only -rest, but renewed health and life to those who drank it. - -Seeing Wyndham did not or could not speak, she did. - -‘I am alive—alive!’ she cried, with young and happy exultation. Where -was the desire for death that lay so heavily on her only a few hours -ago? It was all gone. Now it was plain that she desired life—life only. -Her voice rang through the room fresh and clear, filling it with music -of a hope renewed, and so penetrating that it even pierced into the room -beyond. And as it reached it, another cry broke forth—a cry this time -old and feeble. - -Wyndham rushed to answer it, taking with him his last memory of the -girl, as she then stood, with her arms thrown out as if in quick -delight, and her whole strange, beautiful face one ray of gladness. - -The Professor was sitting up in bed a mere wreck, but with expectation -on every feature. He was trembling visibly. - -‘That voice!’ he whispered wildly—‘that voice! I know it. Long years ago -I knew it. Boy, speak—tell me, whose voice was that?’ - -Wyndham knelt down beside him, and took his hand in his. He, too, was -trembling excessively, and his eyes were full of tears. - -‘Sir,’ he said softly, ‘she is alive.’ - -‘She—she—who?’ asked the Professor. He bent forward; his features were -working. - -‘That girl ... last night.... She lives, sir. Your experiment has not -failed, after all.’ - -He feared to look at the Professor when he had said this, and bent his -head, leaning his forehead on the wrinkled hand he held. It quivered -slightly beneath him, but not much, and presently the old man spoke. - -‘She lives?’ His voice was stronger now. Wyndham looked up, and found -the Professor looking almost his normal self, and with that expression -in his eyes that the young man knew as meaning a sharp calculation. - -‘Yes; I have spoken to her. Will you see her?’ - -‘No.’ The Professor silenced him by a gesture. He was evidently in the -midst of a quick calculation now. - -‘The hour she woke?’ he asked presently, with such a vigorous ring in -his tone that Wyndham rose to his feet astonished. - -‘Two minutes ago.’ - -‘Hah!’ The Professor went back to his calculations. Presently a shout -broke from him. ‘I see it now!’ he cried victoriously; ‘I see where the -mistake lay! Fool that I was not to have seen it before! It was a -miscalculation, but one easy to be rectified. An hour or two will do it. -Here, help me up, Paul.’ - -‘But, Professor, it is impossible; you must rest; you——’ - -‘Not another moment, not one, I tell you!’ cried the Professor -furiously. He lunged out of bed. ‘This thing must be seen to at once. -What time can any man be sure of, that he should waste it? The discovery -must be assured. And what time have I?’ - -He fell forward; he had fainted. Wyndham laid him back, and rushed -frantically into the next room. - -The girl was standing just where he had left her. But her arms were -outstretched no longer; they were better employed—they were doing up her -hair. - -There was a glass on a wall opposite to him, and by this she was trying -to bring herself back to as perfect a state of respectability as -circumstances permitted her. - -‘You must go,’ said Wyndham, ‘and at once. Do you hear—at once?’ - -And, indeed, it was imperative that she should be out of the house -before the arrival of the doctor, for whom he was now about to go. - -She rose. And suddenly gladness died from her face, her arms dropped to -her sides; something of the old misery, but not all, settled down on her -once more. - -‘I can go,’ she said. ‘I—I am not so afraid now, when it is day; but—he -said——’ - -Poor child! she had remembered the bargain of the night before. She had -not thought it worthy of thought then, believing Death indeed lay before -her when she drank that draught; but when she woke, when memory returned -to her (and it always came quickly after such a draught as that), she -had gladly told herself that now all her troubles were at an end, that -the old man would provide for her, protect her. And now this young man, -so forbidding, so unkind, with his harsh voice and ways; and yet last -night he had seemed so kind! - -‘He is dying!’ said Wyndham shortly. ‘A doctor must be summoned without -delay. I shall arrange for your going—for your safety; but you must be -quick.’ He rang the bell for Denis, who was waiting for him below. The -Professor’s only servant was a charwoman, who left nightly at ten, and -did not return till the same time next morning. - -‘You need provide for nothing,’ said the girl. She caught up the little -shawl that had been wrapped round her last night, and moved towards the -door. - -‘Stay a moment; you can’t go like this,’ said the young man -distractedly. ‘I have a servant who will take you to some place -of safety. It is impossible that you should go like this. -Why’—awkwardly—‘you haven’t even got a bonnet.’ - -She stopped and looked at him. - -‘It is not you who are responsible,’ she said. ‘And’—she drew her breath -quickly—‘after all, no one is. I took that drug of my own accord, of my -own will, but he did promise to—to—— But if he is dying?’ She looked at -him anxiously, making the last speech a question. - -‘I am afraid so.’ - -‘Then that is at an end.’ She went towards the door. - -‘Wait for my servant,’ entreated he, following her and laying a hand -upon her arm. ‘I cannot allow you to go like this.’ - -‘I don’t see what it is to you,’ said she. - -‘It is much—a great deal. For one thing, the Professor, if he recovers, -would never forgive me for letting you go out of his life without -reparation—without the fulfilment of his promise to you. He is indebted -to you, remember. It’—eagerly—‘was a bargain. And, after all, if you -throw off his responsibility now, where will you go? You say you have no -home—no——’ - -‘Nothing! nothing!’ she said. He could see her face pale again, and -again that dreadful look of despair, of hopelessness, that had crowned -her last night, aged and made miserable her face. - -He turned gladly from the sad contemplation of it to address Denis, who -had entered the room, his small twinkling eyes as bright as ever; but, -then, he had slept tranquilly the whole night through by a kitchen fire -that would have been hard to rival in heat and brilliancy. Amongst all -Denis’s many virtues, one stood out: he could always be depended on to -look after himself. And really that is a great thing in a faithful -servant; so many of them like to pose as martyrs in the cause. - -Wyndham led his servant a little aside. - -‘You see this——’ He hesitated for a word, and then said, ‘young lady; -you will take her away at once. There is not a moment to be lost. Get -her out of the house directly. I am going for a doctor. The Professor is -seriously ill. Do you understand? You are to lose no time. You must take -her away at once.’ - -Denis stared at him in the appallingly nonunderstanding way that -belongs, I believe, to Irish servants alone. It doesn’t mean that they -don’t understand; it only means that they are taking it all in, with a -cleverness that few other servants can show at a moment’s notice. - -‘An’ where, yer honour?’ - -‘Anywhere out of this!’ - -This struck him as abominably unfeeling, and he added hastily: ‘To the -safest place you know—the very safest. I depend upon you, Denis. Treat -her as you would your own daughter.’ - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - ‘For the shades are about us that hover - When darkness is half withdrawn, - And the skirts of the dead Night cover - The face of the live new Dawn.’ - - -The doctors when they came could do nothing for him. The Professor, -though hardly an old man as the ordinary acceptation of the word goes, -being still within the seventies, had so burnt out his candle at both -ends that all the science in Europe could not have kept him alive for -another twenty-four hours. A spice of gruesome mirth seemed to fall into -the situation when their declaration was laid bare and one thought of -the great discovery. - -Wyndham was the one who thought of it, and a wild longing to rouse the -old man, who was now sunk into an oblivion that presaged death, and -compel him even in his death-throes to reveal the secret that might -bring even him back to life, seized upon him. But he felt it was -impossible, and presently the two great men went downstairs to consult -each other, and he was left alone with his dying friend. - -They had hardly gone when, watching as he incessantly did the face of -the Professor, he noticed a change. He bent over him. - -‘Why doesn’t she speak now,’ said the Professor. He was thinking of the -girl’s voice—a voice that had taken him back to his early days in some -strange way. - -‘Master,’ said Wyndham—he, too, had gone back to the old days—‘you are -thinking——’ - -‘Of her. They said she was dead.’ - -‘Who was dead?’ asked Wyndham. - -At this the old man roused. He had not known Wyndham’s voice the first -time, but now he did, and he turned and looked at him; and presently -consciousness once more grew within his eyes. - -‘It is you, boy. And where is she?’ - -‘She? The girl, you mean?’ - -‘Yes.... I promised her. You remember.... It is late now, very late ... -and I must sleep. But ... a word, boy.... I have left you all, and -she ... out of it ... you must give her ... give her....’ He sank back. - -‘All—all,’ said Wyndham eagerly. - -‘No ... no’—he rallied wonderfully—‘three hundred a year—that for a -girl.... The rest is yours.... But see to her.... I can trust you. You -are a good boy. But your Greek, boy—your Greek is bad—your aorists are -weak. You must mend—you must mend....’ - -His dying eyes tried to take the old stern look as they rested on -Wyndham, the look he used to give the boy when his Greek or his Latin -verses were hardly up to the mark, but presently it changed and softened -into a wider light. ‘The boy,’ in the last of all moments, was forgotten -for the love that was strongest of all. - -‘She was very like my wife,’ he gasped faintly, and fell back and died. - - * * * * * - -It was all over. The doctors had taken their departure, and the old -dismal house was very still. The Professor had died in the morning, and -it was quite night again before Wyndham had time to think of ordinary -matters. It was the presence of Denis, who had come up to see, probably, -how his master had continued to live so long without him, that brought -back the thought of the girl to Wyndham’s mind. - -‘Where did you take her?’ he asked listlessly. Even as the words passed -his lips he knew it was most important that she should be found again. -She was now the inheritress of three hundred a year—no mean thing for a -girl who only last night was ready and willing to die of want, amongst -other things, no doubt. - -‘To the Cottage, sir.’ - -‘To——’ Wyndham gazed at him as if too astonished to give way to the -words that evidently lay very near to his tongue. - -‘The Cottage, sir. Yer own place, sir.’ - -‘The Cottage,’ repeated Wyndham, now breaking forth in earnest. ‘What -the devil did you take her there for?’ - -His extreme anger would have cowed perhaps any other servant in Europe -save Denis. That good man stood to his guns without a flinch. - -‘Fegs, sir, ’tis you can answer that,’ said he, with quite an -encouraging air. - -‘What d’ye mean, Denis?’ demanded Wyndham almost violently. - -‘I’m manin’—what I’m manin’,’ said Denis, who certainly was not violent -at all. ‘Ye know yourself, sir, that the first thing ye said to me about -the crathur was to take her to the safest place ye knew.’ - -‘Well?’ said Wyndham, with anger he tried hard to stifle. - -‘Faix, yer honour, it seemed to me that the safest place I knew for the -young lady was the house that belonged to yer honour.’ - -This no doubt was distinctly flattering, but at the moment the flattery -did not appeal to Wyndham. The girl down there—and what the deuce was he -to do with her? And what would all the people round be thinking?—for the -most part country folk. The Cottage lay twenty miles outside Dublin. The -Rector, Mr. Barry, would for one be positively enraged. He would require -all sorts of explanations. - -Denis had waited for a reply, but finding none, now went on: - -‘Anything wrong, sir?’ - -‘Anything!’ said Wyndham. ‘Were you mad that you should take a—a person -like that down to my house? A girl found lying on the Professor’s -doorstep! Good heavens, man! what could you mean by it?’ - -He exaggerated a little when he said ‘my house.’ As a fact, he lived -very little in the Cottage, only using it when he felt tired and -overdone by work. His real home was to be found in rooms in -Dublin—pleasant rooms in Upper Merrion Street. There he entertained his -bachelor friends, and was highly regarded by his landlady. He was one of -those men—more usual than the coming young lady believes—who thought a -great deal more of their work, and their reading, and their golf, than -of the opposite sex. - -‘Well, sir, there’s this,’ said Denis, who had remained beautifully -calm. ‘Besides tellin’ me I was to take her to a safe place, ye -specially said as she was to be thrated as me own daughter. I remimber -the words well. Now, ye know well, sir, havin’ bin intimate with me an’ -Bridget since ye wur in yer first throusers, that we haven’t a child -between us; an’ yet for all that I tuck it for manin’ that the young -lady was to be given to Bridget.’ - -‘You took a great deal upon yourself then,’ said Wyndham. - -‘Maybe so,’ said Denis, pursing up his lips. ‘But ye said as how she was -to be thrated like that; an’ if a girl was my daughter—why, I’d take her -to Bridget.’ - -It was impossible to go into this involved affair. Wyndham dismissed him -with a gesture; but Denis dallied at the door. - -‘I suppose there’s something wrong, sir?’ persisted he. - -‘Nothing,’ said Wyndham, putting a match to his cigar, ‘except that you -are the most infernal ass I ever met.’ - -With a heavy heart Wyndham, assisted by a physician of great note, had -gone through the Professor’s papers. There were few of them, and with -regard to the experiment only a few useless notes here and there, -principally written on the backs of envelopes. There was nothing -connected—nothing that could be used. The Professor, it seemed, had been -in the habit of writing on his brain, and on that only. Alas! there was -nothing left wherewith to carry on the great discovery. - -Wyndham abandoned his search with a sigh. There was no doubt now that -the wonderful experiment was lost to all time. With this sad ending of -it he told himself he had closed one chapter in his life, but he made a -mistake there; the chapter was only beginning. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - ‘In her is highe beauty without pride, - And youth withoute greenhood or folly. - To all her workes virtue is her guide. - Humbless hath slain in her all tyranny: - She is the mirror of all courtesy, - Her heart a very chamber of holiness, - Her hand minister of freedom for almess.’ - CHAUCER. - - -‘No!’ says Susan. The word is not a denial; it is merely an ejaculative -expression of the most extreme astonishment, largely mingled with -disbelief. - -The sun is glinting through the trees in the old orchard right down on -her head, striking a light from the glancing knitting-needles she has -now let fall into her lap. This old orchard is the happy hunting-ground -of the Barry children old and young—the place which they rush to in -their joyous moments, the place which they crawl to with their griefs -and woes. To-day neither joys nor griefs are near them, and it is out of -sheer love alone for its mossy old apple-trees and its sunlit corners -that Susan had tripped in here a while ago with a dilapidated old novel -tucked into her apron pocket, and the eternal sock with the heel half -turned between her pretty fingers. After her had straggled Betty, a -slender creature of sixteen, and Tom, the baby. Tom was five, but he was -always the baby, there having been no more babies after him, principally -because his mother died when he was born. And last of all came Bonnie, -the little cripple, hopping sadly on his crutches, until Susan saw him, -and ran back to him and caught him in her arms, and placed him beside -her on the warm soft grass, putting out her much-washed cotton skirt -that he might sit upon it, and so be protected from even an imaginary -damp, and had cuddled him up to her, to the many droppings of the -stitches of the long-suffering heel. - -Carew, who came between Betty and Susan, was away, fishing somewhere in -the Crosby river, and Jacky had not put in an appearance since -breakfast. How on earth his lessons are going to be prepared between -this—two o’clock—and five, makes Susan wonder anxiously. Why doesn’t he -come home? What can he be doing? - -She has hardly got further than this in her thoughts of the truant, when -suddenly he appears upon the scene, a very rosy, bright-eyed rascal, big -with news. Indeed, it was the coming of Jacky, and the astounding -revelation in his opening sentence—that he had sprung upon them in a -most unprincipled way, without a word of warning—that had drawn from -Susan that heavily emphasized ‘No!’ - -She speaks again now. - -‘I don’t believe it,’ she says. - -‘Oh, Susan, why not?’ asks Betty, who is sitting with her hands folded -behind her head, perhaps because if she brought them forward she might -find some knitting to do, too. Idle hands they are, only made for -mischief; so is the face to which they belong. - -‘Because it’s nonsense,’ says Susan, shrugging her shoulders, and -drawing Bonnie closer to her. ‘And, besides, I don’t want to believe -it.’ - -‘Oh, I do!’ says Betty, with a little grin from under her big sun-hat. -‘Go on, Jacky.’ - -‘I saw her, I saw her plain,’ says Jacky, his rosy round face fired with -joy at the thought of being for once the bearer of important news. ‘She -was walking about in the garden.’ - -‘In,’ from Susan, in a severe tone, ‘Mr. Wyndham’s garden?’ - -‘Yes, in there.’ Jacky now looks as though he is going to burst. ‘Why -don’t you believe me? I saw her, I tell you. I saw her quite plain. An’ -her hair is dark, a lot darker than yours, an she’s got a blue frock -like your Sunday one, only better.’ - -Susan interrupts him with dignity. - -‘I don’t see how Mrs. Denis’s——’ Denis’s wife was always called Mrs. -Denis; if she had any other name, it was sunk beneath insuperable -barriers. Mr. and Mrs. Denis she and her husband had been since the -priest poured his blessing down upon them and made them one in the old -chapel built on the rock at the end of the village. This rock gave the -parish priest a distinct crow over the Protestant clergyman. - -‘Ye would quote me the Scriptures, would ye?’ Father McFane would call -to Mr. Barry as the latter drove by the chapel in his Norwegian on his -way to the church beyond. ‘An’ what did St. Paul say? “Like a house -founded upon a rock.” Why, here’s the rock, man. Come in! come in! where -are ye going?’ - -It occurred every Sunday, and Mr. Barry would smile back at Father -McFane, and nod his head, for the two, indeed, were great friends, as -the Protestants and Roman Catholics often are in small places, until -someone comes in to them with wild news and absurd tidings from -incendiaries outside to upset the loving work of years. - -‘I don’t see how Mrs. Denis’s niece or cousin, or whatever she is, -should have a better gown than mine,’ says she. - -‘But she isn’t Mrs. Denis’s cousin, she’s too young,’ says Jacky. ‘She’s -a girl, and she was pulling the flowers like anything, and if she -belonged to Mrs. Denis she wouldn’t be let do that.’ - -Jacky’s English is always horrible. - -‘Oh, you’ve dreamt the whole thing!’ says Susan contemptuously. ‘Run -away and play.’ She has forgotten about the lessons. - -‘Oh, you are a marplot! I am going to believe in Jacky for once in my -life. Don’t go, Jacky! Jacky, come back! If you don’t, Aunt Jemima will -make you do your lessons.’ - -This has a magical effect. Jacky swerves round. - -‘She is there,’ says he indignantly. ‘I did see her.’ He seems to dwell -on this fact with gusto. ‘An’ she’s not Mrs. Denis’s niece. An’ old -Meany down by the mill says she’s been there for four weeks.’ - -‘The plot is thickening,’ says Betty lazily. ‘’Tis a clever villain, -whoever she is; fancy her being here for four weeks without the very -size of her shoes being known throughout the length and breadth of -Curraghcloyne! Four days ought to have done it. Go on, Jacky! Had she a -cloven foot by any chance?’ - -‘No; but’—and Jacky’s eyes widen, and he seems to swell—‘Meany says -she’s a prisoner.’ - -‘A what?’ - -‘Yes, a real prisoner. She’s not let go out of the place. Mrs. Denis -never opens the front-gate now, but comes out by the little green one we -can see from the hall-door, an’ even that’s locked when she comes out -an’ goes back again, Meany says.’ - -‘Mrs. Denis very seldom comes out by any other,’ says Susan. - -‘But she doesn’t always lock it behind her,’ puts in Betty, who is -evidently beginning to enjoy herself. - -‘Now she locks the front-gate too,’ says Jacky triumphantly. - -‘It’s perfectly thrilling,’ declares Betty, sitting up and growing -openly interested. Betty is frivolous. ‘A prisoner, and a young girl. -Can she be the long-lost princess of our infancy? And imprisoned by Mr. -Wyndham! Oh, the terrible man!’ - -‘She is of course a friend of Mrs. Denis’s,’ says Susan, with the grand -air of one who will have the truth at any price, and who is bent on -dismissing all theories save the practical one. ‘It’s the most natural -thing in the world. We all know Mr. Wyndham told her he wouldn’t come -down for a month or two, and so she is entertaining a niece or a cousin, -or something.’ - -‘She isn’t a niece of Mrs. Denis’s, any way,’ persists Jacky -obstinately; ‘she’—with a hopeful, yet doubtful glance at Betty, whose -latest idea has struck him—‘she is much more like a—a princess.’ Again -he looks at Betty, as if expecting her to bring him through this -difficulty of her own making; but Betty fails him, as she fails most -people. - -‘After all, I dismiss the romantic element,’ says she, nursing her knees -and swaying herself indolently to and fro in the warm sunshine. ‘I -incline now towards the supernatural. Susan,’ addressing her elder -sister with due solemnity, ‘perhaps she is a ghost.’ Her face thus -uplifted is sufficiently like Susan’s to let all the world know they are -of kin; but Betty’s face, piquante, provocative, as it is, lacks the -charm of Susan’s. Betty is pretty, nay, perhaps something more, for the -Barrys are a handsome race; but Susan—Susan is lovely. It is useless -saying her nose is not pure Greek, that her mouth wants this or that, -that her forehead is a trifle too low. Susan, when all is said, when -long argument has been used, remains what she was before—lovely. The -smiling, earnest lips, the liquid eyes, the rippling, sunny hair—all -these might be another girl’s, but yet that other girl would not be -Susan. Oh, beauteous Susan! with your youthful, starry eyes and tender, -mirthful, timid air, I would that a brush, and not a pen, might paint -you! - -‘A ghost! Nonsense,’ says she, now contemptuously. -‘But’—thoughtfully—‘what a queer story!’ And again, with a wrathful -glance at Jacky: ‘After all, I don’t believe a word of it.’ - -‘Oh, I do! I want to,’ says Betty, who revels in sensations. ‘And the -ghost development is beautiful. I’d rather see a ghost than anything. As -you looked, Jacky, did she vanish into thin air?’ - -‘No; only round the corner,’ says Jacky reluctantly. He would evidently -have liked the vanishing trick. - -‘Very disappointing! But perhaps that’s her way of doing it. Corners are -always so convenient.’ - -‘If the gates are all locked,’ says Susan, turning suddenly a -magisterial eye upon her brother, ‘may I ask how you saw her?’ - -‘Ah, that’s part of it! That,’ says Betty, ‘is where the fire and -brimstone come in. That’s what makes her a ghost. It isn’t everybody can -see through stone walls,’ says she, lowering her voice mysteriously, and -glancing at the staring Jacky. ‘She had evidently the power to turn Mrs. -Denis’s walls into glass! It’s very unlucky, Jacky, for ghosts to fall -in love with people, and I’m sorry to say I think this one has developed -a mad fancy for you.’ - -‘She hasn’t!’ says Jacky, who is now extremely pale. - -‘Circumstances point to it,’ says Betty, who is nothing if not a tease. -‘And when ghosts fall in love, they do dreadful things to people. Things -like this!’ She has risen, and is now advancing on the stricken Jacky -with her slender arms uplifted, and long fingers pointed downwards and -arranged like claws. She has taken to a sort of prance, a high-stepping -walk that brings her knees upwards and her toes outward, and she has -worked her face out of all recognition in an abominable grin. All this -taken together proves too much for Jacky, who, his face now visibly -paler, descends precipitately upon Susan. - -Susan has been seeing to the comfort of her little Bonnie, and has -therefore been ignorant of Betty’s flight of fancy until the moment when -Jacky stumbles somewhat heavily against her, and looking up, she sees -Betty’s diabolical pose. - -‘Betty, don’t!’ says she, glancing back to Jacky’s face, which is, -indeed, a mixture of pluck and abject terror. - -‘Would you not warn him, then?’ says Betty reproachfully, returning, -however, to her ordinary appearance, and making an aside at Bonnie, a -pretence at shooting him with her first finger and thumb, that sends the -delicate little creature into fits of laughter. ‘Poor old Jacky!’ -returning to the charge. ‘It isn’t for nothing that ghosts reveal -themselves. It is easy to see that this one has her eye on you!’ - -‘She hasn’t,’ says Jacky again, who is on the point of tears. He is -evidently not partial to ghosts. ‘And it wasn’t through a glass wall I -saw her—it was——’ He stops dead short. - -‘Yes?’ says Susan, still severely. ‘Do be quiet, Betty, and let him -speak. It was——’ - -‘Through the hole in the wall near the garden,’ confesses Jacky -doggedly, but somewhat shamefacedly. - -‘You see, it was through the wall, after all!’ says Betty, breaking into -a delighted laugh. ‘She’ll get you, Jacky—she’ll get you yet.’ - -‘I don’t think it is a very nice thing to peep through other people’s -walls into their grounds,’ says Susan, more from the point of view that -she is the eldest sister, and bound to say a word in season now and -then, than from any feeling of horror at the act. All boys peep through -holes in walls, when lucky enough to find them. ‘How would you like it,’ -says she, ‘if you were found doing it?’ - -‘But I wasn’t found,’ retorts Jacky sulkily. - -‘Susan,’ Betty breaks into the argument with a vivacity all her own, -‘you have no more morality than a cat. You are teaching him all wrong. -It isn’t the not being found out, Jacky, that is of importance, as Susan -is most erroneously bent on impressing upon you; it is the fact of -peeping in itself that makes you the’—shaking her finger at -him—‘miserable sinner that you are!’ - -‘Sinner yourself!’ says Jacky, now driven to desperation and the most -unreserved impertinence. ‘I often saw you look through the hole in the -wall yourself.’ - -At this, instead of being annoyed, both Susan and Betty give way to -inextinguishable mirth; whereupon Jacky, who had, perhaps, hoped that -his shot would take effect, prepares once more to march away. But Betty, -making a sudden grab at him, catches him by his trousers. - -‘Wait awhile,’ cries she, still shaking with laughter. ‘Susan, seize his -arm. Tell us the rest of it. Was she——’ - -‘I won’t tell you anything; and I’m sorry I told you a word at all. Let -me go, Betty. D’ye hear? You are tearing my breeches.’ - -‘And you are tearing our hearts,’ says Betty, ‘Jacky darling. Go on; -don’t be a cross cat, now. Was she——’ - -‘Twice as pretty as you, any way,’ says Jacky, with virulence. - -‘Is that all? Poor girl! says Betty, who is very hard to beat. ‘Prettier -than Susan?’ - -‘Yes, lots.’ - -‘She must be a real princess, then, and no ghost. I’d like to leave a -card upon her. Perhaps you would kindly push it through the hole in the -wall, Jacky.’ - -This is adding to the insult, and Jacky, with the loss of a button or -two, and serious injury to his suspenders, breaks away. - -‘There now!’ says he, beginning to cry. ‘Look what you’ve done; and no -one to mend it; and Aunt Maria will be angry, and father will give me -twenty lines——’ Sobs check his utterance. - -Susan rises hurriedly, and, with a whispered word to Bonnie, she passes -him on to Betty, who, in spite of her carelessness, receives the little -fragile creature with loving arms, hugging him to her, and beginning to -ransack her memory for a story to tell him, such as his soul loveth; -then Susan, slipping her arm round Jacky’s shoulder, whispers soft -comforts to him. He shall come in now and do his lessons with her, so -that father shall not be vexed this evening, and after dinner (the -Rector’s family dined at two, and had high tea at seven) she would take -him with her up to Crosby Park. - -Jacky’s recovery is swift; his sobs cease, and he graciously allows -himself to be kissed. To go to Crosby Park is always a joy—the big, -huge, handsome place, with its long gardens and glass houses, and, best -of all, its absentee landlord. - -It is, indeed, quite ten years since George Crosby has been at the Park, -and in all probability ten more years are likely to elapse before he -comes again. The last accounts of him were from Africa, where he had had -a most unpleasantly near interview with a lion, but had got off with a -whole skin and another not quite so whole: the lion had come to grief. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - ‘Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must also - be evil.’ - - -It is three o’clock as Susan, with Jacky in tow, leaves the Rectory gate -and goes up the village towards the broad road beyond that mounts -steepwards to Crosby Park. Curraghcloyne possesses but one street, and a -very small one, too; but as a set-off to that it teems with interest. - -This morning a pig-fair was held in the ‘fair-field,’ a square mass of -beaten earth, anything but ‘fair,’ and as unlike a field as possible; -and now that the ‘payers of the rint’ have been mercifully removed, -bought, or sold, the unsightly patch is covered by young colts, that are -being ridden up and down by their owners, with a view to showing them -off; whilst in the far part of the field, over there, cows, sheep, and -donkeys are changing owners. - -Here, in the main street, much lively conversation is going on. On the -right, Salter, the hardware man—a virulent Methodist, who calls himself -a Protestant—is retailing to a hushed and delighted group the very -latest ritualistic news of the curate just lately imported, and who, if -a most estimable man, is undoubtedly abominably ugly. Short and stout -and ill-made, poor Mr. Haldane has not proved a success amongst the -Protestants of the parish. His views are extreme, and so are his looks, -and, as Betty most unkindly put it, he should, on his ordination, have -been at once despatched by the Bishop of the diocese as a missionary to -the Cannibal Islands, with a view to getting rid of him as quickly as -possible. He is a sore trial to Mr. Barry, the Rector of the parish, and -Susan’s father. But he had to replace the last curate in a hurry, that -young man having resigned his charge at a moment’s notice, because the -Rector would not give his sanction to having matins at six a.m., he -said; but in reality because Susan had, the evening before, rejected him -with a haste that deprived him of all hope. - -Just now the excitement amongst the groups at Salter’s is growing -intense. The curate had been knocked down. No! But he had fallen—and so -on, and so on. A few shops lower down comes Mr. Murphy, the -undertaker’s. He, too, as indeed do all the shopkeepers in -Curraghcloyne, stands in the front of his shop-door, chatting to all who -come and go. A little, fat, jolly man, rather useless you would think in -a solemn business like his, and yet the best undertaker, for all that, -in the seven parishes round. Perhaps it is well to have a cheerful -person of that sort to dispel the dreadful gloom of death. However it -is, he is a universal favourite, and no wonder, when I tell you he is -the man in all Curraghcloyne who can tell you most about the babies!—the -ones come, the ones to come immediately, and those in the middle -distance! The gayest, happiest little man in the town, with a wife as -rosy as himself, and quite a crowd of embryo little undertakers swarming -round his knees. But these, and many more of the Curraghcloyne -celebrities, sink into insignificance before Ricketty, the proprietor of -the Crosby Arms Hotel. This name is painted on a swinging signboard, -with a huge boar beneath, the crest of the Crosbys from all time. - -Ricketty—his name was once Richards, but time and many devoted -friendships has brought it down to Ricketty—is a huge benign Irishman, -with the biggest jaw in Europe and the smallest eyes. To his bones flesh -has grown, until now he might have exhibited himself in the most -fastidious show in New York as the ‘Last of the race of Anak,’ or some -such attractive title. - -And as most big men are, so is he—the mildest-mannered man on earth; who -would have run away if he had been asked to scuttle a ship, and who -would have fainted if the idea of cutting the throat even of a mouse had -been suggested to him. One side of his hotel has the usual bar blind up -in it, behind which is a parlour, where on special occasions the -politicians congregate to air their eloquence. The other side is given -up to a fancy shop, kept by his sister, Miss Ricketty. - -Miss Ricketty is the wit, and therefore the scourge, of the village -(very little wit suffices for a village such as Curraghcloyne), and -though nearly stone-deaf, knows more of the ‘goings on’ of her -neighbours than anyone else in the small town. - -Of course there is a bank and a post-office in Curraghcloyne. And a -town-hall, where the future tenors and sopranos of the world sometimes -‘kindly consent’ to sing to the poor people round them. And there is the -draper’s shop called ‘The Emporium,’ very justly, of course; and there -is a market-place too, where everyone says the beef and mutton are both -bad and dear. But even the interest of all these fails before the -caustic tongue of Miss Ricketty. - -Just as Susan reaches the window of the hotel that holds Miss Ricketty’s -show of notepaper, ballads, bull’s-eyes, woollen mufflers, the latest -thing in veils ten years old, and the flotsam and jetsam of various -seasons past, she finds herself face to face with Wyndham. - -‘You have come back!’ says she involuntarily. She is glad to see him. He -is—well, scarcely an old friend, because the distances between his -comings and goings to the Cottage make such broad margins on the leaf of -time that he has hardly come into quite close contact with the family at -the Rectory. But they have known him for a long time, and they have -liked him, and there is a good deal of soft, pleasurable welcome in the -glance that Susan gives him. He has been away now, she tells herself, -quite two months. - -‘Yes,’ says Wyndham, smiling. His smile is a little preoccupied, -however. ‘And how are you, Jacky? My goodness, how we are grown! You’ll -be as big as Ricketty presently if you don’t put a weight on your head.’ - -Jacky sniggles, but, like Wyndham’s smile, his sniggles are a little -preoccupied. Having shaken hands with the latter, he retires behind -Susan, and wonders if Wyndham is going up to the Cottage, and if he is, -will the ghost catch him? He rather hopes it. It would leave -him—Jacky—free, any way, and Mr. Wyndham is a big man and would be a -better match for her. - -Susan, too, is thinking of the ghost. As Wyndham is facing now, the -Cottage lies before him. Is he going to see the mysterious ‘prisoner’? -Perhaps he is married to her! This seems delightful—like an old romance, -so much nicer than the commonplace marriages of to-day. She scans -Wyndham’s face swiftly with a view to saying something nice and kind to -him, if she sees anything there to help her to believe in this -sentimental marriage. But evidently she sees nothing, because she says -nothing. After all, she tells herself, it is of course a secret. - -‘I hope you will come in and see father,’ she says presently, when she -and Wyndham have discussed the town and its inhabitants, and she has -told him all the news. He is in the habit of sleeping at the Cottage -whenever he does come down, and in the habit, too, of spending his -evenings at the Rectory, which is only just over the way from the -Cottage. - -‘Not to-night, I’m afraid,’ says Wyndham. ‘I must go back to town by the -evening train.’ - -A slight frown gathers on his brow, but he dismisses it as he bids her -good-bye. - -‘Remember me to him,’ he says quickly, absently. He pinches Jacky’s ear, -and is gone. - -Susan, who has been inveigled into a promise concerning bull’s-eyes, is -now led triumphantly into Miss Ricketty’s shop, where that spinster is -discovered in an Old English attitude, her body being screwed out of all -shape in her endeavour to catch sight of someone going down the street. -Her window is quite blocked up by her shoulders, and her deafness -prevents her from knowing of Susan’s coming until Jacky, falling over -her left leg, which is sticking out behind in mid air, brings her back -to the perpendicular and a view of Susan. - -She is a small woman, thin to a fault, and shrewd-visaged, with a -quizzical eye and a bonnet. The latter is of the historic coal-scuttle -shape, and must have been a most admirable purchase when -bought—‘warranted to wear,’ in the truest sense of the word, as it has -lasted without a break for at least fifty years. As no one in -Curraghcloyne ever saw her ‘outside of it,’ and as she is popularly -supposed to sleep in it, it may safely be regarded as a sound article; -even her worst enemy had once been heard to say that, ‘no matther how -great an ould fool she was wid her tongue,’ she had made no mistake -about ‘the bonnet.’ - -‘An’ is that you, Miss Susan, me dear?’ says she, when Jacky has picked -himself up, and she has ceased to rub her ankle. ‘Ye’re as welcome as -the flowers in May, though divil a flower we had this year, wid the rain -an’ all. Ye’re not in a hurry, miss, are ye, now? Ye can spare a minute -to the ould maid? Come in, then.’ - -She opens the little gate that hinges on to her little counter, and -draws Susan inside, to her ‘parlour,’ as she calls the tiny space -within—a cosy spot in truth, where in the winter a fire burns briskly, -and with a wall lined with bottles that make glad the souls of children. -To Susan Barry the old maid has given all the heart that remains from -her worship of her giant brother. Perhaps it is the almost childish -sweetness of her manner that has won the old maid’s heart, or else the -young unconscious beauty of her—beauty being dear to the Irish heart. -However it is, she has a warm corner in Miss Ricketty’s. - -‘An’ how’s your good aunt?’ says the spinster, adjusting the bonnet with -one hand, whilst with the other she pulls out from under the counter a -huge ear-trumpet, half a yard long, and big enough at the speaking end -to engulf Susan’s small and shapely head. ‘She’s been expectin’ that -clutch o’ eggs I promised her, no doubt; but them hens o’ mine might as -well be cocks for all the eggs we get out of them.’ - -‘Aunt Jemima knows that eggs are scarce now,’ cries Susan, softly, into -the gulf. - -‘Scarce! ’Tis nothin’ them ungrateful hens is doin’ for us now, an’ we -who coddled ’em up all the winther. The saints forgive thim! Miss -Susan’—leaning towards the girl, and speaking with the suppressed -emotion of the born gossip—‘was that Misther Wyndham as wint up the -street just now?’ - -‘Yes,’ says Susan. ‘I was talking to him just before I came in here.’ - -‘No! Blessed Vargin!’ says Miss Ricketty, recoiling; she had, of course, -been the first to hear of the mysterious stranger at the Cottage, and -had, indeed, told the news to her brother, under promise of secrecy, -that she knew he would not keep. Nor did she want him to keep it. How -can you gossip unless you have someone to gossip with? That is why -people spread scandals. - -‘And what was he saying?’ asks she presently, when she has produced a -little box of figs and given them to Jacky, with a view to keeping him -quiet until she has got the last word of news out of Susan. - -‘Nothing, I think,’ says Susan, running over mentally her late -conversation with Wyndham. ‘He won’t have time to see father to-night, -because he is going back to town by the evening train.’ - -‘Is that what he says?’ Miss Ricketty gives her bonnet a push. ‘Faith, -he’s full of smartness. An’ did he tell ye nothin’ at all?’ - -‘Oh, it was I who told him everything,’ says Susan. ‘He wanted to know -how the new curate was going on, for one thing, and——’ - -‘If ’twas Misther Haldane he was askin’ afther so kindly, I could a’ -tould him somethin’,’ says Miss Ricketty. ‘But never mind him! What else -was Misther Wyndham sayin’?’ - -‘There was not time to say anything,’ says Susan, laughing. ‘He was in a -hurry, and so was I—at least, Jacky was; he wants you to give him two -pennyworth of bull’s-eyes. Though, really, after those figs——’ - -‘Miss Susan’—the old maid puts Susan’s last remark aside with an -eloquent gesture—‘have ye heard anything sthrange about the Cottage -lately?’ - -Susan starts, and Jacky comes to a dead set, the last fig between his -finger and thumb. Jacky must be far gone indeed when, having anything -edible between his fingers, he delays about putting it between his lips. - -‘Ye have, I see,’ says Miss Ricketty. ‘I’m tould, me dear,’ looking -behind her, and beside her, and to the door, and now, for even better -security, putting up her opened palm to one side of her mouth, ‘that -there’s a young—a’—she hesitates as if to choose a word, then comes to a -safe conclusion—‘a faymale there,’ she says. - -‘There’s a girl there, I think,’ says Susan nervously. ‘At least’—here -Jacky looks at her appealingly, and she changes her sentence—‘someone -says there is. A niece, or a friend of Mrs. Denis’s, I suppose.’ - -‘Arrah! Suppose!’ says Miss Ricketty with considerable eloquence, but -without committing herself. - -‘Well, if not that,’ says Susan, who is full of her late romantic idea -about a secret marriage between the unknown and Wyndham, -‘perhaps—perhaps Mr. Wyndham knows something about her.’ - -Miss Ricketty turns sharply, and looks at her. But the girl’s lovely, -open, tranquil face betrays nothing but a soft enthusiasm. A sense of -amusement fills Miss Ricketty’s breast. - -‘Fegs, I’m thinkin’ ye’re on the right thrack,’ says she evenly. - -‘You won’t say it again, Miss Ricketty, will you?’ says Susan; ‘but I -have thought—at least, it has occurred to me—that perhaps she’s Mr. -Wyndham’s wife.’ - -This is a little too much for Miss Ricketty. She gives way suddenly to a -fit of coughing, and, turning her back to Susan, dives under the -counter, whether to recover from a very proper confusion, or to indulge -in very improper laughter, can now, alas! never be known. When she -emerges, however, her face is a fine crimson. - -‘That would be very romantic, wouldn’t it?’ says Susan, looking at her -and speaking softly, yet with a pretty delight. ‘A marriage like that, -with nobody knowing anything except they two, you know; and I feel sure -she is lovely, and Mr. Wyndham is very nice-looking too, and after -awhile perhaps we shall know her. He will introduce us to her, and we -shall be friends, and——’ - -‘’Tis a beautiful story,’ says Miss Ricketty, breaking in with unction. -‘An’ beautiful stories, we all know, come thrue. I wish ye joy o’ the -bride at the Cottage, Miss Susan; but I wouldn’t be for intherferin’ wid -the young married people too soon if I were you, me dear.’ - -‘Of course, I shouldn’t do that,’ says Susan hastily, her fair face -growing earnest. ‘But I thought that if——’ - -‘Well, ye’d betther wait, I think,’ says Miss Ricketty. ‘’Tis bad bein’ -in a hurry, as Misther Haldane found out last night.’ - -‘Mr. Haldane! What has happened to him?’ - -‘Fegs, miss, it seems that last night, as he was descendin’ the steps -from the vesthry, he thripped, God help us! an’ fell on his ugly mug an’ -broke his front teeth.’ - -‘Oh, how dreadful!’ says Susan, real compassion in her tone, though the -new curate is rather farther beyond the range of her sympathy than even -the old. ‘I wonder father hasn’t heard of it.’ - -‘It seems the poor gintleman is keeping it dark,’ says Miss Ricketty, -‘wid the thought of gettin’ thim put in agin widout anyone knowin’. -But’—wrathfully—‘’twill be no use for him. I see that villain of a -Salter down there’—with a glance out of the window—‘tellin’ every wan of -it. Why, ye must have seen him yerself, miss, as ye come by.’ And -suddenly Susan does remember the crowd round Salter’s shop-door, with -Salter himself in its midst. ‘He’s got hould of it, for sure, and if he -has ’twill be short shrift for Misther Haldane.’ - -‘But why?’ asks Susan. - -‘Why, this, miss! He hates your clergy because he’s not in wid ye, like. -A Methody he is; an’ Mr. Haldane goes agin his grain, wid the candles -an’ the flowers an’ that, an’ he says how that Mr. Haldane had a dhrop -too much last night when he thripped on the vesthry stairs.’ - -‘What a shame!’ says Susan indignantly. ‘I know for a fact that Mr. -Haldane is——’ - -‘Yes, of course, miss. But that’s how thim Methodys does. An’ as for -that Salter himself, I don’t believe in him. ’Tis a power o’ whisky he -can get undher his own belt widout bein’ found out, until his timper is -up. I know for a fact that ’twas only a week ago that he bate his poor -wife until she let a screech out of her that would have waked Father -D’Arcy himself, only that the seven sleepers aren’t a patch on him.’ - -It appears she cannot even spare her parish priest! Susan, who has -risen, and who is now dragging Jacky from under the counter, where he -has been in hot pursuit of a kitten, bids her old friend good-bye for -the present. - -‘You’ll tell Miss Barry about the clutch,’ says the spinster; and ‘Yes!’ -shouts Susan into the terminus, a little louder than usual, perhaps, -because Miss Ricketty lifts up her hand and shakes it at her -reproachfully. - -‘Wan would think I was deaf,’ says she tragically, whereupon both she -and Susan laugh together. The girl’s happy mirth—seen if not -heard—delights the old maid behind the counter. - -‘Good-bye, me dear, an’ God bless you!’ says she, and, disdaining to -even see Susan’s pennies, she thrusts a big parcel of sweets into -Jacky’s small hands. - -‘Keep a few for Masther Bonnie,’ whispers she, as she kisses him and -sends him after his sister. - -At the door, however, Susan turns back, and once more calls down the -trumpet: - -‘You will contradict that thing about Mr. Haldane, won’t you?’ says she; -‘surely it is bad enough that he should have lost his front teeth, -without having scandalous stories spread about him. Besides, they will -make father very unhappy.’ - -‘I’ll look afther him,’ says Miss Ricketty, ‘if only to oblige ye, me -dear; though, I think, I’m not wantin’. Providence seems to have his eye -on that young man.’ - -‘Oh, poor man! I’m afraid not,’ says Susan; ‘he was ugly enough before, -and now his front teeth are gone!’ - -‘That’s it,’ says Miss Ricketty; ‘whin next ye look at him, ye’ll see -what a fine openin’ the Lord has made for him.’ - -The last vision Susan has of Miss Ricketty shows her leaning back in her -chair, with her apron over her bonnet, convulsed with joy at her own -wit. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - ‘Nature often enshrines gallant and noble hearts in weak - bosoms—oftenest, God bless her! in female breasts.’ - - -Quite close to the gardens Susan meets one of the under-gardeners at -Crosby Park. - -‘I suppose Master Jacky and I can go in and see the gardens, Brown?’ - -‘Oh yes, miss, o’ course. But I’m afraid there’s no one there. As it -happens, no one’s working there to-day. ’Tis a holiday, you know, miss. -An’ the gates are locked.’ - -It happens, indeed, to be a saint’s day, or holiday—one of the -innumerable saints’ days that are held sacred in Ireland, and on which -no man will work, if he is a Roman Catholic labourer, though the loss of -the day’s hire is a severe strain upon his slender resources. And the -funny part of this arrangement is that, though they are too religious to -support their families by working on these days, they never know what -saint’s day it is, or anything in the world about him—or her. - -‘Oh!’ says Susan; she had forgotten about its being a holiday, though -both the maids had gone to chapel in the morning, leaving her and Betty -to make up the many beds. Her tone is so disappointed that Brown drags -out a key from his trousers pocket. - -‘If ye’ll take this, miss, ye can let yoself in, an’ ye can lave it at -the lodge wid Mrs. Donovan whin ye’re goin’ back.’ - -‘Oh, thank you, Brown!’ says Susan joyfully; and diving into her pocket, -she produces twopence (it is quite a sum for Susan, whose pennies are -very scarce), and gives it to him, an instinct born with her—a sort of -pride—compelling her to reward the underling. And yet she had refused to -give Tommy—the baby, the youngest of all, and the dearest to her of the -children after Bonnie—a halfpenny out of that twopence only this -morning. - -‘Thank you, miss,’ says Brown, with considerably more gratitude than he -would have shown another if she had given him half a crown, and Susan, -who had paid for the key quite as much for her own sake as for Jacky’s, -goes on her way rejoicing. - -Yes, the gate is locked. Susan, having unlocked it, carefully removes -the key, locks it on the other side, and goes down the broad, beautiful, -scented path with Jacky beside her. Some of the houses are near, but not -so worthy of notice as those that come after, and through these they -hurry to the great glass ones beyond—where the roses are all a-growing, -all a-blowing, in magnificent profusion—that are always kept up in a -very perfect state, though the master of them be in the Soudan or North -America, or among the highest peaks of the Andes. - -Between these two sets of houses runs a wall, now laden with -cherry-trees in full fruit, and as Susan and her brother emerge from the -seedling-house into the freer air, she catches sight of something that -brings her to a standstill. - -Against the wall where the cherries are growing stands a ladder, and on -the top of it—a man. - -Now, Susan knows all the gardeners at Crosby Park, and even those -beneath them, and certainly this man is not one of them. - -She turns and retreats on Jacky, who is just behind her, and for a -moment fear covers her. She has never been brought face to face with a -thief before—few girls have been—and a desire to fly is the thought -uppermost in her breast. She glances upward fearfully to the figure on -the top of the wall, who is hastily pulling off the cherries and -dropping them into the basket he has slung on to the top of the ladder. -She draws her breath quickly. Could anything be more premeditated—could -anything show more plainly what a determined rogue he is? And to-day of -all days! A holiday, when, of course, he knew that all the gardeners -would be away, and the place safe to him! No doubt he had climbed the -outside wall—thieves can do anything—and had found the ladder inside -with which to rob poor Mr. Crosby, who is now goodness knows how many -miles away. - -Susan stands rooted to the ground, not knowing whether to stay or fly. -Old stories of heroines return to her, and it seems to her that it would -be base to steal away now and say nothing; even if she happened to gain -the walk outside, it is doubtful whether she should meet any servant, -this being a saint’s day; and if she did, would he be willing to tackle -a real live thief single-handed? As she hesitates, she again looks at -the man, and notices that he is glancing from right to left, hesitating, -as if either uneasy or else with a view to choosing the best fruit. Both -ideas anger her, but the second more than the first. Uneasy? of course -he is! And no wonder, too! A thief must necessarily be uneasy. And to -attempt to steal here, in this lovely secluded place! - -The owner of Crosby Park has been so long away that Susan has almost -adopted his place as her own. Many years ago Mr. Crosby, who had been a -pupil of Mr. Barry’s, had given directions that every member of the -Barry family should have free right to his grounds, and Susan, once come -to years of discretion—not so long ago—has taken great advantage of this -kindly permission. It is so near to the Vicarage, and so lovely! All its -walks and pretty windings are so well known to her. They have been much -to her, indeed, during all these years, though so little to the actual -possessor of them, who has evidently found more pleasure in shooting -grizzlies than in cultivating cherries. - -That now someone has come to steal these cherries seems dreadful to -Susan. With that poor man away, too—at the end of the world probably, -shooting, or being shot by, some of those awful Indians! Again she casts -her frightened glance at the thief, still high on his ladder and secure -from detection now that all the servants are away; and something in his -air—an insolent security, perhaps—drives her to action. - -No, she will not fly! She will tell him, at all events, what she thinks -of him before flying. She makes her way straight to the foot of the -ladder, wrath in her bosom, and addresses him. - -‘I wonder you aren’t ashamed of yourself!’ cries she, righteous -indignation in her tones and in her lovely uplifted eyes. - -The sweet voice rings up the ladder. The start that the thief on the top -of it gives, when he hears her, condemns him to all eternity in Susan’s -eyes. ‘No one,’ argues Susan to herself, ‘ever starts unless he is -guilty.’ Susan is very young. - -The man casts a sidelong glance at her. It is so one-sided that Susan -hardly sees him, but evidently he is trembling, conscience-stricken, -because he makes no reply. - -‘Come down!’ says Susan again, her courage mounting with the occasion. -Her tone is now severely calm, and without a vestige of fear. After all, -he is a poor creature whom even a girl can frighten, so small is the -courage of the unrighteous! ‘Do you know what you are doing? You’—with -accumulated scorn—‘are stealing!’ - -This terrible charge brings the culprit round. He sinks upon the topmost -rung of the ladder, as if overcome, and pulls his cap over his eyes, -evidently to avoid recognition. Says Susan to herself: ‘He is ashamed, -poor creature!’ and seeing the abject attitude of the wretch, she grows -bolder, and presses the wondering Jacky to her side, and tells him to -take courage. This poor man will not kill them. No—no, indeed. - -‘Yes, stealing,’ repeats she, her fair, beautiful face uplifted to the -sinner’s above her. There is a second pause, during which, perhaps, the -sinner takes note of it. - -‘I——’ begins he, then pauses. Susan’s eyes are looking into his, and -Susan’s face, implacable and austere, no doubt has daunted him. But -Susan tells herself that conscious guilt has rendered him silent. After -awhile, however, he makes another attempt. - -‘I——’ says he again, and again stops. It is contemptible! Susan turns a -scornful glance upon him. - -‘It is not to be defended,’ says she. ‘To steal from a garden like this! -From a garden that the owner has so kindly left open to many people—who -has besides been so kind, and who has helped all the poor in the -district. He has given forty blankets where another has given ten, and -coals without restriction everywhere. And these beautiful gardens, -too—he has given these as a recreation to some who have no lovely -gardens of their own; and now you take advantage of a day like this, -when all the servants are away, to defraud this kind, kind man and steal -his cherries. Oh, how can you bear to be so bad?’ - -‘If you would hear me!’ begins the man on the top of the ladder, in a -low tone. He is evidently immensely touched by the scorn of the young -evangelist below, because his voice is very low and uncertain. - -‘There is nothing to be said,’ says Susan, her eyes gleaming with honest -disgust. ‘There is no excuse for you. You are here stealing Mr. Crosby’s -cherries, and, as I said before, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.’ - -‘Still, miss, if you would listen a moment!’ He has pulled his cap even -closer over his brows. - -‘You needn’t do that,’ says Susan. ‘Poor creature! you need not be -afraid of me; I will not give you up to justice!’ - -‘Thank you kindly, miss,’ comes from the wretched creature behind the -cap. He is evidently struggling with emotion. - -‘I don’t want you to thank me,’ says Susan, who is feeling inclined to -cry. She has often read of thieves, but never met one until now, and it -seems to her, all at once, that they are decidedly interesting, so ready -to hear—to receive admonition, too. ‘I want you to promise me that for -the future you will abstain from—from thieving of any sort.’ - -‘I’ll promise you, miss—I will indeed. I’d promise you anything.’ Poor -thing! he seems quite overcome. ‘But, miss, I wasn’t really stealing -just now.’ - -‘Oh, nonsense!’ says Susan; a revulsion of feeling makes her once again -hard to him. Confession is good for the soul, but denial—and such a -useless denial, too, caught in the act as he is—savours of folly, that -worst of all things, for which there is no forgiveness. - -‘Do you think I did not see you? Why, look at that basket; it is nearly -full. How can you say you were not stealing those cherries? Better to -show some regret than to carry off your crime in such a barefaced way.’ - -It is hardly barefaced, the unhappy culprit’s face being now quite -hidden by his cap. - -‘Just think,’ says Susan, her clear, sweet voice trembling with grief -because of this sinner; ‘if you had a garden, would you like people to -come into it and steal your fruit?’ - -The poor thief is evidently beginning to feel the situation acutely. He -has taken out his handkerchief in a surreptitious fashion, and is -rubbing his eyes with it. - -‘I shouldn’t mind if it was you, miss,’ says he, in a stifled tone. - -Poor thing! he is evidently very sorry. - -‘You won’t give me up, miss?’ - -‘No, no!’ cries Susan hastily. ‘But I do hope you see and are grieved -for what you are doing. When people are so good and so generous as to -let other people go through their grounds and get a great deal of -enjoyment out of them, I think the least those others may do is to -respect them, and their shrubs, and fruit, and flowers.’ - -‘You’re right, miss. I seem as if I never saw it like that till now.’ - -‘Ah! that’s what they all say,’ says Susan sadly, and with a sigh. She -has a good deal to do with her father’s impenitent penitents. ‘But you -are no doubt from some distant parish. A tramp, I suppose,’ says Susan, -with another sigh. ‘At all events, I am sure you do not belong to this -part of the world, as your voice is strange to me.’ - -‘I’ve come a long way, miss, indeed.’ - -‘Poor man! Perhaps you are hungry,’ says Susan. Again she searches her -pocket, and produces the last coin in it—the last coin she has in the -world, for the matter of that—and lays a sixpenny bit on the lowest rung -of the ladder. - -‘Perhaps this may help you,’ says she. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t any more, -but I haven’t. And now remember I expect you to keep your promise. I -shall not report you, or get you into trouble of any sort; in fact, -this’—gently—‘shall be a secret between you and me; but I do expect you -to go away without those cherries, and with the promise never to steal -again.’ - -‘I promise you that, miss, most gratefully. I’ll never steal again. But, -miss, might I give the cherries to you or the young gentleman?’ - -‘No, no!’ says Susan in horror. She catches Jacky’s hand and draws him -away from temptation. After going a yard or two, however, she looks -back; and the thief, who has been looking after her, again pulls his cap -hurriedly over his guilty face. - -‘The gate is locked,’ says she; ‘how will you get out?’ - -‘The way I came, miss,’ says the bad man, with open signs of contrition. - -‘I see—yes,’ says Susan sadly. ‘But go at once. I trust you—remember.’ - -‘I’ll never forget it, miss,’ says the unhappy man, sinking down upon -the ladder and covering his face with his hands. - -‘Jacky,’ says Susan, when they have left the garden and locked the door -carefully behind them, ‘if you ever say a word about that poor creature, -I’ll never think the same of you again. Do you hear? He is a wretched -thief; but I have given my word not to betray him, and you must give -your word too. Poor man! I think he was sincerely sorry. You won’t say a -word at home or anywhere, Jacky?’ - -‘No,’ says Jacky. He looks at her. ‘Why couldn’t you have taken the -cherries?’ says he. - -It takes the entire remainder of the walk home to make the ‘why’ clear -to him. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - ‘He knew not what to say, - And so he swore!’ - - -Wyndham, when he met Susan, had been in rather a disgusted mood. Shortly -after the Professor’s death he had gone to Norway for a month with the -friend whom he had arranged to go with on the morning following the -luckless night that had seen the last of the Professor’s experiment. He -had induced his friend to wait for him—the latter consenting with rather -a bad grace—until the Professor’s funeral was over and his affairs -looked into. He had had a last conversation with Denis about the -uninvited guest whom the latter had taken to the Cottage, and had told -him to find a suitable home for her at once, comfortable—luxurious even, -if necessary, as she was now undoubtedly the possessor of three hundred -a year—but, at all events, to get her out of the Cottage without further -delay. He spoke peremptorily, and Denis promised all things; yet only -yesterday, on his return, he had heard from Denis’s own lips that still -that girl was located in the Cottage. - -‘Didn’t I tell you to get her a home somewhere else?’ - -‘Ye did, sir—ye did. Faix, I don’t wondher ye’re mad, but ‘twasn’t aisy -to do it.’ - -‘To do what?’—firmly. - -‘To get her to go.’ - -‘What nonsense! A girl like that—as if she could resist! Why, one would -think there wasn’t a policeman anywhere. Do you mean to tell me she -refused to go?’ - -‘No, sir; that’s not me manin’. ’Tis that ould fool of a wife o’ mine. -It seems she got set upon her wan way or another, an’ do all I could I -couldn’t git her to turn the young lady out. “There’s room for us all -here,” says Bridget. “But that’s not his ordhers,” says I—manin’ you, -sir. “But whin is she to go?” says she. “That’s nothing to me,” says I. -“’Tis so,” says she. “A comfortable home he tould ye to git for her, and -where’ll she find wan but here?” An’ divil a fut I could move her from -that. Don’t you iver get married, Misther Paul; it will be the undoin’ -o’ ye. Ye won’t have a mind o’ yer own in six months.’ - -‘I’ve a mind now, any way,’ says Wyndham, still swearing, ‘and that is -to get rid of you without another second’s notice.’ - -‘An’ I’m not surprised, sir,’ says Denis, drawing himself up and -saluting. He is an old soldier. ‘It was most flagrant disobadience. But -what can ye do wid a woman, sir? Fegs, nothing—nothing at all. They -carries all before thim—even a man’s conscience. When Bridget refused to -let her go, what could I do?’ He pauses satisfied, having put the blame -upon his particular Eve. ‘Is it yer wish that I tackle Bridget agin, -sir?’ - -‘No; I shall go down to Curraghcloyne myself to-morrow,’ says Wyndham, -getting rid of him with a gesture. - -He had gone down, had met Susan, had read something in her face that -seemed to him (whose senses were very much alive to impressions on the -subject) to be studying him—wondering at him. It was with a still more -enraged feeling he left her, and went on to the Cottage, where, to his -supreme indignation, he found, for the first time on record, the -entrance-gate locked. - -Good heavens! What could be the meaning of this? Were they determined to -compromise him in the eyes of the world? When he has rung the bell until -it is hopelessly smashed, someone comes to the gate, and without opening -it says, in a voice evidently meant to alarm any unwelcome intruder: - -‘Who’s there?’ - -‘Only the master of this place,’ says Wyndham grimly, who has recognised -Mrs. Denis’s handsome brogue even under these new conditions. Indeed, it -would be hard to mistake it anywhere; as Fitzgerald, who knows her, -says, ‘you could sit on it at any moment without the slightest chance of -a breakdown.’ - -‘Glory be!’ comes in a muffled tone from Mrs. Denis, and, with -tremendous fuss and flurry, she draws the bolt, unlocks the gate, and -opens it wide to Wyndham. - -‘Oh, yer honour, who’d a’ thought to see yerself this day! Faix, I -thought ’twas still in thim haythin countries ye were. Sure, if I’d -known I’d have had the gates open to yer honour; and I hope ye’ll -forgive me cap, sir—I’ve another wan just ironed, an’——’ - -‘Are you preparing for a siege?’ demands Wyndham grimly; ‘or what may be -the reason of this “barring out” on your part? Anything threatening on -the part of the Land Leaguers or the Home Rulers round here?’ - -‘Oh, law, sir! How could ye think o’ sich a thing? It was only that the -young lady, sir, was a trifle nervous.’ - -‘She will have to take her nerves somewhere else,’ says the barrister. -‘Now, Mrs. Denis, I hear from your husband that it is your fault that -this—this distinctly undesirable person is still a resident in my -house.’ - -Mrs. Denis, who has been bowing and scraping up to this, now grows -suddenly alert. - -‘Arrah, what are ye sayin’ at all?’ says she. ‘D’ye mane to tell me that -Denis knew ye were come back, and niver give me tale or todin’s of it?’ - -‘That is altogether beside the question. The thing is——’ - -‘Faix, the raal thing is this,’ says Mrs. Denis, ‘that I’ll break ivery -bone in that thraitor’s skin the next time I see him! Why,’ says she, -squaring her arms and growing so wrathful that the questionable cap on -the top of her head begins to quiver, ‘sixpence would have brought any -boy down from Dublin wid the news of yer return, and’—with a truly noble -declaration of an innate dishonesty—‘I could thin have’—she stops -herself, happily, at the last moment—‘made mesilf clane to meet ye,’ -says she. - -Wyndham, who is sufficiently Irish himself to put in the broken -paragraph, smiles coldly. - -‘I am not going to discuss Denis with you,’ says he. ‘What I want to -know is why these gates are locked.’ - -‘Well, sir, there was this: when the young lady came she was that upset -wid bad thratement of wan sort or another that she seemed to be -tremblin’ all over. But whin I questioned her as to what ailed her, not -a word could I git out of her. I put her to bed, an’ she just clung to -the wall like, turnin’ an’ twistin’ her purty head, an’ always keepin’ -away from me, an’ refusin’ the tay even, till the night came down upon -us. Ye will remimber, sir, that it was in the airly mornin’ that -Denis——’ At this word she breaks off, and grows again intensely angry. - -‘That varmint,’ says she, ‘what did he mane by not tellin’ me? Wait till -I get me hands on him!’ - -‘Yes, the early morning,’ says Wyndham, bringing her back somewhat -impatiently to the place where she had broken off. - -‘Well, yes, sir. I beg yer pardon. She come in the airly mornin, an’ I -could see at once that she was very sad at her heart, an’ so I just tuk -her in as I tell ye, for Denis, though a divil all out in most -ways’—here again a most ominous frown settles on her forehead—‘is still -a man to be depended on where a woman is concerned. And so I tuk her in -to oblige ye, sir.’ - -‘To oblige me!’ says Wyndham. - -‘Well, sir, I thought so thin. An’’—she pauses, and looks straight at -him—‘an’ ye’ll nivver regret it, sir. If ye saw her a bit afther she -came, an’ her delight at yer purty place! “Why, there’s flowers -growin’,” she’d say, as if she never see them before, except whin -sellin’! “And, Mrs. Denis,” says she, “I like these walls,” says she. -“They is so high,” says she. “An’ it would be very hard for anyone,” -says she, “to git through thim, or even to look over thim.” Faith, ’tis -little the crayture knows of the boys round here, I said to meself whin -she said that. But I declare to ye, sir, it went to me heart whin she -said it, for it made it plain to me like that there was someone in her -life that she was thinkin’ of, that she didn’t want to get through these -walls or over thim aither. If he did, I could gather from what she said -that it would be wid no good intintions towards herself.’ - -‘Has she said anything as to where she came from or who she is?’ asks -Wyndham, with most disgraceful want of sympathy for this moving story. - -‘No, sir, sorra a word, barrin’ that she was very unhappy until yer -honour sint her here.’ - -‘Till I sent her here! What on earth do you mean?’ says Wyndham -indignantly. ‘You must know very well that it was that blundering idiot -of a husband of yours that brought her here.’ - -‘Fegs, ’tis plain that ye know Denis, any way,’ says Denis’s wife -complacently. ‘Idjit is the word for him, sure enough! But however it -is, sir, the poor young lady is very continted here entirely, -an’’—waxing enthusiastic—‘’twould do your heart good to hear her singin’ -about the garden, for all the world like wan o’ thim nate little -thrushes.’ - -This expectation on Mrs. Denis’s part, that he will find delight in the -thought of the unwelcome stranger making herself at home in his garden -and singing there like a ‘nate little thrush,’ naturally adds fuel to -the fire that already is burning vigorously in Wyndham’s breast. - -‘Look here,’ says he, so fiercely that Mrs. Denis starts backwards, -‘you’ve taken a wrong impression of me altogether, if you think I shall -for one moment sanction the presence of that girl here. Your husband has -got me into this mess with his confounded stupidity, but I can trust -myself to get out of it—and I expect you to understand at once that your -“thrush”’—scornfully—‘will be out of this within twenty-four hours.’ - -With this he brushes by her, his temper—never very sweet—now -considerably the worse for wear. - -Nice situation, by Jove! If it comes to the old man’s ears there will be -the devil to pay; and it’s sure to. He had felt there was something -queer in his aunt’s and Josephine’s manner yesterday when he called at -their house in Fitzwilliam Square. Why, if it gets about, there isn’t -one in forty amongst his acquaintances who will believe in the real -facts of the case.... It is a most confounded affair altogether. If he -hadn’t gone abroad, trusting—like the fool that he was—in Denis’s -ability to get her out of the Cottage at once, he could have done it -himself, and so speedily that no one would ever have been the wiser -about it. But now it has gone a little too far; people, no doubt, are -beginning to talk. Well, it shall go no farther. He will put an end to -it at once—this moment. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - ‘My heart is sad and heavy, - In this merry month of May, - As I stand beneath the lime-tree - On the bastion old and gray.’ - - -‘This moment’ has come. As Mrs. Denis, routed, but by no means -vanquished, disappears hastily round one corner of the pretty cottage, -someone else comes round the other. A young girl, singing sweetly, -merrily, though in a subdued voice. Just as she reaches her corner she -looks behind her; her singing ceases, and an amused look brightens her -face—a face that has known much sadness. Again she looks behind her, as -if expecting something, this time turning her back on Wyndham; and now, -a moment later, a huge dog tears across the grass and literally flings -himself upon the girl, whose tall but slender frame seems to give way -beneath his canine embraces. For a second only; then she recovers -herself, her pliant body sways forward, and, catching the dog’s handsome -head in her arms, a merry tussle ensues between them. It is almost a -dance, so agile is the girl, so bent is the dog on entering into the -spirit of the fun with all his heart. - -Wyndham, watching, feels no sense of amusement. Indignation is still -full upon him, and now it grows more intense as he sees the dog—his -dog—a brute hitherto devoted to himself, lavishing its affection upon an -utter stranger. - -He makes an impatient movement, which the dog’s quick eye sees, and, -bolting from his late companion, he comes bounding towards Wyndham, from -whom, it must be confessed, he gets but a poor welcome. - -The girl, turning, surprised at the dog’s desertion of her, becomes -suddenly aware that there is someone beyond, and as Wyndham emerges into -sight she makes a movement to fly, then stands stricken, as if turned to -stone. - -It is impossible, under the circumstances, but that she should be known -to Wyndham; but as he looks at her he tells himself that, if he had not -known that Denis had brought her down here on the morning of the -Professor’s death, he would never have recognised her. Her dress, for -one thing, is so different. Of course he had found time to send a cheque -to Mrs. Moriarty before going abroad for the use of the ‘waif,’ as he -had somehow called the girl to himself, not knowing her name—a sum -handsome enough to dress her as the young heiress of a most unexpected -three hundred a year should be dressed—and it comes to him now that the -‘waif’ had not been slow in the spending of it. No doubt Mrs. Moriarty -had been the ‘middle man,’ but the ‘waif’ had known what she was about, -or else some well-born instinct had directed her. - -‘Well born!’ Pah! A poor, miserable girl like that, with a shawl thrown -over her head when first he saw her—and yet, her face, her feet—— - -He can see them from beneath her petticoats. They are not like mice, by -any means, but they are of the proportions usually assigned to those who -have many grandfathers, and they are very delicately clad. - -If he had not recognised her at all at first, she had barely recognised -him. That was because of the surprise—the shock, perhaps. She had almost -come to believe in the possibility of living here always and alone, -never seeing anyone except kind Mrs. Moriarty and Nero, the dog. - -She has turned as white as death; and Wyndham, looking at her, tells -himself it is the memory of that last dreadful night, when she had -accepted death as her portion, rather than the life that lies behind -her, that has blanched her cheeks and brought that terror into her eyes. - -But in a minute all these theories of the clever barrister are distilled -and float into air. - -Having seen him, and dwelt upon his face, the colour in her own face has -crept back, and with a sharp sigh of relief she draws nearer to him -slowly, the dog, who has gone back to her, following, his muzzle in her -hand. - -‘I—I thought you were a stranger,’ says she faintly. - -It is an odd sentence. A stranger! What else is he to her? Her manner, -however, makes it clear to him that she has lived, since her entrance -into the Cottage, in constant dread of being discovered by someone, and -of being dragged back to a former existence—to which death, as she had -proved to him that night, seems far preferable. - -This accounts for the locked gates, and the girl’s admiration for the -walls—an admiration that no doubt has but little to do with the ivy and -the Virginian creeper, now throwing out its palest leaves of green, and -the other trailing glories that have lifted them into a dream of beauty. - -‘Your thought was very nearly right,’ says Wyndham, with a cold smile; -he is quite unmoved by the nervous pallor and the frightened expression -on the young face before him. Barristers after a while get accustomed to -young, frightened faces, and lose their interest in them. ‘But, no -doubt, you remember me?’ - -He pauses, and the girl looks at him for a moment. - -‘Yes,’ says she slowly, her eye sinking to the ground. That last -dreadful scene, in which he had played so conspicuous a part, and when -in the sullenness of her despair she had welcomed death, lies once again -clear as a picture to her eyes. She shudders, and a faint moisture -breaks out upon her forehead. - -‘I am glad to see you quite recovered,’ says he in a tone which belies -his words. ‘If you will be so good as to come indoors, I should like to -speak to you for a few minutes about your future.’ - -His tone is so curt, so positively unpleasant, that the girl, colouring -deeply and without another word, moves towards the hall-door of the -charming cottage, and leads the way through the porch—so exquisitely -festooned with delicate greeneries—into the long many-windowed room -beyond. This room runs the entire length of the house, and overlooks the -garden. As she goes a deep melancholy falls upon her. What has he come -to say? Why is his manner so unkind? That night—that awful night—he had -seemed to befriend her—to take her part—and now—— - -‘You are of course aware,’ says Wyndham formally, when they have reached -the drawing-room—the drawing-room that used to be his, but that now -seems to slip out of his possession, as he sees the slender figure of -the girl turn after his entrance, as if to receive him. ‘You are of -course aware that the late Professor, Mr. Hennessy, left you three -hundred a year?’ - -The girl, standing midway between one of the windows and Wyndham, makes -a slight affirmative movement of her head. She would have spoken, but -words failed her. - -‘That was in accordance with his promise to you. If the experiment -failed, well’—with a careless shrug—‘there was nothing. If it was -successful—you were to be the gainer by it.’ - -His voice is clear, unemotional; there is a sort of ‘laying down the -law’ about it that takes every spark of sympathy that there might have -been quite out of it. - -‘Yes.’ This time she manages to speak, but she colours as she speaks, -and blushes very painfully; and now her eyes seek the ground. If one -were to exactly describe her, one would say—but very reluctantly, I -think—that she looks ashamed. - -‘With three hundred a year you should be able to——’ - -She interrupts him. - -‘It is too much—far too much,’ says she, with an effort. ‘I don’t want -so much as that. Fifty pounds a year would be enough; I am sure I -could——’ - -She stops. - -‘All that is beyond question,’ says the barrister coldly. ‘It was the -Professor’s wish that you should have three hundred a year, and now that -he is gone, there can be no further argument about it. He has no near -relations so far as I can make out, so that there is no reason why you -should not accept the money left to you by him. What I came to-day for -was, not about the Professor’s gift to you, but to know what you intend -to do with it.’ - -‘With it?’ - -‘Yes; what, in fact, are you going to do?’ - -‘What am I going to do?’ She looks up at him for the first time; a -startled expression grows in her large dark eyes. - -‘We all have a future before us,’ says Wyndham, ‘and you——’ He hesitates -here, hardly knowing how to go on with those earnest eyes on his. ‘Of -course I feel that, for the time being, I am in a sense bound to look -after you, the Professor being an old friend of mine, and you——’ Again -he stops. It seems impossible, indeed, to refer to that strange scene -where he had had so prominent a part. ‘You will understand,’ says he, -‘that the Professor wished you to be placed in an assured position, and -he left me to see to that.’ - -Here the girl makes a sharp movement of her hands descriptive of fear. - -‘Naturally,’ says Wyndham, in answer to that swift movement of the -pretty hands, ‘you object to my interference. But I must ask your -forbearance in a matter that’—with a steady look at her—‘does not -concern me in the slightest degree. You must really forgive me if I seem -impatient; but, as you are aware, I know nothing about you, and to look -after you as the Professor asked me to do requires thought. I am in -complete ignorance about you. I can see that you are educated, but -beyond that I know nothing.’ - -‘Ah! you know nothing indeed,’ says she quickly. ‘I am not educated. I -know hardly anything. I am one of the most ignorant people alive.’ - -‘And yet——’ - -‘I have read anything I could find to read,’ interrupts she; ‘and at one -time I went to a day-school, but that is all.’ - -‘I see,’ says Wyndham. His tone is indifferent, but, inwardly, curiosity -is stirring him. So little education, and yet so calm, so refined a -manner! Who is this girl, with her well-bred air, but with, too, the -little touches here and there that betray the fact of her having lived -not only out of the fashionable world, but very far from even the -outskirts of it? What whim of fate has given her that shapely head, -those shell-like ears and pointed fingers, yet given her into the -clutches of the middle classes? - -‘You would wish to enlarge your studies?’ asks he presently. - -For the first time since she came towards him, in the garden outside, -she now lets her eyes rest frankly upon his. - -‘Oh, if I could!’ says she. - -‘That is very easily to be managed, I should think. You have three -hundred a year of your own, and can command advantages that hitherto, I -imagine, from what you say, have been withheld from you.’ He waits a -moment, as if expecting her to speak, to make some comment on his words, -but she remains mute. - -‘If you could tell me something of yourself—your history—what brought -you to this,’ says Wyndham, ‘it might make matters simpler for both you -and me.’ - -The girl shrinks backwards as though he had struck her. - -‘No, no!’ cries she quickly. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - ‘I wept in my dream, for I fancied - That you had forsaken me; - I woke, and all night I lay weeping - Till morning, bitterly.’ - - -Wyndham lifts his brows. - -‘Pray do not distress yourself,’ says he. ‘It is a free country; you can -speak or be silent, just as you wish. It had merely occurred to me that -there might be friends of yours naturally very anxious about you, and -that I might convey to them a message from you.’ - -The unsympathetic nature of his tone has restored the girl to her usual -manner more than anything else could have done. She glances at him. - -‘Friends!’ says she bitterly. - -‘At all events,’ says Wyndham, who has now begun to acknowledge his -curiosity with regard to her even to himself, and is determined on -pushing the matter as far as possible, ‘there must be someone on the -look-out for you.’ - -At this she turns as white as death. - -‘Is there? Have you seen—have you’—she looks as though she is about to -faint—‘heard anything?’ - -‘Nothing—nothing at all!’ exclaims he quickly, a little shocked at her -agitation, that seems excessive. ‘Do not be frightened; I assure you I -know as little of anyone connected with you as I know of yourself.’ - -Here again he gives her an opening, if she wishes to make a declaration -of any sort, and again she remains mute. There is something even -obstinately silent in her whole air. - -Her hands in her lap are tightly clasped, as though to help her to keep -her secret to all eternity. - -‘You will not confide in me, I see,’ says he, with a little contemptuous -shrug; ‘and, after all, there is no earthly reason why you should. I am -as great a stranger to you as you are to me, and if I spoke at all it -was, believe me, because I fancied I might be of some assistance to you. -But women nowadays have taken the reins into their own hands, and I have -no doubt that you will be able to manage your own affairs to perfection. -In the meantime, however, if I can be of the slightest use to you in -looking out for a suitable home, for instance, I hope you understand I -shall be delighted to do all I can.’ - -The girl has drawn nearer during this speech, and is now standing before -him, the frightened eyes uplifted and her breath coming short and fast. -‘You mean—but here—can I not—might I not—a home, you said——’ - -‘Well, yes,’ says Wyndham. ‘A home where you might have a companion and -be very comfortable; but not here, you know.’ - -‘But——’ - -‘You can’t stay here, I’m afraid,’ says Wyndham, who, between his anger -and his suspicions of her, is beginning to wish he had never been born. - -The girl turns away from him, in so far that only her profile now can be -seen, whilst her right hand has caught hold of the back of a chair near -her, as if for support. - -‘But why?’ asks she, in a low tone. ‘Mrs. Moriarty likes me to be here.’ - -‘But, you see,’ says Wyndham gravely, ‘it is my house, and not Mrs. -Moriarty’s.’ - -‘Yes.’ She looks at him as if hardly understanding, but presently an -expression grows upon her face that gives him to know that she thinks -him churlish. - -‘It is quite a big house,’ says she. - -There is a pause—a pause in which he tells himself that evidently up to -this she had been accustomed to houses of very cramped limits. The -Circular Road in Dublin would supply such houses, built for respectable -artisans and clerks in commercial places, and the best of the decent -strata that cover the earth and are of the earth earthy. The Circular -Road, or some other road, has no doubt supplied the kind of house to -which the girl has been accustomed—this girl, with her pale patrician -face and her singular strength of mind. It is she who at last breaks the -silence. ‘There is plenty of room for me,’ says she. - -‘I know—of course I know that,’ says Wyndham hurriedly. ‘But then, you -see, it—it wouldn’t do, you see.’ - -He looks deliberately at her, as if to explain his meaning, but, nothing -coming of the look, he falls back once more upon facts. - -‘I come here sometimes,’ says he. - -‘Yes; Mrs. Denis told me that,’ says the girl. ‘But’—eagerly—‘I -shouldn’t be in the way at all. I could stay in that little room -belonging to Mrs. Denis—that little room off the kitchen.’ - -‘Oh, that isn’t it,’ says Wyndham, frowning in his embarrassment. How -the deuce is one to say it plainly to a girl who can’t, or won’t, or -doesn’t understand! ‘The fact is——’ He has begun with the greatest -bravery, determined to explain the situation at all hazards; but, -happening to meet her eyes, this clever barrister, who has faced many a -barefaced criminal victoriously, breaks down. The eyes he has looked -into are full of tears. - -‘Look here,’ says he almost savagely, ‘it’s out of the question! Do you -hear?’ His tone is so terribly abrupt that it strikes cold to the heart -of the poor girl looking at him. If he is going to turn her out of this -house, this haven of refuge, where—where can she go? - -She struggles with herself, some touch of dignity that belongs to -her—wherever she came from or whoever she is—giving her a certain -strength. - -‘Of course—I see——’ She is beginning to stammer dreadfully. ‘I am sorry -about it; but I thought—I fancied I could stay here. But now I can go—I -can go somewhere. There must be other places, and, indeed, just now you -told me there were other places, and that I could go to——’ - -She struggles with the word ‘them,’ the last of her sad sentence, but -can’t speak it; and now all her hard-found dignity gives way, to her -everlasting shame, and to Wyndham’s terrible discomfiture she bursts -into a passion of tears. - -‘Don’t do that,’ says Wyndham gruffly. It is impossible to conceal from -himself the fact that he is frightened out of his life. Fear because of -her tears is nothing, but it is with ever-increasing self-contempt that -he knows that he is going even so far as to give in and let her stay at -the Cottage. After all, there are many other places for him in this big -world, but for her, perhaps, not so many; and she seems to have set her -heart on this little spot, and, hang it all! why can’t she stop crying? - -‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ says she at last, trying passionately to stifle her -sobs. She has turned away from him to the window, and there is something -in her whole attitude so descriptive of despair, and fear, and shame, -that, in spite of his anger, pity for her rises in his heart. ‘I don’t -know why I’m crying; I don’t often cry. But if I leave this, where shall -I go? where shall I hide myself?’ - -What on earth has she done? Her words denote fear—a guilty fear. What if -he should be about to take as a tenant for the Cottage a well known and -hardened criminal, for whom, perhaps, the police are even now on the -look-out? Her face, however, belies her tone; and, for the rest, he has -not the courage to face again a flow of those pitiful tears. Stay she -must. - -One last protest, however, he makes as a salve to his conscience. - -‘What do you see in this place that so attracts you?’ asks he, with -ever-increasing grumpiness. The girl turns to him a flushed and tearful -face. - -‘I never knew what a home could be like till I came here,’ says she. -‘Never, never! You have had one—all the world has had one except me. It -means new life to me. Oh’—bitterly—‘it is the only life I have ever -known—the only happiness. If, sir’—she comes towards him and with a -little impulsive action holds out her hands—‘if I might stay——’ - -‘Well, you can,’ says he ungraciously. - -He gives in so suddenly, and she is naturally so unprepared for so quick -a surrender, that for a moment she says nothing. Her eyes are fixed on -him, however, as if trying to read him through; they are beautiful eyes, -and Wyndham, his professional instincts on the alert, finds himself -wondering what lies behind them in that brain of hers. - -‘Do you mean it?’ says she at last breathlessly; if you do, I cannot -thank you enough. Oh, to stay here within these lovely walls!’ -Instinctively she glances out of the window to the ivy-clad walls, as if -in their protection she finds great comfort. A moment later a cloud -gathers on her forehead. ‘But you don’t like me to stay,’ she says. - -‘It doesn’t matter what I like,’ says Wyndham, who certainly does not -shine on this occasion. ‘The arrangement we have come to now is that you -are to rent this cottage from me, at what sum we can agree about later -on.’ - -‘To rent it? I shall, then, be—— It’— she tries to hide the joy in her -eyes, feeling it to be indecent—‘it will belong to me?’ - -‘Yes,’ says Wyndham. At this moment he feels very little more will make -him positively hate her. - -‘It will no longer be yours?’ Her voice is trembling. - -‘In a sense, no.’ He turns and takes up his hat; this interview is -getting too much for him. There will be an explosion shortly if she goes -on like this. - -‘It seems very selfish,’ says the girl. She is looking at him, though -for the last three minutes he has refused to look at her. ‘I am taking -your house away from you.’ - -‘There are other houses.’ He is now putting on his gloves. - -‘Ah! that is as true for me as for you.’ - -‘We have come to an agreement, I think’—grimly. ‘Let us keep to it.’ He -turns to the door. - -‘You are going?’ says she nervously. She follows him. ‘You——’ She stops, -and courtesy compels him to look back. Two troubled eyes meet his. - -‘When——’ stammers she. - -‘I shall come down some day next week to make final arrangements,’ says -he impatiently, and again takes a step or two away, getting so far this -time as to turn the handle of the door. Here, however, again he glances -back. She is standing where he last saw her, her young face looking -troubled, frightened, and uncertain. - -‘Next week,’ repeats he jerkily. It is disagreeable to him to think that -it is through his fault that the nervous anxiety has crept into her -eyes. ‘And—er—good-bye.’ He certainly had not meant to do it, but he now -holds out his hand to her, and with a little swift, eager movement she -comes to him and slips her own into it. - -A slim little hand, and beautifully shaped, but brown, and looking a -little as though it had done some hard work in its time, yet the grace -with which she gives it to him is exquisite. - - * * * * * - -Just at the gate he meets Mrs. Denis again. - -‘This young lady,’ says he abruptly, ‘seems to have set her heart upon -living here. It is extremely unpleasant for me, but she appears to have -no other place to go to. She will therefore become my tenant. She will, -you understand, take the Cottage from me.’ - -‘Bless us an’ save us!’ says Mrs. Denis. ‘An’ yer honour—what will you -do?’ - -‘Keep out of it,’ says Wyndham coldly. ‘I suppose she will arrange to -keep you on. She——What’s her name?’—sharply. - -‘I don’t know, sir; she don’t seem to like to spake about it. Miss Ella -I calls her.’ - -‘Ella? Did you say her Christian name was Ella?’ - -‘Yes, sir.’ - -‘Ah!’—thoughtfully. ‘Well, good-bye.’ - -‘But, sir, you’ll be coming again?’ - -‘Yes, next week, to arrange about the rent; not after that.’ - -He strides through the gate and up the road. - -‘Faix, and I’m thinkin’ ye will,’ says Mrs. Denis, watching him with her -arms akimbo till he disappears round the corner. ‘’Tis mighty purty eyes -she’s got in that mighty purty head of hers. An’ so he’s not goin’ to -turn her out, after all! Didn’t I tell you, Bridget Moriarty,’ rubbing -her chin, on which a very handsome beard is growing, ‘that he’d soften -whin he put his glance upon her?’ - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - ‘Jest and youthful jollity, - Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, - Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles. - - -‘Where’s our beloved auntie?’ asks Mr. Fitzgerald, looking generally -round him from his seat on the tail of Betty’s gown. - -It is the evening of the same day, and still divinely warm. Not yet has -night made its first approach, and from bush to bush the birds are -calling, as if in haste to get as much merriment out of the departing -day as time will give them. From here—in the bushes round the -tennis-ground, the one solitary court that Carew Barry and his cousin, -Dom Fitzgerald, have made with their own hands, after a hard tussle with -the Rector for the bit of ground, that seemed to him quite a big slice -off his glebe—to the big syringa-tree beyond, the sweet, glad music of -the birds swells and grows, filling the evening air with delicate -throbbings. Ever the little creatures seem to call one to another; -passionately sometimes, as if bursting their little throats in their -wild joy, and anon softly, pleadingly, but always calling, calling, -calling. - -From the old-fashioned garden beyond comes the scent of the roses—all -old-world roses, as befits the garden, but none the less beautiful for -that. The rose céleste and the white rose unique, the cabbage rose and -the perfect rose of a hundred leaves, all lend their sweetness to the -air; indeed, on this June evening the place is ‘on fire with roses.’ - -The little group sitting on the edge of the tennis-ground seems very -happy and contented—lazy, perhaps, is a better word. Susan, as usual, -has Bonnie in her lap, and Tom, the baby, has fallen asleep with his -head on Betty’s knee. Jacky, still full of memories of the awful burglar -he had interviewed in the morning, is wondering whether he will raid the -village to-night, and if so, whether he will carry off Aunt Jemima; -whilst Carew, the eldest son, who is seventeen, and therefore a year -younger than Susan, is lazily dwelling on the best choice of a stream -for to-morrow’s fishing. - -His cousin, Dom Fitzgerald, is the first to break the lovely spell of -silence that has fallen on them. He is a cousin of the Barrys, and a -nephew of their father and of Miss Jemima Barry also, the Rector’s -sister, who, since the death of her sister-in-law, has always lived with -them, and who, if a most exemplary person, is certainly what is commonly -described as ‘trying.’ - -The parish of Curraghcloyne is small, the income even smaller. But if -Providence, in giving Mr. Barry this parish as his special charge, had -been niggardly to him in money matters, it had certainly made up to him -lavishly in another respect—it had given him, for example, a large, and -what promised to be an ever-increasing, family, so increasing, indeed, -that it would ultimately have beaten the record but for the untimely -death of Mrs. Barry, who had faded out of life at Tom’s birth. She was -then just thirty-two, but she looked forty. - -To her husband, however, gazing at her dead face, surrounded by its -lilies and white roses, she looked seventeen again—the age at which he -had married her—and though he was a man entirely wrapped up in his books -and theories, it is an almost certain thing that he never forgot her, -and that he mourned and lamented for her as few men whose lives are set -in smoother places do for their beloved. - -Miss Barry, his sister, came on the death of his wife and took -possession of the house, Susan being then just thirteen. She had but a -bare sum wherewith to clothe and keep herself, and was therefore of -little use in helping the household where money was concerned; and it -was therefore with a sense of thankfulness that the Rector four years -ago accepted the charge of Dominick Fitzgerald, an orphan, and the son -of a stepbrother of his wife. - -The poor, pretty wife was then a year dead, but he knew all about -Dominick’s people. The Rector himself came of a good old Irish family, -and his wife had been even more highly connected. Indeed, the lad who -came to Mr. Barry four years ago, though he had inherited little from -his father, would in all probability succeed to his uncle’s title and -five or six thousand a year—a small thing for a baronet, but, still, -worth having. Of course, there was always a chance that the uncle, a -middle-aged man, might marry, though he was consumptive and generally an -invalid; but all that lay in the future, and at present it was decided -that the boy should be given a profession; but having proved remarkably -idle and wild at school—though nothing disgraceful was ever laid to his -charge—his uncle in one of his intervals of good health had desired that -he should be sent down to Mr. Barry, for whom Sir Spencer Fitzgerald had -an immense respect and a little fear, for a few reasons that need not be -specified, though, if Sir Spencer only knew it, the Rector was the last -man in the world to betray the secrets of anyone. - -The Rector accepted the charge gladly. He had passed several young men -(who had been private pupils of his before his marriage) very -successfully for the Civil Service, and he was doing his best for -Dominick now, whom from the very first he liked, in spite of the -reputation for idleness that came with him. - -Indeed, Dom Fitzgerald had fallen into the family circle as though it -had been made for him, and had grown to be quite a brother to his -new-found cousins. He at once grew fond of Susan, and became on the spot -a chum of Carew’s, who was reading with his father for the army and -expected to pass next year. And he quarrelled all day long with Betty, -who accepted him as a ‘pal’ from the moment of his appearing. Betty -inclined towards slang. - -As for the children, they all loved him; and, indeed, it must be said -that he loved them, and spent a considerable amount of the fifty pounds -allowed him for yearly pocket-money upon them. - -‘Well, where is she?’ persists he, turning a lazy eye from one to -another, at last resting it on Susan. - -‘She has gone down to Father Murphy’s about Jane,’ says Susan -reluctantly. ‘You know Jane is always breaking everything, and to-day -she broke that old cup of our great-grandmother’s, and Aunt Jemima was -very angry. She has gone to tell Father Murphy about it, and to say she -will never take a Roman Catholic servant again unless he punishes Jane -severely.’ - -‘And Father Murphy will laugh,’ says Carew, with a shrug. ‘He knows she -must take Catholic servants or do without them. All the Protestant girls -of that class here are farmers’ daughters, and either won’t go into -service at all, or else only to Lady O’Donovan’s or the O’Connors’.’ - -‘Oh, you should have heard Jane!’ cries Betty, going off into one of her -peals of laughter. ‘When Aunt Jemima had reduced her to a rage, she came -in weeping to me. All the forlorn hopes fall back upon me.’ - -‘True, even this poor old forlorn one,’ says Dom promptly, seizing his -opportunity to lift his head from her gown to drop it upon her lap. - -After which there is a scuffle. - -‘Oh, never mind Dom!’ says Susan impatiently. ‘What did Jane say to you -about the cup?’ - -‘She said——Go away, Dom.’ - -‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ says Dom, with an aggrieved air. ‘It’s an -aspersion on my character, Susan. You don’t believe this, do you?’ - -‘She said,’ goes on Betty, very properly taking no notice of the -interruption: ‘“Law, Miss Betty, miss, did ye iver hear the like o’ -that? Did ye iver hear such a row about nothin’?”’ - -‘“It wasn’t about nothing,” I said; “because you know how even father -valued that cup, though an uglier thing I never saw in my life.”’ - -‘“Fegs, I don’t know what ye call anythin’,” said Jane (she was crying -all the time; you know how she can roar); “but yer aunt herself tould me -that that cup is a hundhred years ould if a day, an’ wid that to make -sich a screech over it! Faix, it must have bin rotten wid age, miss; an’ -no wondher it come to bits in me hands.”’ - -They are all delighted with the story. - -‘I don’t think Aunt Jemima would have been so cross with poor Jane,’ -says Susan, in a low tone and with a glance round her to make sure of no -one’s being within hearing, ‘but for those eggs this morning.’ - -‘The eggs under the speckled hen?’ asks Jacky; ‘I heard her speaking -about them. Won’t they come out?’ - -Susan shakes her head, and Carew and Dominick edge a little out of -sight. The latter, under a pretence of feeling too warm, hides his face -under the big straw hat that Betty has thrown upon the grass beside her. - -‘They should have come out ten days ago,’ says Susan; ‘but they’—she -casts an uncertain glance at Carew, who has turned over and is now lying -with his face upon his arms, and is evidently developing ague-fever—‘but -they didn’t.’ - -‘Were they all addled?’ asks Jacky, with amazement. - -‘No; they were all boiled,’ says Susan. - -‘Boiled!’ says little Bonnie, sitting up with an effort. ‘Who boiled -them—the hen?’ - -At this there is a stifled roar from under Betty’s hat, whereupon the -owner of it lifts it and discovers Mr. Fitzgerald plainly on the point -of apoplexy. - -‘Just the sort of thing one would expect from you,’ says she scornfully. -‘No wonder you want to hide your face; but you shan’t do it under my -hat, anyhow.’ - -‘Oh, Carew, think of that poor hen waiting and waiting for three weeks, -and then for ten days more; I call it horrid,’ says Susan. ‘I really -think you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, you two.’ - -‘Ought we? Then we will be,’ says Dom; ‘never shall it be said that I -shirked my duty, at all events. Carew, get out of that, and be ashamed -of yourself instantly.’ - -‘Oh, that’s all very fine,’ says Betty, ‘trying to get out of it like -that; but let me tell you that I think——’ - -However, what Betty may think of people who put boiled eggs under -sitting hens is for ever lost to posterity, because at this moment Jane, -with red eyes and a depressed demeanour, comes hurrying up to them -across the small lawn, a covered basket in her hand. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - ‘O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!’ - - -‘For you, miss,’ says she, handing the basket to Susan. - -Susan turns crimson. That basket! She knows it well. - -‘For me?’ stammers she. - -‘Yes, miss.’ - -‘Who’—nervously—‘who brought it?’ - -‘A boy, miss.’ For an instant Susan’s heart feels relief, but for an -instant only. - -‘Whose boy?’ falters she. - -‘I don’t know, miss. He came an’ wint in a flash like. I hope, miss, as -there isn’t anythin’ desthructive in it,’ says Jane, whose misfortunes -of the morning have raised in her a pessimistic spirit. ‘They do say -thim moonlighters are goin’ about agin.’ - -‘Do you mean to say the—the messenger said nothing?’ - -‘No, miss, except that it was for you. That was all, miss; and I’m not -deaf, though I wish I was before I heard all that was said to me this -mornin’ about an ould cup that——’ Here she lifts her apron and sniffs -vigorously behind it. - -‘Oh, it can’t be for me,’ says Susan, with decision; ‘take it away, -Jane. There has been some mistake, of course. Take it away at once. Do -you hear? The—the boy will probably call for it again in a little time.’ - -‘I don’t think he will, miss; he looked like a runaway,’ says Jane. - -‘Good heavens! how interesting,’ says Mr. Fitzgerald, breaking at last -into the charmed silence that has held them all since the advent of Jane -and the mysterious basket. ‘Who can this unknown admirer be? No doubt it -contains roses’—staring at the basket—‘or heliotropes—heliotrope in the -language of flowers means devotion! Susan, are you above a peep?’ - -‘Yes, I am,’ says Susan hastily. - -‘I am not,’ says Betty, springing forward and pulling open the cover. -‘Oh, I say, cherries! and such beauties, too! Susan, you are in luck!’ - -‘And so are we,’ says Fitzgerald, putting a hand lightly over her -shoulder and drawing up a bunch of the pretty fruit between his fingers. - -‘Oh, I think we ought not to eat them—I do indeed,’ says Susan, in a -small agony. There can be no doubt now about the fact that the thief, -repentant and struck to the very soul by her eloquent pleadings, had -sought to redeem himself in her eyes by sending the stolen cherries to -her. Whether with a view of giving her the pleasure of eating them, or -with the higher desire of proving to her that he hadn’t devoured them, -must, she feels and hopes (because to meet him again would be very -unpleasant to her), for ever remain unknown. - -‘Poor fellow!’ thinks she, regarding the cherries with mixed emotions -that are not altogether devoid of admiration for her own hitherto -unimagined powers of persuasion; ‘he was certainly and sincerely -penitent. One could see that.’ She feels quite an uplifting of her soul. -Perhaps, who knows? she has been born as a worthy successor to Mrs. Fry, -or some of those good people! But then, after all, it is, undoubtedly, -to Mr. Crosby he should have made restitution, not to her. It is, -however, difficult to restore Irish cherries—a rather perishable -commodity—to an owner who happens to be at the moment in the middle of -Africa, or America, or China, for all she knows. - -‘Not eat them!’ says Betty indignantly. ‘Why, what else are you going to -do with them—make them into jam?’ - -‘They are not mine—I’m sure they are not mine,’ says Susan. ‘Who, for -instance, could have sent them?’ - -Here Jacky makes a movement. - -‘Jacky, you know nothing!’ cries Susan, turning indignant, warning eyes -upon him; whereupon Jacky, remembering his promise, subsides once again -into dismal silence. - -‘Jacky, I smell a conspiracy,’ says Dominick, who has caught the look -between them; ‘and you are the head-centre. Speak, boy, whilst yet there -is time!’ - -‘I’ve nothing to say,’ says Jacky sulkily; he is naturally of a somewhat -morose disposition, and now feels positively ill at not being able to -divulge the delightful story of which these glowing cherries are the -result. - -‘Susan, I do believe you have at last got an admirer,’ says Carew, in -the complimentary tone of the orthodox brother, who never can understand -why on earth any fellow can admire his sister. ‘Come! out with it; he -seems a sensible fellow, any way. Flowers are awful rot, but there’s -something in cherries.’ - -‘Betty, when I fall in love with you I’ll present you with a course of -goodies,’ says Dominick, regarding that damsel with an encouraging eye. - -‘I have no admirers, as you all know,’ says Susan, her pale and lovely -face a little heightened in colour. She is thinking with horror of what -would have happened if that poor awful thief had brought them in person. -But, of course, he was afraid. - -‘Perhaps Lady Millbank sent them,’ suggests Betty, after a violent -discussion with Fitzgerald on the head of his last remark. ‘I saw her in -town yesterday.’ - -‘So did I,’ says Carew. ‘Like a sack—not tied in the middle.’ - -Susan feels almost inclined in the emergencies of the moment to say -‘Perhaps so,’ and let it stand at that, but conscience forbids her. - -‘She would have sent a footman and her card,’ says she dejectedly. -‘No’—decidedly, and preparing to close up the basket—‘they are not meant -for me, and even if they were, I could not accept them, unless I knew -where they came from.’ - -‘Do you mean that you are not going to give us some?’ says Betty, -rising, not only figuratively, but actually, to the occasion, and -standing over Susan. ‘I never heard anything so mean in all my life.’ - -‘Susan,’ says Fitzgerald mildly but firmly, ‘if you think to escape -alive from this spot with these cherries, let me at once warn you of a -sense of impending danger.’ - -‘Oh, I say, Susan, don’t be a fool!’ says Carew, turning his lazy length -upon the grass, a manœuvre that brings him much closer to Susan and the -cherries. - -‘It’s a beastly shame!’ says Jacky, in a growl. And at this little Tom, -as if moved to the very soul, or stomach, sets up a piteous howl. - -Susan, with all the ‘young martyr’ air about her, looks sternly round. -No; she will not give in, and it’s perfectly disgusting of them to think -so much of eating things. Her glance finishes at Jacky, who is scowling -and threatening her with the fellest of all fell eyes, and then descends -at last on Bonnie—Bonnie, who is lying in her arms, his pretty, thin, -patient little face against her shoulder. Poor little Bonnie! darling -little Bonnie! who has said nothing—not a word—but whose gentle eyes are -now resting on the fruit; Bonnie, whose appetite is always miserable—so -difficult to please. Susan, seeing that silent, wistful glance, feels -her heart sink within her. - -Must she—must she deny him, her poor little delicate boy, her best -beloved of all the many that she loves? Oh, she must! she will be firm. -These cherries really are not hers. Even for Bonnie she—— - -The child stirs in her arms and sighs, the faintest, gentlest little -sigh—only one who loved him could have heard it; but with that little -sigh went out all Susan’s stern resolutions. Almost unconsciously her -hand goes towards the basket that holds the cherries. Slowly, slowly at -first, as if held back; but as it nears the glowing fruit it makes a -rush, as it were, dives into it, and in a second more Bonnie’s thin -little paws are filled with a huge and crimson bunch of the sweet -cherries. - -Alas for Susan’s principles! They have all vanished away like snow in -the sun, beneath two little pain-filled eyes. - -Alas for Susan’s principles again! As Bonnie’s white little face lights -up as he catches the pretty fruit, and bites one of them in two with his -sharp childish teeth, and as after that he lifts the other half of it to -Susan’s mouth, and presses it against her closed but smiling lips, she -does not refuse him. She opens her lips, and, against all her beliefs, -lets the stolen thing glide between them. The happy laughter of the -child as she takes the fruit is nectar to her, and in a little joyous -way she hugs him to her, catching him against her breast; and though she -does not know it, her one thought is this: ‘Let all things go so long as -this one is happy.’ - -And certainly Bonnie for the moment is happy with his cherries. But the -cherry he gave her is the first and only one out of her basket that -passes between her lips. And that is self-denial, I can tell you from -experience, for a girl of eighteen. - -After this there is a general raid upon the basket, Betty and Fitzgerald -being quite conspicuous in their efforts to secure the largest cherries, -whilst Jacky runs them very hard. And Susan, afraid lest the supply -should fail before Bonnie gets a handsome share, pulls him to her and -fills his little hands. But her own hands? Never! Stern is her youthful -virtue. Those stolen cherries! No, no, she could not touch them, and, -besides, to watch Bonnie’s delight in them is enough for her. - -Bonnie! It seems such a sad critique upon the little fragile child -racked with rheumatism and so sadly disabled by it. - -In happier days, when he was, in truth, the bonniest little being of -them all, his poor mother—now mercifully in heaven—had given him the -dear pet name. And of course it had clung to him through all the ills -that followed. - -The beginning was so simple, so easy to be described. A wet day when the -child had escaped from home and had been forgotten until the early -dinner reminded them of him. There were so many to remember, and they -all ran so loosely here and there, that up to that hour no one had -missed him. His mother was dead. The keynote of course lay there. She -was dead and lying in her grave for a year or more, and the young things -who tried to take her place, when they had asked a question or two, -never thought of Bonnie again. Carew, the eldest boy, then only twelve, -did not appear at dinner either, and it was naturally and carelessly -supposed that Bonnie was with him. - -Alas for little Bonnie! Late that night he was discovered and brought -home, saturated to the skin, and almost lifeless. Asleep he had been -found beneath the shade of a big beech-tree; and sleep eternal he would -have known indeed had he not been discovered before morning by the -frightened people from the Vicarage, who, when night set in, had gone -hunting for him far and near. The Rector himself, roused from his notes -and papers by Susan’s terrors, had joined in the search; but it was -Susan who found him, tired, exhausted (after a ramble in which he had -lost himself, poor little soul!), and wet through from the rain that had -fallen incessantly since three o’clock in the afternoon. - -It was Susan who carried him home, staggering sometimes beneath the -weight, but strong in the very misery of her fear. When at last home was -reached, it was Susan who undressed him, and lay awake the long night -through with him, holding him in her warm arms to heat his shivering -little body. And, indeed, when the morning came he seemed nothing the -worse for his exposure. - -But towards the evening he began to shiver again, and next day he was -lying prone, racked with all the pangs of rheumatic fever. They twisted -and tore his little frame, and though at the last the doctor pulled him -through, and he rose again from his bed, it was but as a shadow of his -former merry self—a stricken child, a cripple for life. - -Poor Susan—then thirteen—took it sorely to heart. Her mother in -heaven—had she looked down that night when Bonnie lay under the dripping -tree, and seen her pretty lamb alone, deserted?—the mother who had left -him to Susan to look after and care for. She had seemed to think more of -Bonnie in her dying moments than of the baby who had brought death to -her with his own life. Susan had been left in charge, as it were—sweet -Susan, who was barely twelve, and who, with her soft, shy ways and -lovely face, should have been left in charge herself to someone capable -of guiding her tender footsteps across earth’s thorny paths. - -Her remorse dwelt with her always, and became a burden to her, and made -havoc of her colour for many a day. Of course she grew out of all -that—youth, thank God, is always growing—and at last, after many days, -joy came to her again, and all the glorious colour of life, and all the -sweetness of it. But she never lost a little pulsing grief that came to -her every now and then, telling her how she ought to have seen that -Bonnie had not wandered so far afield. - -Oh, if only he could be made strong and well again. This was the heart -of the sad song that she often sang for herself alone, when time was -given her in her busy life. - -She had dreamed dreams of how it would be with the little lad if he -could have been sent abroad. She had heard of certain baths, and of -wonderful cures worked by them. If he could go abroad to one of them he -might recover. But such baths were as far out of her reach as heaven -itself. It seemed hard to Susan, to whom life was still a riddle. And -she reproached herself always, and always mourned that there would never -come a time when Bonnie would be strong again, as he was when his mother -left him, and when she might meet that dear mother in heaven without -fear of reproaches. - -All this lay in the background of Susan’s life, and now, as years grew, -seldom came to the front. But the child was ever her first thought and -her dearest delight, and the fact that he was not as his brothers were -was the one little blot on the happiness of her young life. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - ‘O that this calculating soul would cease - To forecast accidents, Time’s limping errors, - And take the present, with the present’s peace, - Instead of filling life’s poor day with terrors.’ - - -About seven o’clock, Wyndham (who had come up to Dublin by the afternoon -train), going down Nassau Street, finds himself face to face with a -tall, big, good-humoured-looking man of about thirty-two. - -‘Hallo! that you?’ cries the latter, stopping Wyndham, who, in somewhat -preoccupied mood, would have gone by without seeing him. The -preoccupation disappears at once, however, and it is with genuine -pleasure that he grasps the hand held out to him. - -‘You, Crosby, of all men!’ - -‘Even so.’ - -‘Why, last week, when we met in Paris, you told me you were going to -Vienna to see a friend there.’ - -‘The friend came to me at Paris instead the very day after you left.’ - -‘But I thought you had arranged with him to go on an expedition to some -unpronounceable place in Africa?’ - -‘So I had, but he proved disappointing. Hummed and hawed, said he -couldn’t go just now, but perhaps a little later on. One saw through him -at once. I told him I never travelled about with fellows’ wives, and -that settled it.’ - -‘He was going to be married?’ - -‘Of course. Love was writ large all over him—in huge capitals. And he -was in such a hurry over everything. People in love are always in a -hurry—to get back. So I dismissed him with my blessing, and a bauble for -the venturesome young woman he has chosen to explore life’s boundless -ways with him. R.I.P. He’s done for; and a right good fellow he was, -too! Well, what’s up with you?’ - -‘With me?’ - -‘Think I can’t see? You’re out of your luck in some way.’ - -‘Nothing much, any way,’ says Wyndham, with an involuntary smile. - -‘Too vague—too vague by half,’ says Crosby, laughing. It is the -happiest, heartiest laugh. ‘Come, what’s the matter? Out with it. -Money?’ - -‘No, no,’ says the barrister, laughing in turn. - -‘Still, there is something.’ - -‘Is there? I don’t know,’ says Wyndham, in a tone half comical, half -forlorn. - -At this Crosby thrusts his arm into his, and wheels him down the street. - -‘It must be hunger,’ says he gaily, seeing the other is not ready for -confession yet. That the confession will come he knows perfectly well. -Ever since they were boys together, Wyndham, whose brain was then, as -now, very superior to Crosby’s, had still always given in to the -personal attractions of the stronger and older boy, whose big fists -often fought Wyndham’s battles for him on the public playground. - -Crosby had been a big boy then; he is a big man now, and, in spite of -his adventurous wanderings by land and sea, looks younger than Wyndham, -though he is actually four years older. A splendid man, bronzed, -bearded, and broad-shouldered, with the grand look of one who has been -through many a peril and many a fight, who has led a cleanly life, and -can look the world in the face fearlessly. His eyes are large and blue, -and full of life and gaiety. He has a heart as true as gold, and a -strong right arm, good for the felling of a foe or the saving of a -friend. - -‘For my own part, I’m starving,’ says he. ‘Come along; we’re near our -club, and you’ll dine with me. Considering what a stranger I am in my -own land, you’ll be able to help me out a bit. I feel as if I did not -know anyone—that is, if you are not going anywhere else. There’s a -wandering look about you. No? No other engagements? That’s good.’ - -They have reached the steps of the Kildare Street Club by this time, and -presently are in the pleasant dining-room. - -‘By the way, talking of engagements,’ says Crosby, between the soup and -fish, ‘I have one for to-night, at your aunt’s—Mrs. Prior’s. In some odd -fashion she heard I was in Dublin, and sent a card to the Gresham for -me. You’—glancing at Wyndham’s evening dress—‘are going somewhere, too, -perhaps?’ - -‘There, too,’ says Wyndham. ‘I’ve got out of it a good deal lately; but -it doesn’t do to offend her overmuch. She’s touchy. And the old man, my -uncle, Lord Shangarry—you remember him, how he used to tip us at school -long ago?—makes quite a point of my being civil to her.’ - -‘To her, or——’ - -‘My cousin?’ Wyndham lifts his brows. ‘I feel sure my cousin is as -indifferent to me as I am to her.’ He pauses. ‘Still, I will not conceal -from you that my uncle desires a marriage between us.’ - -‘Is this the cause of your late depression?’ asks Crosby, with a -quizzical expression. - -‘Not it,’ says Wyndham. ‘By-the-by’—a little hurriedly—‘what of that -late adventure of yours in Siam? You were just telling me about it -when——’ - -Crosby at once plunges into the interrupted anecdote, bringing it, -however, to a somewhat sharp close. - -‘You know what life is!’ says Wyndham a little moodily when it is over. -‘I envy you; I often think I too should like to break off the threads of -society that bind one in, and start on a career that would leave -civilization and—its worries behind.’ - -‘Its worries?’ - -‘Well, gossip for one thing, and that delicate espionage that so often -leads to the damning of a man.’ - -‘Poor old boy! Got into deep water,’ thinks Crosby whilst toying with -his champagne. - -‘Once in it, one never gets out of civilization,’ says he. ‘It sticks to -one like a burr. Don’t hope for that when you start on the wild career -you speak of. For myself, I like civilization. It’s clean, for one -thing—savages don’t do much in the way of washing. But I confess I like -wandering for wandering’s sake. It’s a mania with me. Here to-day and -gone to-morrow—that’s the motto that suits me. Yet, I dare say, in time -I shall get tired of it.’ - -‘Not you. Where are you going next?’ - -‘Not made up my mind yet. But I’ll tell you where I’ve been last—right -into Arcadia! A difficult place to find nowadays, the savants tell you; -but the savants, like the Cretans, are all liars. And in my Arcadia I -fell in with an adventure, and met——’ - -He pauses, and, leaning back in his chair, clasps his hands behind his -head and gives way to silent laughter. Evidently some memory is amusing -him. - -‘Someone who apparently was kind to you,’ says Wyndham indifferently, -breaking off from the stem, but not eating, the purple grapes before -him. - -‘Kind!’ says Crosby. ‘Hardly that.’ - -‘Unkind?’ - -‘More than that.’ - -‘She told you——’ - -‘That I was a thief.’ Wyndham’s indifference ceases for a moment. - -‘Strong language,’ says he. - -‘True, I assure you. Do I look like one? Ever since that terrible -denunciation I have often asked myself whether so much knocking about as -I have known has not ruffianized me in appearance, at all events.’ - -‘Where on earth is the Arcadia you speak of?’ asks Wyndham. - -‘Well, to tell you everything, I went down to Curraghcloyne this morning -to have a look at the old place.’ - -‘What! There! Why, I was there to-day, too,’ says Wyndham, and then -pauses, as if suddenly sorry he had spoken. - -‘We must have missed each other, then, and come up by different trains.’ - -‘I suppose so,’ says Wyndham slowly. ‘And so your Arcadia is -Curraghcloyne? Fancy an adventure there!’ He shrugs his shoulders, and -leans back in his chair. ‘You have had so many real adventures that I -expect you like to revel in imagining one now and then.’ - -‘Perhaps so,’ says Crosby. ‘Still, even in Arcadia one doesn’t like to -be called a thief. I say, it is getting late, isn’t it? Your aunt spoke -of ten. It is now well after eleven. Buck up, my child, and let us on.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - ‘The web of our life is of mingled yarn, - Good and ill together.’ - - -The rooms are crowded to excess, and it is with difficulty that Crosby -and Wyndham make their way to the place where someone has told them -their hostess is to be found. They have arrived very late, in spite of -Crosby’s attempt at haste, so late, indeed, that already some of the -guests are leaving—a fact that has somewhat embarrassed their journey up -the staircase. The heat is intense, and the perfume of the many roses -makes the air heavy. - -Quite at the end of the music-room Wyndham sees his aunt, and presently -she, seeing him and Crosby in the doorway, makes them a faint -salutation. The Hon. Mrs. Prior is a tall woman, with a high, -aristocratic nose, fair hair, and blue eyes, now a little pale. She was -the handsomest of the three daughters of Sir John Burke, and, what is -not always the case, had made the best marriage. Her youngest sister, -Kate, had, however, done very well, too, when she married James Wyndham, -but the eldest sister had made a distinct fiasco of her life. She had -run away with a ne’er-do-well, a certain Robert Haines, who came from no -one knew where, and went no one knew where, either, taking Sir John’s -favourite daughter with him. It was hushed up at the time, but the old -man had caused ceaseless secret inquiries to be made for the missing -daughter, always, however, without result. It was for a time a blot upon -the family history, but it was forgotten after awhile, and Mrs. Prior -and her daughter have for some time taken leading parts in Dublin -society. - -A tall, thin woman is singing very beautifully as the two young men -enter, and Mrs. Prior’s slight movement of recognition to her nephew -conveys with it a desire that he should not seek her until the song has -come to an end. And presently the last quivering note dies away upon the -air, and the crowd is once more in motion. Lady H—— is being -congratulated on the beauties of her voice by many people, and Mrs. -Prior, having done her part, is now able to receive her nephew and -Crosby without having to pause and wonder who she is to speak to next. - -Indeed, Lady H——’s singing has virtually wound up the evening. Few would -care to sing after her, and now the rooms are beginning to look -deserted. - -‘Always a laggard, Paul,’ says his aunt, who, having bidden good-bye to -her principal guests, has left the rest to her daughter. ‘But I suppose -something of it must be put down to to-night.’ She smiles at Crosby, -whom she has known since he was a little boy. ‘You should have been here -earlier, you two; she sang even better in the beginning of the evening. -It was “Allan Water,” and you know how that would suit her voice. But -now that you have come so late, you must stay a little later and have -supper with Josephine and me.’ - -She talks on to them in her cultivated yet somewhat hard voice, rising -now and then to say good-bye to someone, until the rooms are quite -cleared and her daughter is able to join them. - -Josephine Prior comes across the polished floor of the music-room to -where they are sitting in a curtained recess; she is as tall as her -mother, and as fair, and a little harder. Miss Prior is undoubtedly the -handsomest girl in Dublin this season (now all but over), and has been -for the past two or three. Tall, _distinguée_ and with irreproachable -manners, there are very few who can outdo her. She sweeps up to them -now, her pretty silken skirts falling gracefully around her, and her -mother, rising, motions her into her own seat, that next to Wyndham’s, -while she sinks into a chair on Crosby’s left. - -It had been a settled thing with Mrs. Prior for years that Josephine, -her only child, should marry Paul Wyndham, who, though only a barrister, -is still a very rising one, and heir to his grand-uncle, Lord Shangarry. -To know Josephine a countess! There lay all the hope, all the ambition, -of Mrs. Prior’s life, and the fact that old Lord Shangarry shared her -hopes about this matter naturally led to the idea that in time it must -be accomplished. If Paul were to offend his uncle, then—well, then, the -title would be his indeed; but the enormous income now attached to it, -not being entailed, could be left as Lord Shangarry wished. Few people -fly in the face of Providence where thousands a year are concerned, and -Mrs. Prior depended upon Wyndham’s common-sense to secure him as a -husband for her daughter. As for Wyndham, though up to this not a -syllable has passed between him and Josephine to bind him to her in any -way, he has of late brought himself to believe that a marriage with her, -considering the stakes, is not out of the question. She is a handsome -girl, too, and as a countess would look the part. - -Now, as she seats herself beside him, he again acknowledges the beauty -of her chiselled nose and chin. But——yes; there is a but. All at once it -occurs to him that beauty is very seldom to be found in perfect -features. The really artistic face has always one feature quite beyond -the bounds of art. Strange that it had not occurred to him before! -Still, Josephine is undoubtedly handsome. - -Josephine’s voice is like her mother’s—clear and very hard. She is -talking now. - -‘Do you know we were down in your part of the world the other day?’ says -she. ‘We were lunching with dear Lady Millbank, and then went on to your -cottage. We wanted to get some flowers. You know how mean Lady Millbank -is about her roses, so we decided on saying nothing to her, and trusting -to your place. But when we got there’—with an elephantine attempt at -playfulness—‘the cupboard was bare, at all events to us, because we -could not get in.’ - -‘Yes, so odd!’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘We rang, and rang, and rang, but no one -came for quite a long time. At last your housekeeper appeared, a most -disagreeable person, my dear Paul. She was, indeed, almost rude, and -said she had your orders to admit nobody.’ - -She looks back at Wyndham, who looks back at her with an immovable -countenance. - -‘Not my orders, certainly,’ says he calmly. ‘I was abroad until the -other day, you know, so I can hardly be responsible for Mrs. Moriarty’s -manœuvres.’ - -His voice is perfectly even, though a perfect storm of rage against Mrs. -Denis is rendering him furious. Confound the woman! what does she mean -by seeking to create a scandal out of a mere nothing—a mountain out of a -mole-hill? - -Crosby, glancing at him steadily for a moment, turns his eyes away -again, and breaks into the discussion. - -‘I am sorry you did not go up to my place,’ says he, addressing Miss -Prior. ‘It is quite a terrible thing to contemplate, your having been in -want of flowers.’ - -‘Ah, but you weren’t there!’ says Josephine, with a mild attempt at -coquetry. ‘If you had been, we might have made a raid on you.’ - -‘Well, I’m at home now,’ says Crosby cheerfully. ‘You must come down -some day soon, and help me to gather my roses.’ - -‘You mean to stay, then?’ says Josephine, leaning a little towards him -across her mother. She is quite bent on marrying her cousin, though she -is as indifferent to him as he is to her; but in the meantime she is not -above a slight flirtation with Crosby. To tell the truth, this big, -good-humoured, handsome man appeals to her far more than Paul has ever -done. - -‘Until the autumn, at all events,’ says he. - -As for Wyndham, he is still sitting mute, apparently listening to his -aunt’s diatribes about society, and Dublin society in particular, but in -reality raging over Mrs. Denis’s shortcomings, and the deplorable Irish -sympathetic nature that has led her to sacrifice everything—even the -excellent situation she has at the Cottage—to a mere passing fancy for a -girl whom she has known at the longest for four or five weeks. - -Crosby, noting his abstraction, is still rattling along. - -‘Now, it’s a promise, Mrs. Prior, isn’t it? You’—here he glances -deliberately at Josephine—‘you will come and look round my place soon, -won’t you? I’m thinking of making up a little house-party in September -or August, and I hope you and Miss Prior will leave a week open for me.’ -He throws a look over his shoulder. ‘You too, Wyndham?’ - -‘Thank you,’ says Paul absently. - -‘What a charming idea!’ cries Josephine ecstatically. Here she decides -upon clapping her hands, and she does it in her perfectly well-bred way. -The result is deadly. ‘To stay with a bachelor! Mamma, you will -consent?’ - -Mamma consents. Josephine, again leaning towards Crosby, says something -delightful to him. It has seemed to her since Crosby’s coming that to -have two strings to your bow is a very desirable thing. Paul is well -enough, and in the end, of course, she will marry him, though at times -she has thought that he——But, of course, that is nonsense. He would be -afraid to marry anyone else—afraid of his uncle. What a pity he is not -Mr. Crosby, or Mr. Crosby Paul! Well, one can’t have everything one’s -own way, after all, and there is the title. Lady Shangarry—Mrs. Crosby. -Yes; the title counts. But really Paul is so very dull, and Mr. Crosby, -though he has no title, so infinitely better off than Paul will ever be, -and the Crosbys are an old family, dating back to—goodness knows when! -Still, a title! - -Finally she gets back to the title, and stays there. - -‘But yes, really, dear Paul,’ Mrs. Prior is saying, ‘I think that -housekeeper of yours, or caretaker, or whatever she is, takes too much -upon her. I tried to explain to her I was your aunt, and, indeed, she -has seen me several times, but I could not shake her determination to -let no one in. Anyone might be excused for imagining that she was -concealing something.’ - -‘Garden-party for her own friends, no doubt,’ says Crosby. He has cast a -half-amused, half-inquiring glance at Wyndham; but the latter’s face is -impassive. - -‘I think it a little serious,’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘Young men, as a rule, -are always imposed upon by women of her class—caretakers, of course, I -mean,’ with a careful glance at the innocent Josephine. ‘Landladies and -that. Do you think, dear Paul, that she is quite honest?’ - -‘Quite, I think.’ - -‘Then why this extraordinary step on her part—this locking out your very -nearest and’—with an open glance at Josephine—‘dearest? No, no, George,’ -to Crosby, ‘you really must not jest on this subject. I feel it is quite -important where Paul is concerned. You really know of no reason, Paul, -why she should have forbidden us an entrance?’ - -Is there meaning in the question? Wyndham looks at her steadily before -replying. - -‘I was in France at the time,’ says he carelessly. ‘If she had a motive, -how could I know it?’ - -Crosby leans back and crosses his arms negligently. ‘What an idiotic -equivocation!’ thinks he. - -‘You certainly ought to speak to her about it.’ - -‘Of course I shall speak to her.’ - -Crosby smiles. - -‘I really think you ought,’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘You can’—severely—‘mention -me if you wish. I consider she behaved extremely badly. And I quite -tremble for the dear little old place. You know it was an uncle of -ours—a grand-uncle of yours—who left the place to your mother, and as -girls we—that is, your aunts and I—used to be very fond of running up -from your grandfather’s place in Kerry to spend a few weeks in it. We -were all girls then—your mother, and I, and your——’ She stops, and -sneezes most opportunely behind her lace handkerchief. The innocent -Josephine had touched her foot under cover of her gown. Of course the -aunt who had disappeared so unpleasantly had better not be mentioned. - -‘I hope, Paul, you will see that this woman keeps the dear old place in -order,’ says Mrs. Prior rather hastily. - -‘To confess a dreadful truth,’ says Wyndham, smiling somewhat briefly, -‘I have almost made up my mind to let the Cottage. It has been rather a -burden to me of late. And——’ - -‘To let it. But why?’ - -‘Well, as you see yourself,’ says Wyndham desperately, ‘Mrs. Moriarty -does not seem capable of looking after it. It is an awful bore, you -know, and’—with a rush of affection hitherto unborn—‘the idea of her -having kept you out of the place seems to put an end to my trust in her -for ever.’ - -Crosby flicks a little point of dust off his coat-sleeve. ‘Oh, the -handsome liar!’ thinks he. - -‘But, my dear boy, you must not be too precipitate. A word to her would -perhaps——’ - -‘I’ve quite made up my mind,’ says Wyndham steadfastly. ‘I shall look -out for a tenant.’ - -‘Dear Paul!’ says Mrs. Prior, touched by this nephew-like act, ‘I of -course appreciate your sweetness in this matter. It is very dear of you -to be so angry about the woman’s incivility to me, and if you have made -up your mind about getting a tenant for the dear old Cottage, I think I -can help you.’ - -Here Crosby leans forward. It is proving very interesting. - -‘You mustn’t take any trouble,’ says Wyndham; ‘I couldn’t allow you.’ - -‘It will be no trouble—for you,’ says Josephine, breaking into the -conversation very affectionately. - -‘Thanks awfully, but I think I’ve got a desirable tenant in my eye,’ -says Wyndham—‘one suitable in every respect.’ - -‘The real thing is to know if he is solvent,’ says Mrs. Prior. - -‘Oh, I think so—I think so,’ says Wyndham thoughtfully. - -‘Is he young or old?’ asks Josephine, who feels she ought to show some -interest in his affairs. - -Wyndham remains wrapt up in thought for a moment, then apparently wakes -up. - -‘Oh, the tenant,’ says he dreamily. ‘Not old; no, not old!’ - -‘At that rate you must introduce us to him,’ says Mrs. Prior, with quite -surprising archness. ‘Solvent and not old! Quite a desirable -acquaintance! What is his name, Paul?’ - -‘I don’t know,’ says Wyndham. - -‘Not know? But, my dear Paul!’ - -‘I positively don’t,’ says Wyndham, in quite a loud voice. It occurs to -Crosby that now at last he is telling the truth, and that he is wildly -glad at being able to do so. But the truth! Where does it come in? -Crosby grows curious. ‘Strange as it may sound, the name is unknown to -me. And for the matter of that nothing is settled. There have been only -preliminaries. There must always be preliminaries, you know,’ talking -briskly to his aunt. - -‘Well, be careful,’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘And whatever you do, Paul, don’t -take a lady tenant. They are so difficult. Now promise me, Paul, you -won’t take a lady as a tenant.’ - -Providentially, at this moment the very late supper is announced, and -Paul, rising, gives his arm to Josephine, after which the conversation -drifts into other channels. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - ‘This is the short and long of it.’ - - -The moon is streaming brilliantly over the silent streets as the two men -leaving Fitzwilliam Square turn presently into Stephen’s Green and then -down Dawson Street. Crosby’s footsteps are bound for the Gresham Hotel, -and Wyndham, who should have gone the other way, considering his rooms -are in Elgin Road, walks with him silently, and so mechanically that it -becomes at once plain to Crosby that he has lost himself a little in a -world of troublous thought. - -Determining to let him find his way out of his mind’s labyrinth by -himself, Crosby maintains a discreet silence, refraining even from good -words and the whistle that has come to be part of him during his strange -wanderings by sea and land, and is difficult to discard when in the -midst of civilization. - -It is not until they have reached the railings that run round Trinity -College, where the glorious light of the moon is lighting up the old and -splendid pile, that Wyndham speaks. - -‘I’ve had the deuce of a time,’ says he. - -‘Well, I could see that,’ says Crosby, turning his cigar in his fingers. -‘I’m rather disappointed in you, do you know, Paul. How you are to make -a fortune out of your profession is to me a mystery. Throw it up. You -are certainly not a liar born.’ - -‘I’m in a tight place,’ says Wyndham disgustedly, ‘but I dare say I’ll -get out of it. Well’—reluctantly—‘good-night.’ - -‘Not a bit of it,’ says Crosby, tucking his arm into his; ‘come and have -a pipe with me, and—if you can bring yourself to it—give voice to this -worry of yours, and get it off your mind.’ - -A pipe is a great help; soothed by it, and the influence of the society -of his old chum, Wyndham, seated comfortably in a huge armchair in -Crosby’s room, tells the latter the whole of his remarkable acquaintance -with his unknown guest at the Cottage. - -It is, to confess the truth, a rather lame story, very lamely told; and -at the close of it Wyndham looks at his friend, at least at as much of -him as he can see, Crosby being now enclouded in smoke. He had been -smoking very vigorously, indeed, all through the recital, and there had -been moments when he had seemed to be choking, but whether altogether -from the smoke Wyndham felt uncertain. - -‘Well, that’s the story,’ says he at last, flinging himself back in his -chair. - -There is a short silence. - -‘Then I suppose you could not think of a better one?’ says Crosby, -beginning to choke again. - -‘Oh, I knew how you’d take it—how any fellow would take it,’ says -Wyndham wrathfully. ‘I can see that there isn’t a soul in the world who -would believe such an idiotic story as mine. But there it is, and you -can take it or leave it as you like. But for all that, Crosby, you ought -to know me well enough to understand that I should not trouble myself to -lie to you unless there was occasion for it.’ - -At this Crosby gives way to a roar. - -‘Well, I honestly believe there’s no occasion now,’ says he; ‘and for -the rest, dear old chap! of course I believe every word you have said. -You must be thoroughly hipped, or you’d have seen how I was enjoying the -joke. Come, it seems we have both had adventures in Arcadia, and that we -have both come in rather sorry fashion out of them.’ - -‘Oh, you—you can afford to speak of adventures,’ says Wyndham ruefully. -‘You’re accustomed to them, but I—I confess this last and first has been -enough for me. You who have faced lions——’ - -‘Not so many, after all,’ interrupts Crosby, laughing. ‘Don’t magnify -them like that. I’ve shot a few, I confess, but I only seem to remember -seven. One does remember them when one’s face to face with them. But -there is not such a lot to remember, after all.’ - -‘It would serve, so far as I am concerned,’ says Wyndham frankly. -‘Indeed, I think I could do with one—always supposing he was dead. As -for how I feel now, it is as though I were in a den of them, and I doubt -if I’ll come as well out of it as Daniel did.’ - -Crosby regards him with an amused eye. - -‘Apropos your tenant,’ says he, ‘when are you going to introduce your -aunt to your young man?’ - -‘Oh, get out!’ says Wyndham. - -‘That’s a lion if you like,’ says Crosby. - -‘Which—my aunt or my tenant?’ - -‘I haven’t seen the tenant. Still, it strikes me that she will be a -lion, too. I’d get out of that den if I were you.’ - -‘Well, I want to. But what’s one to do? I can’t get rid of either of my -lions.’ - -‘Not even of the tenant?’ - -‘I don’t see how I can, now I have given my promise.’ - -‘Well, introduce them to each other; that’s a capital suggestion if you -will only look into it. Whilst they claw each other, you may be able to -make your escape.’ - -‘Introduce them?’ Wyndham pauses, as if sounding the proposition, then -gives way to wrath. ‘Hang it!’ says he; ‘you are worse than Job’s three -comforters all rolled into one.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - ‘No hinge nor loop - To hang a doubt on.’ - - -To-day is Sunday—the first Sunday since that eventful day when Susan had -tackled and disarmed the thief, and certainly the warmest day that has -come this season. In here in the church the heat is almost intolerable; -and Susan, when the Litany begins, feels her devotion growing faint. - -She has, indeed, up to this had a good deal of troublous excitement. To -keep one eye on Jacky, who had left home in a distinctly resentful mood, -and the other on Tommy, who doesn’t believe in churches as a -satisfactory playground, is a task to which few would be equal; and even -now, when Tommy has been reduced to silence by Betty and lemon-drops, -the excessive warmth of the day leaves Susan too tired to follow the -beautiful service. - -Mechanically she says, ‘We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord’; but her -mind is wandering, and presently her eyes begin to wander too. - -The curate, how hideous he is, poor little man! and what a pity he is so -painfully conscious of the loss of his front tooth! and what a lovely -light that is from the window falling on his gown! It must be nice -outside now. How the flies are buzzing on the panes, just like the -organ! Maria Tanner should not be laughing like that; if father saw her -he would be so angry, and Maria is such a nice girl, and so clever—took -all the prizes at the diocesan examination last year—and her sister is -considered quite an excellent housemaid by Lady Millbank. What a pretty -bonnet Lady Millbank has on! Those violets suit her. Who is the man in -the pew behind her? Why, that is the Crosby pew, and—— - -For one awful minute Susan feels the walls of the church closing in upon -her; a sensation of faintness, a trembling of the knees, oppress her. -She is conscious of all this, and then the mist fades away. - -No, no; of course it is not true. It is impossible. A remarkable -likeness, no more. She could laugh almost at her own folly, and very -nearly does so in her nervous state; but providentially the sight of a -gloomy black and white tablet, erected to the memory of a dead and gone -Crosby, that stands out from the wall right before her, prevents this -act of desecration. - -She—she will look again, if only to assure herself of her own folly. -Slowly, slowly she lifts her eyes—the eyes that now are standing in a -very white face—and looks with a desperate courage at the Crosby pew. -Her eyes meet full the eyes of its one occupant, and then Susan tells -herself that it is all over, and death alone is to be looked for. - -For the eyes of the Crosby pew man are the eyes of Susan’s thief. There -can be no mistake about it any longer. The man who sits in Mr. Crosby’s -pew and Susan’s repentant thief are one and the same. - -Her eyes seem to cling to his. In the fever of horror that has overtaken -her, she feels as if she could never remove them. For a full minute the -man in the Crosby pew and Susan kneel, staring at each other; and then -suddenly something happens. Lady Millbank, who is sitting in the pew -before that of the Crosbys, turns round and hands Susan’s thief a -Prayer-book. That in itself would be very well—everyone should give a -thief a Prayer-book—but Lady Millbank has accompanied her gift with a -friendly nod of recognition, a charming smile—the smile that Susan so -well knows, the smile that is only given to those whom Lady Millbank -desires to honour or to be in with. - -It is all quite plain now. The thief is Mr. Crosby, and Susan with a -groan lets her face fall upon her clasped hands, and hopes vainly for -the earth to open and swallow her up quick. - -But the earth is a stupid thing, and never does anything nowadays. Not a -single earthquake appears for Susan’s accommodation, and the good old -church is not conscious of even a quiver. The service goes on. The -Litany is done. They all rise from their knees, and the curate gives out -a hymn: - - ‘“O Paradise! O Paradise!”’ - -Poor Susan feels as if ‘O Purgatory!’ would be much nearer it, so far as -she is concerned. She would have stopped the hymn there and then if she -could, feeling utterly upset and nervous. But it would take a great many -feelings to stop a church service when it is once in full swing; and the -hymn goes on gaily in spite of Susan’s despair. It reaches, indeed, a -most satisfactory ending, in spite of a slight contretemps occasioned by -the one unlucky Protestant maid belonging to the Rectory, called Sarah. - -Poor Sarah has this day for the first time put on a hat of which a -brilliant magenta feather is the principal feature. Hitherto it has not -caught Miss Barry’s eye—a wonder in itself even greater than the magenta -feather, as this estimable spinster, with a view to keeping the -servants’ moral conduct perfect, has elected that they shall sit on a -bench in the big square Rectory pew right before her and her nephew and -nieces. - -It is at the beginning of the first verse that Miss Barry’s eye lights -on the monstrosity in Sarah’s hat. Feathers and flowers are abominations -in Miss Barry’s eyes when worn by the ‘common people,’ as she calls -those beneath her in the social scale. How dare that impertinent girl -come to church with such an immodest ornament on her head! What on earth -is the world coming to? She must, she will, speak to her; impossible to -let her enjoy that feather another second. - -If she can’t speak, she can at all events sing at her. - -She darts across the pew, and, leaning over Sarah’s shoulder, sings -piercingly into her ear: - -“‘O Paradise! O Paradise.” Sarah, what do you mean?’ (Rising note.) ‘How -dare’ (prolonged shriek on top note) ‘you wear that feather, girl! Where -did you get that hat?’ - -She is simply screaming this to the hymn-tune. You all know the hymn, of -course, and can understand how Miss Barry’s voice rose to a shrill yell -in the ‘dare.’ Sarah, with a convulsive start, turns round. It seems to -her that this loud voice shouting in her ear must be heard by every -other soul in the church; and frightened, ashamed, she sinks down into -her seat, and prepares to hide herself and the magenta feather behind -her Prayer-book. But at this breach of church etiquette Miss Barry grows -even more incensed, and proceeds to rouse the wretched girl to a sense -of her further iniquity by well-directed and vigorous punches and prods -of her Prayer-book on her back. Whereon Sarah, dissolved in tears, rises -to her feet once more. She is evidently on the verge of hysterics, and -would have undoubtedly given way to them, but that at this moment Betty, -who is afraid of nothing under heaven, lays her hand on Miss Barry’s -arm, and forcibly pulls her back to her accustomed place. - -The hymn has now come to an end, and only Sarah’s stifled groanings are -heard upon the air. Most people take these to be the buzzing of the -innumerable bluebottles collected in the window-panes, so that the whole -affair goes off better than might have been expected. - -Slowly, slowly, go the minutes; slower and slower still is the voice of -the curate, as he intones the Commandments. The bluebottles, as if -invigorated by it, buzz louder than ever, until poor Sarah’s sobs are -completely drowned. - -The heat grows more and more intense. Jacky, beneath its pressure, has -fallen sound asleep, and is now giving forth loud and handsome snorings. -Miss Barry, horrified, makes frantic signs to Dominick, who is next to -the culprit, to stop this unsolicited addition to the church music that -Jacky has so ‘kindly consented’ to give, and Dom waves back at her -wildly. No, no, of course. He quite understands; he will see that no one -interferes with the dear boy’s slumbers on any account whatever. The -wavings backwards and forwards grow fast and furious—furious on the part -of Miss Barry, and really as fast as lightning on the part of Mr. -Fitzgerald, who is having a thoroughly _bon quart d’heure_; but Carew -ends it. - -He has been trying mentally to get through one of his papers for his -next examination, and finding Jacky’s snores a deadly interruption to -his thoughts, he fetches that resounding hero a telling kick on a part -that shall be nameless, which brings him not only to his senses, but the -floor. - -There is a momentary confusion in the Rectory pew; but as every member -of the congregation is more or less drowsing, Jacky is picked up and -restored to his seat before the real meaning of the confusion is known. -And, indeed, when anyone does look, all the Barrys are sitting so demure -and innocent that no one could connect them with anything out of the -way. Susan, alone flushed and unnerved, in spite of her determination -not to do it, looks quickly at the Crosby pew, to find the thief looking -at her with a singular intensity of regard. It is at this moment that -Susan, for the first time in her young, happy life, wakes to sympathy -with those unfortunate people who sometimes wish that they were dead. - -The curate, a short, squat little man—a man so short, indeed, that a -footstool has had to be placed in the pulpit for him to let the -congregation see him as he preaches—is now droning away like the flies, -‘shooting out shafts of eloquence to the bucolic mind’ is how he puts it -when writing to his people; but even his people, if here, could hardly -catch the shafts to-day. The fact is, he has not yet had time to get in -the teeth he lost by his fall last week; and, however admirable his -discourse may be, the beauties of it are known to him alone. - -The farmers who are awake are leaning forward, their hands to their ears -to catch the Gospel words that never reach them. Lady Millbank has -fallen gracefully asleep. Sarah is still weeping copiously, but now, -thank Heaven, quietly. The curate, vainly striving to pronounce his -‘this’ and his ‘that,’ grows more and more nervous. He leans over the -pulpit, and thunders at the sleeping farmers and at the leading families -around, in whose pews, too, Somnus is holding a full court. Farther and -farther he leans, striving with his parishioners as much as with his -teeth; a very passion of anxiety grows upon him. He lifts his arms from -the desk before him—the desk that is supporting him—and waves them -frantically. - -‘Hear—hear, my brethren,’ cries he. ‘Hear and see——’ - -His cry, like the ‘Excelsior’ young man’s clarion, rings loud and clear. -It wakes some of the sleepy members, who look up to see what it is all -about. But when they do look up there is nothing to see. - -Most unexpectedly and disgracefully—considering its relation to the -Church—the footstool has given way with a crash, and Mr. Haldane, the -curate, has given way with it, and disappeared, holus bolus, into the -big old pulpit. - -For quite a minute, though no doubt ‘to memory dear,’ the curate is -certainly ‘lost to sight;’ and when at last he ventures once more to -mount the offending stool, and look down at his parishioners, it is to -find that the far larger half of them are gladly streaming down the -aisle to the fresh air outside, under the fond delusion that ‘church is -over.’ - -These are the specially drowsy ones. The crash caused by the curate’s -unpremeditated descent had roused them from their happy dreams, and, on -opening their eyes, seeing no preacher in the pulpit, they had naturally -come to the conclusion that the performance was at an end. - -Vain to call them back. Mr. Haldane spreads out his arms to heaven in a -mournful appeal, but, hearing some unmistakable tittering to his left, -turns, and incontinently flies. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - ‘Life is thorny, and youth is vain!’ - - -Not so quickly as Susan, however. He could hardly have flown with the -fleetness of that heart-troubled nymph. She—at the first chance, when -her father, rising hurriedly at the flight of his curate, had breathed -the blessing—had flown down the side-aisle and through the small oak -door into the golden air outside; and from there into a small lane -filled with flowering weeds, that led straight homewards. - -Running—racing, indeed—goes Susan, with her heart on fire, as her -cheeks, and her lovely, child-like eyes darkened and bright with the -sense of coming disaster. - -She does not draw breath until she finds herself safe in her own little -room, with just five precious minutes (precious, unusual five minutes, -gained only by that swift run that has left them all behind) in which to -think out as calmly as she can what has befallen her. - -A thief! She had called him a thief! He—Mr. Crosby—the distinguished -traveller! Oh! what is to become of her? Not even now, at this last -gasp, does she try to persuade herself that the man in the Crosby pew -was a fraud—that he wasn’t Mr. Crosby. She knows as positively as though -she had been introduced to him that he is Mr. Crosby. - -Introduced to him! As if——She covers her face with her hands. No, no; -there need be no fear of that. He will go away soon—at once. People say -he cannot bear civilized life; that he always hankers after savages, and -lions, and things. He will go away, of course. Oh, if only he will go -away soon enough, and never come back! Susan, with her hands before her -gentle eyes, has sudden dreams of people who have been devoured by -lions, and for the first time fails to see the extreme horror of it. - -Yes, he will go away soon; and in the meantime—well, in the meantime it -is very unlikely that she will come face to face with him. - -‘Susan, Susan! are you there?’ - -‘Yes,’ says Susan. She goes to the door, and finds Jacky on the -threshold of it. - -‘Dinner is ready,’ says that solemn youth; ‘and they sent me up for -you.’ - -‘I can’t come down,’ says Susan. ‘I have a headache. Jacky—dear, dear -Jacky, say I have a headache. And I have, too—I have indeed. There won’t -be any lie. The heat—you must have felt the heat in church—you fell -asleep——’ - -‘Yes, I know,’ says Jacky, in his queer way, that always expresses anger -with difficulty suppressed. ‘You won’t come down, then?’ - -‘No; I can’t—I——’ She lifts her hand to her head. - -Jacky hesitates, turns slowly, and then throws a glance at her. - -‘Susan, did you see that man in the Crosby pew?’ - -Susan’s nerves being a little overwrought, she almost jumps at this. - -‘Yes, yes,’ says she in a hurried way. - -‘He was very like the thief, wasn’t he?’ says Jacky anxiously. Susan -colours hotly. - -‘Nonsense, Jacky’—with a very poor attempt at scorn. ‘That gentleman in -Mr. Crosby’s pew was, I think, Mr. Crosby himself, or, at all events, -some friend of his.’ - -‘Well, the thief was the image of him,’ says Jacky slowly. That’s the -worst of Jacky, he is always so abominably slow. ‘I looked at him, and I -said to myself, “That’s Susan’s thief,” and,’ with awful obstinacy, ‘I -think it was, too.’ - -‘No, no, no!’ says Susan. ‘It was Mr. Crosby, I tell you. I saw Lady -Millbank nod and smile at him.’ - -Jacky considers. - -‘Very well,’ says he, in a thoroughly unconvinced tone. He moves away a -bit and then looks back. ‘If that is true,’ says he, ‘Mr. Crosby looks -like a thief.’ - - * * * * * - -At half-past three Susan, having come to the conclusion that sitting up -here won’t help her out of her difficulty, wanders downstairs and into -the schoolroom, where Betty makes much of her, and makes her sandwiches -out of the still warm mutton, which, in spite of their nastiness and her -headache, Susan devours with avidity. Hunger is a great sauce; no one -has ever yet invented one to beat it. And perhaps, if all were known, -Susan’s ache belongs more to the heart than the head. When the -sandwiches are finished, she declares herself much better, and Jane -coming to say that Lady Millbank is in the drawing-room, she rises, and -expresses a desire to see her. - -Lady Millbank, or ‘the Sack,’ as the irreverent young Barrys always call -her, thinks it the correct thing to be in with, and civil to, her -Rector—without giving herself any unnecessary trouble. The drive from -Millbank to the parish church is five good miles, so she always makes a -point of lunching with some of her friends and taking afternoon tea at -the Rectory. Even so far she would not have condescended, but that the -Rector, poor as he is, has sprung from a good old stock, and that his -wife was a connection of the late Sir Geoffrey Millbank. - -‘So sorry to hear you have been ill,’ says she, as Susan enters. Susan -is a favourite of hers. ‘The heat, eh?’ She speaks exactly as she looks. -She is one of those people who can be very gracious when they like, and -perfectly abominable on other occasions. She is ugly and shapeless, and -careless about her dress, but no one can mistake for a minute that she -is well born. - -‘It was very warm,’ says Susan. - -‘You look pale, my dear. I think, Miss Barry, she ought not to go to -church this evening.’ - -‘No, no, of course not, Susan,’ says Miss Barry severely; she is sitting -behind a wonderfully battered old teapot that has certainly seen -service, and must have been pure at heart to have come out of the trial -thus victoriously, though maimed and wounded. It is the pride of Miss -Barry’s life, and has come down to the Rector after many days. - -‘I suppose you saw that George Crosby has come home?’ says Lady -Millbank. ‘I had heard a rumour of his coming a week or so ago, but -thought nothing of it. Such a man as he is can never be relied upon, and -when he turned up actually alive last week, I was more surprised than I -can tell you.’ - -Last week! She had seen him, had talked with him. Had he told her? -Susan’s heart sinks within her. Positive despair makes her raise her -eyes and look at Lady Millbank. Oh, if—— - -But Lady Millbank is still chatting on, and in her eyes, as they meet -Susan’s, there is no _arrière-pensée_. No; he had not betrayed her. - -‘I don’t suppose we shall see much of him; he is always on the -stampede,’ Lady Millbank is saying. ‘One would think from his habits -that he was a criminal running before the law. I told him so. Ah’—rising -suddenly and looking out of the window—‘there he is! And coming here! Of -course, to call upon Mr. Barry. Your brother was a great friend of -George Crosby’s father, I think. Eh?’ - -‘There was a friendship,’ says Miss Barry. ‘Susan, how pale you are! -Come out of that dark corner, child, and sit near the window. The air -will do you good.’ - -‘I like being here,’ says Susan quickly. - -There is no time to say any more. Susan’s ‘thief’ is in the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - ‘A secret is in my custody if I keep it; but if I blab it, it is I - that am prisoner.’ - - -The Rector has come in, and has stayed to have a cup of tea with Mr. -Crosby. Lady Millbank declares herself charmed and very jealous. He -never leaves his beloved books to see her! Mr. Barry smiles, and then -falls back upon the memories of Crosby’s father that are always so dear -to him. He is a tall, gaunt man, severe, with a far-away look, and the -indifferent air of those who live with dead authors, and who are, -besides, a little worried by the money transactions of life. - -To have to think of the daily needs is hateful to Mr. Barry, who ought -to have been a bachelor, with nothing but his notes to worry him, living -in a world in which he could sit loosely. Even now he sometimes forgets -how time flies, and to tell him that Susan is almost a woman grown would -have roused him to quite an extraordinary wonder. The world goes on -whilst he stands still, and to-day the dragging of him out of his shell, -even to the ordinary business of a drawing-room conversation, has -bewildered him. After a little while he retires. - -His sermons, his visits to the sick, the poor (he never visits the rich -unless they specially send for him)—all these things concern him. But -when he knows himself happiest is when his study-door is shut for the -night to all intruders, and he can read, read, read, until the little -hours begin to chime. - -As Crosby entered the drawing-room, Susan felt her heart stand still. -She rose mechanically, and held out her hand to him as he came up to -her, but she did not lift her eyes. She felt vaguely conscious that she -had flushed over cheek and brow. Such a blush! So quick! so deep! Oh, he -must have seen it, and known the meaning of it! - -If he did, he made no sign whatever; and until the departure of Lady -Millbank he devoted himself to the Rector. - -When Lady Millbank rose to say good-bye, Susan told herself that now at -last the ordeal was at an end, and that he would go too. But, -apparently, he had no intention whatever of stirring. And the climax -came when Dom and Carew asked him to come out into the garden and have a -cigarette. The cigarettes were Dom’s. Mr. Crosby seemed only too willing -to accept this lively invitation, and Dom, thrusting his arm through -Betty’s, asked her to come along with him. - -‘And you, Miss Barry,’ says Crosby, now walking up deliberately to -Susan, who is still sitting in her shady corner. The elder Miss Barry -had gone out into the hall to bid Lady Millbank a last adieu, and tell -her of the latest misdoings of the young women of the Christian -Association in Curraghcloyne. ‘I hope you will come too.’ - -‘Oh yes, Susan, come on,’ says Betty. ‘It’s lovely outside to-day, and -father won’t be able to see the smoke through the beech hedge.’ The -Rector objects to smoking, so that Dom and Carew have quite a time of it -keeping their pipes and cigarettes out of his way. - -‘I hope you will come,’ says Crosby. He is bending over Susan now, and -he has distinctly lowered his tone. ‘Do you know, I have come over -to-day to see and thank you. I felt it quite my duty to do it.’ - -‘To thank me?’ For the first time during the afternoon Susan looks -straight at him. Her large and lovely eyes are full of wonderment. ‘To -thank me?’ - -‘Yes, indeed; I have great cause to be grateful to you,’ says Mr. -Crosby, with such extreme earnestness and gravity that she rises. What -if, after all, she was wrong, and the thief was not really Mr. Crosby? - -A cousin perhaps—a disagreeable one: cousins are very often -disagreeable, and often, too, more like one than one’s own brothers are. -Of course, if he was a kinsman, Mr. Crosby would be very grateful to her -for hushing up the whole affair, and telling nobody. And yet—— - -Again she lifts her eyes and studies his face. No, not even twins were -ever so alike as this man and the man that stole the cherries. - -‘Are you coming?’ calls Betty impatiently, and Susan moves forward. In a -moment she is stepping from the low sill of the Rectory drawing-room on -to the little plot of grass beneath, disregarding Mr. Crosby’s hand as -he holds it out to help her. - -She and he are well behind the others now, and Crosby speaks again. - -‘You don’t ask me why I am grateful,’ says he reproachfully. ‘Don’t you -care to know? I care to tell you. I have had it on my mind since that -day in the garden. You remember?’ - -‘Yes,’ says Susan. She stops short, and confronts him with flushed -cheeks and nervous eyes, but a little touch of courage that sits most -charmingly upon her. ‘I do remember. You—you were the man who——’ She -hesitates. - -‘Stole the cherries?’ suggests he. - -‘No’—coldly—‘who sat on the top of the ladder and made fun of me.’ - -There is a little silence. - -‘That is a most unkind speech,’ says Crosby at last. ‘After all, I don’t -feel as grateful now as I did a minute ago. I came here to-day to thank -you for looking so kindly after my property, and you meet me with an -accusation that absolutely strikes me dumb.’ - -At this Susan cannot refrain from bitter jest. - -‘True,’ says she scornfully; ‘one can see how silent you are.’ - -Mr. Crosby regards her with apparent awe, tempered with grief. - -‘If you persist in your present course,’ says he, ‘I shall commit -suicide. There will be nothing else left for me to do.’ - -‘In the meantime,’ says Susan, with astonishing spirit, ‘you had better -come into the garden. They are expecting you.’ - -Not so very much, after all. Betty, Carew, and Dom Fitzgerald are -engaged in a lively discussion on Miss Barry’s wild attack on the -unoffending Sarah in church this morning, and, in the delights of it, -have almost forgotten Mr. Crosby. The children are playing about on the -tennis-ground below, and Crosby’s eyes fall on Bonnie, as with great -difficulty, and with the help of a stick, he tries to follow little Tom. -Jacky, in the distance, is stretched on his stomach reading. - -‘Those are your brothers?’ asks Crosby, looking more deliberately at -Bonnie, whose charming little face, though pale and emaciated, attracts -him. - -‘Yes, I have four brothers and one sister.’ - -‘Five brothers, I thought.’ - -‘Oh no; Dominick Fitzgerald is our cousin. He lives with us nearly -altogether, and father is coaching him for the Indian Civil.’ - -‘Oh, I see. That little brother’—gently indicating Bonnie—‘does not look -very strong.’ - -‘No, he had rheumatic fever, and he has not been’—correcting herself -hastily, as though it is impossible to her to say the more terrible -word—‘very strong since.’ - -‘What a beautiful face!’ says Crosby involuntarily. And, indeed, the -loveliest flower of all this handsome Barry family is the little -suffering cripple child. - -Susan is conscious for a moment of a choking in her throat. Oh, her -little lovely darling brother! To hear him praised is a great joy to -her, but with the joy follows pain unutterable. If only she had looked -more closely after him! And poor, poor mamma, who had told her to be a -mother to him! Then, all at once, she remembers the cherries, and how he -had enjoyed them, and a queer passion of feeling, arising first of all -from the fact that Crosby had admired the child, makes her turn to him. - -‘Mr. Crosby, I want to tell you something,’ says she timidly; ‘those -cherries that you sent me’—he is about to tease her again, to pretend he -knows nothing of the gift, but her face, pale now and filled with a -strange but carefully-held-back emotion, keeps him silent—‘they gave -Bonnie a happy half-hour. No matter how I am feeling towards you, about -your pretending to be—you know—still, if only for the pleasure your -cherries gave Bonnie, I feel intensely thankful to you. He is not -strong, as you see. They say he will never be strong again, and it was -my fault; for I forgot him one day—one day—and mamma was dead too. I was -cross to you about your pretending to be a thief—I hope you won’t mind -me?’ - -It is such a childish speech, and there is such tragedy in the dark -eyes! She has not broken down at all. There is not a suspicion of tears -in her low, clear young voice, but that the child’s ill-health is a -constant grief to her is not to be doubted for a moment. - -‘If it comes to that,’ says he slowly, ‘it is I who ought to apologize. -And the worst of it is, I haven’t an apology ready. The plain truth is -that I couldn’t resist the situation. If I could hope that you would try -to forgive me——’ - -He breaks off. Susan has looked at him, and through the deep gloom of a -minute ago a smile has broken on her face. Such a smile! It makes her -look about twelve years old, and is indescribably pretty. ‘What a lovely -child!’ says Crosby to himself. She holds out her hand to him frankly. - -‘But don’t tell anybody,’ says she, in an eager little whisper. - -‘Tell! “Is thy servant——” But the brother over there catching cold on -the grass with a book before him—he was with you, I think.’ - -‘Ah, Jacky and I are chums!’ says she. This seems to settle the -question. It occurs to Mr. Crosby that it would be rather nice to be -chums with Susan, and he vaguely wonders if she would accept a chum who -was not one of the family. Is Dominick a chum? But, then, he is one of -the family. When Susan has chums, does she trust them—have little -secrets with them? If so, he may clearly rise to the desired position in -time. He is conscious of a sense of exhilaration as he tells himself -that Susan once regarded him as a thief, and that he is bound by her to -keep that regard a secret. - -‘Oh, there you are, Mr. Crosby!’ says Carew, stopping in his discussion -with Betty; ‘come here and sit down.’ - -‘Don’t sit on Betty, whatever you do,’ says Dominick from his place -beside her on the grass; ‘she’d be sure to resent it. She takes after -our own particular auntie in the way of temper. Susan, my -darling’—making a grab at Susan’s ankle, which she has learned from long -practice to avoid—‘come and sit down by me. No? Your brainpower must be -weak. Have a cigarette, Mr. Crosby. You need not mind the girls. It is -all we can do to keep our “baccy” from them.’ - -‘If I wanted your nasty “baccy,”’ says Betty, ‘it isn’t likely you would -be able to keep it from me. Give Mr. Crosby a match.’ - -‘Thanks, I have one,’ says Crosby. He had accepted Dom’s offer of a -cigarette without hesitation, and, indeed, would have smoked it to the -bitter end rather than offend any member of the little group around him. -They all please him; they all seem in unison with him—frank, happy, -rollicking youngsters, without a scrap of real harm amongst them. -Perhaps the secret of their success with Crosby lies in the fact that, -in spite of his being well in the thirties, he is still a boy himself at -heart, with a spice of mischief in him not to be controlled. The -cigarette, however, proves very tolerable, and Susan having seated -herself where he can distinctly see her, he feels that he is going to -spend an uncommonly pleasant afternoon. - -‘It’s a shame to say Betty’s got a temper,’ says Susan. ‘I’m sure she -hasn’t—not a bad one, any way.’ - -‘You needn’t defend me, Susan,’ says Betty, clasping her long, lean arms -behind her head. ‘I prefer to do it for myself, and’—with a fell glance -at the doomed Dominick—‘I think I know where revenge lies.’ - -‘I give in!’ cries Mr. Fitzgerald frantically. ‘Betty, pax!’ - -‘Never,’ says Betty. - -‘If you burn my fly-book a second time, I warn you that there will be -murder,’ says Dom; and then Betty has mercy. - -‘A public retractation, then!’ demands she viciously. - -‘A hundred of them. I swear to you, Mr. Crosby, that I wronged her, and -that her temper is like that of an angel, and not a bit like our Aunt -Jeremiah’s’—softly, ‘May I be forgiven!’ - -‘Did you hear her in church?’ asks Carew, turning to Crosby. ‘Aunt -Jemima, I mean, not Betty. She was mad with Sarah this morning——’ - -Crosby looks rather helplessly round him. - -‘Another sister?’ asks he. - -‘No, no,’ says Susan, whilst the others explode; and Crosby, unable to -resist their gaiety, joins in the merriment. ‘A servant——’ - -‘Had a magenta feather in her hat!’ cries Betty, roaring with laughter, -‘and Aunt Jemima hates feathers, and——’ - -‘This is my story, Betty,’ interrupts Carew; ‘I insist on telling it. -When the Paradise hymn began, Aunt Jemima saw the feather——’ - -‘Pounced upon Sarah!’ cries Susan, who is nearly in hysterics. ‘Oh, did -you see her? She sang the most dreadful things at her until the poor -girl nearly fainted, and——’ - -‘And then our only auntie punched her in the back with her Prayer-book,’ -puts in Dom. ‘Really, Betty, I did wrong you! You aren’t in it with her. -She cussed and swore like anything, but worse than all, Susan, was her -ribald rendering of music-hall songs within the sainted precincts of the -church.’ - -‘Nonsense, Dom! you spoil the story by exaggeration.’ - -‘Exaggeration! My dear girl, didn’t you hear her? Why, she was shouting -it! She got rather mixed up in the music—I’m bound to say the two times -are not the same—but she managed it wonderfully. You heard her, Carew, -didn’t you? - - ‘“Where did you get that hat?” - -I waited for the rest, but I suppose her courage failed her, or else the -organ drowned it; at all events, the second line, - - ‘“Where did you get that tile?” - -did not come in. But I think we ought to speak to our auntie, Susan, -don’t you? That sort of thing is very well outside, but in a church! -Betty, you look as if you’d love to speak to somebody. We’ll put you on -for this job. You shall expostulate with Aunt Jemima on her deplorable -weakness for low-class comic songs.’ - -‘I shall leave you to interview her on the subject,’ says Betty. - -‘Interview! What a splendid word!’ says Dom. ‘What’ll you sell it for?’ -But Betty very properly decides on not hearing him. - -Softly, sweetly, the sun is going down, topping the distant hills, and -now falling behind them. A golden colour is lighting all around. -Overhead the swallows are darting here and there, and from the beds of -mignonette in the old-fashioned garden exquisite perfumes are wafted; -and now ‘at shut of evening flowers’ faint breezes rise, and corners -grow rich in shadows, and from the stream below comes a song that makes -musical the happy hours. - -Crosby, with a sigh of distinct regret, rises to his feet. - -‘I fear I must go,’ says he. - -‘What, not so soon?’ cries Carew, getting up too. Indeed, as Crosby -persists, though evidently with reluctance, in his determination to -leave them, they all get up, the innate courtesy of this noisy group -being their best point. - -‘Have another cigarette for the walk home?’ says Dom hospitably. - -‘We’ll all go with you to the gate!’ cries Betty. - -‘I suppose a big traveller like you doesn’t play tennis?’ says Carew -diffidently, but with an essence of hope in his tone. - -‘Oh, don’t I!’ says Crosby; ‘I’m quite a dab at it, I can tell you! If I -were to come down to-morrow afternoon, would there be any chance that -any of you would be here to play a game with me?’ - -He looks at Susan. - -‘We’ll all be here!’ cries Betty ecstatically. To have a new element -thrown into their daily games seems too enchanting for anything. ‘You -will come?’ - -‘May I?’ says Crosby. Susan has not answered, and now he purposely -addresses her. - -‘Oh, I hope you will!’ says she cordially. She had been thinking -hurriedly if it would be possible to ask him to luncheon—to their early -dinner. But with the children and Jane’s attendance! Oh no—a thousand -times no! Yet it seems so inhospitable. - -‘Thank you, I should very much like to come. It is quite taking pity on -an unfortunate bachelor,’ says he. And this being settled, they all in a -body prepare to accompany him to the gate. Even little Tom runs up to -them, and Bonnie, with uneven steps, hurries as fast as the poor mite -can. Susan turns to help him, and Crosby, watching her for a moment, -follows her, and, taking the child in his arms, without a word swings -him to his shoulder. - -At the gate, having bidden them good-bye, and Dom having taken Bonnie on -his back for a race home, Crosby looks at Susan. - -‘Are you fond of cherries?’ asks he. His face is profoundly grave, but -she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and her own give him back a -reproachful glance. - -This playing with fire is hardly prudent. - -‘Sometimes,’ says she demurely. - -‘And you, Bonnie?’ asks Crosby, pinching gently the child’s pale pretty -cheek as he rests on Dominick’s back. ‘You like them, I’m sure. Well, -I’ll send you some to-morrow and every day while they last, and perhaps -the red of their cheeks will run into yours. See that it does, now.’ - -The child laughs shyly, and Crosby turns to Susan again. - -‘Good-bye, Miss Barry.’ - -‘Oh, don’t call her that!’ cries Betty. ‘That makes her sound like Aunt -Jemima. Susan, tell him he can call you by your own name.’ - -This handsome advice ought, thinks Crosby, to fill Susan with angry -confusion. But it doesn’t. - -‘You may—you may indeed!’ says she, quite sweetly and naturally, looking -him fair in the eyes. ‘I should like you to call me Susan, and I am very -much obliged to you for promising the cherries to Bonnie.’ - -She gives him her hand; he presses it, and goes up the road towards his -home. A little thorn in his heart goes with him. If he had been her own -age, would she so readily have permitted him to call her Susan? No doubt -she regards him as quite a middle-aged old fellow, and truly, next to -her youth, that promises to be eternal, he is nothing less. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - ‘Fear oftentimes restraineth words, - But makes not thoughts to cease.’ - - -The weather since the beginning of the summer has been exceptionally -warm, and to-day has outdone itself. - -Here in the Cottage garden, surrounded by its ivied walls, the heat is -excessive, and there is a certain languor in the lithe figure of the -girl as she comes forward, the dog beside her, to greet Wyndham, that -meets his eye. Perhaps nervousness has conduced to the pallor that is -whitening her lips and brow, and is making even more striking the -darkness of her appealing eyes. There is something about her so full of -grief suppressed that he hastens to allay it. - -‘I have come, you see,’ says he—he holds out his hand, and she lays hers -in it; he holds it a moment—‘to speak about our rent.’ He smiles at her. -The smile, to tell the truth, is a little grim, and hardly reassures -her. ‘I have come to the conclusion that, as you wish to become my -tenant, you must pay me a huge rent.’ - -‘Ah! and I have been thinking,’ says she very sadly, with the mournful -air of one who is giving up all that is worth having in this world, -‘that I shall not be your tenant at all, and shall never pay you any -rent.’ - -‘Do you mean to say,’ says Wyndham, reading her like a book, but -humouring her mood, ‘that you’ve found another house more suited to -you?’ - -‘Oh no, it isn’t that. There is no house I shall ever like so well as -this.’ - -‘Then, let me tell you beforehand that I shall charge you a very -handsome rent,’ persists Wyndham, trying to be genial. He smiles at her, -but the smile is a dismal failure. - -‘I can’t accept your offer—I can’t indeed,’ says the girl, who, in spite -of her protests, has brightened considerably beneath his apparent -determination to let the Cottage to her. ‘This is your own house. Your -mother gave it to you. Mrs. Denis has told me all about it, and if you -give it to me you will never come here again.’ - -‘I shall indeed—to collect my rent,’ says Wyndham, a little touched by -her evident earnestness, and assuming a more natural air of lightness. - -‘Ah, that,’ says she. She pauses a moment, and then: ‘If’—timidly—‘you -would promise to come here sometimes to see your dog and the flowers, I -might think of it.... I could keep out of your way when you came. I -could sit in my own room, and you could——’ - -‘What a cheerful prospect for you!’ says he. ‘I’m not a very agreeable -fellow, I know, when all is told; but I believe I am so far on the road -to respectability as to be incapable of enjoying myself at the expense -of another fellow-creature’s comfort. Fancy my taking the joys of the -country with the knowledge that you were stifling in some cellar -downstairs with a view to saving me from the annoyance of your -presence!’ - -‘It wouldn’t be a cellar, and it isn’t downstairs,’ says the girl -anxiously. ‘It is a pretty little room upstairs.’ - -‘It’s all the same,’ says Wyndham. ‘The prettiest little room in the -world is a bore if one is imprisoned in it.’ - -Silence follows upon this. Wyndham, going forward, stoops down to a bed -of seedlings that he had ordered to be planted a month ago. They are in -a very promising condition, and the regret he feels for this little home -of his that is slipping through his fingers increases. And yet to thrust -her out—he knows quite well now that he will never do that. - -‘Mr. Wyndham,’ says the girl—she is at his elbow now—‘don’t be so sorry -about it; I shall go—to-morrow, if possible.’ - -He is not prepared for this, nor for the soft breathings of her voice in -his ear. He turns abruptly. - -‘All that is arranged,’ says he peremptorily. ‘You cannot go; you have -nowhere to go to, as’—pointedly—‘you tell me. In the meantime, it is -absolutely necessary that you should have someone to live with you.’ - -‘There is Mrs. Denis,’ says she nervously. - -‘Not good enough for an heiress like you,’ returns he, smiling. Now that -he has finally, most unwillingly and most ungraciously, given in to the -fact that she is to be his tenant, he feels more kindly towards her, and -more human. ‘You will want a lady companion to read with you—you say you -wish to go on with your studies—and to go out with you.’ - -‘Go out!’ She regards him with quick horror. ‘I shall never go out of -this—never!’ cries she. - -The extraordinary passion of her manner checks him. She has sunk upon a -garden-chair, as if incapable of supporting herself any longer; and from -this she looks up at him with a sad and frightened face. - -‘I will leave,’ says she at last. It is a most mournful surrender of -hope, and all things that make life still dear to her. - -‘There is no necessity for that,’ says Wyndham hurriedly. ‘If I knew -more—if I knew how to help you—but’—breaking off abruptly—‘you yourself -have decided against that. You must pardon me. You have already told me -that you do not wish to tell me of yourself, your past——’ - -She makes a little gesture with her hand. Wyndham, standing still upon -the gravelled path, looks at her. - -‘I have been thinking about that,’ says she, ‘and’—with growing -agitation—‘it has seemed very ungrateful of me to distrust you—you who -have done so much for me, who are now giving up your lovely home for me. -Mr. Wyndham’—rising and coming towards him—‘I have made up my mind; I -will tell you all.’ - - - END OF VOL. I. - - - BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. - -[Illustration] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - [_July, 1895._ - -[Illustration] - - =A List of Books Published by= - CHATTO & WINDUS - 214, Piccadilly, London, W. - - =ABOUT (EDMOND).—THE FELLAH=: An Egyptian Novel. Translated by Sir - RANDAL ROBERTS. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, =2s.= - - =ADAMS (W. 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BERWICK HARWOOD.= - - The Tenth Earl. - - =By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.= - - Garth. - Ellice Quentin. - Fortune’s Fool. - Miss Cadogna. - Sebastian Strome. - Dust. - Beatrix Randolph. - Love—or a Name. - David Poindexter’s Disappearance. - The Spectre of the Camera. - - =By Sir ARTHUR HELPS.= - - Ivan de Biron. - - =By HENRY HERMAN.= - - A Leading Lady. - - =By HEADON HILL.= - - Zambra the Detective. - - =By JOHN HILL.= - - Treason Felony. - - =By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY.= - - The Lover’s Creed. - - =By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER.= - - The House of Raby. - - =By TIGHE HOPKINS.= - - Twixt Love and Duty. - - =By Mrs. HUNGERFORD.= - - A Maiden all Forlorn. - In Durance Vile. - Marvel. - A Mental Struggle. - A Modern Circe. - Lady Verner’s Flight. - - =By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.= - - Thornicroft’s Model. - That Other Person. - Self-Condemned. - The Leaden Casket. - - =By JEAN INGELOW.= - - Fated to be Free. - - =By WM. JAMESON.= - - My Dead Self. - - =By HARRIETT JAY.= - - The Dark Colleen. - Queen of Connaught. - - =By MARK KERSHAW.= - - Colonial Facts and Fictions. - - =By R. ASHE KING.= - - A Drawn Game. - “The Wearing of the Green.” - Passion’s Slave. - Bell Barry. - - =By JOHN LEYS.= - - The Lindsays. - - =By E. LYNN LINTON.= - - Patricia Kemball. - The World Well Lost. - Under which Lord? - Paston Carew. - “My Love!” - Ione. - The Atonement of Leam Dundas. - With a Silken Thread. - The Rebel of the Family. - Sowing the Wind. - - =By HENRY W. LUCY.= - - Gideon Fleyce. - - =By JUSTIN McCARTHY.= - - Dear Lady Disdain. - Waterdale Neighbours. - My Enemy’s Daughter. - A Fair Saxon. - Linley Rochford. - Miss Misanthrope. - Camiola. - Donna Quixote. - Maid of Athens. - The Comet of a Season. - The Dictator. - Red Diamonds. - - =By HUGH MACCOLL.= - - Mr. Stranger’s Sealed Packet. - - =By AGNES MACDONELL.= - - Quaker Cousins. - - =By KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.= - - The Evil Eye. - Lost Rose. - - =By W. H. MALLOCK.= - - A Romance of the Nineteenth Century. - The New Republic. - - =By FLORENCE MARRYAT.= - - Open! Sesame! - Fighting the Air. - A Harvest of Wild Oats. - Written in Fire. - - =By J. MASTERMAN.= - - Half-a-dozen Daughters. - - =By BRANDER MATTHEWS.= - - A Secret of the Sea. - - =By LEONARD MERRICK.= - - The Man who was Good. - - =By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.= - - Touch and Go. - Mr. Dorillion. - - =By Mrs. MOLESWORTH.= - - Hathercourt Rectory. - - =By J. E. MUDDOCK.= - - Stories Weird and Wonderful. - The Dead Man’s Secret. - From the Bottom of the Deep. - - =By MURRAY and HERMAN.= - - One Traveller Returns. - Paul Jones’s Alias. - The Bishops’ Bible. - - =By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.= - - A Model Father. - Joseph’s Coat. - Coals of Fire. - Val Strange. - Old Blazer’s Hero. - Hearts. - The Way of the World. - Cynic Fortune. - A Life’s Atonement. - By the Gate of the Sea. - A Bit of Human Nature. - First Person Singular. - Bob Martin’s Little Girl. - Time’s Revenges. - A Wasted Crime. - - =By HENRY MURRAY.= - - A Game of Bluff. - A Song of Sixpence. - - =By HUME NISBET.= - - “Ball Up!” - Dr. Bernard St. Vincent. - - =By ALICE O’HANLON.= - - The Unforeseen. - Chance? or Fate? - - =By GEORGES OHNET.= - - Dr. Rameau. - A Last Love. - A Weird Gift. - - =By Mrs. OLIPHANT.= - - Whiteladies. - The Primrose Path. - The Greatest Heiress in England. - - =By Mrs. ROBERT O’REILLY.= - - Phœbe’s Fortunes. - - =By OUIDA.= - - Held in Bondage. - Strathmore. - Chandos. - Idalia. - Under Two Flags. - Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage. - Tricotrin. - Puck. - Folle Farine. - A Dog of Flanders. - Pascarel. - Signa. - Princess Napraxine. - In a Winter City. - Ariadne. - Friendship. - Two Little Wooden Shoes. - Moths. - Bimbi. - Pipistrello. - A Village Commune. - Wanda. - Othmar. - Frescoes. - In Maremma. - Guilderoy. - Ruffino. - Syrlin. - Santa Barbara. - Ouida’s Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos. - - =By MARGARET AGNES PAUL.= - - Gentle and Simple. - - =By C. L. PIRKIS.= - - Lady Lovelace. - - =By EDGAR A. POE.= - - The Mystery of Marie Roget. - - =By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED.= - - The Romance of a Station. - The Soul of Countess Adrian. - Outlaw and Lawmaker. - - =By E. C. PRICE.= - - Valentina. - The Foreigners. - Mrs. Lancaster’s Rival. - Gerald. - - =By RICHARD PRYCE.= - - Miss Maxwell’s Affections. - - =By JAMES PAYN.= - - Bentinck’s Tutor. - Murphy’s Master. - A County Family. - At Her Mercy. - Cecil’s Tryst. - The Clyffards of Clyffe. - The Foster Brothers. - Found Dead. - The Best of Husbands. - Walter’s Word. - Halves. - Fallen Fortunes. - Humorous Stories. - £200 Reward. - A Marine Residence. - Mirk Abbey. - By Proxy. - Under One Roof. - High Spirits. - Carlyon’s Year. - From Exile. - For Cash Only. - Kit. - The Canon’s Ward. - Talk of the Town. - Holiday Tasks. - A Perfect Treasure. - What He Cost Her. - A Confidential Agent. - Glow-worm Tales. - The Burnt Million. - Sunny Stories. - Lost Sir Massingberd. - A Woman’s Vengeance. - The Family Scapegrace. - Gwendoline’s Harvest. - Like Father, Like Son. - Married Beneath Him. - Not Wooed, but Won. - Less Black than We’re Painted. - Some Private Views. - A Grape from a Thorn. - The Mystery of Mirbridge. - The Word and the Will. - A Prince of the Blood. - A Trying Patient. - - =By CHARLES READE.= - - It is Never Too Late to Mend. - Christie Johnstone. - The Double Marriage. - Put Yourself in His Place. - Love Me Little, Love Me Long. - The Cloister and the Hearth. - The Course of True Love. - The Jilt. - The Autobiography of a Thief. - A Terrible Temptation. - Foul Play. - The Wandering Heir. - Hard Cash. - Singleheart and Doubleface. - Good Stories of Men and other Animals. - Peg Woffington. - Griffith Gaunt. - A Perilous Secret. - A Simpleton. - Readiana. - A Woman-Hater. - - =By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.= - - Weird Stories. - Fairy Water. - Her Mother’s Darling. - The Prince of Wales’s Garden Party. - The Uninhabited House. - The Mystery in Palace Gardens. - The Nun’s Curse. - Idle Tales. - - =By AMELIE RIVES.= - - Barbara Dering. - - =By F. W. ROBINSON.= - - Women are Strange. - The Hands of Justice. - - =By JAMES RUNCIMAN.= - - Skippers and Shellbacks. - Grace Balmaign’s Sweetheart. - Schools and Scholars. - - =By W. CLARK RUSSELL.= - - Round the Galley Fire. - On the Fo’k’sle Head. - In the Middle Watch. - A Voyage to the Cape. - A Book for the Hammock. - The Mystery of the “Ocean Star.” - The Romance of Jenny Harlowe. - An Ocean Tragedy. - My Shipmate Louise. - Alone on a Wide Wide Sea. - - =By GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.= - - Gaslight and Daylight. - - =By JOHN SAUNDERS.= - - Guy Waterman. - The Two Dreamers. - The Lion in the Path. - - =By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.= - - Joan Merryweather. - The High Mills. - Heart Salvage. - Sebastian. - Margaret and Elizabeth. - - =By GEORGE R. SIMS.= - - Rogues and Vagabonds. - The Ring o’ Bells. - Mary Jane’s Memoirs. - Mary Jane Married. - Tales of To-day. - Dramas of Life. - Tinkletop’s Crime. - Zeph. - My Two Wives. - Memoirs of a Landlady. - Scenes from the Show. - - =By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.= - - A Match in the Dark. - - =By HAWLEY SMART.= - - Without Love or Licence. - - =By T. W. SPEIGHT.= - - The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. - The Golden Hoop. - Hoodwinked. - By Devious Ways. - Back to Life. - The Loudwater Tragedy. - Burgo’s Romance. - Quittance in Full. - - =By R. A. STERNDALE.= - - The Afghan Knife. - - =By R. LOUIS STEVENSON.= - - New Arabian Nights. - Prince Otto. - - =By BERTHA THOMAS.= - - Cressida. - Proud Maisie. - The Violin-Player. - - =By WALTER THORNBURY.= - - Tales for the Marines. - Old Stories Retold. - -T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. - - Diamond Cut Diamond. - - =By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE.= - - Like Ships upon the Sea. - Anne Furness. - Mabel’s Progress. - - =By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.= - - Frau Frohmann. - Marion Fay. - Kept in the Dark. - John Caldigate. - The Way We Live Now. - The Land-Leaguers. - The American Senator. - Mr. Scarborough’s Family. - The Golden Lion of Granpere. - - =By J. T. TROWBRIDGE.= - - Farnell’s Folly. - - =By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.= - - Stories from Foreign Novelists. - - =By MARK TWAIN.= - - A Pleasure Trip on the Continent. - The Gilded Age. - Huckleberry Finn. - Mark Twain’s Sketches. - Tom Sawyer. - A Tramp Abroad. - Stolen White Elephant. - Life on the Mississippi. - The Prince and the Pauper. - A Yankee at the Court of King Arthur. - The £1,000,000 Bank-Note. - - =By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.= - - Mistress Judith. - - =By SARAH TYTLER.= - - The Bride’s Pass. - Buried Diamonds. - St. Mungo’s City. - Lady Bell. - Noblesse Oblige. - Disappeared. - The Huguenot Family. - The Blackhall Ghosts. - What She Came Through. - Beauty and the Beast. - Citoyenne Jaqueline. - - =By ALLEN UPWARD.= - - The Queen against Owen. - - =By AARON WATSON and= - -LILLIAS WASSERMANN. - - The Marquis of Carabas. - - =By WILLIAM WESTALL.= - - Trust-Money. - - =By Mrs. F. H. WILLIAMSON.= - - A Child Widow. - - =By J. S. WINTER.= - - Cavalry Life. - Regimental Legends. - - =By H. F. WOOD.= - - The Passenger from Scotland Yard. - The Englishman of the Rue Cain. - - =By Lady WOOD.= - - Sabina. - - =By CELIA PARKER WOOLLEY.= - - Rachel Armstrong; or, Love and Theology. - - =By EDMUND YATES.= - - The Forlorn Hope. - Land at Last. - Castaway. - - OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. 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margin-top: 0.8em; - margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%; width: 30%; } - .c015 { margin-left: 5.56%; } - div.tnotes { padding-left:1em;padding-right:1em;background-color:#E3E4FA; - border:thin solid silver; margin:2em 10% 0 10%; font-family: Georgia, serif; - clear: both; } - .covernote { visibility: hidden; display: none; } - div.tnotes p { text-align: justify; } - .x-ebookmaker .covernote { visibility: visible; display: block; } - .figcenter {font-size: .9em; page-break-inside: avoid; max-width: 100%; } - .x-ebookmaker img {max-height: 30em; max-width: 100%; } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .ol_1 li {font-size: .9em; } - .x-ebookmaker .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0em; } - body {font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; } - table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid; - clear: both; } - div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; } - div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } - .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; - margin: .67em auto; page-break-before: always; } - .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; - page-break-before: always; } - .fixed {font-family: 'Old English Text MT', serif; font-weight:bold; } - .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } -</style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The professor's experiment, Vol. 1 (of 3), by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The professor's experiment, Vol. 1 (of 3)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A novel</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Margaret Wolfe Hungerford</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 7, 2022 [eBook #69494]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROFESSOR'S EXPERIMENT, VOL. 1 (OF 3) ***</div> - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>THE PROFESSOR’S EXPERIMENT</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>MRS. HUNGERFORD’S NOVELS</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c002'>‘<em>Mrs. Hungerford has well deserved the title of being one of the most -fascinating novelists of the day. The stories written by her are the airiest, -lightest, and brightest imaginable, full of wit, spirit, and gaiety; but they contain, -nevertheless, touches of the most exquisite pathos. There is something -good in all of them.</em>’—<span class='sc'>Academy.</span></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN</strong>, and other Stories. Post -8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There is no guile in the novels of the authoress of “Molly Bawn,” nor any -consistency or analysis of character; but they exhibit a faculty truly remarkable -for reproducing the rapid small-talk, the shallow but harmless “chaff” of certain -strata of modern fashionable society.’—<cite>Spectator.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>IN DURANCE VILE</strong>, and other Stories. Post 8vo., -illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mrs. Hungerford’s Irish girls have always been pleasant to meet upon the -dusty pathways of fiction. They are flippant, no doubt, and often sentimental, -and they certainly flirt, and their stories are told often in rather ornamental -phrase and with a profusion of the first person singular. But they are charming -all the same.’—<cite>Academy.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>A MENTAL STRUGGLE.</strong> Post 8vo., illustrated boards, -2s.; cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She can invent an interesting story, she can tell it well, and she trusts to -honest, natural, human emotions and interests of life for her materials.’—<cite>Spectator.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>A MODERN CIRCE.</strong> Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; -cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mrs. Hungerford is a distinctly amusing author.... In all her books there -is a “healthy absenteeism” of ethical purpose, and we have derived more genuine -pleasure from them than probably the most earnest student has ever obtained -from a chapter of “Robert Elsmere.”’—<cite>Saturday Review.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>MARVEL.</strong> Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The author has long since created an imaginary world, peopled with more or -less natural figures; but her many admirers acknowledge the easy grace and inexhaustible -<i><span lang="fr">verve</span></i> that characterize her scenes of Hibernian life, and never tire of -the type of national heroine she has made her own.’—<cite>Morning Post.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>LADY VERNER’S FLIGHT.</strong> Crown 8vo., cloth extra, -<strong>3s. 6d.</strong>; post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s.; cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There are in “Lady Verner’s Flight” several of the bright young people who -are wont to make Mrs. Hungerford’s books such very pleasant reading.... In -all the novels by the author of “Molly Bawn” there is a breezy freshness of treatment -which makes them most agreeable.’—<cite>Spectator.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>THE RED-HOUSE MYSTERY.</strong> Crown 8vo., cloth -extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mrs. Hungerford is never seen to the best advantage when not dealing with -the brighter sides of life, or seeming to enjoy as much as her readers the ready -sallies and laughing jests of her youthful personages. In her present novel, however, -the heroine, if not all smiles and mirth, is quite as taking as her many predecessors, -while the spirit of uncontrolled mischief is typified in the American -heiress.’—<cite>Morning Post.</cite></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>THE THREE GRACES.</strong> 2 vols., crown 8vo., <strong>10s.</strong> net.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is impossible to deny that Mrs. Hungerford is capable of writing a charming -love-story, and that she proves her capacity to do so in “The Three Graces.”’—<cite>Academy.</cite></p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='sc'>London</span>: CHATTO & WINDUS, <span class='sc'>Piccadilly</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c005'><span class='large'>THE</span><br> PROFESSOR’S EXPERIMENT<br> <span class='large'><span class='fixed'>A Novel</span></span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>BY</div> - <div class='c007'><span class='xlarge'>MRS. HUNGERFORD</span></div> - <div class='c007'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>‘MOLLY BAWN,’ ‘THE RED-HOUSE MYSTERY,’ ‘THE THREE GRACES,’ ‘LADY VERNER’S FLIGHT,’ ETC.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>IN THREE VOLUMES</div> - <div class='c007'>VOL. I.</div> - <div class='c006'><span class='fixed'>London</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY</span></div> - <div>1895</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='large'>THE</span></div> - <div class='c007'><span class='xxlarge'><span class='sc'>Professor’s Experiment</span></span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER I.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The lamp was beginning to burn low; so was -the fire. But neither of the two people in -the room seemed to notice anything. The -Professor had got upon his discovery again, -and once there, no man living could check -him. He had flung his arms across the table -towards his companion, and the hands, -with the palms turned upwards, marked -every word as he uttered it, thumping the -knuckles on the table here, shaking some -imaginary disbeliever there—and never for -a moment quiet—such old, lean, shrivelled, -capable hands!</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>He was talking eagerly, as though the -words flowed to him faster than he could -utter them. This invention of his—this -supreme discovery—would make a revolution -in the world of science.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The young man looking back at him from -the other side of the table listened intently. -He was a tall man of about eight-and-twenty, -and if not exactly handsome, very close to it. -His eyes were dark, and somewhat sombre, -and his mouth was thin-lipped, but kind, and -suggestive of a nature that was just, beyond -everything, if hardly sympathetic. It was a -beautiful mouth, at all events, and as he was -clean-shaven, one could see it as it was, -without veiling of any kind. Perhaps the -one profession of all others that most fully -declares itself in the face of its sons is that -of the law. A man who has been five years -a barrister is seldom mistaken for anything -else. Paul Wyndham was a barrister, and a -rising one—a man who loved his profession -for its own sake, and strove and fought to -make a name in it, though no such struggle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>was needful for his existence, as from his -cradle his lines had fallen to him in pleasant -places. He was master of a good fortune, -and heir to a title and ten thousand a year -whenever it should please Providence to take -his uncle, old Lord Shangarry, to an even -more comfortable home than that which he -enjoyed at present.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor had been his tutor years -ago, and the affection that existed between -them in those far-off years had survived the -changes of time and circumstance. The -Professor loved him—and him only on all -this wide earth. Wyndham had never -known a father; the Professor came as near -as any parent could, and in this new wild -theory of the old man’s he placed implicit -faith. It sounded wild, no doubt—it was -wild—but there was not in all Ireland a -cleverer man than the Professor, and who -was to say but it might have some grand -new meaning in it?</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You are sure of it?’ he said, looking at the -Professor with anxious but admiring eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>‘Sure! I have gone into it, I have studied -it for twenty years, I tell you. What, man, -d’ye think I’d speak of it even to you, if I -weren’t sure? I tell ye—I tell ye’—he grew -agitated and intensely Irish here—‘it will -shake the world!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The phrase seemed to please him; he drew -his arms off the table and lay back in his -chair as if revelling in it—as if chewing the -sweet cud of it in fancy. He saw in his -mind a day when in that old college of his -over there, only a few streets away—in -Trinity College—he should rise, and be -greeted by his old chums and his new pupils, -and the whole world of Dublin, with cheers -and acclamations. Nay! it would be more -than that—there would be London, and -Vienna, and Berlin. He put Berlin last -because, perhaps, he longed most of all for its -applause; but in these dreamings he came -back always to old Trinity, and found the -greatest sweetness in the laurels to be gained -there.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There can’t be a mistake,’ he went on, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>more now as if reasoning with himself than -with his visitor, who was watching him, and -was growing a little uneasy at the pallor -that was showing itself round his nose and -mouth—a pallor he had noticed very often -of late when the old man was unduly excited -or interested. ‘I have gone through it again -and again. There is nothing new, of course, -under the sun, and there can be little doubt -but that it is an anæsthetic known to the -Indians of Southern America years ago, -and the Peruvians. There are records, but -nothing sufficient to betray the secret. It -was by the merest accident, as I have -told you, that I stumbled on it. I have -made many experiments. I have gone -cautiously step by step, until now all is sure. -So much for one hour. So much for six, so -much for twenty-four, so much’—his voice -rose almost to a scream, and he thumped his -hand violently on the table—‘for seven days—for -seven months!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His voice broke off, and he sank back in -his chair. The young man went quickly to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>a cupboard and poured out a glass of some -white cordial.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Thank you—thank you,’ said the Professor, -swallowing the nauseous mixture -hurriedly, as though regretting the waste of -time it took to drink it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Why talk any more to-night?’ said the -young man anxiously; ‘I am going abroad -in a few days, but I can come again to see -you to-morrow. It is late.’ He glanced at -the clock, which pointed to ten minutes past -eleven. The movement he made in pointing -pushed aside his overcoat and showed that -he was in evening dress. He had evidently -been dining out, and had dropped in to see -the Professor—an old trick of his—on his -way home.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I must talk while I can,’ said the Professor, -smiling. The cordial, whatever it was, -had revived him, and he sat up and looked -again at his companion with eyes that were -brilliant. ‘As for this pain here,’ touching -his side, ‘it is nothing—nothing. What I -want to say, Paul, is this’—he bent towards -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>Wyndham, and his lips quivered again with -excitement: ‘If I could send a human creature -to sleep for seven months, then why -not for seven years—for ever?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham looked at him incredulously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But the last time——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The last time you were here, I had not quite -perfected my discovery. But since then some -of my experiments have led me to think—to -be absolutely certain—that life can be sustained, -with all the appearance of death upon -the subject, for a full week at all events.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And when consciousness returns?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The subject treated wakes to life again -in exactly the same condition as when he or -she fell asleep—without loss of brain or body -power.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Seven days! A long time!’ The young -man smiled. ‘You bring back old thoughts -and dreams. Are you a second Friar -Laurence? Even he, though he could make -the fair Juliet sleep till all believed her -dead, could not prolong that unfortunate deception -beyond a certain limit.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>‘“And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death</div> - <div class='line in2'>Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>‘Less than two days—and yet, thou conjurer’—he -slapped the Professor’s arm gaily—‘you -would talk of keeping one in death’s -bonds for years!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ay, years!’ The Professor looked back -at him, and his eyes shone. Old age seemed -to slip from him, and for the moment a -transient youth was his again. ‘This is but -a beginning—a mere start; but if it succeeds—if -life can be sustained by means of this -drug alone for seven days, why not for -months and years?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You forget one thing,’ said the young -man. ‘Who would care for it? Why should -one care to lie asleep for years?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Many!’ said the Professor slowly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He ceased, and a strange gloom shadowed -his face. His thoughts had evidently gone -backward into a long-dead past—a past that -still lived. ‘Have you no imagination?’ he -said at last reproachfully. ‘Think, boy—think! -When affliction falls on one, when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>a grievous sorrow tears the heart, who would -not wish for an oblivion that would be longer -than a sleeping-draught could give, and less -pernicious than suicide?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The same refusal in both cases to meet -and face one’s doom,’ said the young man. -‘You would create a new generation of -cowards.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Pshaw! there will be cowards without -me,’ said the Professor. ‘But here, again, -take another case. A man, we will say, has -had his leg cut off—well, let him sleep -until the leg is well, and he will escape all -the twinges, the agonizing pains of the recovery. -This is but one instance; all surgical -cases could be treated so, and so much pain -saved in this most painful world.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah, I confess a charm lies there!’ said -Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It does. And yet it is to the other -thought I lean—to the dread of memory -where grief and shame lie.’ The Professor’s -gaunt face lost again its short return of -youth, and grew grim, and aged, and white. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>‘See,’ he leant towards Wyndham, and -pressed him into a chair beside the dying -fire, ‘to you—to you alone I have revealed -this matter: not so much because you have -been my pupil, as that you have a hold on -me. You think me dry, and hard, and old. -All that is true. But’—his voice grew if -possible harsher than ever—‘I have an affection -for you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It seemed almost ludicrous to think of the -Professor as having an affection for anything -beyond his science and his discovery, with -his bald head, and his bleared eyes, and his -cold, forbidding face. The young man gazed -at him with pardonable astonishment. That -the Professor liked him, trusted him, was -quite easy to understand—but the word -‘affection’!</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It surprises you,’ said the old man slowly, -perhaps a little sadly. ‘Yet there was a -time——’ He moved and poked the fire into -a sullen blaze. ‘I married,’ he said presently. -‘And she—well, I loved her, I think. It seems -hard to remember now, it is so long ago, but I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>believe I had a heart then, and it was hers. -She died.’ He poked the fire again, and -most of it fell into the grate—it was all -cinders by this time, and the younger man -shivered. ‘It was well. Looking back upon -it now,’ said the Professor coldly, ‘I am -glad she died. She would have interfered -with my studies. Her death left me free; -but for that freedom, I should never have -found out this.’ He tapped some papers -lying loosely on the table—three or four -pages, no more, with only a line or two upon -them—vague suggestions of the great discovery -that was to shake the world, so vague -as to be useless to anyone but himself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You had no children, then?’ asked Wyndham, -who had never even heard that he was -married until now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘One.’ The Professor paused, and the -silence grew almost insupportable. ‘He, -too, is dead. And that, too, is well. He -was of no use. He only burdened the -world.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But——’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>‘Not a question——’ The old man silenced -him. ‘I cast him off.’ There was something -terrible in the indifference with which he said -this. ‘He was a fool—a criminal one. I -heard later that he had married—no doubt -as great a fool as himself. I hope so. Set a -thief to catch a thief, you know.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He laughed bitterly—the cruel, mirthless -laugh of the embittered old. ‘For the rest, -I know nothing,’ he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You made no inquiries?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘None. Why should I?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘He was your son.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, does that make a black thing -white? No—no! My son—my child is -here!’ He touched the loose papers with a -loving hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham did not pursue the subject -further, and as if to show that it was ended, -he stooped and threw some coals upon the -fire that now seemed to be at its last gasp. -A tiny smoke flew up between the fresh -lumps, and after that came a little uncertain -blaze. The fire had caught the coals.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>The Professor had gone back to his heart’s -desire.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To see the blossom of my labour bear -fruit—that is my sole, my last demand from -life. I have so short a time to live that I -would hasten the fulfilment of my hopes.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You mean——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That I want to see the drug used on a -human being. I have approached the matter -with some of the authorities at Kilmainham, -with a view to getting a condemned criminal -to experiment upon; but up to this I have -been refused, and in such a presumptuous -manner as leads me to fear I shall never -receive a better answer. Surely a man respited -for seven days, as has been the case -occasionally, might as well risk those seven -days in the cause of science.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham shrugged his shoulders. ‘I -have never met that man,’ said he. But the -Professor did not hear him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The most humane people in the world,’ -said he, ‘refuse help to the man who has -devoted twenty years of his life to the cause -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>of humanity. Such an anæsthetic as mine -would work a revolution in the world of -medicine. As I have told you, a man might -not only be unconscious whilst a limb was -being lopped off, but might remain so until -the wound was healed, and then, made free of -pain and perfectly well, be able to take his -part in the world again.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It sounds like a fairy-tale,’ said Wyndham, -smiling. ‘You have, I suppose, made -many experiments?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘On animals, yes—and of late without a -single failure; but on a human body, no. -As yet no opportunity has been afforded me. -Either jealousy or fear has stopped my march, -which I feel would be a triumphal one were -the road made clear. I tell you I have -addressed many leading men of science on -the subject. I have asked them to be -present. I would have everything above -board, as you who know me can testify. I -would have all men look on and bear witness -to the splendour of my discovery.’ Here -again the Professor’s strange deep eyes grew -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>brilliant, once again that queer flash of a -youth long ago departed was his. ‘I would -have it shown to all the world in a blaze of -light. But no man will take heed or listen. -They laugh. They scoff. They will not -countenance the chance of my killing someone; -as if’—violently—‘the loss of one poor -human life was to be counted, when the relief -of millions is in the balance.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He sank back as if exhausted, and then -went on, his tone hard, yet excited:</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Now it has come to this. If the chance -were given me of trying my discovery on -man, woman, or child, I should take it, without -the sanction of the authorities, and with -it that other chance of being hanged afterwards -if the experiment failed.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You feel so sure as that?’ questioned -Wyndham. The old man’s enthusiasm had -caught him. He too was looking eager and -excited.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Sure!’ The Professor rose, gaunt, haggard, -and with eyes that flashed fire beneath -the pent brows that overhung them. ‘I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>would stake my soul—nay, more, my reputation—on -the success of my discovery. Oh -for a chance to prove it!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this moment there was a low knock at -the door.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER II.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Of all things tired thy lips look weariest.’</div> - <div class='line in7'>* * * * *</div> - <div class='line'>‘What shall I do to be for ever known?’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The handle was turned, and the door opened -with a considerable amount of caution (the -Professor did not permit interruptions). It -was evidently, however, the caution of one -who was suppressing badly a wild desire to -make a rush into the room, and presently a -man’s head appeared round the corner of the -door, and after it his body. He came a yard -or two beyond the threshold, and then stood -still. His reddish hair was standing out a -little, and his small twinkling Irish eyes were -blinking nervously. He looked eagerly first -at the younger man, who was his master, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>then at the Professor, and then back again at -Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, Denis?’ said the latter, a little impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If ye plaze, sir, there’s an unfortunate -young faymale on the steps below.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor frowned. As if such an -ordinary occurrence as that should be allowed -to interfere with a discussion on the great -discovery! Wyndham spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If she is noisy or troublesome, you had -better call a policeman,’ he said indifferently.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Noisy! Divil a sound out of her,’ said -Denis. ‘She looks for all the world, yer -honour, as if there wasn’t a spark o’ life left -in her. Sthretched in the hall she is, an’ the -colour o’ death.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘In the hall?’ said Wyndham quickly. ‘I -thought you said she was on the steps.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She was. She’—cautiously—‘was. -But——’ He paused and scanned anxiously -the two faces before him. ‘It’s bitther cowld -outside to-night, so I tuk her in.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>And, indeed, though the month was May, -a searching wind was shaking the city, and -biting into the hearts of young and old. As -often happens in that ‘merrie month,’ a light -fall of snow was whitening the tops of the -houses.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I had better see to this,’ said the young -man, rising. He left the room, followed by -Denis (who had stopped to throw a few more -coals on the now cheerful fire), and went -down to the cold, bare, hideous hall below. -The light from the solitary gas-lamp scarcely -lit it, and it took him a few seconds to discern -something that lay on the worn tarpaulin at -the lower end of it. At last he made it out, -and, stepping nearer, saw that it was the -figure of a young and very slight girl. She -was lying on the ground, her back supported -against a chair, and Wyndham could see that -Denis had folded an old coat of the Professor’s -that usually hung on the hat-stand, -and placed it behind her head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The light was so dim that he could not see -what she was like; but stooping over her, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>felt her hands, and found that they were cold -as ice. Instinct, however, told him that life -still ran within her veins, and lifting her -quickly in his arms, he carried her upstairs -to the room he had just left, and where the -Professor still sat, so lost in fresh dreams of -the experiment yet to be made that he -started as Wyndham re-entered the room -with his strange burden; it was, indeed, with -difficulty that he brought his mind back to -the present moment. He had forgotten why -the young man had left the room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She seems very ill,’ said Wyndham. His -man had followed him, and now, through a -sign from his master, he pulled forward a -huge armchair, in which Wyndham placed -the unconscious girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor came nearer and stared down -at her. She was very young—hardly eighteen—but -already Misery or Want, or both, had -seized and laid their cruel hands upon her, -dabbing in dark bistre shades beneath her -eyes, and making sad hollows in her pallid -cheeks. The lips, white now, were firmly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>closed as if in death, but something about -the formation of them suggested the idea -that even in life they could be firm too.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was a face that might be beautiful if -health had warmed it, and if joy had found -a seat within the heart that now seemed at -its last ebb. The lashes lying on the white, -cold cheek were singularly long and dark, -and Wyndham roused himself suddenly to -find himself wondering what could be the -colour of the eyes that lay hidden behind -that wonderful fringe.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her gown was of blue serge, neatly, even -elegantly made, and the collar and cuffs she -wore were quite primitive in their whiteness -and simplicity. She had no hat or cloak -with her, but a little gray woollen shawl had -been evidently twisted round her head. Now -it had fallen back, leaving all the glory of her -rich chestnut hair revealed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Involuntarily the young man glanced at -her left hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was no ring there. An intense -wave of pity swept over him. Another! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>Dear God! what cruel sorrows lie within -this world of Yours!</p> - -<p class='c004'>The face was so young, so free of hardness, -vice, or taint of any kind, that his very heart -bled for her. Misery alone seemed to mark -it. That was deeply stamped. Looking at -her, he almost hoped that she would never -wake again—that she was really dead; but -even as this thought crossed his mind, she -stirred, sighed softly, and opened her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For awhile she gazed at them—on the -Professor, impassive, silent; on the younger -man, anxious, pained—and then with a sharp, -quick movement she released herself from -the arm Wyndham had placed round her, -and raised herself to a sitting posture. -There was such terror in her eyes as she did -this that the younger man hastened to reassure -her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You are quite safe here,’ he said kindly. -The girl looked at him, then cast a frightened -glance past him, and over his shoulder, as -though looking fearfully for some dreaded -object. ‘My man found you on the steps -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>outside. You were ill—fainting, he said—so -he brought you in here to’—with a gesture -towards the Professor—‘this gentleman’s -house.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl looked anxiously at the Professor, -who nodded as in duty bound, but who -seemed unmistakably bored, for all that, and -angry enough to frighten her afresh.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If you will tell us where you live,’ said -Wyndham gently, ‘we shall see that you are -taken back there.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl shrank visibly. She caught the -little shawl that had slipped from her, and -drew it round her head once more, almost -hiding her face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I can find my own way,’ she said. The -voice was low, musical; it trembled, and as -she moved forward to pass Wyndham, so did -she. She even tottered, so much, indeed, that -she was obliged to catch hold of a table near -to keep herself from falling.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is impossible for you to walk to-night,’ -said the young man earnestly. ‘And there -is no necessity for it. My servant is at your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>disposal; he can call a cab for you, and he is -quite to be trusted; he will see you to your -home.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl hesitated for a moment, then lifted -her heavy eyes to his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I have no home,’ she said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was a very forlorn answer, and it went -to Wyndham’s heart. God help her, poor -girl! whoever she was. He glanced again at -her clothes, which were decidedly above the -average of the extremely wretched, and he -was conscious of a certain curiosity with -regard to her—a distinctly kindly one.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl caught the glance and turned -away her head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You can at least say where you want to be -driven,’ said he gravely, but with sympathy; -he hesitated for a moment, and then went on. -‘No questions will be asked,’ he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She made no answer to this, and while he -waited for one the Professor broke in impatiently:</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Come, girl, speak! Where do you want -to go? Where do you live?’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>On this followed another shorter silence, -and then at last she spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I shall not go back,’ she said. Her tone -was low, but defiant, and very firm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That means you will not tell,’ said the -Professor. ‘Then go—do you hear—go! -You are interrupting us here.’ He motioned -towards the door, where Denis stood mute as -a sentinel; he was, indeed, an old soldier, for -the matter of that.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl stepped quickly, eagerly forward, -but Wyndham stopped her imperatively, and -standing between her and the door, he spoke -to the Professor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is impossible to turn her out at this -hour—in this weather.’ He stopped, and -now looked at the girl and spoke to her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Why can’t you trust us?’ he said, with -angry reproach. ‘Why can’t you let us do -something for you? You must have a home -somewhere, however bad.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl thus addressed turned upon him -suddenly with miserable passion shining in -her large, dark eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>‘I have not,’ she said. ‘Under the sky of -God, there is no creature so homeless as I am.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her passion was so great that it struck -the listeners into silence. She made a little -gesture with her arms suggestive of awful -weariness, then spoke again:</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There was a place where I lived yesterday. -It was not a home. I shall not live -there again. I have left it. I shall not go -back.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But where, then, are you going?’ asked -Wyndham impulsively.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t know.’ She drew her breath -slowly, heavily. It was hardly a sigh. There -was enough misery in it for ten sighs. But -her passion was all gone, and a terrible indifference -had taken its place; and there was -such consummate despair in her tone as might -have touched even the Professor. But it did -not. He had begun to study her. He was -always studying people, and now a curious -expression had crept into his face. He leaned -forward and peered at her. There was no -compassion in the glance, no interest whatever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>in her as a suffering human thing; but -there was a sudden sharp interest in her as a -means to a desired end. Thought was in his -glance, and a wild longing that was fast -growing to a hope.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Have you no plans, then?’ asked the -young man. His tone was sad. He had -looked into the depths of her dark eyes, and -found there no guile at all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘None!’ She was silent awhile, and then -very slowly she raised her head; her brows -contracted, and she looked past them both -into vacancy. If she was communing with -her own heart, the results were very sad. -Despair itself gathered in her eyes. She -turned presently and looked at Wyndham. -‘I wish,’ said she, with a forlorn look, ‘that -I had the courage to die.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was unutterably sad, this young -creature, with all her life before her, praying -for courage to end it; craving for death -in the midst of life, wishing she had the -courage to escape from a world that had -evidently given her but a sorry welcome.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>Wyndham looked round at the Professor -as if expecting him to join in his commiseration -for this poor, unhappy child, but what -he saw in the Professor’s face checked him. -It startled him, and stopped the tide of -sympathy for a time—as great floods will for -the moment always catch and carry with -them the milder rushes of the rivers near.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor’s face was indeed a study. -It was radiant—alight with a strange and -sudden hope. His piercing eyes were fixed -immovably upon the girl. They seemed to -burn into her as though demanding and compelling -an answering glance from hers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She obeyed the call; slowly, languidly she -lifted her head.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘So you would die?’ said he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes.’ The word fell listlessly from her lips; -but she stared straight at him as she said -it, and her young unhappy face looked nearly -as gray as the old merciless one bending -over it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Then why live?’ pursued he. ‘Death is -easy.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>‘No, it is hard,’ she said. ‘And I am -afraid of pain.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If there were no pain, you would risk it, -then?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She hesitated. His glance was now, indeed, -so wild, so full of frantic eagerness, that it -might readily have frightened one older in -the world’s ways. To Wyndham, waiting, -watching, it occurred that the Professor was -like a spider creeping towards its prey. He -shuddered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Speak, girl, speak!’ said the Professor. -His agitation was intense, and almost beyond -control. Here—here to his hand was his -chance. Was he to have it at last, or lose -it for ever? Wyndham could stand it no -longer; he went quickly forward, and, standing -between the Professor and the girl, took -the former by the shoulders and pushed him -gently backwards and out of hearing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If this drug of yours possesses the lifegiving -properties you speak of,’ said he -sternly, ‘why speak to her of death? Do -you honestly believe in this experiment? Or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>do you fear it—when you suggest this sort -of suicide to her?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I fear nothing,’ said the old man. ‘But -we are all mortal. We can all err, even in -our surest judgments. The very cleverest -of us can be deceived. The experiment—though -I do not believe it—might fail.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the word ‘fail’ he roused.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It will not! It cannot!’ he cried, with -vehemence. ‘But in the meantime I would -give her her chance, too. She shall know -the worst that may befall her.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Why not tell her all?’ said the young man -anxiously. ‘It’—he hesitated and coloured -faintly—‘it would give her her chance perhaps -in another world if your experiment failed. -It would take from her—in part—the sin of -deliberately destroying herself.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor shrugged his shoulders. He -thought it waste of time, this preparing for -another world—another Judge.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You think, then, that I should tell her?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I do. I think, too,’ said Wyndham -strongly, ‘that if your experiment succeeds -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>you should consider yourself indebted to her -for ever.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I shall see to her future, of course.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If,’ said the young man gloomily, ‘anyone -could see to the future of such a one as she is!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor looked at him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You are out of sorts to-night,’ he said. -‘Your natural instinct is deadened in you. -That girl does not belong to the class of -which you are thinking. Whatever has -driven her to her present desperate state of -mind, it is not impurity.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You think that?’ Wyndham looked -doubtful, but was still conscious of a faint -wave of relief; and the Professor, watching -him, smiled, the tolerant smile of one who -understands the cranks and follies of poor -human nature.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If so,’ said Wyndham quickly, ‘she should -surely not be subjected to this experiment at -all. She——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘For all that, I shall not lose this chance,’ -said the Professor shortly. He turned and -went back to the girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>She was sitting in the same attitude as -when he left her—her hands clenched upon -her knees, her eyes staring into the fire. -God alone knew what she saw there. She -did not change her position, but sat like that, -immovable as a statue, as the Professor expounded -his experiment to her, and then -asked her the cold, unsympathetic question -as to whether, now she knew what the risk -was, she would accept it. It might mean -death, but if not, it would mean safety and -protection in the future.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When he had finished, she turned her -sombre eyes on his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I will take the risk,’ she said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham made a movement as if to speak, -but the Professor checked him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Of course, if the experiment is successful,’ -he said, ‘I shall provide for you for life.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I hope you will not have to provide for -me,’ she said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this, a little silence fell upon the -room, that seemed to chill it. The Professor -broke it.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>‘You agree, then?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I agree.’ She rose, and held out her hand. -‘Give me the draught.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham started, his voice vibrating with -horror.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no!’ he cried. ‘She does not understand; -and’—to the Professor—‘neither do -you. If this thing fails, it will mean murder. -Think, I entreat you, before it is too late to -think. That girl’—pointing to the young -stranger, who was standing regarding him -with a dull curiosity—‘she is but a child. -She cannot know her own mind. She ought -not to be allowed to settle so stupendous a -question. Look at her!’ His voice shook. -‘Many a happier girl at her age would still -be in her schoolroom. She is so young that, -whatever her wrongs, her sorrows may be, -she has still time before her to conquer or -live them down. Professor, I implore you, -do not go on with this.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor rested a contemptuous glance -on him for a moment, then swept it from him, -and addressed the girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>‘You are willing?’ he said.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes.’ She spoke quite firmly, but she was -looking at Wyndham. It was a strange look, -made up of surprise and some other feeling -hardly defined.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She is not all,’ broke in Wyndham again, -vehemently. ‘There is you to be considered, -too. If this sleep of your making terminates -fatally, have you considered the consequences -to yourself?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor smiled. He pointed to the -girl, who stood marble-white beneath the dull -gaslight.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Like her, I take the risk,’ he said. ‘I -think I told you a little while ago that I -would chance the hanging.’ His smile—a -very unpleasant one—faded suddenly, and -his manner grew brusque and arrogant. -‘There—enough,’ he said. ‘Stand aside, -man. Do you think that now—now when -at last my hour has come—I am likely -to let it slip, though death itself lay before -me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘For God’s sake, Professor, think yet a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>moment!’ said the younger man, holding him -in his grasp. ‘She is young—so young!... -To take a life like that!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am going to take no life’—coldly. ‘I -see now that you never had any faith in me -at all.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I believe in you as no other man does,’ -rejoined Wyndham hotly. ‘But surely at -this supreme moment a doubt may be allowed -me. If this thing were done openly in the -eye of day, in sight of all men, it were well; -but to try so deadly an experiment here, -at midnight—with no witnesses, as it were—great -heavens! you must see the pitfall you -are laying for yourself. If this experiment -fails——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It will not fail,’ said the Professor coldly. -‘In the meantime’—he cast a scornful glance -at him—‘if you are afraid of being called as -a witness, it is’—pointing to the door—‘still -open to you to avoid such a disagreeability.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Their eyes met.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t think I have deserved that,’ said -the other proudly, and all at once in this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>queer hour both men felt that the tie that -had bound them for years was stronger than -they knew.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Stay, then,’ said the Professor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He went into an inner room and returned -with a phial and glass, and advanced towards -the girl with an almost buoyant step. There -was, indeed, an exhilaration in his whole air, -that amounted almost to madness. He looked -wild—spectral, indeed—in the dim light of -the solitary lamp, with his white hair thrown -back and his eyes shining fiercely beneath -the rugged brows.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Are you ready?’ he asked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She made a slight gesture of assent, and -went a step or two to meet him. She was -deadly pale, but she stood without support -of any kind. The Professor poured some of -the pale fluid from the phial into the glass -with a hand that never faltered, and the girl -took it with a hand that faltered quite as -little; but before she could raise it to her -lips, Wyndham caught her arm.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Stop!’ cried he, as if choking. ‘Have you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>thought—have you considered that there is -no certainty in this drug?’ Her eyes rested -for a moment on his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I thought there was a certainty,’ she said -slowly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘A certainty of death, perhaps,’ said he, -poignant fear in his tone. ‘At this last -moment I appeal to you, for your own sake. -Don’t take it. If you do, it is doubtful -whether you will ever come back to life again.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She looked at him steadily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I hope there is no doubt,’ she said. She -raised the glass and drank its contents to the -dregs.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As she did so, some clock in the silent city -outside struck the midnight hour.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER III.</h2> -</div> -<p class='c013'>‘A land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the -shadow of death; without any order, and where the -light is as darkness.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Morning had broken through the sullen -gloom of night, and still the two men -watched beside the couch on which the girl -lay, seemingly, in all the tranquillity of death. -The Professor’s drug had been calculated to -keep her asleep for exactly six hours. So -long a time would be a test. If she lived, -and woke at the right time, then he would -try again. He would make it worth her -while. For the younger man, during this -anxious vigil, there had been passing lapses -of memory, that he, however, would have -disdained to acknowledge as sleep; but with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>the old man there had been no question of -oblivion, and now, as the vital moment -drew near that should test the truth of the -great discovery, even Wyndham grew abnormally -wide-awake, and with nervous -heart-sinkings watched the pale, death-like -face of the girl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Could it be unreal? Wyndham rose once -and bent over her. No faintest breath came -from her lips or nostrils; the whole face had -taken the pinched, ashen appearance of one -who had lain for a full day dead. The -hands were waxen, and the forehead too. -He shuddered and drew back. At that -moment he told himself that she was dead, -and that he had undoubtedly assisted at a -form of murder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned to the Professor, who was -sitting watch in hand, counting the moments. -He would have spoken, but the old man’s -grim face forbade him. He was waiting. -At twelve o’clock the girl had sunk into a -slumber so profound, so representative of -death, that Wyndham had uttered an exclamation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>of despair, and had told himself -she was indeed struck down by the Destroyer, -and now when six o’clock strikes -she ought to rise from her strange slumbers -if the Professor’s drug possessed the powerful -properties attributed to it by its discoverer.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As Wyndham stood watching the Professor, -a sound smote upon his ear. One! Again -the city clock was tolling the hour. The -Professor rose; his face was ghastly. One, -two, three, four, five, six!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Six! The Professor bent down over the -girl, and Wyndham went near to him, to be -ready to help him when the moment came—when -the truth was made clear to him that -his discovery had failed. Wyndham himself -had long ago given up hope, but he feared for -the old man, to whom his discovery had been -more than life or love for over twenty years.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor still stood peering into the -calm face. Six, and no sign, no change!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Already the sun’s rays were beginning to -peep sharply through the window; there was -a slight stir in the street below. Six-thirty, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>and still the Professor stood gazing on the -quiet figure, as motionless as it. Seven -o’clock, and still no movement. The face, -now lovely in its calm, was as marble, and -the limbs lay rigid, the fingers lightly locked. -Death, death alone could look like that!</p> - -<p class='c004'>Half-past seven! As the remorseless clock -recorded the time, the Professor suddenly -threw up his arms.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She is dead!’ he said. ‘Oh, my God!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He reeled forward, and the young man -caught him in his arms. He was almost -insensible, and was gasping for breath. -Wyndham carried him into an adjoining -room and laid him on a bed, and, finding -him cold, covered him with blankets. This, -so far as it went, was well enough for the -moment, but what was the next step to be? -The old man lay gasping, and evidently there -was but a short step between his state and -that of his victim outside. Yet how to send -for a doctor with that victim outside? To -the Professor, whose hours were numbered, -it would mean little or nothing; but to him, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>Wyndham, it would mean, if not death, -eternal disgrace. He drew a long breath -and bent over the Professor, who was now -again sensible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Shall I send for Marks or Drewd?’ he -asked, naming two of the leading physicians -in Dublin.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor grasped his arm; his face -grew frightful.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No one—no one!’ he gasped. ‘Are you -mad? Do you think I would betray my -failure to the world? To have them laugh—deride——’ -He fell back, gasping still, but -menacing the young man with his eye. By -degrees the fury of his glance relaxed, and -he fell into a sort of slumber, always holding -Wyndham’s arm, however, as if fearing he -should go. He seemed stronger, and Wyndham -knelt by the bed, wondering vaguely -what was going to be the end of it all, and -whether it would be possible to remove the -corpse outside without detection. There -was Denis—Denis was faithful, and could -be trusted.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>Presently the Professor roused from his fit -of unconsciousness. He looked up at the -young man, and his expression was terrible. -Despair in its worse form disfigured his -features. The dream of a life had been -extinguished. He tried to speak, but at -first words failed him, then, ‘All the years—all -the years!’ he mumbled. Wyndham -understood, and his heart bled. The old -man had given the best years of his life -to his discovery, and now——</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I have killed her!’ went on the Professor, -after a minute or two.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Science has killed her,’ said Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No; I, with my cursed pride of belief in -myself—I have killed her,’ persisted the old -man. ‘I would to God it were not so!’ He -did not believe in anything but science, yet -he appealed to the Creator occasionally, as -some moderns still do to Jove. His lean -fingers beat feebly on the blankets. ‘A -failure—a failure,’ he kept muttering, his -eyes fixed on vacancy. ‘I go to my grave -a failure! I set my soul on it. I believed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>in it, and it was naught.’ He was rambling, -but presently he sprang into a sitting posture, -his eyes afire once more. ‘I believe in it -still!’ he shouted. ‘Oh, for time, for life, to -prove.... O God, if there is a God, grant -me a few more days!’ He fell into a violent -fit of shivering, and Wyndham gently laid -him back in his bed, and covered him again -with the blankets, where he lay sullen, -powerless.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Try not to think,’ implored the young -man.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Think—think—what else is left to me? -Oh, Paul!’ He stretched out his arm and -caught Wyndham. ‘That it should be a -failure after all. I wish——’ He paused, -and then went on: ‘I wish I had not tried it -upon her; she was young. She was a pretty -creature, too. She was like ... someone——’ -He broke off.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She was a mere waif and stray,’ said -Wyndham, trying to harden his voice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She was no waif or stray of the sort you -mean,’ said the Professor. ‘Her face—was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>not like that. There’—pointing to the room -outside—‘go; look on her for yourself, and -read the truth of what I say.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is not necessary,’ said the young man, -with a slight shudder. And again a silence -fell between them. It was again broken by -the Professor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She was full of life,’ he said; ‘and I -took it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She wished you to take it,’ said Wyndham, -who felt choking. Her blood seemed to lie -heavily on him. Had he not seen, countenanced -her murder? The Professor did not -seem to hear him; his head had fallen forward, -and he was muttering again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She is dead!’ he whispered to himself. -He made a vague but tragic gesture; and -then, after a little while, ‘Dead!’ he said -again. His head had sunk upon his breast. -It was a strange scene. Here the Professor -dying—out there the girl dead—and between -them he, Paul Wyndham. What lay before -him?</p> - -<p class='c004'>He roused himself with an effort from his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>horrible thoughts, and made a faint effort to -withdraw his hand from the Professor’s; but -though the latter had fallen into a doze, -he still felt the attempt at withdrawal, and -tightened his clutch on Wyndham; and all -at once it seemed to the young man as though -the years had rolled backward, and he was -still the pupil, and this old man his tutor, -and the days were once more present when -he had been ordered here and there, and had -taken his directions from him, and loved and -reverenced him, stern and repellent as he was, -as perhaps no tutor had ever been reverenced -before.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After a little while the Professor’s grasp -relaxed, and Wyndham rose to his feet. A -shrinking from entering the room beyond was -combated by a wild desire to go there and -look once again upon the slender form of the -girl lying in death’s sweet repose upon her -couch. He went to the door, hesitated involuntarily -for a second or two, and then -entered.</p> - -<p class='c004'>How still is death! And how apart! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>Nothing can approach it or move it. He -looked at her long and earnestly, and all at -once it came to him that she was beautiful. -He had not thought her beautiful last night, -but now the dignity of death had touched -her, and her fear and her indifference and -her despair had dropped from her, and the -face shone lovely—the features chiselled, and -a vague smile upon the small, closed lips. -He noticed one thing, and it struck him as -strange—that pinched look about the features -that he had noticed an hour ago was gone -now. The mouth was soft, the rounded chin -curved as if in life. Almost there seemed a -little bloom upon the pale, cold cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>With a heavy sigh he turned away, and, -leaning his arm upon the mantelshelf, gave -himself up a prey to miserable thought. -The fire had died out long ago, and the -morning was cold and raw, and from under -the ill-fitting door a little harsh wind was -rushing. The Professor, though actually a -rich man, had never cared to change the undesirable -house that had sheltered him when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>first he tried a fall with fortune, and, conquering -it, came out at once to the front as a man -not to be despised in the world of science.</p> - -<p class='c004'>What was to be done? The Professor -would have to see a doctor, even if the medical -man were brought in without his knowledge. -Would it be possible to remove the—that girl—and -trust to to-night for her removal to——To -where? Again he lost himself in a sea -of agonized doubt and uncertainty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Denis would still be here, of course; but -what could Denis do? He fell back upon all -the old methods of concealing dead bodies he -had ever heard of, but everything seemed -impossible. What fools all those others must -have been! Well, he could give himself up -and explain matters; but then the Professor—to -have his great discovery derided and -held up to ridicule! The old man’s look, as -he saw it a little while ago, seemed to forbid -his betrayal of his defeat. Great heavens! -what was to be done?</p> - -<p class='c004'>He drew himself up with a heavy sigh, and -passed his hand across his eyes, then turned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>to go back to the inner room to see if the -Professor was still sleeping. As he went he -tried to avoid glancing at the couch where -the dead form lay, but when he got close, -some force stronger than his will compelled -him to look at it. And as he looked he felt -turned into stone. He seemed frozen to the -spot on which he stood; his eyes refused to -remove themselves from what they saw. -Staring like one benumbed, he told himself -at last that he was going mad. How otherwise -could he see this thing? Sweat broke -out on his forehead, and a cry escaped him. -The corpse was looking at him!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER IV.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>‘Look, then, into thine heart and write!’</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Very intently, too, and as if surprised or -trying to remember. Her large eyes seemed -singularly brilliant, and for a while the only -thing living about her. But all at once, as -though memory had returned, she sprang to -her feet and stood, strong, and utterly without -support, and questioned him with those -eyes silently but eloquently. The queerest -thing about it all to Wyndham was that, -instead of being enfeebled by the strange -draught she had drunk, she looked younger, -more vigorous, and altogether another person -from the forlorn, poor child of eight hours -ago. Her eyes were now like stars, her lips -red and warm; the drug had, beyond doubt, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>a property that even the Professor had never -dreamt of; it gave not only rest, but renewed -health and life to those who drank it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Seeing Wyndham did not or could not -speak, she did.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am alive—alive!’ she cried, with young -and happy exultation. Where was the desire -for death that lay so heavily on her only a -few hours ago? It was all gone. Now it -was plain that she desired life—life only. -Her voice rang through the room fresh and -clear, filling it with music of a hope renewed, -and so penetrating that it even pierced into -the room beyond. And as it reached it, -another cry broke forth—a cry this time old -and feeble.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham rushed to answer it, taking with -him his last memory of the girl, as she then -stood, with her arms thrown out as if in quick -delight, and her whole strange, beautiful face -one ray of gladness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Professor was sitting up in bed a mere -wreck, but with expectation on every feature. -He was trembling visibly.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>‘That voice!’ he whispered wildly—‘that -voice! I know it. Long years ago I knew it. -Boy, speak—tell me, whose voice was that?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham knelt down beside him, and -took his hand in his. He, too, was trembling -excessively, and his eyes were full of tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Sir,’ he said softly, ‘she is alive.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She—she—who?’ asked the Professor. -He bent forward; his features were working.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That girl ... last night.... She lives, -sir. Your experiment has not failed, after all.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He feared to look at the Professor when -he had said this, and bent his head, leaning -his forehead on the wrinkled hand he held. -It quivered slightly beneath him, but not -much, and presently the old man spoke.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She lives?’ His voice was stronger now. -Wyndham looked up, and found the Professor -looking almost his normal self, and -with that expression in his eyes that the -young man knew as meaning a sharp calculation.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes; I have spoken to her. Will you -see her?’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>‘No.’ The Professor silenced him by a -gesture. He was evidently in the midst of -a quick calculation now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The hour she woke?’ he asked presently, -with such a vigorous ring in his tone that -Wyndham rose to his feet astonished.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Two minutes ago.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Hah!’ The Professor went back to his -calculations. Presently a shout broke from -him. ‘I see it now!’ he cried victoriously; -‘I see where the mistake lay! Fool that I -was not to have seen it before! It was a -miscalculation, but one easy to be rectified. -An hour or two will do it. Here, help me -up, Paul.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But, Professor, it is impossible; you must -rest; you——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not another moment, not one, I tell you!’ -cried the Professor furiously. He lunged out -of bed. ‘This thing must be seen to at once. -What time can any man be sure of, that he -should waste it? The discovery must be -assured. And what time have I?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He fell forward; he had fainted. Wyndham -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>laid him back, and rushed frantically -into the next room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl was standing just where he had -left her. But her arms were outstretched no -longer; they were better employed—they -were doing up her hair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There was a glass on a wall opposite to -him, and by this she was trying to bring herself -back to as perfect a state of respectability -as circumstances permitted her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You must go,’ said Wyndham, ‘and at -once. Do you hear—at once?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>And, indeed, it was imperative that she -should be out of the house before the arrival -of the doctor, for whom he was now about -to go.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She rose. And suddenly gladness died from -her face, her arms dropped to her sides; something -of the old misery, but not all, settled -down on her once more.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I can go,’ she said. ‘I—I am not so afraid -now, when it is day; but—he said——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Poor child! she had remembered the bargain -of the night before. She had not thought it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>worthy of thought then, believing Death -indeed lay before her when she drank that -draught; but when she woke, when memory -returned to her (and it always came quickly -after such a draught as that), she had gladly -told herself that now all her troubles were at -an end, that the old man would provide for -her, protect her. And now this young man, -so forbidding, so unkind, with his harsh voice -and ways; and yet last night he had seemed -so kind!</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘He is dying!’ said Wyndham shortly. ‘A -doctor must be summoned without delay. I -shall arrange for your going—for your safety; -but you must be quick.’ He rang the bell -for Denis, who was waiting for him below. -The Professor’s only servant was a charwoman, -who left nightly at ten, and did not return -till the same time next morning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You need provide for nothing,’ said the -girl. She caught up the little shawl that -had been wrapped round her last night, and -moved towards the door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Stay a moment; you can’t go like this,’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>said the young man distractedly. ‘I have a -servant who will take you to some place of -safety. It is impossible that you should go -like this. Why’—awkwardly—‘you haven’t -even got a bonnet.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She stopped and looked at him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is not you who are responsible,’ she -said. ‘And’—she drew her breath quickly—‘after -all, no one is. I took that drug of -my own accord, of my own will, but he did -promise to—to—— But if he is dying?’ -She looked at him anxiously, making the last -speech a question.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am afraid so.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Then that is at an end.’ She went towards -the door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Wait for my servant,’ entreated he, following -her and laying a hand upon her arm. -‘I cannot allow you to go like this.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t see what it is to you,’ said she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is much—a great deal. For one thing, -the Professor, if he recovers, would never -forgive me for letting you go out of his life -without reparation—without the fulfilment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>of his promise to you. He is indebted to you, -remember. It’—eagerly—‘was a bargain. -And, after all, if you throw off his responsibility -now, where will you go? You say -you have no home—no——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nothing! nothing!’ she said. He could -see her face pale again, and again that dreadful -look of despair, of hopelessness, that had -crowned her last night, aged and made miserable -her face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He turned gladly from the sad contemplation -of it to address Denis, who had entered -the room, his small twinkling eyes as bright -as ever; but, then, he had slept tranquilly -the whole night through by a kitchen fire -that would have been hard to rival in heat -and brilliancy. Amongst all Denis’s many -virtues, one stood out: he could always be -depended on to look after himself. And -really that is a great thing in a faithful -servant; so many of them like to pose as -martyrs in the cause.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham led his servant a little aside.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You see this——’ He hesitated for a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>word, and then said, ‘young lady; you will -take her away at once. There is not a -moment to be lost. Get her out of the house -directly. I am going for a doctor. The Professor -is seriously ill. Do you understand? -You are to lose no time. You must take her -away at once.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Denis stared at him in the appallingly nonunderstanding -way that belongs, I believe, -to Irish servants alone. It doesn’t mean -that they don’t understand; it only means -that they are taking it all in, with a cleverness -that few other servants can show at a -moment’s notice.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘An’ where, yer honour?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Anywhere out of this!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This struck him as abominably unfeeling, -and he added hastily: ‘To the safest place -you know—the very safest. I depend upon -you, Denis. Treat her as you would your -own daughter.’</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER V.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘For the shades are about us that hover</div> - <div class='line in2'>When darkness is half withdrawn,</div> - <div class='line'>And the skirts of the dead Night cover</div> - <div class='line in2'>The face of the live new Dawn.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The doctors when they came could do nothing -for him. The Professor, though hardly an -old man as the ordinary acceptation of the -word goes, being still within the seventies, -had so burnt out his candle at both ends that -all the science in Europe could not have kept -him alive for another twenty-four hours. A -spice of gruesome mirth seemed to fall into -the situation when their declaration was laid -bare and one thought of the great discovery.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham was the one who thought of it, -and a wild longing to rouse the old man, who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>was now sunk into an oblivion that presaged -death, and compel him even in his death-throes -to reveal the secret that might bring -even him back to life, seized upon him. But -he felt it was impossible, and presently the -two great men went downstairs to consult -each other, and he was left alone with his -dying friend.</p> - -<p class='c004'>They had hardly gone when, watching -as he incessantly did the face of the Professor, -he noticed a change. He bent over -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Why doesn’t she speak now,’ said the -Professor. He was thinking of the girl’s -voice—a voice that had taken him back to -his early days in some strange way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Master,’ said Wyndham—he, too, had -gone back to the old days—‘you are thinking——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Of her. They said she was dead.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Who was dead?’ asked Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this the old man roused. He had not -known Wyndham’s voice the first time, but -now he did, and he turned and looked at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>him; and presently consciousness once more -grew within his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is you, boy. And where is she?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She? The girl, you mean?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes.... I promised her. You remember.... -It is late now, very late ... -and I must sleep. But ... a word, boy.... -I have left you all, and she ... out of it ... -you must give her ... give her....’ He -sank back.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘All—all,’ said Wyndham eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No ... no’—he rallied wonderfully—‘three -hundred a year—that for a girl.... -The rest is yours.... But see to her.... -I can trust you. You are a good boy. But -your Greek, boy—your Greek is bad—your -aorists are weak. You must mend—you -must mend....’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His dying eyes tried to take the old stern -look as they rested on Wyndham, the look -he used to give the boy when his Greek or -his Latin verses were hardly up to the mark, -but presently it changed and softened into a -wider light. ‘The boy,’ in the last of all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>moments, was forgotten for the love that -was strongest of all.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She was very like my wife,’ he gasped -faintly, and fell back and died.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c004'>It was all over. The doctors had taken -their departure, and the old dismal house -was very still. The Professor had died in -the morning, and it was quite night again -before Wyndham had time to think of -ordinary matters. It was the presence of -Denis, who had come up to see, probably, -how his master had continued to live so long -without him, that brought back the thought -of the girl to Wyndham’s mind.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Where did you take her?’ he asked listlessly. -Even as the words passed his lips -he knew it was most important that she -should be found again. She was now the -inheritress of three hundred a year—no mean -thing for a girl who only last night was -ready and willing to die of want, amongst -other things, no doubt.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>‘To the Cottage, sir.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To——’ Wyndham gazed at him as if -too astonished to give way to the words that -evidently lay very near to his tongue.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The Cottage, sir. Yer own place, sir.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The Cottage,’ repeated Wyndham, now -breaking forth in earnest. ‘What the devil -did you take her there for?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His extreme anger would have cowed -perhaps any other servant in Europe save -Denis. That good man stood to his guns -without a flinch.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Fegs, sir, ’tis you can answer that,’ said -he, with quite an encouraging air.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What d’ye mean, Denis?’ demanded -Wyndham almost violently.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’m manin’—what I’m manin’,’ said Denis, -who certainly was not violent at all. ‘Ye -know yourself, sir, that the first thing ye -said to me about the crathur was to take her -to the safest place ye knew.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well?’ said Wyndham, with anger he -tried hard to stifle.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Faix, yer honour, it seemed to me that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>the safest place I knew for the young -lady was the house that belonged to yer -honour.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This no doubt was distinctly flattering, but -at the moment the flattery did not appeal to -Wyndham. The girl down there—and what -the deuce was he to do with her? And -what would all the people round be thinking?—for -the most part country folk. The -Cottage lay twenty miles outside Dublin. -The Rector, Mr. Barry, would for one be -positively enraged. He would require all -sorts of explanations.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Denis had waited for a reply, but finding -none, now went on:</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Anything wrong, sir?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Anything!’ said Wyndham. ‘Were you -mad that you should take a—a person like -that down to my house? A girl found lying -on the Professor’s doorstep! Good heavens, -man! what could you mean by it?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He exaggerated a little when he said ‘my -house.’ As a fact, he lived very little in the -Cottage, only using it when he felt tired and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>overdone by work. His real home was to be -found in rooms in Dublin—pleasant rooms in -Upper Merrion Street. There he entertained -his bachelor friends, and was highly regarded -by his landlady. He was one of those men—more -usual than the coming young lady believes—who -thought a great deal more of -their work, and their reading, and their golf, -than of the opposite sex.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, sir, there’s this,’ said Denis, who -had remained beautifully calm. ‘Besides -tellin’ me I was to take her to a safe place, -ye specially said as she was to be thrated as -me own daughter. I remimber the words -well. Now, ye know well, sir, havin’ bin -intimate with me an’ Bridget since ye wur -in yer first throusers, that we haven’t a child -between us; an’ yet for all that I tuck it for -manin’ that the young lady was to be given -to Bridget.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You took a great deal upon yourself then,’ -said Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Maybe so,’ said Denis, pursing up his -lips. ‘But ye said as how she was to be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>thrated like that; an’ if a girl was my -daughter—why, I’d take her to Bridget.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was impossible to go into this involved -affair. Wyndham dismissed him with a -gesture; but Denis dallied at the door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I suppose there’s something wrong, sir?’ -persisted he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nothing,’ said Wyndham, putting a -match to his cigar, ‘except that you are the -most infernal ass I ever met.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>With a heavy heart Wyndham, assisted -by a physician of great note, had gone -through the Professor’s papers. There were -few of them, and with regard to the experiment -only a few useless notes here and -there, principally written on the backs of -envelopes. There was nothing connected—nothing -that could be used. The Professor, -it seemed, had been in the habit of writing -on his brain, and on that only. Alas! there -was nothing left wherewith to carry on the -great discovery.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham abandoned his search with a -sigh. There was no doubt now that the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>wonderful experiment was lost to all time. -With this sad ending of it he told himself -he had closed one chapter in his life, but he -made a mistake there; the chapter was only -beginning.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER VI.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘In her is highe beauty without pride,</div> - <div class='line'>And youth withoute greenhood or folly.</div> - <div class='line'>To all her workes virtue is her guide.</div> - <div class='line'>Humbless hath slain in her all tyranny:</div> - <div class='line'>She is the mirror of all courtesy,</div> - <div class='line'>Her heart a very chamber of holiness,</div> - <div class='line'>Her hand minister of freedom for almess.’</div> - <div class='line in34'><span class='sc'>Chaucer.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>‘No!’ says Susan. The word is not a denial; -it is merely an ejaculative expression of the -most extreme astonishment, largely mingled -with disbelief.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sun is glinting through the trees in -the old orchard right down on her head, -striking a light from the glancing knitting-needles -she has now let fall into her lap. -This old orchard is the happy hunting-ground -of the Barry children old and young—the -place which they rush to in their joyous -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>moments, the place which they crawl to with -their griefs and woes. To-day neither joys -nor griefs are near them, and it is out of -sheer love alone for its mossy old apple-trees -and its sunlit corners that Susan had tripped -in here a while ago with a dilapidated old -novel tucked into her apron pocket, and the -eternal sock with the heel half turned -between her pretty fingers. After her had -straggled Betty, a slender creature of sixteen, -and Tom, the baby. Tom was five, but he -was always the baby, there having been no -more babies after him, principally because his -mother died when he was born. And last of -all came Bonnie, the little cripple, hopping -sadly on his crutches, until Susan saw him, -and ran back to him and caught him in her -arms, and placed him beside her on the warm -soft grass, putting out her much-washed -cotton skirt that he might sit upon it, and so -be protected from even an imaginary damp, -and had cuddled him up to her, to the many -droppings of the stitches of the long-suffering -heel.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>Carew, who came between Betty and Susan, -was away, fishing somewhere in the Crosby -river, and Jacky had not put in an appearance -since breakfast. How on earth his -lessons are going to be prepared between this—two -o’clock—and five, makes Susan wonder -anxiously. Why doesn’t he come home? -What can he be doing?</p> - -<p class='c004'>She has hardly got further than this in her -thoughts of the truant, when suddenly he -appears upon the scene, a very rosy, bright-eyed -rascal, big with news. Indeed, it was -the coming of Jacky, and the astounding -revelation in his opening sentence—that he -had sprung upon them in a most unprincipled -way, without a word of warning—that had -drawn from Susan that heavily emphasized -‘No!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She speaks again now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t believe it,’ she says.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, Susan, why not?’ asks Betty, who is -sitting with her hands folded behind her -head, perhaps because if she brought them -forward she might find some knitting to do, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>too. Idle hands they are, only made for -mischief; so is the face to which they belong.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Because it’s nonsense,’ says Susan, shrugging -her shoulders, and drawing Bonnie closer -to her. ‘And, besides, I don’t want to believe -it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I do!’ says Betty, with a little -grin from under her big sun-hat. ‘Go on, -Jacky.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I saw her, I saw her plain,’ says Jacky, -his rosy round face fired with joy at the -thought of being for once the bearer of -important news. ‘She was walking about -in the garden.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘In,’ from Susan, in a severe tone, ‘Mr. -Wyndham’s garden?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, in there.’ Jacky now looks as though -he is going to burst. ‘Why don’t you believe -me? I saw her, I tell you. I saw her quite -plain. An’ her hair is dark, a lot darker than -yours, an she’s got a blue frock like your -Sunday one, only better.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan interrupts him with dignity.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>‘I don’t see how Mrs. Denis’s——’ Denis’s -wife was always called Mrs. Denis; if she -had any other name, it was sunk beneath insuperable -barriers. Mr. and Mrs. Denis she -and her husband had been since the priest -poured his blessing down upon them and -made them one in the old chapel built on the -rock at the end of the village. This rock -gave the parish priest a distinct crow over -the Protestant clergyman.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ye would quote me the Scriptures, would -ye?’ Father McFane would call to Mr. -Barry as the latter drove by the chapel in -his Norwegian on his way to the church -beyond. ‘An’ what did St. Paul say? -“Like a house founded upon a rock.” Why, -here’s the rock, man. Come in! come in! -where are ye going?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It occurred every Sunday, and Mr. Barry -would smile back at Father McFane, and -nod his head, for the two, indeed, were great -friends, as the Protestants and Roman -Catholics often are in small places, until -someone comes in to them with wild news -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>and absurd tidings from incendiaries outside -to upset the loving work of years.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t see how Mrs. Denis’s niece or -cousin, or whatever she is, should have a -better gown than mine,’ says she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But she isn’t Mrs. Denis’s cousin, she’s too -young,’ says Jacky. ‘She’s a girl, and she -was pulling the flowers like anything, and if -she belonged to Mrs. Denis she wouldn’t be -let do that.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jacky’s English is always horrible.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, you’ve dreamt the whole thing!’ -says Susan contemptuously. ‘Run away -and play.’ She has forgotten about the -lessons.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, you are a marplot! I am going to -believe in Jacky for once in my life. Don’t -go, Jacky! Jacky, come back! If you -don’t, Aunt Jemima will make you do your -lessons.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This has a magical effect. Jacky swerves -round.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She is there,’ says he indignantly. ‘I -did see her.’ He seems to dwell on this fact -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>with gusto. ‘An’ she’s not Mrs. Denis’s niece. -An’ old Meany down by the mill says she’s -been there for four weeks.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The plot is thickening,’ says Betty lazily. -‘’Tis a clever villain, whoever she is; fancy -her being here for four weeks without the -very size of her shoes being known throughout -the length and breadth of Curraghcloyne! -Four days ought to have done it. Go on, -Jacky! Had she a cloven foot by any -chance?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No; but’—and Jacky’s eyes widen, and -he seems to swell—‘Meany says she’s a -prisoner.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘A what?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, a real prisoner. She’s not let go out -of the place. Mrs. Denis never opens the -front-gate now, but comes out by the little -green one we can see from the hall-door, an’ -even that’s locked when she comes out an’ -goes back again, Meany says.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mrs. Denis very seldom comes out by any -other,’ says Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But she doesn’t always lock it behind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>her,’ puts in Betty, who is evidently beginning -to enjoy herself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Now she locks the front-gate too,’ says -Jacky triumphantly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It’s perfectly thrilling,’ declares Betty, -sitting up and growing openly interested. -Betty is frivolous. ‘A prisoner, and a young -girl. Can she be the long-lost princess of -our infancy? And imprisoned by Mr. Wyndham! -Oh, the terrible man!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She is of course a friend of Mrs. Denis’s,’ -says Susan, with the grand air of one who -will have the truth at any price, and who is -bent on dismissing all theories save the -practical one. ‘It’s the most natural thing -in the world. We all know Mr. Wyndham -told her he wouldn’t come down for a month -or two, and so she is entertaining a niece or -a cousin, or something.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She isn’t a niece of Mrs. Denis’s, any way,’ -persists Jacky obstinately; ‘she’—with a -hopeful, yet doubtful glance at Betty, whose -latest idea has struck him—‘she is much more -like a—a princess.’ Again he looks at Betty, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>as if expecting her to bring him through this -difficulty of her own making; but Betty fails -him, as she fails most people.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘After all, I dismiss the romantic element,’ -says she, nursing her knees and swaying herself -indolently to and fro in the warm sunshine. -‘I incline now towards the supernatural. -Susan,’ addressing her elder sister -with due solemnity, ‘perhaps she is a ghost.’ -Her face thus uplifted is sufficiently like -Susan’s to let all the world know they are of -kin; but Betty’s face, piquante, provocative, -as it is, lacks the charm of Susan’s. Betty -is pretty, nay, perhaps something more, for -the Barrys are a handsome race; but Susan—Susan -is lovely. It is useless saying her -nose is not pure Greek, that her mouth wants -this or that, that her forehead is a trifle too -low. Susan, when all is said, when long -argument has been used, remains what she -was before—lovely. The smiling, earnest -lips, the liquid eyes, the rippling, sunny hair—all -these might be another girl’s, but yet that -other girl would not be Susan. Oh, beauteous -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>Susan! with your youthful, starry eyes -and tender, mirthful, timid air, I would -that a brush, and not a pen, might paint -you!</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘A ghost! Nonsense,’ says she, now contemptuously. -‘But’—thoughtfully—‘what -a queer story!’ And again, with a wrathful -glance at Jacky: ‘After all, I don’t believe a -word of it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I do! I want to,’ says Betty, who -revels in sensations. ‘And the ghost development -is beautiful. I’d rather see a ghost -than anything. As you looked, Jacky, did -she vanish into thin air?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No; only round the corner,’ says Jacky -reluctantly. He would evidently have liked -the vanishing trick.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Very disappointing! But perhaps that’s -her way of doing it. Corners are always so -convenient.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If the gates are all locked,’ says Susan, -turning suddenly a magisterial eye upon her -brother, ‘may I ask how you saw her?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah, that’s part of it! That,’ says Betty, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>‘is where the fire and brimstone come in. -That’s what makes her a ghost. It isn’t -everybody can see through stone walls,’ says -she, lowering her voice mysteriously, and -glancing at the staring Jacky. ‘She had -evidently the power to turn Mrs. Denis’s -walls into glass! It’s very unlucky, Jacky, -for ghosts to fall in love with people, and I’m -sorry to say I think this one has developed a -mad fancy for you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She hasn’t!’ says Jacky, who is now -extremely pale.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Circumstances point to it,’ says Betty, -who is nothing if not a tease. ‘And when -ghosts fall in love, they do dreadful things to -people. Things like this!’ She has risen, and -is now advancing on the stricken Jacky with -her slender arms uplifted, and long fingers -pointed downwards and arranged like claws. -She has taken to a sort of prance, a high-stepping -walk that brings her knees upwards -and her toes outward, and she has worked -her face out of all recognition in an abominable -grin. All this taken together proves too -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>much for Jacky, who, his face now visibly -paler, descends precipitately upon Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan has been seeing to the comfort of -her little Bonnie, and has therefore been -ignorant of Betty’s flight of fancy until -the moment when Jacky stumbles somewhat -heavily against her, and looking up, she sees -Betty’s diabolical pose.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Betty, don’t!’ says she, glancing back to -Jacky’s face, which is, indeed, a mixture of -pluck and abject terror.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Would you not warn him, then?’ says -Betty reproachfully, returning, however, to -her ordinary appearance, and making an -aside at Bonnie, a pretence at shooting him -with her first finger and thumb, that sends -the delicate little creature into fits of laughter. -‘Poor old Jacky!’ returning to the charge. -‘It isn’t for nothing that ghosts reveal themselves. -It is easy to see that this one has -her eye on you!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She hasn’t,’ says Jacky again, who is on -the point of tears. He is evidently not -partial to ghosts. ‘And it wasn’t through a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>glass wall I saw her—it was——’ He stops -dead short.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes?’ says Susan, still severely. ‘Do be -quiet, Betty, and let him speak. It was——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Through the hole in the wall near the -garden,’ confesses Jacky doggedly, but somewhat -shamefacedly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You see, it was through the wall, after -all!’ says Betty, breaking into a delighted -laugh. ‘She’ll get you, Jacky—she’ll get -you yet.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t think it is a very nice thing to -peep through other people’s walls into their -grounds,’ says Susan, more from the point of -view that she is the eldest sister, and bound -to say a word in season now and then, than -from any feeling of horror at the act. All -boys peep through holes in walls, when lucky -enough to find them. ‘How would you like -it,’ says she, ‘if you were found doing it?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But I wasn’t found,’ retorts Jacky sulkily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Susan,’ Betty breaks into the argument -with a vivacity all her own, ‘you have no -more morality than a cat. You are teaching -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>him all wrong. It isn’t the not being found -out, Jacky, that is of importance, as Susan -is most erroneously bent on impressing upon -you; it is the fact of peeping in itself that -makes you the’—shaking her finger at him—‘miserable -sinner that you are!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Sinner yourself!’ says Jacky, now driven -to desperation and the most unreserved impertinence. -‘I often saw you look through -the hole in the wall yourself.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this, instead of being annoyed, both -Susan and Betty give way to inextinguishable -mirth; whereupon Jacky, who had, perhaps, -hoped that his shot would take effect, -prepares once more to march away. But -Betty, making a sudden grab at him, catches -him by his trousers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Wait awhile,’ cries she, still shaking with -laughter. ‘Susan, seize his arm. Tell us -the rest of it. Was she——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I won’t tell you anything; and I’m sorry -I told you a word at all. Let me go, Betty. -D’ye hear? You are tearing my breeches.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And you are tearing our hearts,’ says -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>Betty, ‘Jacky darling. Go on; don’t be -a cross cat, now. Was she——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Twice as pretty as you, any way,’ says -Jacky, with virulence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Is that all? Poor girl! says Betty, who -is very hard to beat. ‘Prettier than Susan?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, lots.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She must be a real princess, then, and no -ghost. I’d like to leave a card upon her. -Perhaps you would kindly push it through -the hole in the wall, Jacky.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This is adding to the insult, and Jacky, -with the loss of a button or two, and serious -injury to his suspenders, breaks away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There now!’ says he, beginning to cry. -‘Look what you’ve done; and no one to -mend it; and Aunt Maria will be angry, -and father will give me twenty lines——’ -Sobs check his utterance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan rises hurriedly, and, with a whispered -word to Bonnie, she passes him on to Betty, -who, in spite of her carelessness, receives -the little fragile creature with loving arms, -hugging him to her, and beginning to ransack -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>her memory for a story to tell him, such as -his soul loveth; then Susan, slipping her arm -round Jacky’s shoulder, whispers soft comforts -to him. He shall come in now and do his -lessons with her, so that father shall not be -vexed this evening, and after dinner (the -Rector’s family dined at two, and had high -tea at seven) she would take him with her -up to Crosby Park.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jacky’s recovery is swift; his sobs cease, -and he graciously allows himself to be kissed. -To go to Crosby Park is always a joy—the -big, huge, handsome place, with its long -gardens and glass houses, and, best of all, -its absentee landlord.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is, indeed, quite ten years since George -Crosby has been at the Park, and in all probability -ten more years are likely to elapse -before he comes again. The last accounts of -him were from Africa, where he had had a -most unpleasantly near interview with a lion, -but had got off with a whole skin and another -not quite so whole: the lion had come -to grief.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER VII.</h2> -</div> -<p class='c013'>‘Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed -that there must also be evil.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is three o’clock as Susan, with Jacky in -tow, leaves the Rectory gate and goes up the -village towards the broad road beyond that -mounts steepwards to Crosby Park. Curraghcloyne -possesses but one street, and a -very small one, too; but as a set-off to that -it teems with interest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This morning a pig-fair was held in the -‘fair-field,’ a square mass of beaten earth, -anything but ‘fair,’ and as unlike a field as -possible; and now that the ‘payers of the -rint’ have been mercifully removed, bought, -or sold, the unsightly patch is covered by -young colts, that are being ridden up and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>down by their owners, with a view to showing -them off; whilst in the far part of the -field, over there, cows, sheep, and donkeys -are changing owners.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here, in the main street, much lively conversation -is going on. On the right, Salter, -the hardware man—a virulent Methodist, -who calls himself a Protestant—is retailing -to a hushed and delighted group the very -latest ritualistic news of the curate just -lately imported, and who, if a most estimable -man, is undoubtedly abominably ugly. -Short and stout and ill-made, poor Mr. Haldane -has not proved a success amongst the -Protestants of the parish. His views are -extreme, and so are his looks, and, as Betty -most unkindly put it, he should, on his ordination, -have been at once despatched by the -Bishop of the diocese as a missionary to the -Cannibal Islands, with a view to getting rid -of him as quickly as possible. He is a sore -trial to Mr. Barry, the Rector of the parish, -and Susan’s father. But he had to replace -the last curate in a hurry, that young man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>having resigned his charge at a moment’s -notice, because the Rector would not give -his sanction to having matins at six a.m., he -said; but in reality because Susan had, the -evening before, rejected him with a haste -that deprived him of all hope.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Just now the excitement amongst the -groups at Salter’s is growing intense. The -curate had been knocked down. No! But -he had fallen—and so on, and so on. A few -shops lower down comes Mr. Murphy, the -undertaker’s. He, too, as indeed do all the -shopkeepers in Curraghcloyne, stands in the -front of his shop-door, chatting to all who -come and go. A little, fat, jolly man, rather -useless you would think in a solemn business -like his, and yet the best undertaker, for all -that, in the seven parishes round. Perhaps -it is well to have a cheerful person of that -sort to dispel the dreadful gloom of death. -However it is, he is a universal favourite, -and no wonder, when I tell you he is the -man in all Curraghcloyne who can tell you -most about the babies!—the ones come, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>ones to come immediately, and those in the -middle distance! The gayest, happiest little -man in the town, with a wife as rosy as himself, -and quite a crowd of embryo little undertakers -swarming round his knees. But these, -and many more of the Curraghcloyne celebrities, -sink into insignificance before Ricketty, -the proprietor of the Crosby Arms Hotel. -This name is painted on a swinging signboard, -with a huge boar beneath, the crest -of the Crosbys from all time.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Ricketty—his name was once Richards, -but time and many devoted friendships has -brought it down to Ricketty—is a huge -benign Irishman, with the biggest jaw in -Europe and the smallest eyes. To his bones -flesh has grown, until now he might have -exhibited himself in the most fastidious show -in New York as the ‘Last of the race of -Anak,’ or some such attractive title.</p> - -<p class='c004'>And as most big men are, so is he—the -mildest-mannered man on earth; who would -have run away if he had been asked to scuttle -a ship, and who would have fainted if the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>idea of cutting the throat even of a mouse -had been suggested to him. One side of his -hotel has the usual bar blind up in it, behind -which is a parlour, where on special occasions -the politicians congregate to air their eloquence. -The other side is given up to a -fancy shop, kept by his sister, Miss Ricketty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Miss Ricketty is the wit, and therefore the -scourge, of the village (very little wit suffices -for a village such as Curraghcloyne), and -though nearly stone-deaf, knows more of -the ‘goings on’ of her neighbours than anyone -else in the small town.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Of course there is a bank and a post-office -in Curraghcloyne. And a town-hall, where -the future tenors and sopranos of the world -sometimes ‘kindly consent’ to sing to the -poor people round them. And there is the -draper’s shop called ‘The Emporium,’ very -justly, of course; and there is a market-place -too, where everyone says the beef and mutton -are both bad and dear. But even the interest -of all these fails before the caustic tongue of -Miss Ricketty.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>Just as Susan reaches the window of the -hotel that holds Miss Ricketty’s show of notepaper, -ballads, bull’s-eyes, woollen mufflers, -the latest thing in veils ten years old, and -the flotsam and jetsam of various seasons -past, she finds herself face to face with -Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You have come back!’ says she involuntarily. -She is glad to see him. He is—well, -scarcely an old friend, because the distances -between his comings and goings to -the Cottage make such broad margins on the -leaf of time that he has hardly come into -quite close contact with the family at the -Rectory. But they have known him for a -long time, and they have liked him, and -there is a good deal of soft, pleasurable -welcome in the glance that Susan gives him. -He has been away now, she tells herself, quite -two months.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes,’ says Wyndham, smiling. His smile -is a little preoccupied, however. ‘And how -are you, Jacky? My goodness, how we are -grown! You’ll be as big as Ricketty presently -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>if you don’t put a weight on your -head.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jacky sniggles, but, like Wyndham’s smile, -his sniggles are a little preoccupied. Having -shaken hands with the latter, he retires behind -Susan, and wonders if Wyndham is going up -to the Cottage, and if he is, will the ghost -catch him? He rather hopes it. It would -leave him—Jacky—free, any way, and Mr. -Wyndham is a big man and would be a -better match for her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan, too, is thinking of the ghost. As -Wyndham is facing now, the Cottage lies -before him. Is he going to see the mysterious -‘prisoner’? Perhaps he is married to her! -This seems delightful—like an old romance, -so much nicer than the commonplace marriages -of to-day. She scans Wyndham’s face -swiftly with a view to saying something nice -and kind to him, if she sees anything there -to help her to believe in this sentimental -marriage. But evidently she sees nothing, -because she says nothing. After all, she tells -herself, it is of course a secret.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>‘I hope you will come in and see father,’ -she says presently, when she and Wyndham -have discussed the town and its inhabitants, -and she has told him all the news. He is in -the habit of sleeping at the Cottage whenever -he does come down, and in the habit, too, of -spending his evenings at the Rectory, which -is only just over the way from the Cottage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not to-night, I’m afraid,’ says Wyndham. -‘I must go back to town by the evening -train.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>A slight frown gathers on his brow, but he -dismisses it as he bids her good-bye.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Remember me to him,’ he says quickly, -absently. He pinches Jacky’s ear, and is gone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan, who has been inveigled into a -promise concerning bull’s-eyes, is now led -triumphantly into Miss Ricketty’s shop, where -that spinster is discovered in an Old English -attitude, her body being screwed out of all -shape in her endeavour to catch sight of -someone going down the street. Her window -is quite blocked up by her shoulders, and her -deafness prevents her from knowing of Susan’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>coming until Jacky, falling over her left leg, -which is sticking out behind in mid air, brings -her back to the perpendicular and a view of -Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She is a small woman, thin to a fault, and -shrewd-visaged, with a quizzical eye and a -bonnet. The latter is of the historic coal-scuttle -shape, and must have been a most -admirable purchase when bought—‘warranted -to wear,’ in the truest sense of the word, as -it has lasted without a break for at least fifty -years. As no one in Curraghcloyne ever saw -her ‘outside of it,’ and as she is popularly -supposed to sleep in it, it may safely be -regarded as a sound article; even her worst -enemy had once been heard to say that, ‘no -matther how great an ould fool she was wid -her tongue,’ she had made no mistake about -‘the bonnet.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘An’ is that you, Miss Susan, me dear?’ -says she, when Jacky has picked himself up, -and she has ceased to rub her ankle. ‘Ye’re -as welcome as the flowers in May, though -divil a flower we had this year, wid the rain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>an’ all. Ye’re not in a hurry, miss, are ye, -now? Ye can spare a minute to the ould -maid? Come in, then.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She opens the little gate that hinges on to -her little counter, and draws Susan inside, -to her ‘parlour,’ as she calls the tiny space -within—a cosy spot in truth, where in the -winter a fire burns briskly, and with a wall -lined with bottles that make glad the souls -of children. To Susan Barry the old maid -has given all the heart that remains from her -worship of her giant brother. Perhaps it is -the almost childish sweetness of her manner -that has won the old maid’s heart, or else the -young unconscious beauty of her—beauty -being dear to the Irish heart. However it -is, she has a warm corner in Miss Ricketty’s.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘An’ how’s your good aunt?’ says the -spinster, adjusting the bonnet with one hand, -whilst with the other she pulls out from -under the counter a huge ear-trumpet, half -a yard long, and big enough at the speaking -end to engulf Susan’s small and shapely head. -‘She’s been expectin’ that clutch o’ eggs I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>promised her, no doubt; but them hens o’ mine -might as well be cocks for all the eggs we get -out of them.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Aunt Jemima knows that eggs are scarce -now,’ cries Susan, softly, into the gulf.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Scarce! ’Tis nothin’ them ungrateful hens -is doin’ for us now, an’ we who coddled ’em -up all the winther. The saints forgive thim! -Miss Susan’—leaning towards the girl, and -speaking with the suppressed emotion of the -born gossip—‘was that Misther Wyndham as -wint up the street just now?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes,’ says Susan. ‘I was talking to him -just before I came in here.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No! Blessed Vargin!’ says Miss Ricketty, -recoiling; she had, of course, been the first -to hear of the mysterious stranger at the -Cottage, and had, indeed, told the news to -her brother, under promise of secrecy, that -she knew he would not keep. Nor did she -want him to keep it. How can you gossip -unless you have someone to gossip with? -That is why people spread scandals.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And what was he saying?’ asks she presently, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>when she has produced a little box of -figs and given them to Jacky, with a view to -keeping him quiet until she has got the last -word of news out of Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nothing, I think,’ says Susan, running -over mentally her late conversation with -Wyndham. ‘He won’t have time to see -father to-night, because he is going back to -town by the evening train.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Is that what he says?’ Miss Ricketty -gives her bonnet a push. ‘Faith, he’s full of -smartness. An’ did he tell ye nothin’ at all?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, it was I who told him everything,’ -says Susan. ‘He wanted to know how the -new curate was going on, for one thing, -and——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If ’twas Misther Haldane he was askin’ -afther so kindly, I could a’ tould him somethin’,’ -says Miss Ricketty. ‘But never mind -him! What else was Misther Wyndham -sayin’?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There was not time to say anything,’ says -Susan, laughing. ‘He was in a hurry, and -so was I—at least, Jacky was; he wants you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>to give him two pennyworth of bull’s-eyes. -Though, really, after those figs——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Miss Susan’—the old maid puts Susan’s -last remark aside with an eloquent gesture—‘have -ye heard anything sthrange about the -Cottage lately?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan starts, and Jacky comes to a dead -set, the last fig between his finger and thumb. -Jacky must be far gone indeed when, having -anything edible between his fingers, he delays -about putting it between his lips.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ye have, I see,’ says Miss Ricketty. ‘I’m -tould, me dear,’ looking behind her, and -beside her, and to the door, and now, for -even better security, putting up her opened -palm to one side of her mouth, ‘that there’s -a young—a’—she hesitates as if to choose -a word, then comes to a safe conclusion—‘a -faymale there,’ she says.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There’s a girl there, I think,’ says Susan -nervously. ‘At least’—here Jacky looks at -her appealingly, and she changes her sentence—‘someone -says there is. A niece, or a friend -of Mrs. Denis’s, I suppose.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>‘Arrah! Suppose!’ says Miss Ricketty -with considerable eloquence, but without -committing herself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, if not that,’ says Susan, who is full -of her late romantic idea about a secret marriage -between the unknown and Wyndham, -‘perhaps—perhaps Mr. Wyndham knows -something about her.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Miss Ricketty turns sharply, and looks at -her. But the girl’s lovely, open, tranquil -face betrays nothing but a soft enthusiasm. -A sense of amusement fills Miss Ricketty’s -breast.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Fegs, I’m thinkin’ ye’re on the right -thrack,’ says she evenly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You won’t say it again, Miss Ricketty, -will you?’ says Susan; ‘but I have thought—at -least, it has occurred to me—that perhaps -she’s Mr. Wyndham’s wife.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This is a little too much for Miss Ricketty. -She gives way suddenly to a fit of coughing, -and, turning her back to Susan, dives under -the counter, whether to recover from a very -proper confusion, or to indulge in very improper -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>laughter, can now, alas! never be -known. When she emerges, however, her -face is a fine crimson.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That would be very romantic, wouldn’t -it?’ says Susan, looking at her and speaking -softly, yet with a pretty delight. ‘A marriage -like that, with nobody knowing anything -except they two, you know; and I -feel sure she is lovely, and Mr. Wyndham -is very nice-looking too, and after awhile -perhaps we shall know her. He will introduce -us to her, and we shall be friends, -and——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘’Tis a beautiful story,’ says Miss Ricketty, -breaking in with unction. ‘An’ beautiful -stories, we all know, come thrue. I wish ye -joy o’ the bride at the Cottage, Miss Susan; -but I wouldn’t be for intherferin’ wid the -young married people too soon if I were you, -me dear.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Of course, I shouldn’t do that,’ says Susan -hastily, her fair face growing earnest. ‘But -I thought that if——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, ye’d betther wait, I think,’ says -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>Miss Ricketty. ‘’Tis bad bein’ in a hurry, -as Misther Haldane found out last night.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mr. Haldane! What has happened to -him?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Fegs, miss, it seems that last night, as he -was descendin’ the steps from the vesthry, -he thripped, God help us! an’ fell on his ugly -mug an’ broke his front teeth.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, how dreadful!’ says Susan, real compassion -in her tone, though the new curate -is rather farther beyond the range of her -sympathy than even the old. ‘I wonder -father hasn’t heard of it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It seems the poor gintleman is keeping it -dark,’ says Miss Ricketty, ‘wid the thought -of gettin’ thim put in agin widout anyone -knowin’. But’—wrathfully—‘’twill be no -use for him. I see that villain of a Salter -down there’—with a glance out of the window—‘tellin’ -every wan of it. Why, ye must -have seen him yerself, miss, as ye come by.’ -And suddenly Susan does remember the crowd -round Salter’s shop-door, with Salter himself -in its midst. ‘He’s got hould of it, for sure, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>and if he has ’twill be short shrift for Misther -Haldane.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But why?’ asks Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Why, this, miss! He hates your clergy -because he’s not in wid ye, like. A Methody -he is; an’ Mr. Haldane goes agin his grain, -wid the candles an’ the flowers an’ that, an’ -he says how that Mr. Haldane had a dhrop -too much last night when he thripped on the -vesthry stairs.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What a shame!’ says Susan indignantly. -‘I know for a fact that Mr. Haldane is——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, of course, miss. But that’s how thim -Methodys does. An’ as for that Salter himself, -I don’t believe in him. ’Tis a power o’ -whisky he can get undher his own belt widout -bein’ found out, until his timper is up. I -know for a fact that ’twas only a week ago -that he bate his poor wife until she let a -screech out of her that would have waked -Father D’Arcy himself, only that the seven -sleepers aren’t a patch on him.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It appears she cannot even spare her parish -priest! Susan, who has risen, and who is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>now dragging Jacky from under the counter, -where he has been in hot pursuit of a kitten, -bids her old friend good-bye for the present.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You’ll tell Miss Barry about the clutch,’ -says the spinster; and ‘Yes!’ shouts Susan -into the terminus, a little louder than usual, -perhaps, because Miss Ricketty lifts up her -hand and shakes it at her reproachfully.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Wan would think I was deaf,’ says she -tragically, whereupon both she and Susan -laugh together. The girl’s happy mirth—seen -if not heard—delights the old maid -behind the counter.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Good-bye, me dear, an’ God bless you!’ -says she, and, disdaining to even see Susan’s -pennies, she thrusts a big parcel of sweets -into Jacky’s small hands.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Keep a few for Masther Bonnie,’ whispers -she, as she kisses him and sends him after -his sister.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the door, however, Susan turns back, -and once more calls down the trumpet:</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You will contradict that thing about Mr. -Haldane, won’t you?’ says she; ‘surely it is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>bad enough that he should have lost his -front teeth, without having scandalous stories -spread about him. Besides, they will make -father very unhappy.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ll look afther him,’ says Miss Ricketty, -‘if only to oblige ye, me dear; though, I -think, I’m not wantin’. Providence seems to -have his eye on that young man.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, poor man! I’m afraid not,’ says Susan; -‘he was ugly enough before, and now his -front teeth are gone!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That’s it,’ says Miss Ricketty; ‘whin next -ye look at him, ye’ll see what a fine openin’ -the Lord has made for him.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The last vision Susan has of Miss Ricketty -shows her leaning back in her chair, with her -apron over her bonnet, convulsed with joy at -her own wit.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> -</div> -<p class='c013'>‘Nature often enshrines gallant and noble hearts in -weak bosoms—oftenest, God bless her! in female -breasts.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Quite close to the gardens Susan meets one -of the under-gardeners at Crosby Park.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I suppose Master Jacky and I can go in -and see the gardens, Brown?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh yes, miss, o’ course. But I’m afraid -there’s no one there. As it happens, no one’s -working there to-day. ’Tis a holiday, you -know, miss. An’ the gates are locked.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It happens, indeed, to be a saint’s day, or -holiday—one of the innumerable saints’ days -that are held sacred in Ireland, and on which -no man will work, if he is a Roman Catholic -labourer, though the loss of the day’s hire -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>is a severe strain upon his slender resources. -And the funny part of this arrangement is -that, though they are too religious to support -their families by working on these days, they -never know what saint’s day it is, or anything -in the world about him—or her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh!’ says Susan; she had forgotten -about its being a holiday, though both the -maids had gone to chapel in the morning, -leaving her and Betty to make up the many -beds. Her tone is so disappointed that -Brown drags out a key from his trousers -pocket.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If ye’ll take this, miss, ye can let yoself -in, an’ ye can lave it at the lodge wid Mrs. -Donovan whin ye’re goin’ back.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, thank you, Brown!’ says Susan joyfully; -and diving into her pocket, she produces -twopence (it is quite a sum for Susan, -whose pennies are very scarce), and gives it -to him, an instinct born with her—a sort of -pride—compelling her to reward the underling. -And yet she had refused to give -Tommy—the baby, the youngest of all, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>and the dearest to her of the children after -Bonnie—a halfpenny out of that twopence -only this morning.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Thank you, miss,’ says Brown, with considerably -more gratitude than he would have -shown another if she had given him half a -crown, and Susan, who had paid for the key -quite as much for her own sake as for Jacky’s, -goes on her way rejoicing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Yes, the gate is locked. Susan, having -unlocked it, carefully removes the key, locks -it on the other side, and goes down the broad, -beautiful, scented path with Jacky beside her. -Some of the houses are near, but not so -worthy of notice as those that come after, -and through these they hurry to the great -glass ones beyond—where the roses are all -a-growing, all a-blowing, in magnificent profusion—that -are always kept up in a very -perfect state, though the master of them -be in the Soudan or North America, or -among the highest peaks of the Andes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Between these two sets of houses runs a -wall, now laden with cherry-trees in full -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>fruit, and as Susan and her brother emerge -from the seedling-house into the freer air, -she catches sight of something that brings -her to a standstill.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Against the wall where the cherries are -growing stands a ladder, and on the top of it—a -man.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Now, Susan knows all the gardeners at -Crosby Park, and even those beneath them, -and certainly this man is not one of -them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She turns and retreats on Jacky, who is -just behind her, and for a moment fear covers -her. She has never been brought face to -face with a thief before—few girls have -been—and a desire to fly is the thought -uppermost in her breast. She glances upward -fearfully to the figure on the top of -the wall, who is hastily pulling off the -cherries and dropping them into the basket -he has slung on to the top of the ladder. -She draws her breath quickly. Could anything -be more premeditated—could anything -show more plainly what a determined rogue -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>he is? And to-day of all days! A holiday, -when, of course, he knew that all the gardeners -would be away, and the place safe to -him! No doubt he had climbed the outside -wall—thieves can do anything—and had -found the ladder inside with which to rob -poor Mr. Crosby, who is now goodness -knows how many miles away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan stands rooted to the ground, not -knowing whether to stay or fly. Old stories -of heroines return to her, and it seems to her -that it would be base to steal away now and -say nothing; even if she happened to gain -the walk outside, it is doubtful whether she -should meet any servant, this being a saint’s -day; and if she did, would he be willing -to tackle a real live thief single-handed? -As she hesitates, she again looks at the man, -and notices that he is glancing from right to -left, hesitating, as if either uneasy or else -with a view to choosing the best fruit. Both -ideas anger her, but the second more than -the first. Uneasy? of course he is! And -no wonder, too! A thief must necessarily -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>be uneasy. And to attempt to steal here, in -this lovely secluded place!</p> - -<p class='c004'>The owner of Crosby Park has been so -long away that Susan has almost adopted -his place as her own. Many years ago Mr. -Crosby, who had been a pupil of Mr. Barry’s, -had given directions that every member of -the Barry family should have free right to -his grounds, and Susan, once come to years -of discretion—not so long ago—has taken -great advantage of this kindly permission. -It is so near to the Vicarage, and so lovely! -All its walks and pretty windings are so well -known to her. They have been much to her, -indeed, during all these years, though so little -to the actual possessor of them, who has -evidently found more pleasure in shooting -grizzlies than in cultivating cherries.</p> - -<p class='c004'>That now someone has come to steal these -cherries seems dreadful to Susan. With that -poor man away, too—at the end of the world -probably, shooting, or being shot by, some of -those awful Indians! Again she casts her -frightened glance at the thief, still high on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>his ladder and secure from detection now -that all the servants are away; and something -in his air—an insolent security, perhaps—drives her to action.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No, she will not fly! She will tell him, at -all events, what she thinks of him before -flying. She makes her way straight to the -foot of the ladder, wrath in her bosom, and -addresses him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I wonder you aren’t ashamed of yourself!’ -cries she, righteous indignation in her tones -and in her lovely uplifted eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The sweet voice rings up the ladder. The -start that the thief on the top of it gives, -when he hears her, condemns him to all -eternity in Susan’s eyes. ‘No one,’ argues -Susan to herself, ‘ever starts unless he is -guilty.’ Susan is very young.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The man casts a sidelong glance at her. -It is so one-sided that Susan hardly sees -him, but evidently he is trembling, conscience-stricken, -because he makes no reply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Come down!’ says Susan again, her -courage mounting with the occasion. Her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>tone is now severely calm, and without a -vestige of fear. After all, he is a poor -creature whom even a girl can frighten, so -small is the courage of the unrighteous! -‘Do you know what you are doing? You’—with -accumulated scorn—‘are stealing!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This terrible charge brings the culprit -round. He sinks upon the topmost rung -of the ladder, as if overcome, and pulls his -cap over his eyes, evidently to avoid recognition. -Says Susan to herself: ‘He is -ashamed, poor creature!’ and seeing the -abject attitude of the wretch, she grows -bolder, and presses the wondering Jacky to -her side, and tells him to take courage. This -poor man will not kill them. No—no, indeed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, stealing,’ repeats she, her fair, beautiful -face uplifted to the sinner’s above her. -There is a second pause, during which, perhaps, -the sinner takes note of it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I——’ begins he, then pauses. Susan’s -eyes are looking into his, and Susan’s face, -implacable and austere, no doubt has daunted -him. But Susan tells herself that conscious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>guilt has rendered him silent. After awhile, -however, he makes another attempt.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I——’ says he again, and again stops. -It is contemptible! Susan turns a scornful -glance upon him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is not to be defended,’ says she. ‘To -steal from a garden like this! From a garden -that the owner has so kindly left open to -many people—who has besides been so kind, -and who has helped all the poor in the -district. He has given forty blankets where -another has given ten, and coals without restriction -everywhere. And these beautiful -gardens, too—he has given these as a recreation -to some who have no lovely gardens of -their own; and now you take advantage of a -day like this, when all the servants are away, -to defraud this kind, kind man and steal his -cherries. Oh, how can you bear to be so bad?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If you would hear me!’ begins the man -on the top of the ladder, in a low tone. He -is evidently immensely touched by the scorn -of the young evangelist below, because his -voice is very low and uncertain.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>‘There is nothing to be said,’ says Susan, -her eyes gleaming with honest disgust. -‘There is no excuse for you. You are here -stealing Mr. Crosby’s cherries, and, as I said -before, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Still, miss, if you would listen a moment!’ -He has pulled his cap even closer over his -brows.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You needn’t do that,’ says Susan. ‘Poor -creature! you need not be afraid of me; I -will not give you up to justice!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Thank you kindly, miss,’ comes from the -wretched creature behind the cap. He is -evidently struggling with emotion.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t want you to thank me,’ says Susan, -who is feeling inclined to cry. She has often -read of thieves, but never met one until now, -and it seems to her, all at once, that they are -decidedly interesting, so ready to hear—to -receive admonition, too. ‘I want you to -promise me that for the future you will -abstain from—from thieving of any sort.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ll promise you, miss—I will indeed. I’d -promise you anything.’ Poor thing! he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>seems quite overcome. ‘But, miss, I wasn’t -really stealing just now.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, nonsense!’ says Susan; a revulsion of -feeling makes her once again hard to him. -Confession is good for the soul, but denial—and -such a useless denial, too, caught in the -act as he is—savours of folly, that worst of -all things, for which there is no forgiveness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Do you think I did not see you? Why, -look at that basket; it is nearly full. How -can you say you were not stealing those -cherries? Better to show some regret than -to carry off your crime in such a barefaced -way.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is hardly barefaced, the unhappy culprit’s -face being now quite hidden by his cap.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Just think,’ says Susan, her clear, sweet -voice trembling with grief because of this -sinner; ‘if you had a garden, would you like -people to come into it and steal your fruit?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The poor thief is evidently beginning to -feel the situation acutely. He has taken out -his handkerchief in a surreptitious fashion, -and is rubbing his eyes with it.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>‘I shouldn’t mind if it was you, miss,’ says -he, in a stifled tone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Poor thing! he is evidently very sorry.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You won’t give me up, miss?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no!’ cries Susan hastily. ‘But I do -hope you see and are grieved for what you -are doing. When people are so good and so -generous as to let other people go through -their grounds and get a great deal of enjoyment -out of them, I think the least those -others may do is to respect them, and their -shrubs, and fruit, and flowers.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You’re right, miss. I seem as if I never -saw it like that till now.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah! that’s what they all say,’ says Susan -sadly, and with a sigh. She has a good deal -to do with her father’s impenitent penitents. -‘But you are no doubt from some distant -parish. A tramp, I suppose,’ says Susan, -with another sigh. ‘At all events, I am -sure you do not belong to this part of the -world, as your voice is strange to me.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ve come a long way, miss, indeed.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Poor man! Perhaps you are hungry,’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>says Susan. Again she searches her pocket, -and produces the last coin in it—the last coin -she has in the world, for the matter of that—and -lays a sixpenny bit on the lowest rung -of the ladder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Perhaps this may help you,’ says she. -‘I’m sorry I haven’t any more, but I haven’t. -And now remember I expect you to keep -your promise. I shall not report you, or get -you into trouble of any sort; in fact, this’—gently—‘shall -be a secret between you and -me; but I do expect you to go away without -those cherries, and with the promise -never to steal again.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I promise you that, miss, most gratefully. -I’ll never steal again. But, miss, might I -give the cherries to you or the young gentleman?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no!’ says Susan in horror. She catches -Jacky’s hand and draws him away from temptation. -After going a yard or two, however, -she looks back; and the thief, who has been -looking after her, again pulls his cap hurriedly -over his guilty face.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>‘The gate is locked,’ says she; ‘how will -you get out?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The way I came, miss,’ says the bad man, -with open signs of contrition.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I see—yes,’ says Susan sadly. ‘But go -at once. I trust you—remember.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ll never forget it, miss,’ says the unhappy -man, sinking down upon the ladder and covering -his face with his hands.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Jacky,’ says Susan, when they have left -the garden and locked the door carefully -behind them, ‘if you ever say a word about -that poor creature, I’ll never think the same -of you again. Do you hear? He is a wretched -thief; but I have given my word not to -betray him, and you must give your word -too. Poor man! I think he was sincerely -sorry. You won’t say a word at home or -anywhere, Jacky?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No,’ says Jacky. He looks at her. ‘Why -couldn’t you have taken the cherries?’ says -he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It takes the entire remainder of the walk -home to make the ‘why’ clear to him.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER IX.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘He knew not what to say,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And so he swore!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Wyndham, when he met Susan, had been in -rather a disgusted mood. Shortly after the -Professor’s death he had gone to Norway -for a month with the friend whom he had -arranged to go with on the morning following -the luckless night that had seen the last of -the Professor’s experiment. He had induced -his friend to wait for him—the latter consenting -with rather a bad grace—until the -Professor’s funeral was over and his affairs -looked into. He had had a last conversation -with Denis about the uninvited guest whom -the latter had taken to the Cottage, and had -told him to find a suitable home for her at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>once, comfortable—luxurious even, if necessary, -as she was now undoubtedly the possessor -of three hundred a year—but, at all -events, to get her out of the Cottage without -further delay. He spoke peremptorily, -and Denis promised all things; yet only -yesterday, on his return, he had heard from -Denis’s own lips that still that girl was -located in the Cottage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Didn’t I tell you to get her a home somewhere -else?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ye did, sir—ye did. Faix, I don’t wondher -ye’re mad, but ‘twasn’t aisy to do it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To do what?’—firmly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To get her to go.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What nonsense! A girl like that—as if -she could resist! Why, one would think there -wasn’t a policeman anywhere. Do you mean -to tell me she refused to go?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, sir; that’s not me manin’. ’Tis that -ould fool of a wife o’ mine. It seems she got -set upon her wan way or another, an’ do all -I could I couldn’t git her to turn the young -lady out. “There’s room for us all here,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>says Bridget. “But that’s not his ordhers,” -says I—manin’ you, sir. “But whin is she -to go?” says she. “That’s nothing to me,” -says I. “’Tis so,” says she. “A comfortable -home he tould ye to git for her, and where’ll -she find wan but here?” An’ divil a fut I -could move her from that. Don’t you iver -get married, Misther Paul; it will be the -undoin’ o’ ye. Ye won’t have a mind o’ yer -own in six months.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ve a mind now, any way,’ says Wyndham, -still swearing, ‘and that is to get rid of you -without another second’s notice.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘An’ I’m not surprised, sir,’ says Denis, -drawing himself up and saluting. He is -an old soldier. ‘It was most flagrant disobadience. -But what can ye do wid a woman, -sir? Fegs, nothing—nothing at all. They -carries all before thim—even a man’s conscience. -When Bridget refused to let her -go, what could I do?’ He pauses satisfied, -having put the blame upon his particular -Eve. ‘Is it yer wish that I tackle Bridget -agin, sir?’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>‘No; I shall go down to Curraghcloyne -myself to-morrow,’ says Wyndham, getting -rid of him with a gesture.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He had gone down, had met Susan, had -read something in her face that seemed to -him (whose senses were very much alive to -impressions on the subject) to be studying -him—wondering at him. It was with a still -more enraged feeling he left her, and went -on to the Cottage, where, to his supreme -indignation, he found, for the first time on -record, the entrance-gate locked.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Good heavens! What could be the meaning -of this? Were they determined to compromise -him in the eyes of the world? When -he has rung the bell until it is hopelessly -smashed, someone comes to the gate, and -without opening it says, in a voice evidently -meant to alarm any unwelcome intruder:</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Who’s there?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Only the master of this place,’ says Wyndham -grimly, who has recognised Mrs. Denis’s -handsome brogue even under these new conditions. -Indeed, it would be hard to mistake -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>it anywhere; as Fitzgerald, who knows her, -says, ‘you could sit on it at any moment -without the slightest chance of a breakdown.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Glory be!’ comes in a muffled tone from -Mrs. Denis, and, with tremendous fuss and -flurry, she draws the bolt, unlocks the gate, -and opens it wide to Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, yer honour, who’d a’ thought to see -yerself this day! Faix, I thought ’twas still -in thim haythin countries ye were. Sure, if -I’d known I’d have had the gates open to -yer honour; and I hope ye’ll forgive me cap, -sir—I’ve another wan just ironed, an’——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Are you preparing for a siege?’ demands -Wyndham grimly; ‘or what may be the -reason of this “barring out” on your part? -Anything threatening on the part of the -Land Leaguers or the Home Rulers round -here?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, law, sir! How could ye think o’ sich -a thing? It was only that the young lady, -sir, was a trifle nervous.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She will have to take her nerves somewhere -else,’ says the barrister. ‘Now, Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>Denis, I hear from your husband that it is -your fault that this—this distinctly undesirable -person is still a resident in my house.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Mrs. Denis, who has been bowing and -scraping up to this, now grows suddenly -alert.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Arrah, what are ye sayin’ at all?’ says -she. ‘D’ye mane to tell me that Denis knew -ye were come back, and niver give me tale -or todin’s of it?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That is altogether beside the question. -The thing is——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Faix, the raal thing is this,’ says Mrs. -Denis, ‘that I’ll break ivery bone in that -thraitor’s skin the next time I see him! -Why,’ says she, squaring her arms and growing -so wrathful that the questionable cap on -the top of her head begins to quiver, ‘sixpence -would have brought any boy down -from Dublin wid the news of yer return, -and’—with a truly noble declaration of an -innate dishonesty—‘I could thin have’—she -stops herself, happily, at the last moment—‘made -mesilf clane to meet ye,’ says she.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Wyndham, who is sufficiently Irish himself -to put in the broken paragraph, smiles coldly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am not going to discuss Denis with you,’ -says he. ‘What I want to know is why -these gates are locked.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, sir, there was this: when the young -lady came she was that upset wid bad thratement -of wan sort or another that she seemed -to be tremblin’ all over. But whin I questioned -her as to what ailed her, not a word -could I git out of her. I put her to bed, an’ -she just clung to the wall like, turnin’ an’ -twistin’ her purty head, an’ always keepin’ -away from me, an’ refusin’ the tay even, till -the night came down upon us. Ye will remimber, -sir, that it was in the airly mornin’ -that Denis——’ At this word she breaks off, -and grows again intensely angry.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That varmint,’ says she, ‘what did he -mane by not tellin’ me? Wait till I get -me hands on him!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, the early morning,’ says Wyndham, -bringing her back somewhat impatiently to -the place where she had broken off.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>‘Well, yes, sir. I beg yer pardon. She -come in the airly mornin, an’ I could see at -once that she was very sad at her heart, an’ -so I just tuk her in as I tell ye, for Denis, -though a divil all out in most ways’—here -again a most ominous frown settles on her -forehead—‘is still a man to be depended on -where a woman is concerned. And so I tuk -her in to oblige ye, sir.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To oblige me!’ says Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, sir, I thought so thin. An’’—she -pauses, and looks straight at him—‘an’ ye’ll -nivver regret it, sir. If ye saw her a bit -afther she came, an’ her delight at yer purty -place! “Why, there’s flowers growin’,” she’d -say, as if she never see them before, except -whin sellin’! “And, Mrs. Denis,” says she, -“I like these walls,” says she. “They is so -high,” says she. “An’ it would be very hard -for anyone,” says she, “to git through thim, -or even to look over thim.” Faith, ’tis little -the crayture knows of the boys round here, -I said to meself whin she said that. But I -declare to ye, sir, it went to me heart whin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>she said it, for it made it plain to me like -that there was someone in her life that she -was thinkin’ of, that she didn’t want to get -through these walls or over thim aither. If -he did, I could gather from what she said -that it would be wid no good intintions -towards herself.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Has she said anything as to where she -came from or who she is?’ asks Wyndham, -with most disgraceful want of sympathy for -this moving story.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, sir, sorra a word, barrin’ that she was -very unhappy until yer honour sint her here.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Till I sent her here! What on earth -do you mean?’ says Wyndham indignantly. -‘You must know very well that it was that -blundering idiot of a husband of yours that -brought her here.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Fegs, ’tis plain that ye know Denis, any -way,’ says Denis’s wife complacently. ‘Idjit -is the word for him, sure enough! But however -it is, sir, the poor young lady is very -continted here entirely, an’’—waxing enthusiastic—‘’twould -do your heart good to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>hear her singin’ about the garden, for all the -world like wan o’ thim nate little thrushes.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This expectation on Mrs. Denis’s part, that -he will find delight in the thought of the -unwelcome stranger making herself at home -in his garden and singing there like a ‘nate -little thrush,’ naturally adds fuel to the fire -that already is burning vigorously in Wyndham’s -breast.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Look here,’ says he, so fiercely that Mrs. -Denis starts backwards, ‘you’ve taken a -wrong impression of me altogether, if you -think I shall for one moment sanction the -presence of that girl here. Your husband -has got me into this mess with his confounded -stupidity, but I can trust myself to -get out of it—and I expect you to understand -at once that your “thrush”’—scornfully—‘will -be out of this within twenty-four -hours.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>With this he brushes by her, his temper—never -very sweet—now considerably the -worse for wear.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Nice situation, by Jove! If it comes to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>the old man’s ears there will be the devil to -pay; and it’s sure to. He had felt there was -something queer in his aunt’s and Josephine’s -manner yesterday when he called at their -house in Fitzwilliam Square. Why, if it -gets about, there isn’t one in forty amongst -his acquaintances who will believe in the -real facts of the case.... It is a most -confounded affair altogether. If he hadn’t -gone abroad, trusting—like the fool that he -was—in Denis’s ability to get her out of the -Cottage at once, he could have done it himself, -and so speedily that no one would ever -have been the wiser about it. But now it -has gone a little too far; people, no doubt, -are beginning to talk. Well, it shall go -no farther. He will put an end to it at once—this -moment.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER X.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘My heart is sad and heavy,</div> - <div class='line in2'>In this merry month of May,</div> - <div class='line'>As I stand beneath the lime-tree</div> - <div class='line in2'>On the bastion old and gray.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>‘This moment’ has come. As Mrs. Denis, -routed, but by no means vanquished, disappears -hastily round one corner of the -pretty cottage, someone else comes round -the other. A young girl, singing sweetly, -merrily, though in a subdued voice. Just -as she reaches her corner she looks behind -her; her singing ceases, and an amused look -brightens her face—a face that has known -much sadness. Again she looks behind her, -as if expecting something, this time turning -her back on Wyndham; and now, a moment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>later, a huge dog tears across the grass and -literally flings himself upon the girl, whose -tall but slender frame seems to give way -beneath his canine embraces. For a second -only; then she recovers herself, her pliant -body sways forward, and, catching the dog’s -handsome head in her arms, a merry tussle -ensues between them. It is almost a dance, -so agile is the girl, so bent is the dog on -entering into the spirit of the fun with all -his heart.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham, watching, feels no sense of -amusement. Indignation is still full upon -him, and now it grows more intense as he -sees the dog—his dog—a brute hitherto -devoted to himself, lavishing its affection -upon an utter stranger.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He makes an impatient movement, which -the dog’s quick eye sees, and, bolting from his -late companion, he comes bounding towards -Wyndham, from whom, it must be confessed, -he gets but a poor welcome.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl, turning, surprised at the dog’s -desertion of her, becomes suddenly aware -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>that there is someone beyond, and as Wyndham -emerges into sight she makes a movement -to fly, then stands stricken, as if turned to -stone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is impossible, under the circumstances, -but that she should be known to Wyndham; -but as he looks at her he tells himself that, if -he had not known that Denis had brought -her down here on the morning of the Professor’s -death, he would never have recognised -her. Her dress, for one thing, is so different. -Of course he had found time to send a cheque -to Mrs. Moriarty before going abroad for the -use of the ‘waif,’ as he had somehow called -the girl to himself, not knowing her name—a -sum handsome enough to dress her as the -young heiress of a most unexpected three -hundred a year should be dressed—and it -comes to him now that the ‘waif’ had not -been slow in the spending of it. No doubt -Mrs. Moriarty had been the ‘middle man,’ -but the ‘waif’ had known what she was -about, or else some well-born instinct had -directed her.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>‘Well born!’ Pah! A poor, miserable -girl like that, with a shawl thrown over her -head when first he saw her—and yet, her -face, her feet——</p> - -<p class='c004'>He can see them from beneath her petticoats. -They are not like mice, by any means, -but they are of the proportions usually -assigned to those who have many grandfathers, -and they are very delicately clad.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If he had not recognised her at all at first, -she had barely recognised him. That was -because of the surprise—the shock, perhaps. -She had almost come to believe in the possibility -of living here always and alone, never -seeing anyone except kind Mrs. Moriarty and -Nero, the dog.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She has turned as white as death; and -Wyndham, looking at her, tells himself it is -the memory of that last dreadful night, when -she had accepted death as her portion, rather -than the life that lies behind her, that has -blanched her cheeks and brought that terror -into her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But in a minute all these theories of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>clever barrister are distilled and float into -air.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Having seen him, and dwelt upon his face, -the colour in her own face has crept back, -and with a sharp sigh of relief she draws -nearer to him slowly, the dog, who has gone -back to her, following, his muzzle in her hand.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I—I thought you were a stranger,’ says -she faintly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is an odd sentence. A stranger! What -else is he to her? Her manner, however, -makes it clear to him that she has lived, -since her entrance into the Cottage, in constant -dread of being discovered by someone, -and of being dragged back to a former -existence—to which death, as she had proved -to him that night, seems far preferable.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This accounts for the locked gates, and the -girl’s admiration for the walls—an admiration -that no doubt has but little to do with the -ivy and the Virginian creeper, now throwing -out its palest leaves of green, and the other -trailing glories that have lifted them into a -dream of beauty.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>‘Your thought was very nearly right,’ says -Wyndham, with a cold smile; he is quite -unmoved by the nervous pallor and the -frightened expression on the young face -before him. Barristers after a while get -accustomed to young, frightened faces, and -lose their interest in them. ‘But, no doubt, -you remember me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He pauses, and the girl looks at him for a -moment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes,’ says she slowly, her eye sinking to -the ground. That last dreadful scene, in -which he had played so conspicuous a part, -and when in the sullenness of her despair she -had welcomed death, lies once again clear as -a picture to her eyes. She shudders, and a -faint moisture breaks out upon her forehead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am glad to see you quite recovered,’ -says he in a tone which belies his words. -‘If you will be so good as to come indoors, -I should like to speak to you for a few -minutes about your future.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His tone is so curt, so positively unpleasant, -that the girl, colouring deeply and without -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>another word, moves towards the hall-door -of the charming cottage, and leads the way -through the porch—so exquisitely festooned -with delicate greeneries—into the long many-windowed -room beyond. This room runs the -entire length of the house, and overlooks the -garden. As she goes a deep melancholy falls -upon her. What has he come to say? Why -is his manner so unkind? That night—that -awful night—he had seemed to befriend her—to -take her part—and now——</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You are of course aware,’ says Wyndham -formally, when they have reached the -drawing-room—the drawing-room that used -to be his, but that now seems to slip out of -his possession, as he sees the slender figure -of the girl turn after his entrance, as if to -receive him. ‘You are of course aware that -the late Professor, Mr. Hennessy, left you -three hundred a year?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl, standing midway between one of -the windows and Wyndham, makes a slight -affirmative movement of her head. She -would have spoken, but words failed her.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>‘That was in accordance with his promise -to you. If the experiment failed, well’—with -a careless shrug—‘there was nothing. -If it was successful—you were to be the -gainer by it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His voice is clear, unemotional; there is a -sort of ‘laying down the law’ about it that -takes every spark of sympathy that there -might have been quite out of it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes.’ This time she manages to speak, -but she colours as she speaks, and blushes -very painfully; and now her eyes seek the -ground. If one were to exactly describe her, -one would say—but very reluctantly, I think—that -she looks ashamed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘With three hundred a year you should be -able to——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She interrupts him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is too much—far too much,’ says she, -with an effort. ‘I don’t want so much as -that. Fifty pounds a year would be enough; -I am sure I could——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She stops.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘All that is beyond question,’ says the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>barrister coldly. ‘It was the Professor’s -wish that you should have three hundred a -year, and now that he is gone, there can be -no further argument about it. He has no -near relations so far as I can make out, so -that there is no reason why you should not -accept the money left to you by him. What -I came to-day for was, not about the Professor’s -gift to you, but to know what you -intend to do with it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘With it?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes; what, in fact, are you going to do?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What am I going to do?’ She looks up -at him for the first time; a startled expression -grows in her large dark eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘We all have a future before us,’ says -Wyndham, ‘and you——’ He hesitates here, -hardly knowing how to go on with those -earnest eyes on his. ‘Of course I feel that, -for the time being, I am in a sense bound to -look after you, the Professor being an old -friend of mine, and you——’ Again he stops. -It seems impossible, indeed, to refer to that -strange scene where he had had so prominent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>a part. ‘You will understand,’ says he, ‘that -the Professor wished you to be placed in an -assured position, and he left me to see to -that.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here the girl makes a sharp movement of -her hands descriptive of fear.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Naturally,’ says Wyndham, in answer to -that swift movement of the pretty hands, -‘you object to my interference. But I must -ask your forbearance in a matter that’—with -a steady look at her—‘does not concern me -in the slightest degree. You must really -forgive me if I seem impatient; but, as you -are aware, I know nothing about you, and to -look after you as the Professor asked me -to do requires thought. I am in complete -ignorance about you. I can see that you are -educated, but beyond that I know nothing.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah! you know nothing indeed,’ says she -quickly. ‘I am not educated. I know hardly -anything. I am one of the most ignorant -people alive.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And yet——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I have read anything I could find to read,’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>interrupts she; ‘and at one time I went to a -day-school, but that is all.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I see,’ says Wyndham. His tone is indifferent, -but, inwardly, curiosity is stirring -him. So little education, and yet so calm, -so refined a manner! Who is this girl, with -her well-bred air, but with, too, the little -touches here and there that betray the fact -of her having lived not only out of the -fashionable world, but very far from even -the outskirts of it? What whim of fate -has given her that shapely head, those shell-like -ears and pointed fingers, yet given her -into the clutches of the middle classes?</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You would wish to enlarge your studies?’ -asks he presently.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For the first time since she came towards -him, in the garden outside, she now lets her -eyes rest frankly upon his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, if I could!’ says she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That is very easily to be managed, I should -think. You have three hundred a year of -your own, and can command advantages that -hitherto, I imagine, from what you say, have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>been withheld from you.’ He waits a moment, -as if expecting her to speak, to make some -comment on his words, but she remains mute.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If you could tell me something of yourself—your -history—what brought you to -this,’ says Wyndham, ‘it might make matters -simpler for both you and me.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl shrinks backwards as though he -had struck her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no!’ cries she quickly.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XI.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘I wept in my dream, for I fancied</div> - <div class='line in2'>That you had forsaken me;</div> - <div class='line'>I woke, and all night I lay weeping</div> - <div class='line in2'>Till morning, bitterly.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Wyndham lifts his brows.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Pray do not distress yourself,’ says he. -‘It is a free country; you can speak or be -silent, just as you wish. It had merely -occurred to me that there might be friends -of yours naturally very anxious about you, -and that I might convey to them a message -from you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The unsympathetic nature of his tone has -restored the girl to her usual manner more -than anything else could have done. She -glances at him.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>‘Friends!’ says she bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘At all events,’ says Wyndham, who has -now begun to acknowledge his curiosity with -regard to her even to himself, and is determined -on pushing the matter as far as possible, -‘there must be someone on the look-out -for you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this she turns as white as death.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Is there? Have you seen—have you’—she -looks as though she is about to faint—‘heard -anything?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nothing—nothing at all!’ exclaims he -quickly, a little shocked at her agitation, that -seems excessive. ‘Do not be frightened; I -assure you I know as little of anyone connected -with you as I know of yourself.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here again he gives her an opening, if she -wishes to make a declaration of any sort, and -again she remains mute. There is something -even obstinately silent in her whole air.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her hands in her lap are tightly clasped, -as though to help her to keep her secret to -all eternity.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You will not confide in me, I see,’ says -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>he, with a little contemptuous shrug; ‘and, -after all, there is no earthly reason why you -should. I am as great a stranger to you as -you are to me, and if I spoke at all it was, -believe me, because I fancied I might be of -some assistance to you. But women nowadays -have taken the reins into their own -hands, and I have no doubt that you will be -able to manage your own affairs to perfection. -In the meantime, however, if I can be -of the slightest use to you in looking out for a -suitable home, for instance, I hope you understand -I shall be delighted to do all I can.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl has drawn nearer during this -speech, and is now standing before him, the -frightened eyes uplifted and her breath coming -short and fast. ‘You mean—but here—can -I not—might I not—a home, you said——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, yes,’ says Wyndham. ‘A home -where you might have a companion and be -very comfortable; but not here, you know.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You can’t stay here, I’m afraid,’ says -Wyndham, who, between his anger and his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>suspicions of her, is beginning to wish he had -never been born.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The girl turns away from him, in so far -that only her profile now can be seen, whilst -her right hand has caught hold of the back -of a chair near her, as if for support.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But why?’ asks she, in a low tone. ‘Mrs. -Moriarty likes me to be here.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But, you see,’ says Wyndham gravely, ‘it -is my house, and not Mrs. Moriarty’s.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes.’ She looks at him as if hardly understanding, -but presently an expression grows -upon her face that gives him to know that -she thinks him churlish.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It is quite a big house,’ says she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There is a pause—a pause in which he tells -himself that evidently up to this she had been -accustomed to houses of very cramped limits. -The Circular Road in Dublin would supply -such houses, built for respectable artisans and -clerks in commercial places, and the best of -the decent strata that cover the earth and -are of the earth earthy. The Circular Road, -or some other road, has no doubt supplied the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>kind of house to which the girl has been -accustomed—this girl, with her pale patrician -face and her singular strength of mind. It -is she who at last breaks the silence. ‘There -is plenty of room for me,’ says she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I know—of course I know that,’ says -Wyndham hurriedly. ‘But then, you see, -it—it wouldn’t do, you see.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He looks deliberately at her, as if to explain -his meaning, but, nothing coming of -the look, he falls back once more upon facts.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I come here sometimes,’ says he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes; Mrs. Denis told me that,’ says the -girl. ‘But’—eagerly—‘I shouldn’t be in the -way at all. I could stay in that little room -belonging to Mrs. Denis—that little room off -the kitchen.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, that isn’t it,’ says Wyndham, frowning -in his embarrassment. How the deuce -is one to say it plainly to a girl who can’t, -or won’t, or doesn’t understand! ‘The fact -is——’ He has begun with the greatest -bravery, determined to explain the situation -at all hazards; but, happening to meet her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>eyes, this clever barrister, who has faced many -a barefaced criminal victoriously, breaks down. -The eyes he has looked into are full of tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Look here,’ says he almost savagely, ‘it’s -out of the question! Do you hear?’ His -tone is so terribly abrupt that it strikes -cold to the heart of the poor girl looking at -him. If he is going to turn her out of this -house, this haven of refuge, where—where -can she go?</p> - -<p class='c004'>She struggles with herself, some touch of -dignity that belongs to her—wherever she -came from or whoever she is—giving her a -certain strength.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Of course—I see——’ She is beginning -to stammer dreadfully. ‘I am sorry about -it; but I thought—I fancied I could stay -here. But now I can go—I can go somewhere. -There must be other places, and, -indeed, just now you told me there were -other places, and that I could go to——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She struggles with the word ‘them,’ the -last of her sad sentence, but can’t speak it; -and now all her hard-found dignity gives -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>way, to her everlasting shame, and to Wyndham’s -terrible discomfiture she bursts into a -passion of tears.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Don’t do that,’ says Wyndham gruffly. -It is impossible to conceal from himself the -fact that he is frightened out of his life. -Fear because of her tears is nothing, but it -is with ever-increasing self-contempt that he -knows that he is going even so far as to give -in and let her stay at the Cottage. After -all, there are many other places for him in -this big world, but for her, perhaps, not so -many; and she seems to have set her heart -on this little spot, and, hang it all! why -can’t she stop crying?</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ says she at last, trying -passionately to stifle her sobs. She has -turned away from him to the window, and -there is something in her whole attitude so -descriptive of despair, and fear, and shame, -that, in spite of his anger, pity for her rises -in his heart. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying; -I don’t often cry. But if I leave this, where -shall I go? where shall I hide myself?’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>What on earth has she done? Her words -denote fear—a guilty fear. What if he -should be about to take as a tenant for the -Cottage a well known and hardened criminal, -for whom, perhaps, the police are even now -on the look-out? Her face, however, belies -her tone; and, for the rest, he has not the -courage to face again a flow of those pitiful -tears. Stay she must.</p> - -<p class='c004'>One last protest, however, he makes as a -salve to his conscience.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What do you see in this place that so -attracts you?’ asks he, with ever-increasing -grumpiness. The girl turns to him a flushed -and tearful face.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I never knew what a home could be like -till I came here,’ says she. ‘Never, never! -You have had one—all the world has had one -except me. It means new life to me. Oh’—bitterly—‘it -is the only life I have ever -known—the only happiness. If, sir’—she -comes towards him and with a little impulsive -action holds out her hands—‘if I -might stay——’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>‘Well, you can,’ says he ungraciously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He gives in so suddenly, and she is naturally -so unprepared for so quick a surrender, that -for a moment she says nothing. Her eyes -are fixed on him, however, as if trying to -read him through; they are beautiful eyes, -and Wyndham, his professional instincts on -the alert, finds himself wondering what lies -behind them in that brain of hers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Do you mean it?’ says she at last breathlessly; -if you do, I cannot thank you enough. -Oh, to stay here within these lovely walls!’ -Instinctively she glances out of the window -to the ivy-clad walls, as if in their protection -she finds great comfort. A moment later a -cloud gathers on her forehead. ‘But you -don’t like me to stay,’ she says.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It doesn’t matter what I like,’ says -Wyndham, who certainly does not shine on -this occasion. ‘The arrangement we have -come to now is that you are to rent this -cottage from me, at what sum we can agree -about later on.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To rent it? I shall, then, be—— It’— -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>she tries to hide the joy in her eyes, feeling -it to be indecent—‘it will belong to me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes,’ says Wyndham. At this moment -he feels very little more will make him -positively hate her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It will no longer be yours?’ Her voice is -trembling.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘In a sense, no.’ He turns and takes up -his hat; this interview is getting too much -for him. There will be an explosion shortly -if she goes on like this.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It seems very selfish,’ says the girl. She -is looking at him, though for the last three -minutes he has refused to look at her. ‘I -am taking your house away from you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There are other houses.’ He is now -putting on his gloves.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah! that is as true for me as for -you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘We have come to an agreement, I think’—grimly. -‘Let us keep to it.’ He turns to -the door.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You are going?’ says she nervously. -She follows him. ‘You——’ She stops, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>and courtesy compels him to look back. -Two troubled eyes meet his.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘When——’ stammers she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I shall come down some day next week -to make final arrangements,’ says he impatiently, -and again takes a step or two -away, getting so far this time as to turn the -handle of the door. Here, however, again he -glances back. She is standing where he last -saw her, her young face looking troubled, -frightened, and uncertain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Next week,’ repeats he jerkily. It is -disagreeable to him to think that it is -through his fault that the nervous anxiety -has crept into her eyes. ‘And—er—good-bye.’ -He certainly had not meant to do it, -but he now holds out his hand to her, and -with a little swift, eager movement she -comes to him and slips her own into it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A slim little hand, and beautifully shaped, -but brown, and looking a little as though it -had done some hard work in its time, yet -the grace with which she gives it to him is -exquisite.</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>Just at the gate he meets Mrs. Denis again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘This young lady,’ says he abruptly, -‘seems to have set her heart upon living -here. It is extremely unpleasant for me, -but she appears to have no other place to go -to. She will therefore become my tenant. -She will, you understand, take the Cottage -from me.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Bless us an’ save us!’ says Mrs. Denis. -‘An’ yer honour—what will you do?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Keep out of it,’ says Wyndham coldly. -‘I suppose she will arrange to keep you on. -She——What’s her name?’—sharply.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t know, sir; she don’t seem to like -to spake about it. Miss Ella I calls her.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ella? Did you say her Christian name -was Ella?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, sir.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah!’—thoughtfully. ‘Well, good-bye.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But, sir, you’ll be coming again?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, next week, to arrange about the -rent; not after that.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He strides through the gate and up the -road.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>‘Faix, and I’m thinkin’ ye will,’ says Mrs. -Denis, watching him with her arms akimbo -till he disappears round the corner. ‘’Tis -mighty purty eyes she’s got in that mighty -purty head of hers. An’ so he’s not goin’ to -turn her out, after all! Didn’t I tell you, -Bridget Moriarty,’ rubbing her chin, on -which a very handsome beard is growing, -‘that he’d soften whin he put his glance -upon her?’</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XII.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Jest and youthful jollity,</div> - <div class='line'>Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,</div> - <div class='line'>Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>‘Where’s our beloved auntie?’ asks Mr. -Fitzgerald, looking generally round him from -his seat on the tail of Betty’s gown.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is the evening of the same day, and still -divinely warm. Not yet has night made its -first approach, and from bush to bush the -birds are calling, as if in haste to get as much -merriment out of the departing day as time -will give them. From here—in the bushes -round the tennis-ground, the one solitary -court that Carew Barry and his cousin, Dom -Fitzgerald, have made with their own hands, -after a hard tussle with the Rector for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>bit of ground, that seemed to him quite a big -slice off his glebe—to the big syringa-tree -beyond, the sweet, glad music of the birds -swells and grows, filling the evening air with -delicate throbbings. Ever the little creatures -seem to call one to another; passionately -sometimes, as if bursting their little throats -in their wild joy, and anon softly, pleadingly, -but always calling, calling, calling.</p> - -<p class='c004'>From the old-fashioned garden beyond -comes the scent of the roses—all old-world -roses, as befits the garden, but none the less -beautiful for that. The rose céleste and the -white rose unique, the cabbage rose and the -perfect rose of a hundred leaves, all lend -their sweetness to the air; indeed, on this -June evening the place is ‘on fire with roses.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The little group sitting on the edge of the -tennis-ground seems very happy and contented—lazy, -perhaps, is a better word. -Susan, as usual, has Bonnie in her lap, and -Tom, the baby, has fallen asleep with his -head on Betty’s knee. Jacky, still full of -memories of the awful burglar he had interviewed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>in the morning, is wondering whether -he will raid the village to-night, and if so, -whether he will carry off Aunt Jemima; -whilst Carew, the eldest son, who is seventeen, -and therefore a year younger than Susan, -is lazily dwelling on the best choice of a -stream for to-morrow’s fishing.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His cousin, Dom Fitzgerald, is the first to -break the lovely spell of silence that has -fallen on them. He is a cousin of the -Barrys, and a nephew of their father and -of Miss Jemima Barry also, the Rector’s -sister, who, since the death of her sister-in-law, -has always lived with them, and who, if -a most exemplary person, is certainly what -is commonly described as ‘trying.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The parish of Curraghcloyne is small, the -income even smaller. But if Providence, in -giving Mr. Barry this parish as his special -charge, had been niggardly to him in money -matters, it had certainly made up to him -lavishly in another respect—it had given -him, for example, a large, and what promised -to be an ever-increasing, family, so increasing, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>indeed, that it would ultimately have beaten -the record but for the untimely death of -Mrs. Barry, who had faded out of life at -Tom’s birth. She was then just thirty-two, -but she looked forty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To her husband, however, gazing at her -dead face, surrounded by its lilies and white -roses, she looked seventeen again—the age at -which he had married her—and though he -was a man entirely wrapped up in his books -and theories, it is an almost certain thing -that he never forgot her, and that he -mourned and lamented for her as few men -whose lives are set in smoother places do for -their beloved.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Miss Barry, his sister, came on the death -of his wife and took possession of the house, -Susan being then just thirteen. She had but -a bare sum wherewith to clothe and keep -herself, and was therefore of little use in -helping the household where money was -concerned; and it was therefore with a -sense of thankfulness that the Rector four -years ago accepted the charge of Dominick -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>Fitzgerald, an orphan, and the son of a -stepbrother of his wife.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The poor, pretty wife was then a year -dead, but he knew all about Dominick’s -people. The Rector himself came of a good -old Irish family, and his wife had been even -more highly connected. Indeed, the lad who -came to Mr. Barry four years ago, though he -had inherited little from his father, would in -all probability succeed to his uncle’s title and -five or six thousand a year—a small thing -for a baronet, but, still, worth having. Of -course, there was always a chance that the -uncle, a middle-aged man, might marry, -though he was consumptive and generally -an invalid; but all that lay in the future, -and at present it was decided that the boy -should be given a profession; but having -proved remarkably idle and wild at school—though -nothing disgraceful was ever laid to -his charge—his uncle in one of his intervals -of good health had desired that he should be -sent down to Mr. Barry, for whom Sir Spencer -Fitzgerald had an immense respect and a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>little fear, for a few reasons that need not -be specified, though, if Sir Spencer only knew -it, the Rector was the last man in the world -to betray the secrets of anyone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The Rector accepted the charge gladly. -He had passed several young men (who had -been private pupils of his before his marriage) -very successfully for the Civil Service, and -he was doing his best for Dominick now, -whom from the very first he liked, in spite of -the reputation for idleness that came with -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Indeed, Dom Fitzgerald had fallen into the -family circle as though it had been made -for him, and had grown to be quite a brother -to his new-found cousins. He at once grew -fond of Susan, and became on the spot a -chum of Carew’s, who was reading with his -father for the army and expected to pass -next year. And he quarrelled all day long -with Betty, who accepted him as a ‘pal’ -from the moment of his appearing. Betty -inclined towards slang.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As for the children, they all loved him; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>and, indeed, it must be said that he loved -them, and spent a considerable amount of the -fifty pounds allowed him for yearly pocket-money -upon them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, where is she?’ persists he, turning -a lazy eye from one to another, at last resting -it on Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She has gone down to Father Murphy’s -about Jane,’ says Susan reluctantly. ‘You -know Jane is always breaking everything, -and to-day she broke that old cup of our great-grandmother’s, -and Aunt Jemima was very -angry. She has gone to tell Father Murphy -about it, and to say she will never take a -Roman Catholic servant again unless he -punishes Jane severely.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And Father Murphy will laugh,’ says -Carew, with a shrug. ‘He knows she must -take Catholic servants or do without them. -All the Protestant girls of that class here are -farmers’ daughters, and either won’t go into -service at all, or else only to Lady O’Donovan’s -or the O’Connors’.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, you should have heard Jane!’ cries -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>Betty, going off into one of her peals of -laughter. ‘When Aunt Jemima had reduced -her to a rage, she came in weeping to me. -All the forlorn hopes fall back upon me.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘True, even this poor old forlorn one,’ says -Dom promptly, seizing his opportunity to -lift his head from her gown to drop it upon -her lap.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After which there is a scuffle.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, never mind Dom!’ says Susan impatiently. -‘What did Jane say to you -about the cup?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She said——Go away, Dom.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ says Dom, with an -aggrieved air. ‘It’s an aspersion on my -character, Susan. You don’t believe this, do -you?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She said,’ goes on Betty, very properly -taking no notice of the interruption: ‘“Law, -Miss Betty, miss, did ye iver hear the like o’ -that? Did ye iver hear such a row about -nothin’?”’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘“It wasn’t about nothing,” I said; “because -you know how even father valued that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>cup, though an uglier thing I never saw in -my life.”’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘“Fegs, I don’t know what ye call anythin’,” -said Jane (she was crying all the time; -you know how she can roar); “but yer aunt -herself tould me that that cup is a hundhred -years ould if a day, an’ wid that to make sich -a screech over it! Faix, it must have bin -rotten wid age, miss; an’ no wondher it -come to bits in me hands.”’</p> - -<p class='c004'>They are all delighted with the story.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t think Aunt Jemima would have -been so cross with poor Jane,’ says Susan, in -a low tone and with a glance round her to -make sure of no one’s being within hearing, -‘but for those eggs this morning.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The eggs under the speckled hen?’ asks -Jacky; ‘I heard her speaking about them. -Won’t they come out?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan shakes her head, and Carew and -Dominick edge a little out of sight. The -latter, under a pretence of feeling too warm, -hides his face under the big straw hat that -Betty has thrown upon the grass beside her.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>‘They should have come out ten days ago,’ -says Susan; ‘but they’—she casts an uncertain -glance at Carew, who has turned over -and is now lying with his face upon his arms, -and is evidently developing ague-fever—‘but -they didn’t.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Were they all addled?’ asks Jacky, with -amazement.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No; they were all boiled,’ says Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Boiled!’ says little Bonnie, sitting up with -an effort. ‘Who boiled them—the hen?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this there is a stifled roar from under -Betty’s hat, whereupon the owner of it lifts -it and discovers Mr. Fitzgerald plainly on the -point of apoplexy.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Just the sort of thing one would expect -from you,’ says she scornfully. ‘No wonder -you want to hide your face; but you shan’t -do it under my hat, anyhow.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, Carew, think of that poor hen waiting -and waiting for three weeks, and then for -ten days more; I call it horrid,’ says Susan. -‘I really think you ought to be ashamed of -yourselves, you two.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>‘Ought we? Then we will be,’ says Dom; -‘never shall it be said that I shirked my -duty, at all events. Carew, get out of that, -and be ashamed of yourself instantly.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, that’s all very fine,’ says Betty, ‘trying -to get out of it like that; but let me tell -you that I think——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>However, what Betty may think of people -who put boiled eggs under sitting hens is -for ever lost to posterity, because at this -moment Jane, with red eyes and a depressed -demeanour, comes hurrying up to them across -the small lawn, a covered basket in her hand.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>‘O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!’</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>‘For you, miss,’ says she, handing the basket -to Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan turns crimson. That basket! She -knows it well.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘For me?’ stammers she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, miss.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Who’—nervously—‘who brought it?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘A boy, miss.’ For an instant Susan’s -heart feels relief, but for an instant only.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Whose boy?’ falters she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t know, miss. He came an’ wint -in a flash like. I hope, miss, as there isn’t -anythin’ desthructive in it,’ says Jane, whose -misfortunes of the morning have raised in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>her a pessimistic spirit. ‘They do say thim -moonlighters are goin’ about agin.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Do you mean to say the—the messenger -said nothing?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, miss, except that it was for you. -That was all, miss; and I’m not deaf, though -I wish I was before I heard all that was -said to me this mornin’ about an ould cup -that——’ Here she lifts her apron and sniffs -vigorously behind it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, it can’t be for me,’ says Susan, with -decision; ‘take it away, Jane. There has -been some mistake, of course. Take it away -at once. Do you hear? The—the boy will -probably call for it again in a little time.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t think he will, miss; he looked -like a runaway,’ says Jane.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Good heavens! how interesting,’ says Mr. -Fitzgerald, breaking at last into the charmed -silence that has held them all since the advent -of Jane and the mysterious basket. ‘Who -can this unknown admirer be? No doubt it -contains roses’—staring at the basket—‘or -heliotropes—heliotrope in the language of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>flowers means devotion! Susan, are you -above a peep?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, I am,’ says Susan hastily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am not,’ says Betty, springing forward -and pulling open the cover. ‘Oh, I say, -cherries! and such beauties, too! Susan, -you are in luck!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And so are we,’ says Fitzgerald, putting -a hand lightly over her shoulder and drawing -up a bunch of the pretty fruit between his -fingers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I think we ought not to eat them—I -do indeed,’ says Susan, in a small agony. -There can be no doubt now about the fact -that the thief, repentant and struck to the -very soul by her eloquent pleadings, had -sought to redeem himself in her eyes by -sending the stolen cherries to her. Whether -with a view of giving her the pleasure of -eating them, or with the higher desire of -proving to her that he hadn’t devoured them, -must, she feels and hopes (because to meet -him again would be very unpleasant to her), -for ever remain unknown.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>‘Poor fellow!’ thinks she, regarding the -cherries with mixed emotions that are not -altogether devoid of admiration for her own -hitherto unimagined powers of persuasion; -‘he was certainly and sincerely penitent. -One could see that.’ She feels quite an uplifting -of her soul. Perhaps, who knows? she -has been born as a worthy successor to Mrs. -Fry, or some of those good people! But -then, after all, it is, undoubtedly, to Mr. -Crosby he should have made restitution, not -to her. It is, however, difficult to restore -Irish cherries—a rather perishable commodity—to -an owner who happens to be -at the moment in the middle of Africa, or -America, or China, for all she knows.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not eat them!’ says Betty indignantly. -‘Why, what else are you going to do with -them—make them into jam?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘They are not mine—I’m sure they are not -mine,’ says Susan. ‘Who, for instance, could -have sent them?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here Jacky makes a movement.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Jacky, you know nothing!’ cries Susan, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>turning indignant, warning eyes upon him; -whereupon Jacky, remembering his promise, -subsides once again into dismal silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Jacky, I smell a conspiracy,’ says Dominick, -who has caught the look between them; -‘and you are the head-centre. Speak, boy, -whilst yet there is time!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ve nothing to say,’ says Jacky sulkily; -he is naturally of a somewhat morose disposition, -and now feels positively ill at not -being able to divulge the delightful story of -which these glowing cherries are the result.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Susan, I do believe you have at last got -an admirer,’ says Carew, in the complimentary -tone of the orthodox brother, who never can -understand why on earth any fellow can -admire his sister. ‘Come! out with it; he -seems a sensible fellow, any way. Flowers -are awful rot, but there’s something in -cherries.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Betty, when I fall in love with you I’ll -present you with a course of goodies,’ says -Dominick, regarding that damsel with an -encouraging eye.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>‘I have no admirers, as you all know,’ -says Susan, her pale and lovely face a little -heightened in colour. She is thinking with -horror of what would have happened if that -poor awful thief had brought them in person. -But, of course, he was afraid.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Perhaps Lady Millbank sent them,’ -suggests Betty, after a violent discussion -with Fitzgerald on the head of his last -remark. ‘I saw her in town yesterday.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘So did I,’ says Carew. ‘Like a sack—not -tied in the middle.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan feels almost inclined in the emergencies -of the moment to say ‘Perhaps so,’ -and let it stand at that, but conscience forbids -her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She would have sent a footman and her -card,’ says she dejectedly. ‘No’—decidedly, -and preparing to close up the basket—‘they -are not meant for me, and even if they were, -I could not accept them, unless I knew where -they came from.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Do you mean that you are not going to -give us some?’ says Betty, rising, not only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>figuratively, but actually, to the occasion, and -standing over Susan. ‘I never heard anything -so mean in all my life.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Susan,’ says Fitzgerald mildly but firmly, -‘if you think to escape alive from this spot -with these cherries, let me at once warn you -of a sense of impending danger.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I say, Susan, don’t be a fool!’ says -Carew, turning his lazy length upon the -grass, a manœuvre that brings him much -closer to Susan and the cherries.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It’s a beastly shame!’ says Jacky, in a -growl. And at this little Tom, as if moved -to the very soul, or stomach, sets up a piteous -howl.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan, with all the ‘young martyr’ air -about her, looks sternly round. No; she -will not give in, and it’s perfectly disgusting -of them to think so much of eating things. -Her glance finishes at Jacky, who is scowling -and threatening her with the fellest of all -fell eyes, and then descends at last on Bonnie—Bonnie, -who is lying in her arms, his -pretty, thin, patient little face against her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>shoulder. Poor little Bonnie! darling little -Bonnie! who has said nothing—not a word—but -whose gentle eyes are now resting on -the fruit; Bonnie, whose appetite is always -miserable—so difficult to please. Susan, seeing -that silent, wistful glance, feels her heart -sink within her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Must she—must she deny him, her poor -little delicate boy, her best beloved of all -the many that she loves? Oh, she must! -she will be firm. These cherries really are -not hers. Even for Bonnie she——</p> - -<p class='c004'>The child stirs in her arms and sighs, the -faintest, gentlest little sigh—only one who -loved him could have heard it; but with that -little sigh went out all Susan’s stern resolutions. -Almost unconsciously her hand goes -towards the basket that holds the cherries. -Slowly, slowly at first, as if held back; but -as it nears the glowing fruit it makes a rush, -as it were, dives into it, and in a second more -Bonnie’s thin little paws are filled with a -huge and crimson bunch of the sweet cherries.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alas for Susan’s principles! They have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>all vanished away like snow in the sun, -beneath two little pain-filled eyes.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alas for Susan’s principles again! As -Bonnie’s white little face lights up as he -catches the pretty fruit, and bites one of -them in two with his sharp childish teeth, -and as after that he lifts the other half of it -to Susan’s mouth, and presses it against her -closed but smiling lips, she does not refuse -him. She opens her lips, and, against all her -beliefs, lets the stolen thing glide between -them. The happy laughter of the child as -she takes the fruit is nectar to her, and in a -little joyous way she hugs him to her, catching -him against her breast; and though she -does not know it, her one thought is this: ‘Let -all things go so long as this one is happy.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>And certainly Bonnie for the moment is -happy with his cherries. But the cherry -he gave her is the first and only one out of -her basket that passes between her lips. -And that is self-denial, I can tell you from -experience, for a girl of eighteen.</p> - -<p class='c004'>After this there is a general raid upon the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>basket, Betty and Fitzgerald being quite conspicuous -in their efforts to secure the largest -cherries, whilst Jacky runs them very hard. -And Susan, afraid lest the supply should fail -before Bonnie gets a handsome share, pulls -him to her and fills his little hands. But her -own hands? Never! Stern is her youthful -virtue. Those stolen cherries! No, no, she -could not touch them, and, besides, to watch -Bonnie’s delight in them is enough for her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Bonnie! It seems such a sad critique upon -the little fragile child racked with rheumatism -and so sadly disabled by it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>In happier days, when he was, in truth, -the bonniest little being of them all, his poor -mother—now mercifully in heaven—had -given him the dear pet name. And of -course it had clung to him through all the -ills that followed.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The beginning was so simple, so easy to be -described. A wet day when the child had -escaped from home and had been forgotten -until the early dinner reminded them of him. -There were so many to remember, and they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>all ran so loosely here and there, that up to -that hour no one had missed him. His -mother was dead. The keynote of course -lay there. She was dead and lying in her -grave for a year or more, and the young -things who tried to take her place, when -they had asked a question or two, never -thought of Bonnie again. Carew, the eldest -boy, then only twelve, did not appear at -dinner either, and it was naturally and -carelessly supposed that Bonnie was with him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Alas for little Bonnie! Late that night -he was discovered and brought home, saturated -to the skin, and almost lifeless. Asleep -he had been found beneath the shade of a -big beech-tree; and sleep eternal he would -have known indeed had he not been discovered -before morning by the frightened -people from the Vicarage, who, when night -set in, had gone hunting for him far and -near. The Rector himself, roused from his -notes and papers by Susan’s terrors, had -joined in the search; but it was Susan who -found him, tired, exhausted (after a ramble -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>in which he had lost himself, poor little soul!), -and wet through from the rain that had fallen -incessantly since three o’clock in the afternoon.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It was Susan who carried him home, -staggering sometimes beneath the weight, -but strong in the very misery of her fear. -When at last home was reached, it was -Susan who undressed him, and lay awake -the long night through with him, holding -him in her warm arms to heat his shivering -little body. And, indeed, when the morning -came he seemed nothing the worse for his -exposure.</p> - -<p class='c004'>But towards the evening he began to -shiver again, and next day he was lying -prone, racked with all the pangs of rheumatic -fever. They twisted and tore his -little frame, and though at the last the doctor -pulled him through, and he rose again from -his bed, it was but as a shadow of his former -merry self—a stricken child, a cripple for life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Poor Susan—then thirteen—took it sorely -to heart. Her mother in heaven—had she -looked down that night when Bonnie lay -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>under the dripping tree, and seen her pretty -lamb alone, deserted?—the mother who had -left him to Susan to look after and care for. -She had seemed to think more of Bonnie in -her dying moments than of the baby who -had brought death to her with his own life. -Susan had been left in charge, as it were—sweet -Susan, who was barely twelve, and -who, with her soft, shy ways and lovely face, -should have been left in charge herself to -someone capable of guiding her tender footsteps -across earth’s thorny paths.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her remorse dwelt with her always, and -became a burden to her, and made havoc of -her colour for many a day. Of course she -grew out of all that—youth, thank God, is -always growing—and at last, after many -days, joy came to her again, and all the -glorious colour of life, and all the sweetness -of it. But she never lost a little pulsing -grief that came to her every now and then, -telling her how she ought to have seen that -Bonnie had not wandered so far afield.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Oh, if only he could be made strong and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>well again. This was the heart of the sad -song that she often sang for herself alone, -when time was given her in her busy life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She had dreamed dreams of how it would -be with the little lad if he could have been -sent abroad. She had heard of certain baths, -and of wonderful cures worked by them. If -he could go abroad to one of them he might -recover. But such baths were as far out of -her reach as heaven itself. It seemed hard -to Susan, to whom life was still a riddle. -And she reproached herself always, and -always mourned that there would never -come a time when Bonnie would be strong -again, as he was when his mother left him, -and when she might meet that dear mother -in heaven without fear of reproaches.</p> - -<p class='c004'>All this lay in the background of Susan’s -life, and now, as years grew, seldom came to -the front. But the child was ever her first -thought and her dearest delight, and the -fact that he was not as his brothers were -was the one little blot on the happiness of -her young life.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘O that this calculating soul would cease</div> - <div class='line in2'>To forecast accidents, Time’s limping errors,</div> - <div class='line'>And take the present, with the present’s peace,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Instead of filling life’s poor day with terrors.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>About seven o’clock, Wyndham (who had -come up to Dublin by the afternoon train), -going down Nassau Street, finds himself face -to face with a tall, big, good-humoured-looking -man of about thirty-two.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Hallo! that you?’ cries the latter, -stopping Wyndham, who, in somewhat preoccupied -mood, would have gone by without -seeing him. The preoccupation disappears -at once, however, and it is with genuine -pleasure that he grasps the hand held out to -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You, Crosby, of all men!’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>‘Even so.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Why, last week, when we met in Paris, -you told me you were going to Vienna to see -a friend there.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The friend came to me at Paris instead -the very day after you left.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But I thought you had arranged with -him to go on an expedition to some unpronounceable -place in Africa?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘So I had, but he proved disappointing. -Hummed and hawed, said he couldn’t go just -now, but perhaps a little later on. One saw -through him at once. I told him I never -travelled about with fellows’ wives, and that -settled it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘He was going to be married?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Of course. Love was writ large all over -him—in huge capitals. And he was in such -a hurry over everything. People in love are -always in a hurry—to get back. So I dismissed -him with my blessing, and a bauble -for the venturesome young woman he has -chosen to explore life’s boundless ways with -him. R.I.P. He’s done for; and a right -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>good fellow he was, too! Well, what’s up -with you?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘With me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Think I can’t see? You’re out of your -luck in some way.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nothing much, any way,’ says Wyndham, -with an involuntary smile.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Too vague—too vague by half,’ says -Crosby, laughing. It is the happiest, -heartiest laugh. ‘Come, what’s the matter? -Out with it. Money?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no,’ says the barrister, laughing in -turn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Still, there is something.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Is there? I don’t know,’ says Wyndham, -in a tone half comical, half forlorn.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this Crosby thrusts his arm into his, -and wheels him down the street.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It must be hunger,’ says he gaily, seeing -the other is not ready for confession yet. -That the confession will come he knows -perfectly well. Ever since they were boys -together, Wyndham, whose brain was then, -as now, very superior to Crosby’s, had still -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>always given in to the personal attractions of -the stronger and older boy, whose big fists -often fought Wyndham’s battles for him on -the public playground.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby had been a big boy then; he is a -big man now, and, in spite of his adventurous -wanderings by land and sea, looks younger -than Wyndham, though he is actually four -years older. A splendid man, bronzed, -bearded, and broad-shouldered, with the -grand look of one who has been through -many a peril and many a fight, who has led -a cleanly life, and can look the world in the -face fearlessly. His eyes are large and blue, -and full of life and gaiety. He has a heart -as true as gold, and a strong right arm, good -for the felling of a foe or the saving of a -friend.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘For my own part, I’m starving,’ says he. -‘Come along; we’re near our club, and you’ll -dine with me. Considering what a stranger -I am in my own land, you’ll be able to help -me out a bit. I feel as if I did not know -anyone—that is, if you are not going anywhere -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>else. There’s a wandering look about you. -No? No other engagements? That’s good.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>They have reached the steps of the Kildare -Street Club by this time, and presently are -in the pleasant dining-room.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘By the way, talking of engagements,’ -says Crosby, between the soup and fish, ‘I -have one for to-night, at your aunt’s—Mrs. -Prior’s. In some odd fashion she heard I was -in Dublin, and sent a card to the Gresham -for me. You’—glancing at Wyndham’s -evening dress—‘are going somewhere, too, -perhaps?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There, too,’ says Wyndham. ‘I’ve got -out of it a good deal lately; but it doesn’t -do to offend her overmuch. She’s touchy. -And the old man, my uncle, Lord Shangarry—you -remember him, how he used to tip us -at school long ago?—makes quite a point of -my being civil to her.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To her, or——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘My cousin?’ Wyndham lifts his brows. -‘I feel sure my cousin is as indifferent to me -as I am to her.’ He pauses. ‘Still, I will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>not conceal from you that my uncle desires a -marriage between us.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Is this the cause of your late depression?’ -asks Crosby, with a quizzical expression.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not it,’ says Wyndham. ‘By-the-by’—a -little hurriedly—‘what of that late adventure -of yours in Siam? You were just telling -me about it when——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby at once plunges into the interrupted -anecdote, bringing it, however, to a somewhat -sharp close.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You know what life is!’ says Wyndham -a little moodily when it is over. ‘I envy -you; I often think I too should like to break -off the threads of society that bind one in, -and start on a career that would leave civilization -and—its worries behind.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Its worries?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, gossip for one thing, and that -delicate espionage that so often leads to the -damning of a man.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Poor old boy! Got into deep water,’ -thinks Crosby whilst toying with his -champagne.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>‘Once in it, one never gets out of civilization,’ -says he. ‘It sticks to one like a burr. -Don’t hope for that when you start on the -wild career you speak of. For myself, I like -civilization. It’s clean, for one thing—savages -don’t do much in the way of washing. -But I confess I like wandering for wandering’s -sake. It’s a mania with me. Here to-day -and gone to-morrow—that’s the motto that -suits me. Yet, I dare say, in time I shall get -tired of it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not you. Where are you going next?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not made up my mind yet. But I’ll tell -you where I’ve been last—right into Arcadia! -A difficult place to find nowadays, the savants -tell you; but the savants, like the Cretans, -are all liars. And in my Arcadia I fell in -with an adventure, and met——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He pauses, and, leaning back in his chair, -clasps his hands behind his head and gives -way to silent laughter. Evidently some -memory is amusing him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Someone who apparently was kind to -you,’ says Wyndham indifferently, breaking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>off from the stem, but not eating, the purple -grapes before him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Kind!’ says Crosby. ‘Hardly that.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Unkind?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘More than that.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘She told you——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That I was a thief.’ Wyndham’s indifference -ceases for a moment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Strong language,’ says he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘True, I assure you. Do I look like one? -Ever since that terrible denunciation I have -often asked myself whether so much knocking -about as I have known has not ruffianized me -in appearance, at all events.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Where on earth is the Arcadia you speak -of?’ asks Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, to tell you everything, I went down -to Curraghcloyne this morning to have a look -at the old place.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What! There! Why, I was there -to-day, too,’ says Wyndham, and then pauses, -as if suddenly sorry he had spoken.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘We must have missed each other, then, -and come up by different trains.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>‘I suppose so,’ says Wyndham slowly. -‘And so your Arcadia is Curraghcloyne? -Fancy an adventure there!’ He shrugs his -shoulders, and leans back in his chair. ‘You -have had so many real adventures that I -expect you like to revel in imagining one now -and then.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Perhaps so,’ says Crosby. ‘Still, even -in Arcadia one doesn’t like to be called a -thief. I say, it is getting late, isn’t it? -Your aunt spoke of ten. It is now well -after eleven. Buck up, my child, and let -us on.’</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XV.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The web of our life is of mingled yarn,</div> - <div class='line'>Good and ill together.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The rooms are crowded to excess, and it is -with difficulty that Crosby and Wyndham -make their way to the place where someone -has told them their hostess is to be found. -They have arrived very late, in spite of -Crosby’s attempt at haste, so late, indeed, -that already some of the guests are leaving—a -fact that has somewhat embarrassed -their journey up the staircase. The heat is -intense, and the perfume of the many roses -makes the air heavy.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Quite at the end of the music-room -Wyndham sees his aunt, and presently she, -seeing him and Crosby in the doorway, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>makes them a faint salutation. The Hon. -Mrs. Prior is a tall woman, with a high, -aristocratic nose, fair hair, and blue eyes, -now a little pale. She was the handsomest -of the three daughters of Sir John Burke, -and, what is not always the case, had made -the best marriage. Her youngest sister, -Kate, had, however, done very well, too, -when she married James Wyndham, but -the eldest sister had made a distinct fiasco -of her life. She had run away with a ne’er-do-well, -a certain Robert Haines, who came -from no one knew where, and went no one -knew where, either, taking Sir John’s -favourite daughter with him. It was -hushed up at the time, but the old man -had caused ceaseless secret inquiries to be -made for the missing daughter, always, however, -without result. It was for a time a -blot upon the family history, but it was -forgotten after awhile, and Mrs. Prior and -her daughter have for some time taken leading -parts in Dublin society.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A tall, thin woman is singing very beautifully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>as the two young men enter, and Mrs. -Prior’s slight movement of recognition to -her nephew conveys with it a desire that -he should not seek her until the song has -come to an end. And presently the last -quivering note dies away upon the air, and -the crowd is once more in motion. Lady -H—— is being congratulated on the beauties -of her voice by many people, and Mrs. Prior, -having done her part, is now able to receive -her nephew and Crosby without having to -pause and wonder who she is to speak to -next.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Indeed, Lady H——’s singing has virtually -wound up the evening. Few would care to -sing after her, and now the rooms are -beginning to look deserted.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Always a laggard, Paul,’ says his aunt, -who, having bidden good-bye to her principal -guests, has left the rest to her daughter. -‘But I suppose something of it must be put -down to to-night.’ She smiles at Crosby, -whom she has known since he was a little boy. -‘You should have been here earlier, you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>two; she sang even better in the beginning -of the evening. It was “Allan Water,” and -you know how that would suit her voice. -But now that you have come so late, you -must stay a little later and have supper -with Josephine and me.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She talks on to them in her cultivated -yet somewhat hard voice, rising now and -then to say good-bye to someone, until the -rooms are quite cleared and her daughter is -able to join them.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Josephine Prior comes across the polished -floor of the music-room to where they are -sitting in a curtained recess; she is as tall -as her mother, and as fair, and a little -harder. Miss Prior is undoubtedly the -handsomest girl in Dublin this season (now -all but over), and has been for the past -two or three. Tall, <i><span lang="fr">distinguée</span></i> and with -irreproachable manners, there are very few -who can outdo her. She sweeps up to them -now, her pretty silken skirts falling gracefully -around her, and her mother, rising, -motions her into her own seat, that next -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>to Wyndham’s, while she sinks into a chair -on Crosby’s left.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It had been a settled thing with Mrs. -Prior for years that Josephine, her only -child, should marry Paul Wyndham, who, -though only a barrister, is still a very rising -one, and heir to his grand-uncle, Lord -Shangarry. To know Josephine a countess! -There lay all the hope, all the ambition, of -Mrs. Prior’s life, and the fact that old Lord -Shangarry shared her hopes about this -matter naturally led to the idea that in -time it must be accomplished. If Paul were -to offend his uncle, then—well, then, the -title would be his indeed; but the enormous -income now attached to it, not being entailed, -could be left as Lord Shangarry wished. -Few people fly in the face of Providence -where thousands a year are concerned, and -Mrs. Prior depended upon Wyndham’s -common-sense to secure him as a husband -for her daughter. As for Wyndham, though -up to this not a syllable has passed between -him and Josephine to bind him to her in any -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>way, he has of late brought himself to believe -that a marriage with her, considering the -stakes, is not out of the question. She is a -handsome girl, too, and as a countess would -look the part.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Now, as she seats herself beside him, he -again acknowledges the beauty of her -chiselled nose and chin. But——yes; there -is a but. All at once it occurs to him -that beauty is very seldom to be found in -perfect features. The really artistic face -has always one feature quite beyond the -bounds of art. Strange that it had not -occurred to him before! Still, Josephine is -undoubtedly handsome.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Josephine’s voice is like her mother’s—clear -and very hard. She is talking -now.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Do you know we were down in your part -of the world the other day?’ says she. ‘We -were lunching with dear Lady Millbank, and -then went on to your cottage. We wanted -to get some flowers. You know how mean -Lady Millbank is about her roses, so we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>decided on saying nothing to her, and trusting -to your place. But when we got there’—with -an elephantine attempt at playfulness—‘the -cupboard was bare, at all events -to us, because we could not get in.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, so odd!’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘We -rang, and rang, and rang, but no one came -for quite a long time. At last your housekeeper -appeared, a most disagreeable person, -my dear Paul. She was, indeed, almost rude, -and said she had your orders to admit -nobody.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She looks back at Wyndham, who looks -back at her with an immovable countenance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not my orders, certainly,’ says he calmly. -‘I was abroad until the other day, you know, -so I can hardly be responsible for Mrs. -Moriarty’s manœuvres.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His voice is perfectly even, though a -perfect storm of rage against Mrs. Denis -is rendering him furious. Confound the -woman! what does she mean by seeking to -create a scandal out of a mere nothing—a -mountain out of a mole-hill?</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>Crosby, glancing at him steadily for a -moment, turns his eyes away again, and -breaks into the discussion.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I am sorry you did not go up to my -place,’ says he, addressing Miss Prior. ‘It -is quite a terrible thing to contemplate, -your having been in want of flowers.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah, but you weren’t there!’ says Josephine, -with a mild attempt at coquetry. -‘If you had been, we might have made a -raid on you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, I’m at home now,’ says Crosby -cheerfully. ‘You must come down some -day soon, and help me to gather my roses.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You mean to stay, then?’ says Josephine, -leaning a little towards him across her -mother. She is quite bent on marrying -her cousin, though she is as indifferent to -him as he is to her; but in the meantime -she is not above a slight flirtation with -Crosby. To tell the truth, this big, good-humoured, -handsome man appeals to her far -more than Paul has ever done.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Until the autumn, at all events,’ says he.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>As for Wyndham, he is still sitting mute, -apparently listening to his aunt’s diatribes -about society, and Dublin society in particular, -but in reality raging over Mrs. -Denis’s shortcomings, and the deplorable -Irish sympathetic nature that has led her -to sacrifice everything—even the excellent -situation she has at the Cottage—to a mere -passing fancy for a girl whom she has known -at the longest for four or five weeks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby, noting his abstraction, is still -rattling along.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Now, it’s a promise, Mrs. Prior, isn’t -it? You’—here he glances deliberately at -Josephine—‘you will come and look round -my place soon, won’t you? I’m thinking of -making up a little house-party in September -or August, and I hope you and Miss Prior -will leave a week open for me.’ He throws -a look over his shoulder. ‘You too, Wyndham?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Thank you,’ says Paul absently.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What a charming idea!’ cries Josephine -ecstatically. Here she decides upon clapping -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>her hands, and she does it in her perfectly -well-bred way. The result is deadly. ‘To -stay with a bachelor! Mamma, you will -consent?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Mamma consents. Josephine, again leaning -towards Crosby, says something delightful -to him. It has seemed to her since -Crosby’s coming that to have two strings to -your bow is a very desirable thing. Paul -is well enough, and in the end, of course, -she will marry him, though at times she -has thought that he——But, of course, -that is nonsense. He would be afraid to -marry anyone else—afraid of his uncle. -What a pity he is not Mr. Crosby, or Mr. -Crosby Paul! Well, one can’t have everything -one’s own way, after all, and there is -the title. Lady Shangarry—Mrs. Crosby. -Yes; the title counts. But really Paul is -so very dull, and Mr. Crosby, though he -has no title, so infinitely better off than Paul -will ever be, and the Crosbys are an old -family, dating back to—goodness knows -when! Still, a title!</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>Finally she gets back to the title, and -stays there.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But yes, really, dear Paul,’ Mrs. Prior is -saying, ‘I think that housekeeper of yours, -or caretaker, or whatever she is, takes too -much upon her. I tried to explain to her -I was your aunt, and, indeed, she has seen -me several times, but I could not shake her -determination to let no one in. Anyone -might be excused for imagining that she -was concealing something.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Garden-party for her own friends, no -doubt,’ says Crosby. He has cast a half-amused, -half-inquiring glance at Wyndham; -but the latter’s face is impassive.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I think it a little serious,’ says Mrs. Prior. -‘Young men, as a rule, are always imposed -upon by women of her class—caretakers, of -course, I mean,’ with a careful glance at the -innocent Josephine. ‘Landladies and that. -Do you think, dear Paul, that she is quite -honest?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Quite, I think.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Then why this extraordinary step on her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>part—this locking out your very nearest -and’—with an open glance at Josephine—‘dearest? -No, no, George,’ to Crosby, ‘you -really must not jest on this subject. I feel -it is quite important where Paul is concerned. -You really know of no reason, -Paul, why she should have forbidden us an -entrance?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Is there meaning in the question? Wyndham -looks at her steadily before replying.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I was in France at the time,’ says he -carelessly. ‘If she had a motive, how could -I know it?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby leans back and crosses his arms -negligently. ‘What an idiotic equivocation!’ -thinks he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You certainly ought to speak to her -about it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Of course I shall speak to her.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby smiles.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I really think you ought,’ says Mrs. Prior. -‘You can’—severely—‘mention me if you -wish. I consider she behaved extremely -badly. And I quite tremble for the dear -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>little old place. You know it was an uncle -of ours—a grand-uncle of yours—who left -the place to your mother, and as girls we—that -is, your aunts and I—used to be very -fond of running up from your grandfather’s -place in Kerry to spend a few weeks in it. -We were all girls then—your mother, and I, -and your——’ She stops, and sneezes most -opportunely behind her lace handkerchief. -The innocent Josephine had touched her foot -under cover of her gown. Of course the -aunt who had disappeared so unpleasantly -had better not be mentioned.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I hope, Paul, you will see that this woman -keeps the dear old place in order,’ says Mrs. -Prior rather hastily.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To confess a dreadful truth,’ says Wyndham, -smiling somewhat briefly, ‘I have almost -made up my mind to let the Cottage. It has -been rather a burden to me of late. And——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To let it. But why?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, as you see yourself,’ says Wyndham -desperately, ‘Mrs. Moriarty does not seem -capable of looking after it. It is an awful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>bore, you know, and’—with a rush of affection -hitherto unborn—‘the idea of her -having kept you out of the place seems to -put an end to my trust in her for ever.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby flicks a little point of dust off -his coat-sleeve. ‘Oh, the handsome liar!’ -thinks he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But, my dear boy, you must not be too precipitate. -A word to her would perhaps——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ve quite made up my mind,’ says Wyndham -steadfastly. ‘I shall look out for a -tenant.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Dear Paul!’ says Mrs. Prior, touched by -this nephew-like act, ‘I of course appreciate -your sweetness in this matter. It is very -dear of you to be so angry about the -woman’s incivility to me, and if you have -made up your mind about getting a tenant -for the dear old Cottage, I think I can help -you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here Crosby leans forward. It is proving -very interesting.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You mustn’t take any trouble,’ says -Wyndham; ‘I couldn’t allow you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>‘It will be no trouble—for you,’ says -Josephine, breaking into the conversation -very affectionately.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Thanks awfully, but I think I’ve got a -desirable tenant in my eye,’ says Wyndham—‘one -suitable in every respect.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘The real thing is to know if he is solvent,’ -says Mrs. Prior.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I think so—I think so,’ says Wyndham -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Is he young or old?’ asks Josephine, who -feels she ought to show some interest in his -affairs.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Wyndham remains wrapt up in thought -for a moment, then apparently wakes up.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, the tenant,’ says he dreamily. ‘Not -old; no, not old!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘At that rate you must introduce us to -him,’ says Mrs. Prior, with quite surprising -archness. ‘Solvent and not old! Quite a -desirable acquaintance! What is his name, -Paul?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t know,’ says Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not know? But, my dear Paul!’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>‘I positively don’t,’ says Wyndham, in -quite a loud voice. It occurs to Crosby that -now at last he is telling the truth, and that -he is wildly glad at being able to do so. But -the truth! Where does it come in? Crosby -grows curious. ‘Strange as it may sound, the -name is unknown to me. And for the matter -of that nothing is settled. There have been -only preliminaries. There must always be -preliminaries, you know,’ talking briskly to -his aunt.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, be careful,’ says Mrs. Prior. ‘And -whatever you do, Paul, don’t take a lady -tenant. They are so difficult. Now promise -me, Paul, you won’t take a lady as a tenant.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Providentially, at this moment the very -late supper is announced, and Paul, rising, -gives his arm to Josephine, after which the -conversation drifts into other channels.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘This is the short and long of it.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The moon is streaming brilliantly over the -silent streets as the two men leaving Fitzwilliam -Square turn presently into Stephen’s -Green and then down Dawson Street. -Crosby’s footsteps are bound for the Gresham -Hotel, and Wyndham, who should have gone -the other way, considering his rooms are in -Elgin Road, walks with him silently, and so -mechanically that it becomes at once plain -to Crosby that he has lost himself a little in -a world of troublous thought.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Determining to let him find his way out -of his mind’s labyrinth by himself, Crosby -maintains a discreet silence, refraining even -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>from good words and the whistle that has -come to be part of him during his strange -wanderings by sea and land, and is difficult -to discard when in the midst of civilization.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is not until they have reached the railings -that run round Trinity College, where -the glorious light of the moon is lighting up -the old and splendid pile, that Wyndham -speaks.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’ve had the deuce of a time,’ says he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, I could see that,’ says Crosby, turning -his cigar in his fingers. ‘I’m rather disappointed -in you, do you know, Paul. How -you are to make a fortune out of your profession -is to me a mystery. Throw it up. -You are certainly not a liar born.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I’m in a tight place,’ says Wyndham -disgustedly, ‘but I dare say I’ll get out of -it. Well’—reluctantly—‘good-night.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not a bit of it,’ says Crosby, tucking his -arm into his; ‘come and have a pipe with -me, and—if you can bring yourself to it—give -voice to this worry of yours, and get it -off your mind.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>A pipe is a great help; soothed by it, and -the influence of the society of his old chum, -Wyndham, seated comfortably in a huge -armchair in Crosby’s room, tells the latter -the whole of his remarkable acquaintance -with his unknown guest at the Cottage.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is, to confess the truth, a rather lame -story, very lamely told; and at the close of -it Wyndham looks at his friend, at least at -as much of him as he can see, Crosby being -now enclouded in smoke. He had been -smoking very vigorously, indeed, all through -the recital, and there had been moments -when he had seemed to be choking, but -whether altogether from the smoke Wyndham -felt uncertain.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, that’s the story,’ says he at last, -flinging himself back in his chair.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There is a short silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Then I suppose you could not think of a -better one?’ says Crosby, beginning to choke -again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I knew how you’d take it—how any -fellow would take it,’ says Wyndham wrathfully. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>‘I can see that there isn’t a soul in -the world who would believe such an idiotic -story as mine. But there it is, and you can -take it or leave it as you like. But for all -that, Crosby, you ought to know me well -enough to understand that I should not -trouble myself to lie to you unless there was -occasion for it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this Crosby gives way to a roar.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, I honestly believe there’s no -occasion now,’ says he; ‘and for the rest, -dear old chap! of course I believe every -word you have said. You must be thoroughly -hipped, or you’d have seen how I was enjoying -the joke. Come, it seems we have both -had adventures in Arcadia, and that we -have both come in rather sorry fashion out -of them.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, you—you can afford to speak of -adventures,’ says Wyndham ruefully. -‘You’re accustomed to them, but I—I confess -this last and first has been enough for -me. You who have faced lions——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not so many, after all,’ interrupts Crosby, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>laughing. ‘Don’t magnify them like that. -I’ve shot a few, I confess, but I only seem -to remember seven. One does remember -them when one’s face to face with them. -But there is not such a lot to remember, -after all.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It would serve, so far as I am concerned,’ -says Wyndham frankly. ‘Indeed, I think -I could do with one—always supposing he -was dead. As for how I feel now, it is as -though I were in a den of them, and I doubt -if I’ll come as well out of it as Daniel did.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby regards him with an amused eye.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Apropos your tenant,’ says he, ‘when -are you going to introduce your aunt to your -young man?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, get out!’ says Wyndham.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That’s a lion if you like,’ says Crosby.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Which—my aunt or my tenant?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I haven’t seen the tenant. Still, it -strikes me that she will be a lion, too. I’d -get out of that den if I were you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, I want to. But what’s one to do? -I can’t get rid of either of my lions.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>‘Not even of the tenant?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t see how I can, now I have given -my promise.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, introduce them to each other; -that’s a capital suggestion if you will only -look into it. Whilst they claw each other, -you may be able to make your escape.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Introduce them?’ Wyndham pauses, as -if sounding the proposition, then gives way -to wrath. ‘Hang it!’ says he; ‘you are -worse than Job’s three comforters all rolled -into one.’</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘No hinge nor loop</div> - <div class='line'>To hang a doubt on.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>To-day is Sunday—the first Sunday since -that eventful day when Susan had tackled -and disarmed the thief, and certainly the -warmest day that has come this season. In -here in the church the heat is almost intolerable; -and Susan, when the Litany -begins, feels her devotion growing faint.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She has, indeed, up to this had a good -deal of troublous excitement. To keep one -eye on Jacky, who had left home in a distinctly -resentful mood, and the other on -Tommy, who doesn’t believe in churches as -a satisfactory playground, is a task to which -few would be equal; and even now, when -Tommy has been reduced to silence by Betty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>and lemon-drops, the excessive warmth of -the day leaves Susan too tired to follow the -beautiful service.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Mechanically she says, ‘We beseech Thee -to hear us, good Lord’; but her mind is -wandering, and presently her eyes begin to -wander too.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The curate, how hideous he is, poor little -man! and what a pity he is so painfully -conscious of the loss of his front tooth! and -what a lovely light that is from the window -falling on his gown! It must be nice outside -now. How the flies are buzzing on the -panes, just like the organ! Maria Tanner -should not be laughing like that; if father -saw her he would be so angry, and Maria is -such a nice girl, and so clever—took all the -prizes at the diocesan examination last year—and -her sister is considered quite an -excellent housemaid by Lady Millbank. -What a pretty bonnet Lady Millbank has -on! Those violets suit her. Who is the -man in the pew behind her? Why, that is -the Crosby pew, and——</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>For one awful minute Susan feels the walls -of the church closing in upon her; a sensation -of faintness, a trembling of the knees, oppress -her. She is conscious of all this, and -then the mist fades away.</p> - -<p class='c004'>No, no; of course it is not true. It is -impossible. A remarkable likeness, no more. -She could laugh almost at her own folly, -and very nearly does so in her nervous -state; but providentially the sight of a -gloomy black and white tablet, erected to -the memory of a dead and gone Crosby, that -stands out from the wall right before her, -prevents this act of desecration.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She—she will look again, if only to assure -herself of her own folly. Slowly, slowly she -lifts her eyes—the eyes that now are standing -in a very white face—and looks with a -desperate courage at the Crosby pew. Her -eyes meet full the eyes of its one occupant, -and then Susan tells herself that it is all -over, and death alone is to be looked for.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For the eyes of the Crosby pew man are -the eyes of Susan’s thief. There can be no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>mistake about it any longer. The man who -sits in Mr. Crosby’s pew and Susan’s repentant -thief are one and the same.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Her eyes seem to cling to his. In the -fever of horror that has overtaken her, she -feels as if she could never remove them. For -a full minute the man in the Crosby pew and -Susan kneel, staring at each other; and then -suddenly something happens. Lady Millbank, -who is sitting in the pew before that -of the Crosbys, turns round and hands -Susan’s thief a Prayer-book. That in itself -would be very well—everyone should give a -thief a Prayer-book—but Lady Millbank has -accompanied her gift with a friendly nod of -recognition, a charming smile—the smile that -Susan so well knows, the smile that is only -given to those whom Lady Millbank desires -to honour or to be in with.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is all quite plain now. The thief is Mr. -Crosby, and Susan with a groan lets her face -fall upon her clasped hands, and hopes vainly -for the earth to open and swallow her up -quick.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>But the earth is a stupid thing, and never -does anything nowadays. Not a single earthquake -appears for Susan’s accommodation, -and the good old church is not conscious of -even a quiver. The service goes on. The -Litany is done. They all rise from their -knees, and the curate gives out a hymn:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘“O Paradise! O Paradise!”’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>Poor Susan feels as if ‘O Purgatory!’ -would be much nearer it, so far as she is -concerned. She would have stopped the -hymn there and then if she could, feeling -utterly upset and nervous. But it would -take a great many feelings to stop a church -service when it is once in full swing; and the -hymn goes on gaily in spite of Susan’s despair. -It reaches, indeed, a most satisfactory -ending, in spite of a slight contretemps -occasioned by the one unlucky Protestant -maid belonging to the Rectory, called Sarah.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Poor Sarah has this day for the first time -put on a hat of which a brilliant magenta -feather is the principal feature. Hitherto it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>has not caught Miss Barry’s eye—a wonder -in itself even greater than the magenta -feather, as this estimable spinster, with a -view to keeping the servants’ moral conduct -perfect, has elected that they shall sit on a -bench in the big square Rectory pew right -before her and her nephew and nieces.</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is at the beginning of the first verse -that Miss Barry’s eye lights on the monstrosity -in Sarah’s hat. Feathers and flowers -are abominations in Miss Barry’s eyes when -worn by the ‘common people,’ as she calls -those beneath her in the social scale. How -dare that impertinent girl come to church -with such an immodest ornament on her -head! What on earth is the world coming -to? She must, she will, speak to her; impossible -to let her enjoy that feather another -second.</p> - -<p class='c004'>If she can’t speak, she can at all events -sing at her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She darts across the pew, and, leaning -over Sarah’s shoulder, sings piercingly into -her ear:</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>“‘O Paradise! O Paradise.” Sarah, what -do you mean?’ (Rising note.) ‘How dare’ -(prolonged shriek on top note) ‘you wear that -feather, girl! Where did you get that hat?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She is simply screaming this to the hymn-tune. -You all know the hymn, of course, -and can understand how Miss Barry’s voice -rose to a shrill yell in the ‘dare.’ Sarah, -with a convulsive start, turns round. It -seems to her that this loud voice shouting in -her ear must be heard by every other soul in -the church; and frightened, ashamed, she -sinks down into her seat, and prepares to -hide herself and the magenta feather behind -her Prayer-book. But at this breach of -church etiquette Miss Barry grows even -more incensed, and proceeds to rouse the -wretched girl to a sense of her further -iniquity by well-directed and vigorous -punches and prods of her Prayer-book on -her back. Whereon Sarah, dissolved in -tears, rises to her feet once more. She is -evidently on the verge of hysterics, and -would have undoubtedly given way to them, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>but that at this moment Betty, who is afraid -of nothing under heaven, lays her hand on -Miss Barry’s arm, and forcibly pulls her back -to her accustomed place.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The hymn has now come to an end, and -only Sarah’s stifled groanings are heard upon -the air. Most people take these to be the -buzzing of the innumerable bluebottles collected -in the window-panes, so that the -whole affair goes off better than might have -been expected.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Slowly, slowly, go the minutes; slower and -slower still is the voice of the curate, as -he intones the Commandments. The bluebottles, -as if invigorated by it, buzz louder -than ever, until poor Sarah’s sobs are completely -drowned.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The heat grows more and more intense. -Jacky, beneath its pressure, has fallen sound -asleep, and is now giving forth loud and -handsome snorings. Miss Barry, horrified, -makes frantic signs to Dominick, who is next -to the culprit, to stop this unsolicited -addition to the church music that Jacky -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>has so ‘kindly consented’ to give, and Dom -waves back at her wildly. No, no, of course. -He quite understands; he will see that no -one interferes with the dear boy’s slumbers -on any account whatever. The wavings -backwards and forwards grow fast and -furious—furious on the part of Miss Barry, -and really as fast as lightning on the part -of Mr. Fitzgerald, who is having a thoroughly -<i><span lang="fr">bon quart d’heure</span></i>; but Carew ends it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>He has been trying mentally to get through -one of his papers for his next examination, -and finding Jacky’s snores a deadly interruption -to his thoughts, he fetches that resounding -hero a telling kick on a part that shall be -nameless, which brings him not only to his -senses, but the floor.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There is a momentary confusion in the -Rectory pew; but as every member of the -congregation is more or less drowsing, Jacky -is picked up and restored to his seat before -the real meaning of the confusion is known. -And, indeed, when anyone does look, all the -Barrys are sitting so demure and innocent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>that no one could connect them with anything -out of the way. Susan, alone flushed -and unnerved, in spite of her determination -not to do it, looks quickly at the Crosby -pew, to find the thief looking at her with a -singular intensity of regard. It is at this -moment that Susan, for the first time in her -young, happy life, wakes to sympathy with -those unfortunate people who sometimes wish -that they were dead.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The curate, a short, squat little man—a -man so short, indeed, that a footstool has had -to be placed in the pulpit for him to let the -congregation see him as he preaches—is now -droning away like the flies, ‘shooting out -shafts of eloquence to the bucolic mind’ is -how he puts it when writing to his people; -but even his people, if here, could hardly -catch the shafts to-day. The fact is, he has -not yet had time to get in the teeth he lost -by his fall last week; and, however admirable -his discourse may be, the beauties of -it are known to him alone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The farmers who are awake are leaning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>forward, their hands to their ears to catch -the Gospel words that never reach them. -Lady Millbank has fallen gracefully asleep. -Sarah is still weeping copiously, but now, -thank Heaven, quietly. The curate, vainly -striving to pronounce his ‘this’ and his -‘that,’ grows more and more nervous. He -leans over the pulpit, and thunders at the -sleeping farmers and at the leading families -around, in whose pews, too, Somnus is -holding a full court. Farther and farther -he leans, striving with his parishioners as -much as with his teeth; a very passion of -anxiety grows upon him. He lifts his arms -from the desk before him—the desk that is -supporting him—and waves them frantically.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Hear—hear, my brethren,’ cries he. -‘Hear and see——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>His cry, like the ‘Excelsior’ young man’s -clarion, rings loud and clear. It wakes some -of the sleepy members, who look up to see -what it is all about. But when they do look -up there is nothing to see.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Most unexpectedly and disgracefully—considering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>its relation to the Church—the footstool -has given way with a crash, and Mr. -Haldane, the curate, has given way with it, -and disappeared, holus bolus, into the big old -pulpit.</p> - -<p class='c004'>For quite a minute, though no doubt ‘to -memory dear,’ the curate is certainly ‘lost -to sight;’ and when at last he ventures once -more to mount the offending stool, and look -down at his parishioners, it is to find that the -far larger half of them are gladly streaming -down the aisle to the fresh air outside, under -the fond delusion that ‘church is over.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>These are the specially drowsy ones. The -crash caused by the curate’s unpremeditated -descent had roused them from their happy -dreams, and, on opening their eyes, seeing no -preacher in the pulpit, they had naturally -come to the conclusion that the performance -was at an end.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Vain to call them back. Mr. Haldane -spreads out his arms to heaven in a mournful -appeal, but, hearing some unmistakable tittering -to his left, turns, and incontinently flies.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Life is thorny, and youth is vain!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Not so quickly as Susan, however. He could -hardly have flown with the fleetness of that -heart-troubled nymph. She—at the first -chance, when her father, rising hurriedly at -the flight of his curate, had breathed the -blessing—had flown down the side-aisle and -through the small oak door into the golden -air outside; and from there into a small lane -filled with flowering weeds, that led straight -homewards.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Running—racing, indeed—goes Susan, with -her heart on fire, as her cheeks, and her -lovely, child-like eyes darkened and bright -with the sense of coming disaster.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She does not draw breath until she finds -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>herself safe in her own little room, with just -five precious minutes (precious, unusual five -minutes, gained only by that swift run that -has left them all behind) in which to think -out as calmly as she can what has befallen -her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>A thief! She had called him a thief! He—Mr. -Crosby—the distinguished traveller! -Oh! what is to become of her? Not even -now, at this last gasp, does she try to persuade -herself that the man in the Crosby pew -was a fraud—that he wasn’t Mr. Crosby. -She knows as positively as though she had -been introduced to him that he is Mr. -Crosby.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Introduced to him! As if——She covers -her face with her hands. No, no; there need -be no fear of that. He will go away soon—at -once. People say he cannot bear civilized -life; that he always hankers after savages, -and lions, and things. He will go away, of -course. Oh, if only he will go away soon -enough, and never come back! Susan, with -her hands before her gentle eyes, has sudden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>dreams of people who have been devoured by -lions, and for the first time fails to see the -extreme horror of it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Yes, he will go away soon; and in the -meantime—well, in the meantime it is very -unlikely that she will come face to face with -him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Susan, Susan! are you there?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes,’ says Susan. She goes to the door, -and finds Jacky on the threshold of it.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Dinner is ready,’ says that solemn youth; -‘and they sent me up for you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I can’t come down,’ says Susan. ‘I have -a headache. Jacky—dear, dear Jacky, say I -have a headache. And I have, too—I have -indeed. There won’t be any lie. The heat—you -must have felt the heat in church—you -fell asleep——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, I know,’ says Jacky, in his queer -way, that always expresses anger with difficulty -suppressed. ‘You won’t come down, -then?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No; I can’t—I——’ She lifts her hand -to her head.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>Jacky hesitates, turns slowly, and then -throws a glance at her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Susan, did you see that man in the -Crosby pew?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan’s nerves being a little overwrought, -she almost jumps at this.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, yes,’ says she in a hurried way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘He was very like the thief, wasn’t he?’ -says Jacky anxiously. Susan colours hotly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nonsense, Jacky’—with a very poor attempt -at scorn. ‘That gentleman in Mr. -Crosby’s pew was, I think, Mr. Crosby himself, -or, at all events, some friend of his.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Well, the thief was the image of him,’ -says Jacky slowly. That’s the worst of -Jacky, he is always so abominably slow. ‘I -looked at him, and I said to myself, “That’s -Susan’s thief,” and,’ with awful obstinacy, ‘I -think it was, too.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no, no!’ says Susan. ‘It was Mr. -Crosby, I tell you. I saw Lady Millbank -nod and smile at him.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Jacky considers.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Very well,’ says he, in a thoroughly unconvinced -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>tone. He moves away a bit and -then looks back. ‘If that is true,’ says he, -‘Mr. Crosby looks like a thief.’</p> - -<hr class='c014'> - -<p class='c004'>At half-past three Susan, having come to -the conclusion that sitting up here won’t help -her out of her difficulty, wanders downstairs -and into the schoolroom, where Betty makes -much of her, and makes her sandwiches out -of the still warm mutton, which, in spite -of their nastiness and her headache, Susan -devours with avidity. Hunger is a great -sauce; no one has ever yet invented one to -beat it. And perhaps, if all were known, -Susan’s ache belongs more to the heart than -the head. When the sandwiches are finished, -she declares herself much better, and Jane -coming to say that Lady Millbank is in the -drawing-room, she rises, and expresses a -desire to see her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Lady Millbank, or ‘the Sack,’ as the -irreverent young Barrys always call her, -thinks it the correct thing to be in with, and -civil to, her Rector—without giving herself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>any unnecessary trouble. The drive from -Millbank to the parish church is five good -miles, so she always makes a point of lunching -with some of her friends and taking afternoon -tea at the Rectory. Even so far she -would not have condescended, but that the -Rector, poor as he is, has sprung from a good -old stock, and that his wife was a connection -of the late Sir Geoffrey Millbank.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘So sorry to hear you have been ill,’ says -she, as Susan enters. Susan is a favourite of -hers. ‘The heat, eh?’ She speaks exactly -as she looks. She is one of those people who -can be very gracious when they like, and -perfectly abominable on other occasions. -She is ugly and shapeless, and careless about -her dress, but no one can mistake for a -minute that she is well born.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It was very warm,’ says Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You look pale, my dear. I think, Miss -Barry, she ought not to go to church this -evening.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no, of course not, Susan,’ says Miss -Barry severely; she is sitting behind a wonderfully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>battered old teapot that has certainly -seen service, and must have been pure at -heart to have come out of the trial thus -victoriously, though maimed and wounded. -It is the pride of Miss Barry’s life, and has -come down to the Rector after many days.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I suppose you saw that George Crosby has -come home?’ says Lady Millbank. ‘I had -heard a rumour of his coming a week or so -ago, but thought nothing of it. Such a man -as he is can never be relied upon, and when -he turned up actually alive last week, I was -more surprised than I can tell you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Last week! She had seen him, had -talked with him. Had he told her? Susan’s -heart sinks within her. Positive despair -makes her raise her eyes and look at Lady -Millbank. Oh, if——</p> - -<p class='c004'>But Lady Millbank is still chatting on, -and in her eyes, as they meet Susan’s, there -is no <i><span lang="fr">arrière-pensée</span></i>. No; he had not -betrayed her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I don’t suppose we shall see much of him; -he is always on the stampede,’ Lady Millbank -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>is saying. ‘One would think from his -habits that he was a criminal running before -the law. I told him so. Ah’—rising suddenly -and looking out of the window—‘there -he is! And coming here! Of course, to call -upon Mr. Barry. Your brother was a great -friend of George Crosby’s father, I think. -Eh?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There was a friendship,’ says Miss Barry. -‘Susan, how pale you are! Come out of -that dark corner, child, and sit near the -window. The air will do you good.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I like being here,’ says Susan quickly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>There is no time to say any more. Susan’s -‘thief’ is in the room.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> -</div> -<p class='c013'>‘A secret is in my custody if I keep it; but if I blab -it, it is I that am prisoner.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>The Rector has come in, and has stayed -to have a cup of tea with Mr. Crosby. Lady -Millbank declares herself charmed and very -jealous. He never leaves his beloved books -to see her! Mr. Barry smiles, and then falls -back upon the memories of Crosby’s father -that are always so dear to him. He is a tall, -gaunt man, severe, with a far-away look, and -the indifferent air of those who live with dead -authors, and who are, besides, a little worried -by the money transactions of life.</p> - -<p class='c004'>To have to think of the daily needs is -hateful to Mr. Barry, who ought to have -been a bachelor, with nothing but his notes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>to worry him, living in a world in which he -could sit loosely. Even now he sometimes -forgets how time flies, and to tell him that -Susan is almost a woman grown would have -roused him to quite an extraordinary wonder. -The world goes on whilst he stands still, and -to-day the dragging of him out of his shell, -even to the ordinary business of a drawing-room -conversation, has bewildered him. After -a little while he retires.</p> - -<p class='c004'>His sermons, his visits to the sick, the poor -(he never visits the rich unless they specially -send for him)—all these things concern him. -But when he knows himself happiest is -when his study-door is shut for the night to -all intruders, and he can read, read, read, -until the little hours begin to chime.</p> - -<p class='c004'>As Crosby entered the drawing-room, -Susan felt her heart stand still. She rose -mechanically, and held out her hand to him -as he came up to her, but she did not lift her -eyes. She felt vaguely conscious that she -had flushed over cheek and brow. Such -a blush! So quick! so deep! Oh, he must -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>have seen it, and known the meaning of -it!</p> - -<p class='c004'>If he did, he made no sign whatever; and -until the departure of Lady Millbank he -devoted himself to the Rector.</p> - -<p class='c004'>When Lady Millbank rose to say good-bye, -Susan told herself that now at last the ordeal -was at an end, and that he would go too. -But, apparently, he had no intention whatever -of stirring. And the climax came when Dom -and Carew asked him to come out into the -garden and have a cigarette. The cigarettes -were Dom’s. Mr. Crosby seemed only too -willing to accept this lively invitation, and -Dom, thrusting his arm through Betty’s, -asked her to come along with him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And you, Miss Barry,’ says Crosby, now -walking up deliberately to Susan, who is still -sitting in her shady corner. The elder Miss -Barry had gone out into the hall to bid Lady -Millbank a last adieu, and tell her of the -latest misdoings of the young women of the -Christian Association in Curraghcloyne. ‘I -hope you will come too.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>‘Oh yes, Susan, come on,’ says Betty. -‘It’s lovely outside to-day, and father won’t -be able to see the smoke through the beech -hedge.’ The Rector objects to smoking, so -that Dom and Carew have quite a time of it -keeping their pipes and cigarettes out of his -way.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I hope you will come,’ says Crosby. He -is bending over Susan now, and he has distinctly -lowered his tone. ‘Do you know, I -have come over to-day to see and thank you. -I felt it quite my duty to do it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘To thank me?’ For the first time during -the afternoon Susan looks straight at him. -Her large and lovely eyes are full of wonderment. -‘To thank me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, indeed; I have great cause to be -grateful to you,’ says Mr. Crosby, with such -extreme earnestness and gravity that she -rises. What if, after all, she was wrong, and -the thief was not really Mr. Crosby?</p> - -<p class='c004'>A cousin perhaps—a disagreeable one: -cousins are very often disagreeable, and -often, too, more like one than one’s own -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>brothers are. Of course, if he was a kinsman, -Mr. Crosby would be very grateful to -her for hushing up the whole affair, and -telling nobody. And yet——</p> - -<p class='c004'>Again she lifts her eyes and studies his -face. No, not even twins were ever so alike -as this man and the man that stole the -cherries.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Are you coming?’ calls Betty impatiently, -and Susan moves forward. In a moment she -is stepping from the low sill of the Rectory -drawing-room on to the little plot of grass -beneath, disregarding Mr. Crosby’s hand as -he holds it out to help her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>She and he are well behind the others now, -and Crosby speaks again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You don’t ask me why I am grateful,’ -says he reproachfully. ‘Don’t you care to -know? I care to tell you. I have had it on -my mind since that day in the garden. You -remember?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes,’ says Susan. She stops short, and -confronts him with flushed cheeks and nervous -eyes, but a little touch of courage that sits -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>most charmingly upon her. ‘I do remember. -You—you were the man who——’ She -hesitates.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Stole the cherries?’ suggests he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No’—coldly—‘who sat on the top of the -ladder and made fun of me.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>There is a little silence.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘That is a most unkind speech,’ says -Crosby at last. ‘After all, I don’t feel as -grateful now as I did a minute ago. I came -here to-day to thank you for looking so -kindly after my property, and you meet me -with an accusation that absolutely strikes -me dumb.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>At this Susan cannot refrain from bitter -jest.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘True,’ says she scornfully; ‘one can see -how silent you are.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Mr. Crosby regards her with apparent awe, -tempered with grief.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If you persist in your present course,’ -says he, ‘I shall commit suicide. There will -be nothing else left for me to do.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘In the meantime,’ says Susan, with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>astonishing spirit, ‘you had better come into -the garden. They are expecting you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Not so very much, after all. Betty, Carew, -and Dom Fitzgerald are engaged in a lively -discussion on Miss Barry’s wild attack on the -unoffending Sarah in church this morning, -and, in the delights of it, have almost -forgotten Mr. Crosby. The children are -playing about on the tennis-ground below, -and Crosby’s eyes fall on Bonnie, as with -great difficulty, and with the help of a stick, -he tries to follow little Tom. Jacky, in the -distance, is stretched on his stomach reading.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Those are your brothers?’ asks Crosby, -looking more deliberately at Bonnie, whose -charming little face, though pale and emaciated, -attracts him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Yes, I have four brothers and one sister.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Five brothers, I thought.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh no; Dominick Fitzgerald is our cousin. -He lives with us nearly altogether, and father -is coaching him for the Indian Civil.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I see. That little brother’—gently indicating -Bonnie—‘does not look very strong.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>‘No, he had rheumatic fever, and he has -not been’—correcting herself hastily, as -though it is impossible to her to say the -more terrible word—‘very strong since.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What a beautiful face!’ says Crosby involuntarily. -And, indeed, the loveliest flower -of all this handsome Barry family is the little -suffering cripple child.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Susan is conscious for a moment of a -choking in her throat. Oh, her little lovely -darling brother! To hear him praised is a -great joy to her, but with the joy follows -pain unutterable. If only she had looked -more closely after him! And poor, poor -mamma, who had told her to be a mother to -him! Then, all at once, she remembers the -cherries, and how he had enjoyed them, and -a queer passion of feeling, arising first of all -from the fact that Crosby had admired the -child, makes her turn to him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mr. Crosby, I want to tell you something,’ -says she timidly; ‘those cherries that you -sent me’—he is about to tease her again, to -pretend he knows nothing of the gift, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>her face, pale now and filled with a strange -but carefully-held-back emotion, keeps him -silent—‘they gave Bonnie a happy half-hour. -No matter how I am feeling towards you, -about your pretending to be—you know—still, -if only for the pleasure your cherries -gave Bonnie, I feel intensely thankful to -you. He is not strong, as you see. They -say he will never be strong again, and it was -my fault; for I forgot him one day—one day—and -mamma was dead too. I was cross to -you about your pretending to be a thief—I -hope you won’t mind me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>It is such a childish speech, and there is -such tragedy in the dark eyes! She has -not broken down at all. There is not a -suspicion of tears in her low, clear young -voice, but that the child’s ill-health is a constant -grief to her is not to be doubted for -a moment.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If it comes to that,’ says he slowly, ‘it -is I who ought to apologize. And the worst -of it is, I haven’t an apology ready. The -plain truth is that I couldn’t resist the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>situation. If I could hope that you would -try to forgive me——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He breaks off. Susan has looked at him, -and through the deep gloom of a minute ago -a smile has broken on her face. Such a -smile! It makes her look about twelve -years old, and is indescribably pretty. -‘What a lovely child!’ says Crosby to himself. -She holds out her hand to him -frankly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘But don’t tell anybody,’ says she, in an -eager little whisper.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Tell! “Is thy servant——” But the -brother over there catching cold on the grass -with a book before him—he was with you, -I think.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah, Jacky and I are chums!’ says she. -This seems to settle the question. It occurs -to Mr. Crosby that it would be rather nice -to be chums with Susan, and he vaguely -wonders if she would accept a chum who was -not one of the family. Is Dominick a chum? -But, then, he is one of the family. When -Susan has chums, does she trust them—have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>little secrets with them? If so, he -may clearly rise to the desired position in -time. He is conscious of a sense of exhilaration -as he tells himself that Susan once -regarded him as a thief, and that he is bound -by her to keep that regard a secret.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, there you are, Mr. Crosby!’ says -Carew, stopping in his discussion with Betty; -‘come here and sit down.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Don’t sit on Betty, whatever you do,’ -says Dominick from his place beside her on -the grass; ‘she’d be sure to resent it. She -takes after our own particular auntie in the -way of temper. Susan, my darling’—making -a grab at Susan’s ankle, which she has -learned from long practice to avoid—‘come -and sit down by me. No? Your brainpower -must be weak. Have a cigarette, -Mr. Crosby. You need not mind the girls. -It is all we can do to keep our “baccy” from -them.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If I wanted your nasty “baccy,”’ says -Betty, ‘it isn’t likely you would be able to -keep it from me. Give Mr. Crosby a match.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>‘Thanks, I have one,’ says Crosby. He -had accepted Dom’s offer of a cigarette -without hesitation, and, indeed, would have -smoked it to the bitter end rather than -offend any member of the little group around -him. They all please him; they all seem -in unison with him—frank, happy, rollicking -youngsters, without a scrap of real harm -amongst them. Perhaps the secret of their -success with Crosby lies in the fact that, in -spite of his being well in the thirties, he is -still a boy himself at heart, with a spice of -mischief in him not to be controlled. The -cigarette, however, proves very tolerable, -and Susan having seated herself where he -can distinctly see her, he feels that he is -going to spend an uncommonly pleasant -afternoon.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It’s a shame to say Betty’s got a temper,’ -says Susan. ‘I’m sure she hasn’t—not a -bad one, any way.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You needn’t defend me, Susan,’ says -Betty, clasping her long, lean arms behind -her head. ‘I prefer to do it for myself, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>and’—with a fell glance at the doomed -Dominick—‘I think I know where revenge -lies.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I give in!’ cries Mr. Fitzgerald frantically. -‘Betty, pax!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Never,’ says Betty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘If you burn my fly-book a second time, -I warn you that there will be murder,’ says -Dom; and then Betty has mercy.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘A public retractation, then!’ demands she -viciously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘A hundred of them. I swear to you, -Mr. Crosby, that I wronged her, and that -her temper is like that of an angel, and not -a bit like our Aunt Jeremiah’s’—softly, ‘May -I be forgiven!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Did you hear her in church?’ asks Carew, -turning to Crosby. ‘Aunt Jemima, I mean, -not Betty. She was mad with Sarah this -morning——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby looks rather helplessly round him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Another sister?’ asks he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘No, no,’ says Susan, whilst the others -explode; and Crosby, unable to resist their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>gaiety, joins in the merriment. ‘A servant——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Had a magenta feather in her hat!’ cries -Betty, roaring with laughter, ‘and Aunt -Jemima hates feathers, and——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘This is my story, Betty,’ interrupts -Carew; ‘I insist on telling it. When the -Paradise hymn began, Aunt Jemima saw -the feather——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Pounced upon Sarah!’ cries Susan, who -is nearly in hysterics. ‘Oh, did you see -her? She sang the most dreadful things -at her until the poor girl nearly fainted, -and——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And then our only auntie punched her -in the back with her Prayer-book,’ puts in -Dom. ‘Really, Betty, I did wrong you! -You aren’t in it with her. She cussed and -swore like anything, but worse than all, -Susan, was her ribald rendering of music-hall -songs within the sainted precincts of the -church.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Nonsense, Dom! you spoil the story by -exaggeration.’</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>‘Exaggeration! My dear girl, didn’t you -hear her? Why, she was shouting it! She -got rather mixed up in the music—I’m bound -to say the two times are not the same—but -she managed it wonderfully. You heard -her, Carew, didn’t you?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘“Where did you get that hat?”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>I waited for the rest, but I suppose her -courage failed her, or else the organ drowned -it; at all events, the second line,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘“Where did you get that tile?”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>did not come in. But I think we ought to -speak to our auntie, Susan, don’t you? That -sort of thing is very well outside, but in a -church! Betty, you look as if you’d love to -speak to somebody. We’ll put you on for -this job. You shall expostulate with Aunt -Jemima on her deplorable weakness for low-class -comic songs.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I shall leave you to interview her on the -subject,’ says Betty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Interview! What a splendid word!’ says -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>Dom. ‘What’ll you sell it for?’ But Betty -very properly decides on not hearing him.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Softly, sweetly, the sun is going down, -topping the distant hills, and now falling -behind them. A golden colour is lighting -all around. Overhead the swallows are -darting here and there, and from the beds -of mignonette in the old-fashioned garden -exquisite perfumes are wafted; and now ‘at -shut of evening flowers’ faint breezes rise, -and corners grow rich in shadows, and from -the stream below comes a song that makes -musical the happy hours.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Crosby, with a sigh of distinct regret, -rises to his feet.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I fear I must go,’ says he.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What, not so soon?’ cries Carew, getting -up too. Indeed, as Crosby persists, though -evidently with reluctance, in his determination -to leave them, they all get up, the -innate courtesy of this noisy group being -their best point.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Have another cigarette for the walk -home?’ says Dom hospitably.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>‘We’ll all go with you to the gate!’ cries -Betty.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I suppose a big traveller like you doesn’t -play tennis?’ says Carew diffidently, but -with an essence of hope in his tone.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, don’t I!’ says Crosby; ‘I’m quite a -dab at it, I can tell you! If I were to come -down to-morrow afternoon, would there be -any chance that any of you would be here -to play a game with me?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He looks at Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘We’ll all be here!’ cries Betty ecstatically. -To have a new element thrown into their -daily games seems too enchanting for anything. -‘You will come?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘May I?’ says Crosby. Susan has not -answered, and now he purposely addresses -her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, I hope you will!’ says she cordially. -She had been thinking hurriedly if it would -be possible to ask him to luncheon—to their -early dinner. But with the children and -Jane’s attendance! Oh no—a thousand -times no! Yet it seems so inhospitable.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>‘Thank you, I should very much like to -come. It is quite taking pity on an unfortunate -bachelor,’ says he. And this being -settled, they all in a body prepare to accompany -him to the gate. Even little Tom runs -up to them, and Bonnie, with uneven steps, -hurries as fast as the poor mite can. Susan -turns to help him, and Crosby, watching her -for a moment, follows her, and, taking the -child in his arms, without a word swings -him to his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c004'>At the gate, having bidden them good-bye, -and Dom having taken Bonnie on his -back for a race home, Crosby looks at Susan.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Are you fond of cherries?’ asks he. His -face is profoundly grave, but she can see the -twinkle in his eyes, and her own give him -back a reproachful glance.</p> - -<p class='c004'>This playing with fire is hardly prudent.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Sometimes,’ says she demurely.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘And you, Bonnie?’ asks Crosby, pinching -gently the child’s pale pretty cheek as he -rests on Dominick’s back. ‘You like them, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>I’m sure. Well, I’ll send you some to-morrow -and every day while they last, and -perhaps the red of their cheeks will run into -yours. See that it does, now.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>The child laughs shyly, and Crosby turns -to Susan again.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Good-bye, Miss Barry.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh, don’t call her that!’ cries Betty. -‘That makes her sound like Aunt Jemima. -Susan, tell him he can call you by your own -name.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>This handsome advice ought, thinks -Crosby, to fill Susan with angry confusion. -But it doesn’t.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘You may—you may indeed!’ says she, -quite sweetly and naturally, looking him fair -in the eyes. ‘I should like you to call me -Susan, and I am very much obliged to you -for promising the cherries to Bonnie.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She gives him her hand; he presses it, -and goes up the road towards his home. A -little thorn in his heart goes with him. If -he had been her own age, would she so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>readily have permitted him to call her -Susan? No doubt she regards him as quite -a middle-aged old fellow, and truly, next to -her youth, that promises to be eternal, he -is nothing less.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span> - <h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XX.</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Fear oftentimes restraineth words,</div> - <div class='line'>But makes not thoughts to cease.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The weather since the beginning of the -summer has been exceptionally warm, and -to-day has outdone itself.</p> - -<p class='c004'>Here in the Cottage garden, surrounded by -its ivied walls, the heat is excessive, and -there is a certain languor in the lithe figure -of the girl as she comes forward, the dog -beside her, to greet Wyndham, that meets -his eye. Perhaps nervousness has conduced -to the pallor that is whitening her lips and -brow, and is making even more striking the -darkness of her appealing eyes. There is -something about her so full of grief suppressed -that he hastens to allay it.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>‘I have come, you see,’ says he—he holds -out his hand, and she lays hers in it; he -holds it a moment—‘to speak about our -rent.’ He smiles at her. The smile, to tell -the truth, is a little grim, and hardly reassures -her. ‘I have come to the conclusion -that, as you wish to become my tenant, you -must pay me a huge rent.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah! and I have been thinking,’ says she -very sadly, with the mournful air of one who -is giving up all that is worth having in this -world, ‘that I shall not be your tenant at all, -and shall never pay you any rent.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Do you mean to say,’ says Wyndham, -reading her like a book, but humouring her -mood, ‘that you’ve found another house more -suited to you?’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Oh no, it isn’t that. There is no house I -shall ever like so well as this.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Then, let me tell you beforehand that I -shall charge you a very handsome rent,’ persists -Wyndham, trying to be genial. He -smiles at her, but the smile is a dismal -failure.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>‘I can’t accept your offer—I can’t indeed,’ -says the girl, who, in spite of her protests, -has brightened considerably beneath his -apparent determination to let the Cottage to -her. ‘This is your own house. Your mother -gave it to you. Mrs. Denis has told me all -about it, and if you give it to me you will -never come here again.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I shall indeed—to collect my rent,’ says -Wyndham, a little touched by her evident -earnestness, and assuming a more natural air -of lightness.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Ah, that,’ says she. She pauses a -moment, and then: ‘If’—timidly—‘you -would promise to come here sometimes to -see your dog and the flowers, I might think -of it.... I could keep out of your way -when you came. I could sit in my own -room, and you could——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘What a cheerful prospect for you!’ says -he. ‘I’m not a very agreeable fellow, I -know, when all is told; but I believe I am -so far on the road to respectability as to be -incapable of enjoying myself at the expense -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>of another fellow-creature’s comfort. Fancy -my taking the joys of the country with the -knowledge that you were stifling in some -cellar downstairs with a view to saving me -from the annoyance of your presence!’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It wouldn’t be a cellar, and it isn’t downstairs,’ -says the girl anxiously. ‘It is a -pretty little room upstairs.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘It’s all the same,’ says Wyndham. ‘The -prettiest little room in the world is a bore if -one is imprisoned in it.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>Silence follows upon this. Wyndham, -going forward, stoops down to a bed of -seedlings that he had ordered to be planted -a month ago. They are in a very promising -condition, and the regret he feels for this -little home of his that is slipping through his -fingers increases. And yet to thrust her out—he -knows quite well now that he will never -do that.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Mr. Wyndham,’ says the girl—she is at -his elbow now—‘don’t be so sorry about it; -I shall go—to-morrow, if possible.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>He is not prepared for this, nor for the soft -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>breathings of her voice in his ear. He turns -abruptly.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘All that is arranged,’ says he peremptorily. -‘You cannot go; you have nowhere -to go to, as’—pointedly—‘you tell me. In -the meantime, it is absolutely necessary that -you should have someone to live with you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There is Mrs. Denis,’ says she nervously.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Not good enough for an heiress like you,’ -returns he, smiling. Now that he has finally, -most unwillingly and most ungraciously, given -in to the fact that she is to be his tenant, he -feels more kindly towards her, and more -human. ‘You will want a lady companion -to read with you—you say you wish to go on -with your studies—and to go out with you.’</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘Go out!’ She regards him with quick -horror. ‘I shall never go out of this—never!’ -cries she.</p> - -<p class='c004'>The extraordinary passion of her manner -checks him. She has sunk upon a garden-chair, -as if incapable of supporting herself -any longer; and from this she looks up at -him with a sad and frightened face.</p> - -<p class='c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>‘I will leave,’ says she at last. It is a -most mournful surrender of hope, and all -things that make life still dear to her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘There is no necessity for that,’ says -Wyndham hurriedly. ‘If I knew more—if -I knew how to help you—but’—breaking -off abruptly—‘you yourself have decided -against that. You must pardon me. You -have already told me that you do not wish -to tell me of yourself, your past——’</p> - -<p class='c004'>She makes a little gesture with her hand. -Wyndham, standing still upon the gravelled -path, looks at her.</p> - -<p class='c004'>‘I have been thinking about that,’ says she, -‘and’—with growing agitation—‘it has -seemed very ungrateful of me to distrust -you—you who have done so much for me, -who are now giving up your lovely home for -me. Mr. Wyndham’—rising and coming -towards him—‘I have made up my mind; I -will tell you all.’</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>END OF VOL. I.</div> - <div class='c006'><span class='small'>BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_255.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c007'> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c001'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>[<em>July, 1895.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='fixed'>A List of Books Published by</span></div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>CHATTO & WINDUS</span></div> - <div>214, Piccadilly, London, W.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c003'><strong>ABOUT (EDMOND).—THE FELLAH</strong>: An Egyptian Novel. Translated -by Sir <span class='sc'>Randal Roberts</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>ADAMS (W. DAVENPORT), WORKS BY.</strong></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>A DICTIONARY OF THE DRAMA</strong>: The Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses -of the United Kingdom and America. Cr. 8vo, half-bound, <strong>12s. 6d.</strong> [<em>Preparing.</em></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES.</strong> Selected by <span class='sc'>W. D. Adams</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>AGONY COLUMN (THE) OF “THE TIMES,”</strong> from 1800 to 1870. -Edited, with an Introduction, by <span class='sc'>Alice Clay</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>AIDE (HAMILTON), WORKS BY.</strong> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>CARR OF CARRLYON.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>CONFIDENCES.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ALBERT (MARY).—BROOKE FINCHLEY’S DAUGHTER.</strong> Post 8vo, -picture boards, <strong>2s.</strong>; cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ALDEN (W. L.).—A LOST SOUL.</strong> Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, <strong>1s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ALEXANDER (MRS.), NOVELS BY.</strong> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>MAID, WIFE, OR WIDOW?</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>VALERIE’S FATE.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ALLEN (F. M.).—GREEN AS GRASS.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ALLEN (GRANT), WORKS BY.</strong></p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>THE EVOLUTIONIST AT LARGE.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>6s.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>POST-PRANDIAL PHILOSOPHY.</strong> Crown 8vo, art linen, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> each, post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>PHILISTIA.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>BABYLON.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>STRANGE STORIES.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>BECKONING HAND.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>FOR MAIMIE’S SAKE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>IN ALL SHADES.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE DEVIL’S DIE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THIS MORTAL COIL.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE TENTS OF SHEM.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE GREAT TABOO.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>DUMARESQ’S DAUGHTER.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE DUCHESS OF POWYSLAND.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>BLOOD ROYAL.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>IVAN GREET’S MASTERPIECE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE SCALLYWAG.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>DR. PALLISER’S PATIENT.</strong> Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>1s. 6d.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>AT MARKET VALUE.</strong> Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth, <strong>10s.</strong> net.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>UNDER SEALED ORDERS.</strong> Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth, <strong>15s.</strong> net.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ANDERSON (MARY).—OTHELLO’S OCCUPATION.</strong> Cr. 8vo, cl., <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ARNOLD (EDWIN LESTER), STORIES BY.</strong></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF PHRA THE PHŒNICIAN.</strong> With 12 Illusts. -by <span class='sc'>H. M. Paget.</span> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong>; post 8vo, illust. boards, <strong>2s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>THE CONSTABLE OF ST. NICHOLAS.</strong> With Front. by <span class='sc'>S. Wood</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl., <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ARTEMUS WARD’S WORKS.</strong> With Portrait and Facsimile. Crown -8vo, cloth extra, <strong>7s. 6d.</strong>—Also a <span class='sc'>Popular Edition</span>, post 8vo, picture boards, <strong>2s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>THE GENIAL SHOWMAN</strong>: Life and Adventures of <span class='sc'>Artemus Ward</span>. By <span class='sc'>Edward -P. Hingston</span>. With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>ASHTON (JOHN), WORKS BY.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>7s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE 18th CENTURY.</strong> With 334 Illusts.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE.</strong> With 85 Illustrations.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.</strong> With 82 Illusts.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON THE FIRST.</strong> 115 Illusts.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>MODERN STREET BALLADS.</strong> With 57 Illustrations.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BACTERIA, YEAST FUNGI, AND ALLIED SPECIES, A SYNOPSIS -OF.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. B. Grove</span>, B.A. With 87 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BARDSLEY (REV. C. W.), WORKS BY.</strong></p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>ENGLISH SURNAMES</strong>: Their Sources and Significations. Cr. 8vo, cloth, <strong>7s. 6d.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>CURIOSITIES OF PURITAN NOMENCLATURE.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>6s.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BARING GOULD</strong> (<strong>S.</strong>, Author of “John Herring,” &c.), <strong>NOVELS BY</strong>. -Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>RED SPIDER.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>EVE.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BARR (ROBERT: LUKE SHARP), STORIES BY.</strong> Cr. 8vo, cl., <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> ea.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>IN A STEAMER CHAIR.</strong> With Frontispiece and Vignette by <span class='sc'>Demain Hammond</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>FROM WHOSE BOURNE, &c.</strong> With 47 Illustrations.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BARRETT (FRANK), NOVELS BY.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong> each; cloth, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>FETTERED FOR LIFE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE SIN OF OLGA ZASSOULICH.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>FOLLY MORRISON.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>HONEST DAVIE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>LITTLE LADY LINTON.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>A PRODIGAL’S PROGRESS.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>JOHN FORD</strong>; and <strong>HIS HELPMATE</strong>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>A RECOILING VENGEANCE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>LIEUT. BARNABAS.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>FOUND GUILTY.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>FOR LOVE AND HONOUR.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>THE WOMAN OF THE IRON BRACELETS.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BEACONSFIELD, LORD.</strong> By <span class='sc'>T. P. O’Connor</span>, M.P. Cr. 8vo, cloth, <strong>5s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BEAUCHAMP (S).</strong>—<strong>GRANTLEY GRANGE.</strong> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <strong>2s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BEAUTIFUL PICTURES BY BRITISH ARTISTS</strong>: A Gathering from -the Picture Galleries, engraved on Steel. Imperial 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges, <strong>21s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BECHSTEIN (LUDWIG).</strong>—<strong>AS PRETTY AS SEVEN</strong>, and other German -Stories. With Additional Tales by the Brothers <span class='sc'>Grimm</span>, and 98 Illustrations by -<span class='sc'>Richter</span>. Square 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>6s. 6d.</strong>; gilt edges, <strong>7s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BESANT (Sir WALTER), NOVELS BY.</strong> -Cr. 8vo. cl. ex., <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> each; post 8vo., illust. bds., <strong>2s.</strong> each; cl. limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.</strong> With Illustrations by <span class='sc'>Fred. Barnard</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE CAPTAINS’ ROOM</strong>, &c. With Frontispiece by <span class='sc'>E. J. Wheeler</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR.</strong> With 6 Illustrations by <span class='sc'>Harry Furniss</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>DOROTHY FORSTER.</strong> With Frontispiece by <span class='sc'>Charles Green</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>UNCLE JACK</strong>, and other Stories.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>CHILDREN OF GIBEON.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE WORLD WENT VERY WELL THEN.</strong> With 12 Illustrations by <span class='sc'>A. Forestier</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>HERR PAULUS</strong>: His Rise, his Greatness, and his Fall.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>FOR FAITH AND FREEDOM.</strong> With Illustrations by <span class='sc'>A. Forestier</span> and <span class='sc'>F. Waddy</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>TO CALL HER MINE</strong>, &c. With 9 Illustrations by <span class='sc'>A. Forestier</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE BELL OF ST. PAUL’S.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE HOLY ROSE</strong>, &c. With Frontispiece by <span class='sc'>F. Barnard.</span></div> - <div class='line'><strong>ARMOREL OF LYONESSE</strong>: A Romance of To-day. With 12 Illusts. by <span class='sc'>F. Barnard</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>ST. KATHERINE’S BY THE TOWER.</strong> With 12 page Illustrations by <span class='sc'>C. Green</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>VERBENA CAMELLIA STEPHANOTIS</strong>, &c.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE IVORY GATE</strong>: A Novel.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE REBEL QUEEN.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>BEYOND THE DREAMS OF AVARICE.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>6s.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>IN DEACON’S ORDERS</strong>, &c. With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, <strong>6s.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>FIFTY YEARS AGO.</strong> With 144 Plates and Woodcuts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>5s.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES.</strong> With Portrait. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <strong>6s.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>LONDON.</strong> With 125 Illustrations. New Edition. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>7s. 6d.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON.</strong> Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, art linen, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>GASPARD DE COLIGNY.</strong> With a Portrait. Crown 8vo, art linen, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>AS WE ARE: AS WE MAY BE</strong>: Social Essays. Crown 8vo, linen, <strong>6s.</strong> [<em>Shortly.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BESANT (Sir WALTER) AND JAMES RICE, NOVELS BY.</strong> -Cr. 8vo. cl. ex. <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> each; post 8vo, illust. bds., <strong>2s.</strong> each; cl. limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>MY LITTLE GIRL.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>WITH HARP AND CROWN.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THIS SON OF VULCAN.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE MONKS OF THELEMA.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>BY CELIA’S ARBOUR.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE SEAMY SIDE.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE CASE OF MR. LUCRAFT</strong>, &c.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>‘TWAS IN TRAFALGAR’S BAY</strong>, &c.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>THE TEN YEARS’ TENANT</strong>, &c.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>⁂ There is also a LIBRARY EDITION of the above Twelve Volumes, handsomely -set in new type on a large crown 8vo page, and bound in cloth extra, <strong>6s.</strong> each; and -a POPULAR EDITION of THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY, medium 8vo, <strong>6d.</strong>; cloth, <strong>1s.</strong>; -and a NEW EDITION, printed in large type, crown 8vo, figured cloth binding, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BEERBOHM (JULIUS).—WANDERINGS IN PATAGONIA</strong>; or, Life -among the Ostrich Hunters. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BELLEW (FRANK).—THE ART OF AMUSING</strong>: A Collection of Graceful -Arts, Games, Tricks, Puzzles, and Charades. 300 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <strong>4s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BENNETT (W. C., LL.D.)—SONGS FOR SAILORS.</strong> Post 8vo, cl. limp, <strong>2s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BEWICK (THOMAS) AND HIS PUPILS.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Austin Dobson</span>. With -95 Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>6s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BIERCE (AMBROSE).—IN THE MIDST OF LIFE</strong>: Tales of Soldiers -and Civilians. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>6s.</strong>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <strong>2s.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BILL NYE’S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.</strong> With 146 Illustrations -by <span class='sc'>F. Opper</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong></p> - -<p class='c004'><strong>BLACKBURN’S (HENRY) ART HANDBOOKS.</strong></p> - -<p class='c003'><strong>ACADEMY NOTES, 1875</strong>, <strong>1877–86</strong>, <strong>1889</strong>, -<strong>1890</strong>, <strong>1892–1895</strong>. 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Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>12s.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>SOME BOOKS CLASSIFIED IN SERIES.</div> - <div class='c007'>⁂ <em>For fuller cataloguing, see alphabetical arrangement, pp. 1–26.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY.</strong> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong> per Volume.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>A Journey Round My Room.</strong> By <span class='sc'>X. de Maistre</span>. Translated by Sir <span class='sc'>Henry Attwell</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Quips and Quiddities.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. D. Adams</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Agony Column of “The Times.”</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Melancholy Anatomised</strong>: Abridgment of Burton.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Poetical Ingenuities.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. T. Dobson</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Cupboard Papers.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Fin-Bec</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>W. S. Gilbert’s Plays.</strong> <span class='sc'>Three Series</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Songs of Irish Wit and Humour.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Animals and their Masters.</strong> By Sir <span class='sc'>A. Helps</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Social Pressure.</strong> By Sir <span class='sc'>A. Helps</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Curiosities of Criticism.</strong> By <span class='sc'>H. J. Jennings</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Pencil and Palette.</strong> By <span class='sc'>R. Kempt</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Little Essays</strong>: from <span class='sc'>Lamb</span>’s Letters.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Forensic Anecdotes.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Jacob Larwood</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Theatrical Anecdotes.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Jacob Larwood</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Jeux d’Esprit.</strong> Edited by <span class='sc'>Henry S. Leigh</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Witch Stories.</strong> By <span class='sc'>E. Lynn Linton</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Ourselves.</strong> By <span class='sc'>E. Lynn Linton</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Pastimes and Players.</strong> By <span class='sc'>R. 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Page</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Puniana.</strong> By Hon. <span class='sc'>Hugh Rowley</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>More Puniana.</strong> By Hon. <span class='sc'>Hugh Rowley</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Philosophy of Handwriting.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>By Stream and Sea.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Wm. Senior</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Leaves from a Naturalist’s Note-Book.</strong> By Dr. <span class='sc'>Andrew Wilson</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>THE GOLDEN LIBRARY.</strong> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <strong>2s.</strong> per Volume.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>Diversions of the Echo Club.</strong> <span class='sc'>Bayard Taylor</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Songs for Sailors.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. C. Bennett</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Lives of the Necromancers.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. Godwin</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Scenes of Country Life.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Edward Jesse</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Tale for a Chimney Corner.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Leigh Hunt</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>La Mort d’Arthur</strong>: Selections from <span class='sc'>Mallory</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Provincial Letters of Blaise Pascal.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Maxims and Reflections of Rochefoucauld.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>THE WANDERER’S LIBRARY.</strong> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>Wanderings in Patagonia.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Julius Beerbohm</span>. Illustrated.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Camp Notes.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Frederick Boyle</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Savage Life.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Frederick Boyle</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Merrie England in the Olden Time.</strong> By <span class='sc'>G. Daniel</span>. Illustrated by <span class='sc'>Cruikshank</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Circus Life.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Thomas Frost</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Lives of the Conjurers.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Thomas Frost</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Thomas Frost</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Low-Life Deeps.</strong> By <span class='sc'>James Greenwood</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Wilds of London.</strong> By <span class='sc'>James Greenwood</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Tunis.</strong> By Chev. <span class='sc'>Hesse-Wartegg</span>. 22 Illusts.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>World Behind the Scenes.</strong> By <span class='sc'>P. Fitzgerald</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Genial Showman.</strong> By <span class='sc'>E. P. Hingston</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Story of London Parks.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Jacob Larwood</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>London Characters.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Henry Mayhew</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Seven Generations of Executioners.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Summer Cruising in the South Seas.</strong> By <span class='sc'>C. Warren Stoddard</span>. Illustrated.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>HANDY NOVELS.</strong> Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, <strong>1s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>The Old Maid’s Sweetheart.</strong> By <span class='sc'>A. St. Aubyn</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Modest Little Sara.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Alan St. Aubyn</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Seven Sleepers of Ephesus.</strong> By <span class='sc'>M. E. Coleridge.</span></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Taken from the Enemy.</strong> By <span class='sc'>H. Newbolt</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>A Lost Soul.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. L. Alden</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Dr. Palliser’s Patient.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Grant Allen</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>MY LIBRARY.</strong> Printed on laid paper, post 8vo, half-Roxburghe, <strong>2s. 6d.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>Citation and Examination of William Shakspeare.</strong> By <span class='sc'>W. S. Landor</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Journal of Maurice de Guerin.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Christie Johnstone.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Charles Reade</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Peg Woffington.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Charles Reade</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Dramatic Essays of Charles Lamb.</strong></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'><strong>THE POCKET LIBRARY.</strong> Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and hf.-bd., <strong>2s.</strong> each.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><strong>The Essays of Elia.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Charles Lamb</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Robinson Crusoe.</strong> Illustrated by <span class='sc'>G. Cruikshank</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Whims and Oddities.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Thomas Hood</span>. With 85 Illustrations.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Barber’s Chair.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Douglas Jerrold</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Gastronomy.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Brillat-Savarin</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Epicurean</strong>, &c. By <span class='sc'>Thomas Moore</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Leigh Hunt’s Essays.</strong> Edited by <span class='sc'>E. Ollier</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>White’s Natural History of Selborne.</strong></div> - <div class='line'><strong>Gulliver’s Travels</strong>, &c. By Dean <span class='sc'>Swift</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Plays.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Richard Brinsley Sheridan</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Anecdotes of the Clergy.</strong> By <span class='sc'>Jacob Larwood</span>.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>Thomson’s Seasons.</strong> Illustrated.</div> - <div class='line'><strong>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</strong> and <strong>The Professor at the Breakfast-Table</strong>. By <span class='sc'>Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.</div> - <div class='c007'><span class='sc'>Library Editions of Novels</span>, many Illustrated, crown 8vo, cloth extra, <strong>3s. 6d.</strong> each.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By F. M. ALLEN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Green as Grass.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GRANT ALLEN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Philistia.</div> - <div class='line'>Babylon.</div> - <div class='line'>Strange Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>Beckoning Hand.</div> - <div class='line'>In all Shades.</div> - <div class='line'>The Tents of Shem.</div> - <div class='line'>For Maimie’s Sake.</div> - <div class='line'>The Devil’s Die.</div> - <div class='line'>This Mortal Coil.</div> - <div class='line'>The Great Taboo.</div> - <div class='line'>Dumaresq’s Daughter.</div> - <div class='line'>Blood Royal.</div> - <div class='line'>Duchess of Powysland.</div> - <div class='line'>Ivan Greet’s Masterpiece.</div> - <div class='line'>The Scallywag.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARY ANDERSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Othello’s Occupation.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDWIN L. ARNOLD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Phra the Phœnician.</div> - <div class='line'>The Constable of St. Nicholas.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALAN ST. AUBYN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Fellow of Trinity.</div> - <div class='line'>The Junior Dean.</div> - <div class='line'>Master of St. Benedict’s.</div> - <div class='line'>To His Own Master</div> - <div class='line'>In Face of the World.</div> - <div class='line'>Orchard Damerel.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Red Spider.</div> - <div class='line'>Eve.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ROBERT BARR.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>In a Steamer Chair.</div> - <div class='line'>From Whose Bourne.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By FRANK BARRETT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Woman of the Iron Bracelets.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By “BELLE.”</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Vashti and Esther.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>Sir W. BESANT & J. RICE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>My Little Girl.</div> - <div class='line'>Case of Mr. Lucraft.</div> - <div class='line'>This Son of Vulcan.</div> - <div class='line'>The Golden Butterfly.</div> - <div class='line'>By Celia’s Arbour.</div> - <div class='line'>The Monks of Thelema.</div> - <div class='line'>The Seamy Side.</div> - <div class='line'>The Ten Years’ Tenant.</div> - <div class='line'>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</div> - <div class='line'>With Harp and Crown.</div> - <div class='line'>’Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay.</div> - <div class='line'>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Sir WALTER BESANT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>All Sorts and Conditions of Men.</div> - <div class='line'>The Captains’ Room.</div> - <div class='line'>All in a Garden Fair.</div> - <div class='line'>Herr Paulus.</div> - <div class='line'>The Ivory Gate.</div> - <div class='line'>The World Went Very Well Then.</div> - <div class='line'>For Faith and Freedom.</div> - <div class='line'>The Rebel Queen.</div> - <div class='line'>Dorothy Forster.</div> - <div class='line'>Uncle Jack.</div> - <div class='line'>Children of Gibeon.</div> - <div class='line'>Bell of St. Paul’s.</div> - <div class='line'>To Call Her Mine.</div> - <div class='line'>The Holy Rose.</div> - <div class='line'>Armorel of Lyonesse.</div> - <div class='line'>St. Katherine’s by the Tower.</div> - <div class='line'>Verbena Camellia Stephanotis.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Robert BUCHANAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Shadow of the Sword.</div> - <div class='line'>A Child of Nature.</div> - <div class='line'>Heir of Linne.</div> - <div class='line'>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</div> - <div class='line'>God and the Man.</div> - <div class='line'>Love Me for Ever.</div> - <div class='line'>Annan Water.</div> - <div class='line'>Woman and the Man.</div> - <div class='line'>The New Abelard.</div> - <div class='line'>Foxglove Manor.</div> - <div class='line'>Master of the Mine.</div> - <div class='line'>Red and White Heather.</div> - <div class='line'>Matt.</div> - <div class='line'>Rachel Dene.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. MITCHELL CHAPPLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Minor Chord.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HALL CAINE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Shadow of a Crime.</div> - <div class='line'>A Son of Hagar.</div> - <div class='line'>The Deemster.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MACLAREN COBBAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Red Sultan.</div> - <div class='line'>The Burden of Isabel.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Transmigration.</div> - <div class='line'>Blacksmith & Scholar.</div> - <div class='line'>The Village Comedy.</div> - <div class='line'>From Midnight to Midnight.</div> - <div class='line'>You Play me False.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WILKIE COLLINS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Armadale.</div> - <div class='line'>After Dark.</div> - <div class='line'>No Name.</div> - <div class='line'>Antonina.</div> - <div class='line'>Basil.</div> - <div class='line'>Hide and Seek.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dead Secret.</div> - <div class='line'>Queen of Hearts.</div> - <div class='line'>My Miscellanies.</div> - <div class='line'>The Woman in White.</div> - <div class='line'>The Moonstone.</div> - <div class='line'>Man and Wife.</div> - <div class='line'>Poor Miss Finch.</div> - <div class='line'>Miss or Mrs.?</div> - <div class='line'>The New Magdalen.</div> - <div class='line'>The Frozen Deep.</div> - <div class='line'>The Two Destinies.</div> - <div class='line'>The Law and the Lady.</div> - <div class='line'>The Haunted Hotel.</div> - <div class='line'>The Fallen Leaves.</div> - <div class='line'>Jezebel’s Daughter.</div> - <div class='line'>The Black Robe.</div> - <div class='line'>Heart and Science.</div> - <div class='line'>“I Say No.”</div> - <div class='line'>Little Novels.</div> - <div class='line'>The Evil Genius.</div> - <div class='line'>The Legacy of Cain.</div> - <div class='line'>A Rogue’s Life.</div> - <div class='line'>Blind Love.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By DUTTON COOK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Paul Foster’s Daughter.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. H. COOPER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Geoffory Hamilton.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By V. CECIL COTES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Two Girls on a Barge.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>His Vanished Star.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By H. N. CRELLIN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Romances of the Old Seraglio.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MATT CRIM.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Adventures of a Fair Rebel.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By B. M. CROKER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Diana Barrington.</div> - <div class='line'>Proper Pride.</div> - <div class='line'>A Family Likeness.</div> - <div class='line'>Pretty Miss Neville.</div> - <div class='line'>A Bird of Passage.</div> - <div class='line'>“To Let.”</div> - <div class='line'>Outcast of the People.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WILLIAM CYPLES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Hearts of Gold.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALPHONSE DAUDET.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By H. COLEMAN DAVIDSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Mr. Sadler’s Daughters.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ERASMUS DAWSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Fountain of Youth.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JAMES DE MILLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Castle in Spain.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. LEITH DERWENT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Our Lady of Tears.</div> - <div class='line'>Circe’s Lovers.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By DICK DONOVAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Tracked to Doom.</div> - <div class='line'>Man from Manchester.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By A. CONAN DOYLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Firm of Girdlestone.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By S. JEANNETTE DUNCAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Daughter of To-day.</div> - <div class='line'>Vernon’s Aunt.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Archie Lovell.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By G. MANVILLE FENN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The New Mistress.</div> - <div class='line'>Witness to the Deed.</div> - <div class='line'>The Tiger Lily.</div> - <div class='line'>The White Virgin.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By PERCY FITZGERALD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Fatal Zero.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. E. FRANCILLON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>One by One.</div> - <div class='line'>A Dog and his Shadow.</div> - <div class='line'>A Real Queen.</div> - <div class='line'>King or Knave?</div> - <div class='line'>Ropes of Sand.</div> - <div class='line'>Jack Doyle’s Daughter.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Pandurang Hari.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDWARD GARRETT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Capel Girls.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By PAUL GAULOT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Red Shirts.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CHARLES GIBBON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Robin Gray.</div> - <div class='line'>Loving a Dream.</div> - <div class='line'>The Golden Shaft.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. GLANVILLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Lost Heiress.</div> - <div class='line'>A Fair Colonist.</div> - <div class='line'>The Fossicker.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. J. GOODMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Fate of Herbert Wayne.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CECIL GRIFFITH.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Corinthia Marazion.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By SYDNEY GRUNDY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Days of his Vanity.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By THOMAS HARDY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Under the Greenwood Tree.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By BRET HARTE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Waif of the Plains.</div> - <div class='line'>A Ward of the Golden Gate.</div> - <div class='line'>A Sappho of Green Springs.</div> - <div class='line'>Col. Starbottle’s Client.</div> - <div class='line'>Susy.</div> - <div class='line'>Sally Dows.</div> - <div class='line'>A Protégée of Jack Hamlin’s.</div> - <div class='line'>Bell-Ringer of Angel’s.</div> - <div class='line'>Clarence.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Garth.</div> - <div class='line'>Ellice Quentin.</div> - <div class='line'>Sebastian Strome.</div> - <div class='line'>Dust.</div> - <div class='line'>Fortune’s Fool.</div> - <div class='line'>Beatrix Randolph.</div> - <div class='line'>David Poindexter’s Disappearance.</div> - <div class='line'>The Spectre of the Camera.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Sir A. HELPS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Ivan de Biron.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By I. HENDERSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Agatha Page.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By G. A. HENTY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Rujub the Juggler.</div> - <div class='line'>Dorothy’s Double.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JOHN HILL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Common Ancestor.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. HUNGERFORD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Lady Verner’s Flight.</div> - <div class='line'>The Red-House Mystery.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Leaden Casket.</div> - <div class='line'>That Other Person.</div> - <div class='line'>Self-Condemned.</div> - <div class='line'>Mrs. Juliet.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CUTCLIFFE HYNE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Honour of Thieves.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. ASHE KING.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Drawn Game.</div> - <div class='line'>“The Wearing of the Green.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDMOND LEPELLETIER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Madame Sans-Gene.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HARRY LINDSAY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Rhoda Roberts.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. LYNN LINTON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Patricia Kemball.</div> - <div class='line'>Under which Lord?</div> - <div class='line'>“My Love!”</div> - <div class='line'>Ione.</div> - <div class='line'>Paston Carew.</div> - <div class='line'>Sowing the Wind.</div> - <div class='line'>The Atonement of Leam Dundas.</div> - <div class='line'>The World Well Lost.</div> - <div class='line'>The One Too Many.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By H. W. LUCY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Gideon Fleyce.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JUSTIN MCCARTHY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Fair Saxon.</div> - <div class='line'>Linley Rochford.</div> - <div class='line'>Miss Misanthrope.</div> - <div class='line'>Donna Quixote.</div> - <div class='line'>Maid of Athens.</div> - <div class='line'>Camiola.</div> - <div class='line'>Waterdale Neighbours.</div> - <div class='line'>My Enemy’s Daughter.</div> - <div class='line'>Red Diamonds.</div> - <div class='line'>Dear Lady Disdain.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dictator.</div> - <div class='line'>The Comet of a Season.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GEORGE MACDONALD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Heather and Snow.</div> - <div class='line'>Phantastes.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By L. T. MEADE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Soldier of Fortune.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By BERTRAM MITFORD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Gun-Runner.</div> - <div class='line'>The Luck of Gerard Ridgeley.</div> - <div class='line'>The King’s Assegai.</div> - <div class='line'>Renshaw Fanning’s Quest.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. E. MUDDOCK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Maid Marian and Robin Hood.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Life’s Atonement.</div> - <div class='line'>Joseph’s Coat.</div> - <div class='line'>Coals of Fire.</div> - <div class='line'>Old Blazer’s Hero.</div> - <div class='line'>Val Strange.</div> - <div class='line'>Hearts.</div> - <div class='line'>A Model Father.</div> - <div class='line'>By the Gate of the Sea.</div> - <div class='line'>A Bit of Human Nature.</div> - <div class='line'>First Person Singular.</div> - <div class='line'>Cynic Fortune.</div> - <div class='line'>The Way of the World.</div> - <div class='line'>Bob Martin’s Little Girl.</div> - <div class='line'>Time’s Revenges.</div> - <div class='line'>A Wasted Crime.</div> - <div class='line'>In Direst Peril.</div> - <div class='line'>Mount Despair.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MURRAY & HERMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Bishops’ Bible.</div> - <div class='line'>One Traveller Returns.</div> - <div class='line'>Paul Jones’s Alias.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HUME NISBET.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Bail Up!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By W. E. NORRIS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Saint Ann’s.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By G. OHNET.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Weird Gift.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By OUIDA.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Held in Bondage.</div> - <div class='line'>Strathmore.</div> - <div class='line'>Chandos.</div> - <div class='line'>Under Two Flags.</div> - <div class='line'>Idalia.</div> - <div class='line'>Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage.</div> - <div class='line'>Tricotrin.</div> - <div class='line'>Puck.</div> - <div class='line'>Folle Farine.</div> - <div class='line'>A Dog of Flanders.</div> - <div class='line'>Pascarel.</div> - <div class='line'>Signa.</div> - <div class='line'>Princess Napraxine.</div> - <div class='line'>Ariadne.</div> - <div class='line'>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</div> - <div class='line'>In a Winter City.</div> - <div class='line'>Friendship.</div> - <div class='line'>Moths.</div> - <div class='line'>Ruffino.</div> - <div class='line'>Pipistrello.</div> - <div class='line'>A Village Commune.</div> - <div class='line'>Bimbi.</div> - <div class='line'>Wanda.</div> - <div class='line'>Frescoes.</div> - <div class='line'>Othmar.</div> - <div class='line'>In Maremma.</div> - <div class='line'>Syrlin.</div> - <div class='line'>Guilderoy.</div> - <div class='line'>Santa Barbara.</div> - <div class='line'>Two Offenders.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARGARET A. PAUL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Gentle and Simple.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JAMES PAYN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Lost Sir Massingberd.</div> - <div class='line'>Less Black than We’re Painted.</div> - <div class='line'>A Confidential Agent.</div> - <div class='line'>A Grape from a Thorn.</div> - <div class='line'>In Peril and Privation.</div> - <div class='line'>The Mystery of Mirbridge.</div> - <div class='line'>The Canon’s Ward.</div> - <div class='line'>Walter’s Word.</div> - <div class='line'>By Proxy.</div> - <div class='line'>High Spirits.</div> - <div class='line'>Under One Roof.</div> - <div class='line'>From Exile.</div> - <div class='line'>Glow-worm Tales.</div> - <div class='line'>The Talk of the Town.</div> - <div class='line'>Holiday Tasks.</div> - <div class='line'>For Cash Only.</div> - <div class='line'>The Burnt Million.</div> - <div class='line'>The Word and the Will.</div> - <div class='line'>Sunny Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>A Trying Patient.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Outlaw and Lawmaker.</div> - <div class='line'>Christina Chard.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. C. PRICE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Valentina.</div> - <div class='line'>The Foreigners.</div> - <div class='line'>Mrs. Lancaster’s Rival.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By RICHARD PRYCE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Miss Maxwell’s Affections.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CHARLES READE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>It is Never Too Late to Mend.</div> - <div class='line'>The Double Marriage.</div> - <div class='line'>Love Me Little, Love Me Long.</div> - <div class='line'>The Cloister and the Hearth.</div> - <div class='line'>The Course of True Love.</div> - <div class='line'>The Autobiography of a Thief.</div> - <div class='line'>Put Yourself in His Place.</div> - <div class='line'>A Terrible Temptation.</div> - <div class='line'>The Jilt.</div> - <div class='line'>Singleheart and Doubleface.</div> - <div class='line'>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</div> - <div class='line'>Hard Cash.</div> - <div class='line'>Peg Woffington.</div> - <div class='line'>Christie Johnstone.</div> - <div class='line'>Griffith Gaunt.</div> - <div class='line'>Foul Play.</div> - <div class='line'>The Wandering Heir.</div> - <div class='line'>A Woman-Hater.</div> - <div class='line'>A Simpleton.</div> - <div class='line'>A Perilous Secret.</div> - <div class='line'>Readiana.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Weird Stories.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By AMELIE RIVES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Barbara Dering.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By F. W. ROBINSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Hands of Justice.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By DORA RUSSELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Country Sweetheart.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By W. CLARK RUSSELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Ocean Tragedy.</div> - <div class='line'>My Shipmate Louise.</div> - <div class='line'>Alone on Wide Wide Sea.</div> - <div class='line'>The Phantom Death.</div> - <div class='line'>Is He the Man?</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JOHN SAUNDERS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Guy Waterman.</div> - <div class='line'>Bound to the Wheel.</div> - <div class='line'>The Two Dreamers.</div> - <div class='line'>The Lion in the Path.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Margaret and Elizabeth.</div> - <div class='line'>Gideon’s Rock.</div> - <div class='line'>The High Mills.</div> - <div class='line'>Heart Salvage.</div> - <div class='line'>Sebastian.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAWLEY SMART.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Without Love or Licence.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By T. W. SPEIGHT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Secret of the Sea.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. A. STERNDALE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Afghan Knife.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By BERTHA THOMAS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Proud Maisie.</div> - <div class='line'>The Violin-Player.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Way we Live Now.</div> - <div class='line'>Frau Frohmann.</div> - <div class='line'>Scarborough’s Family.</div> - <div class='line'>The Land-Leaguers.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By FRANCES E. TROLLOPE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Like Ships upon the Sea.</div> - <div class='line'>Anne Furness.</div> - <div class='line'>Mabel’s Progress.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARK TWAIN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The American Claimant.</div> - <div class='line'>The £1,000,000 Bank-note.</div> - <div class='line'>Tom Sawyer Abroad.</div> - <div class='line'>Pudd’nhead Wilson.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Mistress Judith.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By SARAH TYTLER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Lady Bell.</div> - <div class='line'>The Bride’s Pass.</div> - <div class='line'>Buried Diamonds.</div> - <div class='line'>The Blackhall Ghosts.</div> - <div class='line'>The Macdonald Lass.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALLEN UPWARD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Queen against Owen.</div> - <div class='line'>The Prince of Balkistan.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. A. VIZETELLY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Scorpion: A Romance of Spain.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. S. WINTER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Soldier’s Children.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARGARET WYNMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>My Flirtations.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. ZOLA.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Downfall.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dream.</div> - <div class='line'>Dr. Pascal.</div> - <div class='line'>Money.</div> - <div class='line'>Lourdes.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ARTEMUS WARD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Artemus Ward Complete.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDMOND ABOUT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Fellah.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAMILTON AIDE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Carr of Carrlyon.</div> - <div class='line'>Confidences.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARY ALBERT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Brooke Finchley’s Daughter.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ALEXANDER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Maid, Wife or Widow?</div> - <div class='line'>Valerie’s Fate.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GRANT ALLEN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Strange Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>Philistia.</div> - <div class='line'>Babylon.</div> - <div class='line'>The Devil’s Die.</div> - <div class='line'>This Mortal Coil.</div> - <div class='line'>In all Shades.</div> - <div class='line'>The Beckoning Hand.</div> - <div class='line'>Blood Royal.</div> - <div class='line'>For Maimie’s Sake.</div> - <div class='line'>The Tents of Shem.</div> - <div class='line'>The Great Taboo.</div> - <div class='line'>Dumaresq’s Daughter.</div> - <div class='line'>The Duchess of Powysland.</div> - <div class='line'>Ivan Greet’s Masterpiece.</div> - <div class='line'>The Scallywag.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. LESTER ARNOLD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Phra the Phœnician.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALAN ST. AUBYN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Fellow of Trinity.</div> - <div class='line'>The Junior Dean.</div> - <div class='line'>Master of St. Benedict’s.</div> - <div class='line'>To His Own Master.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Red Spider.</div> - <div class='line'>Eve.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By FRANK BARRETT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Fettered for Life.</div> - <div class='line'>Little Lady Linton.</div> - <div class='line'>Between Life & Death.</div> - <div class='line'>The Sin of Olga Zassoulich.</div> - <div class='line'>Folly Morrison.</div> - <div class='line'>Lieut. Barnabas.</div> - <div class='line'>Honest Davie.</div> - <div class='line'>A Prodigal’s Progress.</div> - <div class='line'>Found Guilty.</div> - <div class='line'>A Recoiling Vengeance.</div> - <div class='line'>For Love and Honour.</div> - <div class='line'>John Ford; and His Helpmate.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Grantley Grange.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Sir WALTER BESANT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Dorothy Forster.</div> - <div class='line'>Children of Gibeon.</div> - <div class='line'>Uncle Jack.</div> - <div class='line'>Herr Paulus.</div> - <div class='line'>All Sorts and Conditions of Men.</div> - <div class='line'>The Captains’ Room.</div> - <div class='line'>All in a Garden Fair.</div> - <div class='line'>The World Went Very Well Then.</div> - <div class='line'>For Faith and Freedom.</div> - <div class='line'>To Call Her Mine.</div> - <div class='line'>The Bell of St. Paul’s.</div> - <div class='line'>Armorel of Lyonesse.</div> - <div class='line'>The Holy Rose.</div> - <div class='line'>The Ivory Gate.</div> - <div class='line'>St. Katherine’s by the Tower.</div> - <div class='line'>Verbena Camellia.</div> - <div class='line'>The Rebel Queen.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>Sir W. BESANT & J. RICE.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>This Son of Vulcan.</div> - <div class='line'>My Little Girl.</div> - <div class='line'>The Case of Mr. Lucraft.</div> - <div class='line'>The Golden Butterfly.</div> - <div class='line'>By Celia’s Arbour.</div> - <div class='line'>The Monks of Thelema.</div> - <div class='line'>The Seamy Side.</div> - <div class='line'>The Ten Years’ Tenant.</div> - <div class='line'>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</div> - <div class='line'>With Harp and Crown.</div> - <div class='line'>’Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay.</div> - <div class='line'>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By AMBROSE BIERCE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>In the Midst of Life.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By FREDERICK BOYLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Camp Notes.</div> - <div class='line'>Savage Life.</div> - <div class='line'>Chronicles of No man’s Land.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By BRET HARTE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Californian Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>Gabriel Conroy.</div> - <div class='line'>The Luck of Roaring Camp.</div> - <div class='line'>An Heiress of Red Dog.</div> - <div class='line'>Flip.</div> - <div class='line'>Maruja.</div> - <div class='line'>A Phyllis of the Sierras.</div> - <div class='line'>A Waif of the Plains.</div> - <div class='line'>A Ward of the Golden Gate.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAROLD BRYDGES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Uncle Sam at Home.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ROBERT BUCHANAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Shadow of the Sword.</div> - <div class='line'>A Child of Nature.</div> - <div class='line'>God and the Man.</div> - <div class='line'>Love Me for Ever.</div> - <div class='line'>Foxglove Manor.</div> - <div class='line'>The Master of the Mine.</div> - <div class='line'>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</div> - <div class='line'>Annan Water.</div> - <div class='line'>The New Abelard.</div> - <div class='line'>Matt.</div> - <div class='line'>The Heir of Linne.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HALL CAINE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Shadow of a Crime.</div> - <div class='line'>A Son of Bagar.</div> - <div class='line'>The Deemster.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Commander CAMERON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Cruise of the “Black Prince.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Deceivers Ever.</div> - <div class='line'>Juliet’s Guardian.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAYDEN CARRUTH.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Adventures of Jones.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By AUSTIN CLARE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>For the Love of a Lass.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Paul Ferroll.</div> - <div class='line'>Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MACLAREN COBBAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Cure of Souls.</div> - <div class='line'>The Red Sultan.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By C. ALLSTON COLLINS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Bar Sinister.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Sweet Anne Page.</div> - <div class='line'>Transmigration.</div> - <div class='line'>From Midnight to Midnight.</div> - <div class='line'>A Fight with Fortune.</div> - <div class='line'>Sweet and Twenty.</div> - <div class='line'>The Village Comedy.</div> - <div class='line'>You Play Me False.</div> - <div class='line'>Blacksmith and Scholar.</div> - <div class='line'>Frances.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WILKIE COLLINS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Armadale.</div> - <div class='line'>After Dark.</div> - <div class='line'>No Name.</div> - <div class='line'>Antonina.</div> - <div class='line'>Basil.</div> - <div class='line'>Hide and Seek.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dead Secret.</div> - <div class='line'>Queen of Hearts.</div> - <div class='line'>Miss or Mrs.?</div> - <div class='line'>The New Magdalen.</div> - <div class='line'>The Frozen Deep.</div> - <div class='line'>The Law and the Lady.</div> - <div class='line'>The Two Destinies.</div> - <div class='line'>The Haunted Hotel.</div> - <div class='line'>A Rogue’s Life.</div> - <div class='line'>My Miscellanies.</div> - <div class='line'>The Woman in White.</div> - <div class='line'>The Moonstone.</div> - <div class='line'>Man and Wife.</div> - <div class='line'>Poor Miss Finch.</div> - <div class='line'>The Fallen Leaves.</div> - <div class='line'>Jezebel’s Daughter.</div> - <div class='line'>The Black Robe.</div> - <div class='line'>Heart and Science.</div> - <div class='line'>“I Say No!”</div> - <div class='line'>The Evil Genius.</div> - <div class='line'>Little Novels.</div> - <div class='line'>Legacy of Cain.</div> - <div class='line'>Blind Love.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By M. J. COLQUHOUN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Every Inch a Soldier.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By DUTTON COOK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Leo.</div> - <div class='line'>Paul Foster’s Daughter.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MATT CRIM.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Adventures of a Fair Rebel.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By B. M. CROKER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Pretty Miss Neville.</div> - <div class='line'>Diana Barrington.</div> - <div class='line'>“To Let.”</div> - <div class='line'>Bird of Passage.</div> - <div class='line'>Proper Pride.</div> - <div class='line'>A Family Likeness.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By W. CYPLES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Hearts of Gold.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALPHONSE DAUDET.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ERASMUS DAWSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Fountain of Youth.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JAMES DE MILLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Castle in Spain.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. LEITH DERWENT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Our Lady of Tears.</div> - <div class='line'>Circe’s Lovers.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CHARLES DICKENS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Sketches by Boz.</div> - <div class='line'>Oliver Twist.</div> - <div class='line'>Nicholas Nickleby.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By DICK DONOVAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Man-Hunter.</div> - <div class='line'>Tracked and Taken.</div> - <div class='line'>Caught at Last!</div> - <div class='line'>Wanted!</div> - <div class='line'>Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan?</div> - <div class='line'>Man from Manchester.</div> - <div class='line'>A Detective’s Triumphs.</div> - <div class='line'>In the Grip of the Law.</div> - <div class='line'>From Information Received.</div> - <div class='line'>Tracked to Doom.</div> - <div class='line'>Link by Link.</div> - <div class='line'>Suspicion Aroused.</div> - <div class='line'>Dark Deeds.</div> - <div class='line'>The Long Arm of the Law.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Point of Honour.</div> - <div class='line'>Archie Lovell.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Felicia.</div> - <div class='line'>Kitty.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDW. EGGLESTON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Roxy.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By G. MANVILLE FENN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The New Mistress.</div> - <div class='line'>Witness to the Deed.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By PERCY FITZGERALD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Bella Donna.</div> - <div class='line'>Never Forgotten.</div> - <div class='line'>Polly.</div> - <div class='line'>Fatal Zero.</div> - <div class='line'>Second Mrs. Tillotson.</div> - <div class='line'>Seventy-five Brooke Street.</div> - <div class='line'>The Lady of Brantome.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By P. FITZGERALD</strong> and others.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Strange Secrets.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALBANY BE FONBLANQUE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Filthy Lucre.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. E. FRANCILLON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Olympia.</div> - <div class='line'>One by One.</div> - <div class='line'>A Real Queen.</div> - <div class='line'>Queen Cophetua.</div> - <div class='line'>King or Knave?</div> - <div class='line'>Romances of the Law.</div> - <div class='line'>Ropes of Sand.</div> - <div class='line'>A Dog and his Shadow.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAROLD FREDERICK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Seth’s Brother’s Wife.</div> - <div class='line'>The Lawton Girl.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>Pref. by Sir BARTLE FRERE.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Pandurang Hari.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAIN FRISWELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>One of Two.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDWARD GARRETT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Capel Girls.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GILBERT GAUL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Strange Manuscript.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CHARLES GIBBON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Robin Gray.</div> - <div class='line'>Fancy Free.</div> - <div class='line'>For Lack of Gold.</div> - <div class='line'>What will the World Say?</div> - <div class='line'>In Love and War.</div> - <div class='line'>For the King.</div> - <div class='line'>In Pastures Green.</div> - <div class='line'>Queen of the Meadow.</div> - <div class='line'>A Heart’s Problem.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dead Heart.</div> - <div class='line'>In Honour Bound.</div> - <div class='line'>Flower of the Forest.</div> - <div class='line'>The Braes of Yarrow.</div> - <div class='line'>The Golden Shaft.</div> - <div class='line'>Of High Degree.</div> - <div class='line'>By Mead and Stream.</div> - <div class='line'>Loving a Dream.</div> - <div class='line'>A Hard Knot.</div> - <div class='line'>Heart’s Delight.</div> - <div class='line'>Blood-Money.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WILLIAM GILBERT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Dr. Austin’s Guests.</div> - <div class='line'>James Duke.</div> - <div class='line'>The Wizard of the Mountain.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ERNEST GLANVILLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Lost Heiress.</div> - <div class='line'>A Fair Colonist.</div> - <div class='line'>The Fossicker.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HENRY GREVILLE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Noble Woman.</div> - <div class='line'>Nikanor.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CECIL GRIFFITH.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Corinthia Marazion.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By SYDNEY GRUNDY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Days of his Vanity.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JOHN HABBERTON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Brueton’s Bayou</div> - <div class='line'>Country Luck.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ANDREW HALLIDAY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Every-day Papers.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Lady DUFFUS HARDY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Paul Wynter’s Sacrifice.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By THOMAS HARDY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Under the Greenwood Tree.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. BERWICK HARWOOD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Tenth Earl.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Garth.</div> - <div class='line'>Ellice Quentin.</div> - <div class='line'>Fortune’s Fool.</div> - <div class='line'>Miss Cadogna.</div> - <div class='line'>Sebastian Strome.</div> - <div class='line'>Dust.</div> - <div class='line'>Beatrix Randolph.</div> - <div class='line'>Love—or a Name.</div> - <div class='line'>David Poindexter’s Disappearance.</div> - <div class='line'>The Spectre of the Camera.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Sir ARTHUR HELPS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Ivan de Biron.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HENRY HERMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Leading Lady.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HEADON HILL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Zambra the Detective.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JOHN HILL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Treason Felony.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Lover’s Creed.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The House of Raby.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By TIGHE HOPKINS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Twixt Love and Duty.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. HUNGERFORD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Maiden all Forlorn.</div> - <div class='line'>In Durance Vile.</div> - <div class='line'>Marvel.</div> - <div class='line'>A Mental Struggle.</div> - <div class='line'>A Modern Circe.</div> - <div class='line'>Lady Verner’s Flight.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Thornicroft’s Model.</div> - <div class='line'>That Other Person.</div> - <div class='line'>Self-Condemned.</div> - <div class='line'>The Leaden Casket.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JEAN INGELOW.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Fated to be Free.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WM. JAMESON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>My Dead Self.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HARRIETT JAY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Dark Colleen.</div> - <div class='line'>Queen of Connaught.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARK KERSHAW.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Colonial Facts and Fictions.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. ASHE KING.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Drawn Game.</div> - <div class='line'>“The Wearing of the Green.”</div> - <div class='line'>Passion’s Slave.</div> - <div class='line'>Bell Barry.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JOHN LEYS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Lindsays.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. LYNN LINTON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Patricia Kemball.</div> - <div class='line'>The World Well Lost.</div> - <div class='line'>Under which Lord?</div> - <div class='line'>Paston Carew.</div> - <div class='line'>“My Love!”</div> - <div class='line'>Ione.</div> - <div class='line'>The Atonement of Leam Dundas.</div> - <div class='line'>With a Silken Thread.</div> - <div class='line'>The Rebel of the Family.</div> - <div class='line'>Sowing the Wind.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HENRY W. LUCY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Gideon Fleyce.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JUSTIN McCARTHY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Dear Lady Disdain.</div> - <div class='line'>Waterdale Neighbours.</div> - <div class='line'>My Enemy’s Daughter.</div> - <div class='line'>A Fair Saxon.</div> - <div class='line'>Linley Rochford.</div> - <div class='line'>Miss Misanthrope.</div> - <div class='line'>Camiola.</div> - <div class='line'>Donna Quixote.</div> - <div class='line'>Maid of Athens.</div> - <div class='line'>The Comet of a Season.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dictator.</div> - <div class='line'>Red Diamonds.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HUGH MACCOLL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Mr. Stranger’s Sealed Packet.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By AGNES MACDONELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Quaker Cousins.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Evil Eye.</div> - <div class='line'>Lost Rose.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By W. H. MALLOCK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Romance of the Nineteenth Century.</div> - <div class='line'>The New Republic.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By FLORENCE MARRYAT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Open! Sesame!</div> - <div class='line'>Fighting the Air.</div> - <div class='line'>A Harvest of Wild Oats.</div> - <div class='line'>Written in Fire.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. MASTERMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Half-a-dozen Daughters.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By BRANDER MATTHEWS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Secret of the Sea.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By LEONARD MERRICK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Man who was Good.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Touch and Go.</div> - <div class='line'>Mr. Dorillion.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. MOLESWORTH.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Hathercourt Rectory.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. E. MUDDOCK.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Stories Weird and Wonderful.</div> - <div class='line'>The Dead Man’s Secret.</div> - <div class='line'>From the Bottom of the Deep.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MURRAY and HERMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>One Traveller Returns.</div> - <div class='line'>Paul Jones’s Alias.</div> - <div class='line'>The Bishops’ Bible.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Model Father.</div> - <div class='line'>Joseph’s Coat.</div> - <div class='line'>Coals of Fire.</div> - <div class='line'>Val Strange.</div> - <div class='line'>Old Blazer’s Hero.</div> - <div class='line'>Hearts.</div> - <div class='line'>The Way of the World.</div> - <div class='line'>Cynic Fortune.</div> - <div class='line'>A Life’s Atonement.</div> - <div class='line'>By the Gate of the Sea.</div> - <div class='line'>A Bit of Human Nature.</div> - <div class='line'>First Person Singular.</div> - <div class='line'>Bob Martin’s Little Girl.</div> - <div class='line'>Time’s Revenges.</div> - <div class='line'>A Wasted Crime.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HENRY MURRAY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Game of Bluff.</div> - <div class='line'>A Song of Sixpence.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HUME NISBET.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Ball Up!”</div> - <div class='line'>Dr. Bernard St. Vincent.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALICE O’HANLON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Unforeseen.</div> - <div class='line'>Chance? or Fate?</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GEORGES OHNET.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Dr. Rameau.</div> - <div class='line'>A Last Love.</div> - <div class='line'>A Weird Gift.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. OLIPHANT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Whiteladies.</div> - <div class='line'>The Primrose Path.</div> - <div class='line'>The Greatest Heiress in England.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. ROBERT O’REILLY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Phœbe’s Fortunes.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By OUIDA.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Held in Bondage.</div> - <div class='line'>Strathmore.</div> - <div class='line'>Chandos.</div> - <div class='line'>Idalia.</div> - <div class='line'>Under Two Flags.</div> - <div class='line'>Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage.</div> - <div class='line'>Tricotrin.</div> - <div class='line'>Puck.</div> - <div class='line'>Folle Farine.</div> - <div class='line'>A Dog of Flanders.</div> - <div class='line'>Pascarel.</div> - <div class='line'>Signa.</div> - <div class='line'>Princess Napraxine.</div> - <div class='line'>In a Winter City.</div> - <div class='line'>Ariadne.</div> - <div class='line'>Friendship.</div> - <div class='line'>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</div> - <div class='line'>Moths.</div> - <div class='line'>Bimbi.</div> - <div class='line'>Pipistrello.</div> - <div class='line'>A Village Commune.</div> - <div class='line'>Wanda.</div> - <div class='line'>Othmar.</div> - <div class='line'>Frescoes.</div> - <div class='line'>In Maremma.</div> - <div class='line'>Guilderoy.</div> - <div class='line'>Ruffino.</div> - <div class='line'>Syrlin.</div> - <div class='line'>Santa Barbara.</div> - <div class='line'>Ouida’s Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARGARET AGNES PAUL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Gentle and Simple.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By C. L. PIRKIS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Lady Lovelace.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDGAR A. POE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Mystery of Marie Roget.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Romance of a Station.</div> - <div class='line'>The Soul of Countess Adrian.</div> - <div class='line'>Outlaw and Lawmaker.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By E. C. PRICE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Valentina.</div> - <div class='line'>The Foreigners.</div> - <div class='line'>Mrs. Lancaster’s Rival.</div> - <div class='line'>Gerald.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By RICHARD PRYCE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Miss Maxwell’s Affections.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JAMES PAYN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Bentinck’s Tutor.</div> - <div class='line'>Murphy’s Master.</div> - <div class='line'>A County Family.</div> - <div class='line'>At Her Mercy.</div> - <div class='line'>Cecil’s Tryst.</div> - <div class='line'>The Clyffards of Clyffe.</div> - <div class='line'>The Foster Brothers.</div> - <div class='line'>Found Dead.</div> - <div class='line'>The Best of Husbands.</div> - <div class='line'>Walter’s Word.</div> - <div class='line'>Halves.</div> - <div class='line'>Fallen Fortunes.</div> - <div class='line'>Humorous Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>£200 Reward.</div> - <div class='line'>A Marine Residence.</div> - <div class='line'>Mirk Abbey.</div> - <div class='line'>By Proxy.</div> - <div class='line'>Under One Roof.</div> - <div class='line'>High Spirits.</div> - <div class='line'>Carlyon’s Year.</div> - <div class='line'>From Exile.</div> - <div class='line'>For Cash Only.</div> - <div class='line'>Kit.</div> - <div class='line'>The Canon’s Ward.</div> - <div class='line'>Talk of the Town.</div> - <div class='line'>Holiday Tasks.</div> - <div class='line'>A Perfect Treasure.</div> - <div class='line'>What He Cost Her.</div> - <div class='line'>A Confidential Agent.</div> - <div class='line'>Glow-worm Tales.</div> - <div class='line'>The Burnt Million.</div> - <div class='line'>Sunny Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>Lost Sir Massingberd.</div> - <div class='line'>A Woman’s Vengeance.</div> - <div class='line'>The Family Scapegrace.</div> - <div class='line'>Gwendoline’s Harvest.</div> - <div class='line'>Like Father, Like Son.</div> - <div class='line'>Married Beneath Him.</div> - <div class='line'>Not Wooed, but Won.</div> - <div class='line'>Less Black than We’re Painted.</div> - <div class='line'>Some Private Views.</div> - <div class='line'>A Grape from a Thorn.</div> - <div class='line'>The Mystery of Mirbridge.</div> - <div class='line'>The Word and the Will.</div> - <div class='line'>A Prince of the Blood.</div> - <div class='line'>A Trying Patient.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CHARLES READE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>It is Never Too Late to Mend.</div> - <div class='line'>Christie Johnstone.</div> - <div class='line'>The Double Marriage.</div> - <div class='line'>Put Yourself in His Place.</div> - <div class='line'>Love Me Little, Love Me Long.</div> - <div class='line'>The Cloister and the Hearth.</div> - <div class='line'>The Course of True Love.</div> - <div class='line'>The Jilt.</div> - <div class='line'>The Autobiography of a Thief.</div> - <div class='line'>A Terrible Temptation.</div> - <div class='line'>Foul Play.</div> - <div class='line'>The Wandering Heir.</div> - <div class='line'>Hard Cash.</div> - <div class='line'>Singleheart and Doubleface.</div> - <div class='line'>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</div> - <div class='line'>Peg Woffington.</div> - <div class='line'>Griffith Gaunt.</div> - <div class='line'>A Perilous Secret.</div> - <div class='line'>A Simpleton.</div> - <div class='line'>Readiana.</div> - <div class='line'>A Woman-Hater.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Weird Stories.</div> - <div class='line'>Fairy Water.</div> - <div class='line'>Her Mother’s Darling.</div> - <div class='line'>The Prince of Wales’s Garden Party.</div> - <div class='line'>The Uninhabited House.</div> - <div class='line'>The Mystery in Palace Gardens.</div> - <div class='line'>The Nun’s Curse.</div> - <div class='line'>Idle Tales.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By AMELIE RIVES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Barbara Dering.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By F. W. ROBINSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Women are Strange.</div> - <div class='line'>The Hands of Justice.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JAMES RUNCIMAN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Skippers and Shellbacks.</div> - <div class='line'>Grace Balmaign’s Sweetheart.</div> - <div class='line'>Schools and Scholars.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By W. CLARK RUSSELL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Round the Galley Fire.</div> - <div class='line'>On the Fo’k’sle Head.</div> - <div class='line'>In the Middle Watch.</div> - <div class='line'>A Voyage to the Cape.</div> - <div class='line'>A Book for the Hammock.</div> - <div class='line'>The Mystery of the “Ocean Star.”</div> - <div class='line'>The Romance of Jenny Harlowe.</div> - <div class='line'>An Ocean Tragedy.</div> - <div class='line'>My Shipmate Louise.</div> - <div class='line'>Alone on a Wide Wide Sea.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Gaslight and Daylight.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By JOHN SAUNDERS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Guy Waterman.</div> - <div class='line'>The Two Dreamers.</div> - <div class='line'>The Lion in the Path.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By KATHARINE SAUNDERS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Joan Merryweather.</div> - <div class='line'>The High Mills.</div> - <div class='line'>Heart Salvage.</div> - <div class='line'>Sebastian.</div> - <div class='line'>Margaret and Elizabeth.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By GEORGE R. SIMS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Rogues and Vagabonds.</div> - <div class='line'>The Ring o’ Bells.</div> - <div class='line'>Mary Jane’s Memoirs.</div> - <div class='line'>Mary Jane Married.</div> - <div class='line'>Tales of To-day.</div> - <div class='line'>Dramas of Life.</div> - <div class='line'>Tinkletop’s Crime.</div> - <div class='line'>Zeph.</div> - <div class='line'>My Two Wives.</div> - <div class='line'>Memoirs of a Landlady.</div> - <div class='line'>Scenes from the Show.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Match in the Dark.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By HAWLEY SMART.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Without Love or Licence.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By T. W. SPEIGHT.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.</div> - <div class='line'>The Golden Hoop.</div> - <div class='line'>Hoodwinked.</div> - <div class='line'>By Devious Ways.</div> - <div class='line'>Back to Life.</div> - <div class='line'>The Loudwater Tragedy.</div> - <div class='line'>Burgo’s Romance.</div> - <div class='line'>Quittance in Full.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. A. STERNDALE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Afghan Knife.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By R. LOUIS STEVENSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>New Arabian Nights.</div> - <div class='line'>Prince Otto.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By BERTHA THOMAS.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Cressida.</div> - <div class='line'>Proud Maisie.</div> - <div class='line'>The Violin-Player.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WALTER THORNBURY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Tales for the Marines.</div> - <div class='line'>Old Stories Retold.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Diamond Cut Diamond.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Like Ships upon the Sea.</div> - <div class='line'>Anne Furness.</div> - <div class='line'>Mabel’s Progress.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ANTHONY TROLLOPE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Frau Frohmann.</div> - <div class='line'>Marion Fay.</div> - <div class='line'>Kept in the Dark.</div> - <div class='line'>John Caldigate.</div> - <div class='line'>The Way We Live Now.</div> - <div class='line'>The Land-Leaguers.</div> - <div class='line'>The American Senator.</div> - <div class='line'>Mr. Scarborough’s Family.</div> - <div class='line'>The Golden Lion of Granpere.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. T. TROWBRIDGE.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Farnell’s Folly.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By MARK TWAIN.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Pleasure Trip on the Continent.</div> - <div class='line'>The Gilded Age.</div> - <div class='line'>Huckleberry Finn.</div> - <div class='line'>Mark Twain’s Sketches.</div> - <div class='line'>Tom Sawyer.</div> - <div class='line'>A Tramp Abroad.</div> - <div class='line'>Stolen White Elephant.</div> - <div class='line'>Life on the Mississippi.</div> - <div class='line'>The Prince and the Pauper.</div> - <div class='line'>A Yankee at the Court of King Arthur.</div> - <div class='line'>The £1,000,000 Bank-Note.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Mistress Judith.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By SARAH TYTLER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Bride’s Pass.</div> - <div class='line'>Buried Diamonds.</div> - <div class='line'>St. Mungo’s City.</div> - <div class='line'>Lady Bell.</div> - <div class='line'>Noblesse Oblige.</div> - <div class='line'>Disappeared.</div> - <div class='line'>The Huguenot Family.</div> - <div class='line'>The Blackhall Ghosts.</div> - <div class='line'>What She Came Through.</div> - <div class='line'>Beauty and the Beast.</div> - <div class='line'>Citoyenne Jaqueline.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By ALLEN UPWARD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Queen against Owen.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By AARON WATSON and</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c004'>LILLIAS WASSERMANN.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Marquis of Carabas.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By WILLIAM WESTALL.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Trust-Money.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Mrs. F. H. WILLIAMSON.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A Child Widow.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By J. S. WINTER.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Cavalry Life.</div> - <div class='line'>Regimental Legends.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By H. F. WOOD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Passenger from Scotland Yard.</div> - <div class='line'>The Englishman of the Rue Cain.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By Lady WOOD.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Sabina.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By CELIA PARKER WOOLLEY.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Rachel Armstrong; or, Love and Theology.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><strong>By EDMUND YATES.</strong></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The Forlorn Hope.</div> - <div class='line'>Land at Last.</div> - <div class='line'>Castaway.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='small'>OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. 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