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| author | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-08-30 22:22:01 -0700 |
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| committer | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-08-30 22:22:01 -0700 |
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diff --git a/76769-h/76769-h.htm b/76769-h/76769-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea3c124 --- /dev/null +++ b/76769-h/76769-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6828 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + Oriole’s Daughter | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.ad {width: 34%; margin-left: 33%; margin-right: 33%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.blockquot2 { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +/* .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} */ +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} +.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 0em;} + +/* Added by Ed: */ +.text-right { + float: right; + text-align: right; +} + +/* Book list pages */ +.x-ebookmaker .book-list-box {width: 80%; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} +.book-list-box { + border: 2px solid black; + padding: 10px; + margin-left: 17%; + margin-right: 17%; +} +.book-list {text-align: left; margin-left: 1%; margin-right: 1%;} +.book-list-container {display: flex;} +/*Book list indents */ +.blin .indent0 {text-indent: 0;} +.blin .indent2 {text-indent: 2em;} +.blin .indent4 {text-indent: 4em;} + +.xsize6 {font-size: xx-large;} +.xsize5 {font-size: large;} +.xsize4 {font-size: medium;} +.xsize3 {font-size: small;} +.xsize2 {font-size: x-small;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center + } + +.illowp20 { + width: 20% + } + +.gothic { +font-size: 2em; +font-family: "Old English Text MT", Gothic, "Cloister Black", "Palatino Linotype", serif +} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76769 ***</div> + + + + +<h1>ORIOLE’S DAUGHTER</h1> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="book-list-box"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="NEW_LIBRARY_NOVELS"><i>NEW LIBRARY NOVELS.</i></h2> +</div> + +<div class="book-list-container"> +<div class="book-list"> + <div class="blin indent0"><b>THE HEAVENLY TWINS.</b> + <div class="blin indent4">By <span class="smcap">Sarah Grand</span>, Author of ‘Ideala,’ etc.</div> + <div class="blin indent4">In 3 vols.</div> + <div class="blin indent2">‘Every page is rife with wit and wisdom.’</div> + <div class="text-right"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i></div> + </div> +</div> +</div><br> + +<div class="book-list-container"> +<div class="book-list"> + <div class="blin indent0"><b>KITTY’S FATHER.</b> + <div class="blin indent4">By <span class="smcap">Frank Barrett</span>, Author of ‘The Admirable</div> + <div class="blin indent4">Lady Biddy Fane,’ etc. In 3 vols.</div> + <div class="blin indent2">‘Mr. Barrett has the true gift of the story-teller.’</div> + <div class="text-right"><i>Speaker.</i></div> + </div> +</div> +</div><br> + +<div class="book-list-container"> +<div class="book-list"> + <div class="blin indent0"><b>THE O’CONNORS OF BALLINAHINCH.</b> + <div class="blin indent4">By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Hungerford</span>, Author of ‘Molly Bawn,’ + etc.</div> <div class="blin indent4">In 1 vol. 6s.</div> + <div class="blin indent2">‘The humour of the book is delicious.’——<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></div> + <br> + </div> +</div> +</div><br> + +<div class="book-list-container"> +<div class="book-list"> + <div class="blin indent0"><b>AVENGED ON SOCIETY.</b> + <div class="blin indent4">By <span class="smcap">H. F. Wood</span>, Author of ‘The Englishman of + the Rue Cain,’ etc.</div> <div class="blin indent4">In 1 vol. 6s.</div> + <div class="blin indent2">‘Powerfully written and deeply interesting.’</div> + <div class="text-right"><i>Manchester Examiner.</i></div> + </div> +</div> +</div><br> + +<br> +<p class="center"> +LONDON:<br> +WM. HEINEMANN, 21, BEDFORD STREET, W.C. +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +ORIOLE’S DAUGHTER<br> +<br> +<i>A NOVEL</i><br> +<br> +BY<br> +<br> +JESSIE FOTHERGILL<br> +<br> +AUTHOR OF<br> +‘THE FIRST VIOLIN,’ ‘A MARCH IN THE RANKS,’ ‘PROBATION,’<br> +ETC.<br> +<br> +IN THREE VOLUMES<br> +VOL. III.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp20" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img alt="" class="w100" src="images/signet.jpg" id="img_images_deco.jpg"> +</figure> + +<br> +<p class="center"> +LONDON<br> +WILLIAM HEINEMANN<br> +1893<br> +[<i>All rights reserved</i>]<br> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ORIOLES_DAUGHTER">ORIOLE’S DAUGHTER</h2> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Before the end of June, Yewridge Hall +had been taken by the Marchmonts for +a year, and they were established in it, +not without considerable noise and bustle, +pomp and circumstance, all of which arose +from Marchmont’s rather than from his +wife’s inclinations. His stinginess, once +so notorious, had yielded, or had been +forced by circumstances to yield—at any +rate, in the matter of outside appearances. +Yewridge was a place requiring a large<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> +establishment, a staff of servants, plenty +of carriages and horses, and much movement +and opulence in its arrangements, +to redeem it from the semblance, both +inside and out, of some huge empty +barrack, devoid of comfort or anything +homelike. Perhaps it might have been +considered quite excusable and justifiable +had Marchmont decided to let it look as +gloomy as might be, while he lived in the +strict retirement called for by his state of +health. He had, however, no such intention. +Everything was arranged as +though he had intended to keep open +house, and Fulvia spoke of it to +Minna and Signor Giuseppe during +some of her frequent visits to the smaller +house.</p> + +<p>‘He says people will come to call, +and we must be ready to receive them,’ +she said, smiling slightly, with that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> +perfectly impersonal smile which baffled +Minna completely. It was as impersonal +as the smile one sees on the lips of archaic +heads, Greek, Egyptian, Etruscan—though +a great deal more beautiful—the +smile which is the same on the faces +of gods and goddesses, warriors in the last +agony or in the height of conflict, nymphs +in repose, allegoric figures—everything; +a smile conveying no expression, no +meaning, and no soul—impersonal. Such +was the smile with which Fulvia always +spoke of her husband, of his sayings and +doings, and of everything connected with +him.</p> + +<p>Minna looked at her as she said that +Marchmont expected people to call. She +was embarrassed to find an answer; at once +vague and polite, to such a statement. +Fulvia relieved her by continuing, in the +same light and frivolous tone:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> + +<p>‘The county, I suppose he means. +You see, signora mia, I am getting +quite learned in all your English superstitions. +“The county.” I know that +is the object of every well-regulated, +pious, and aspiring mind in the country +in England—to be “in” with the county. +And he thinks the county will rally round +him—round us. Did you ever hear of +such a delusion? But I don’t undeceive +him. What would be the use? It +occupies his mind, to make plans and +cheat himself in this matter. He makes +plans as to what he will do when +the county has returned from town, +and called upon us, and we upon it. +He has made me send for some new +dresses.’</p> + +<p>She laughed lightly, not gaily.</p> + +<p>‘He will very soon find that he is not +strong enough to stand it, if the county<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> +came round him ever so much,’ said Minna +deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>Fulvia shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>‘Of course he is weak, in a way. But +he would die in the effort to take any place +that was open to him, in the right sort of +society. And if he is weak, I have to be +very strong; of course I am strong, naturally, +but, you know, this constant sitting up +and these broken nights begin to tell, even +upon me.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you not sleep?’ asked Signor Giuseppe +abruptly.</p> + +<p>‘I could if I might,’ replied Fulvia +carelessly. ‘At two-and-twenty one must +be very ill indeed to have lost one’s +power of sleeping. It isn’t that. You +see, night is the worst time with him. +He often has pain then, and he sleeps +wretchedly. He often could not sleep +for months without morphia. They are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +always calling me up in the middle of +the night to go and talk to him or pacify +him.’</p> + +<p>‘You ought not to go,’ said Minna. +‘How can you be well if you burn your +candle at both ends in that way?’</p> + +<p>‘Gia! Well, what can I do?’ asked +Fulvia carelessly. ‘I often sit up with +him till about two in the morning, and +then go; but sometimes, you know, I am +really so tired, and perhaps have a hard +day before me—not here, of course, but in +other places where we have been—that I +can’t do it. So I just tell the nurse what +to do. She leaves his room for a few +minutes, and then goes back again, and +says Mrs. Marchmont begs him to excuse +her, and she will come and see him first +thing in the morning, before breakfast. +That always makes him very angry, but +he is helpless now. His anger comes to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +nothing. And of course the nurse hasn’t +been to me at all. I have told her beforehand +that I must have a whole night’s rest. +One must, you know, sometimes. And on +those nights when I know I shall not be +disturbed, don’t I sleep! I make up for +hours and hours of wakefulness then, and +my maid can hardly get my eyes open in +the morning.’</p> + +<p>‘Humph!’ snorted Signor Oriole, rising +abruptly from his chair, and with a flash +of his old rapid, irritable movement he +left the room without a word to either of +them.</p> + +<p>‘He doesn’t like what I said,’ observed +Fulvia with a heightened colour. ‘He is +just the same as ever, though he looks so +different. It is wonderful that he should +have settled down here,’ she added, as if +somewhat glad to turn the subject of her +discourse. ‘I would never have believed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +it if anyone had told me. You know, in +the bad times when he was exiled from +Italy, along with a lot of the others, and +when he was travelling about, doing all +kinds of odd things to keep himself alive, +he was in Malta and Greece and Turkey +and the Crimea and Switzerland, but he +never came to England, as so many of +his compatriots did. I have thought of +it many a time. He is so thoroughly +Southern in every thought and feeling and +impulse, and yet here he is, in this English +house, in this cold, Northern English +country.’</p> + +<p>Minna laughed a little.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, it’s quite true,’ she said; ‘it is +wonderful; and yet, you know, the English +and Italians are so much alike—the +Romans, at any rate, in some deep, far-reaching +substratum of their characters or +temperaments. I have often been struck<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +with it. It is only on the outside that we +are so different.’</p> + +<p>‘What does he do all day? What does +he study now?’</p> + +<p>‘What he always loved and always +managed to study in the midst of his +greatest troubles: archæology, and history, +and ancient art and antiquarian things—what +he calls the history of the dust of +Rome.’</p> + +<p>‘Rome,’ repeated Fulvia in a deep voice, +all her lightness of tone and manner gone. +She had clasped her hands round her knee. +‘Yes, he is Roman through and through: +who could ever be anything else who had +once been Roman? I also,’ she added +dreamily, as she looked across the dazzling +yellow green of the lawn in front of the +house towards a wooded glade of the park, +fringed by heavy trees of a deep shade of +foliage—‘I also.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> + +<p>She heaved a profound sigh, sadness itself, +deep and beyond the power of words +to describe. Minna thrilled to it. It told her +what she knew well enough of these two, the +unacknowledged father and daughter, that +despite all that might happen, though +Rome should be full of enemies for them, +and the rest of the world swarming with +friends; though utter poverty, and obscurity, +and unspeakable hardships might +be their lot there, and ease and distinction +and consideration might await them +elsewhere, yet their hearts were there, in +their own city. They were genuine +Romans.</p> + +<p>They tolerated other places and people, +they resigned themselves to endure them +as best they might; but the true, unmistakable +Roman spirit was in them—the +exclusiveness which cares not for the +stranger, but only, as it were, endures him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +on sufferance; the want of longing for any +other life than that which they could lead +within the walls of Aurelian; the haughty, +yet not ill-natured, superb contempt for +other towns, countries and peoples, which +is, as it were, the hall-mark of your true +Roman.</p> + +<p>Minna knew it perfectly well, and resented +it not in the least. She knew +the fascination of the place, and had +many a time said to herself: ‘If I were +not an Englishwoman I would be a +Roman; and if I were a Roman I should +out-Roman all other Romans in my +Romanness.’</p> + +<p>So she knew perfectly well what Fulvia’s +utterance of the word meant, and she sympathized +with her to her heart’s core.</p> + +<p>‘I suppose you have never had any +communication with Rome since you left +it?’ she asked seriously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p>Fulvia comprehended in the flash of an +eye.</p> + +<p>‘You mean, with my mother?’ she said, +in a cool, hard voice. ‘Oh, certainly not. +I never shall—never, under any circumstances. +There is one fatal obstacle to it.’</p> + +<p>‘One more than others?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. I have always cared for the +truth, and spoken the truth. Graf T——, +a friend of ours at Vienna, told me it was +the only obstacle in the way of my becoming +an accomplished stateswoman. It is a +sort of disease with me, you know, and I +quite see how very much it is against me +in many ways. I can never feel the same +to people who tell lies as to those who tell +the truth. The reason why I can be so +much with you and Beppo now is because +you always told me the truth. She lied to +me. She told me I was to be happy. +She told me lies about herself, about her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +situation, about Beppo. If she had been +openly brutal about my marriage, and had +told me the naked truth all the time; that +she meant to have money and freedom +and ease, and was going to sell me to get +them, and that she did not care for my +happiness or her own salvation, so that +she had them, I could have forgiven her +in the end, as things have turned out. +As it is, I shall never forgive her. I +shall never be able to—because she lied +to me, and persisted in it, and went on +lying to the end. I can never forgive +those lies.’</p> + +<p>‘No. But that would not deter you +from going to Rome again?’</p> + +<p>‘No.’ She glanced down at her wrist, +on which was a narrow gold bangle, with a +flat disc hanging from it, which bracelet +she always wore. Suddenly she looked up +and held out her hand and arm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> + +<p>‘Would you believe me capable of such +sentimentality?’ she said.</p> + +<p>Minna examined the trinket, as she was +evidently expected to do so. On the disc +was engraved the very common device, in +large thin letters one word above the +other—<i>Roma</i>, <i>Amor</i>.</p> + +<p>Minna smiled at first. Her eyes, her +heart smiled, and smiled with delight. +She possessed some such baubles herself, +and loved them, though she never wore +them. She smiled, therefore, looked up, +and met Fulvia’s eyes.</p> + +<p>The young woman still held out her +hand and arm, steady and untrembling. +She was not smiling. There was no +alteration in the grave, firm line of her +lips, in the straight sweep of her eyebrows, +no deeper hue on her cheek or brow; but +the light within her eyes and the expression +which softened every line of her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +face startled Minna with a great shock. +That was not a touch of girlish sentiment, +that was not a bright mist of tender tears. +No grief or regret, but an immense joy, +lay behind that look. What had joy to +do there?</p> + +<p>‘Did you buy it?’ she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>‘Buy it!’ Fulvia laughed. ‘No; one +does not buy trumpery things like that—at +least, I don’t. Had I been buying, +I would have got something more elegant, +in better taste—more <i>recherchée</i> in every +respect. I did not buy it. It was given +to me—bought off a second-hand dealer’s +stall in the Campo dei Fiori, at the price +that was asked for it, to the utter despair +of the seller. I am sure that man will +die with an unhealed wound in his heart, +caused by the conviction that had he asked +three times as much from the fool of a +foreigner he could have got it.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> + +<p>She laughed again, and pushed the +bangle further up her firm white wrist.</p> + +<p>Minna smiled constrainedly, wishing +she did not feel that disagreeable little +thrill run down her spine on hearing this +avowal; wishing also that the scene in +the picture-gallery, when she had met +Fulvia and Hans Riemann, had not +flashed with such swiftness into her +mind.</p> + +<p>It was evening, towards half-past seven, +and after the little pause which ensued +upon her last words Fulvia said she must +go or she would not be home again and +dressed in time for dinner. They dined +at eight, as Minna was aware. Marchmont +insisted upon being wheeled into +the great dining-room where the meal was +set out in state, and where, at one end of +the table, waited upon by his own servant, +he made the kind of meal which he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> +permitted to have, while his wife, at the +other end of the board, in <i>demie-toilette</i>, +ate her dinner under the auspices of a +butler and a footman of the gravest +type.</p> + +<p>It was, as she had told Minna more than +once, a ghastly entertainment; ‘but,’ she +always concluded, ‘it seems to afford him +some kind of comfort or to gratify his +love of display, or something, so I make +no objection.’</p> + +<p>Minna, as a rule, dined somewhat +earlier, but to-day she was expecting +her brother, who could not arrive in +time for her to dine before eight or +after.</p> + +<p>‘I will go with you to the gate,’ she said, +rising also; and they passed out of the +room.</p> + +<p>‘Where has Signor Oriole gone, I +wonder!’ speculated Fulvia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<p>Minna had noticed several times of +late, when he did not present himself some +time during her visit, or appear about the +time of her departure, she looked round +as if she missed him, and generally asked +where he was.</p> + +<p>‘He will, perhaps, be somewhere in the +garden,’ she said, as they went along the +hall towards the front-door.</p> + +<p>Just before they reached it was heard a +loud crunching of the gravel and rumbling +of wheels, and a waggonette drove up and +stopped before the door, looking very big, +and making a huge barrier before the low, +old-fashioned entrance.</p> + +<p>‘Aunt Minna!’ cried a shrill, excited +voice from the waggonette. ‘There they +are; I met them on the road.’</p> + +<p>‘They!’ repeated Minna. ‘Is the child +out of her senses?’</p> + +<p>She came to a dead stop, staring at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +party in the waggonette. Then she bestowed +one swift glance upon Fulvia, and +hated herself for not being able to prevent +herself from doing so. Fulvia’s face did +not change; only she looked very grave +and quiet.</p> + +<p>Rhoda had scrambled down from the +vehicle in a state of high glee. Following +her was a tall man with a pale face +and a certain severity in his expression. +This was Mr. Hamilton, whom everyone +accused of being the reverse of +severe, given to far too great a leniency +in matters as to which society held certain +unshakable traditional opinions. His +grave face relaxed as his eyes fell upon +Minna and upon the joyous figure of his +young daughter. Rising from his seat, to +get out after Mr. Hamilton, was Hans +Riemann.</p> + +<p>After a moment’s silence Minna advanced.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +Fulvia remained somewhat in the background, +gravely waiting. The brother +and sister greeted each other. Then he +said:</p> + +<p>‘My dear Minna, look here!’ He turned +to where Hans Riemann stood in the doorway, +half smiling, not in the least deprecatory, +not in the least embarrassed. +‘Hans turned up at my place last night, +not knowing I was coming here, and intending +to pay me a visit. So, as I know +you have plenty of room, I just brought +him on, and hope it is all right.’</p> + +<p>It was not all right. Minna felt most +distinctly that it was not all right; but, +even had it been a great deal more +wrong than it was, the appeal to her hospitality +would have disarmed her. She +smiled.</p> + +<p>‘Come in, Hans; there is room for you, +of course,’ she said. She could not speak<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +the words, ‘I am glad to see you,’ but she +held out her hand, and said, ‘If you can +transfer your affections from South to North +with such rapidity it is very well. You +know Mrs. Marchmont?’ she added coldly, +though she was far from feeling so. She +was inwardly furious at not being able to +pass it all lightly by, as if it had been +nothing. Scarcely giving Hans time even +to shake hands with Fulvia, she drew her +brother forward, and said:</p> + +<p>‘Richard, you have often heard me +speak of Mrs. Marchmont, whom I am +lucky enough to have now as a neighbour, +and she has heard of you from me +many a time. I want you to know one +another.’</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamilton’s calm, rather tired-looking +eyes rested openly and scrutinizingly +upon the young woman. He was older +than Minna, and scarcely resembled her at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +all in appearance. His hair was more than +grizzled; it had a distinct powdering of +white in it. Yet the face was almost the +face of a young man. All its lines, though +thin, were not mean. He wore neither +beard nor moustache. It was a curious +and unusual face, and few there were who +at first sight considered it an attractive +one.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I have heard of you,’ he said, +not smiling at all, as he held out his hand. +Fulvia put hers within it, but did not +speak. This man’s face and eyes and +voice troubled and somewhat repelled +her.</p> + +<p>It was now the turn of Hans, who +came forward with his calmly insouciant +manner, offered his hand, and bowed +low over hers. As he did so, the little +gold bangle with its jangling disc, its +‘<i>Roma</i>, <i>Amor</i>,’ slipped down, almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +over her hand. As he lifted his head +their eyes met.</p> + +<p>‘You are quite established here, then?’ +he asked.</p> + +<p>‘For the present, yes.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah! I shall hope, then, to see something +of you.’</p> + +<p>‘We must see,’ said Fulvia quietly. +She then turned towards Minna.</p> + +<p>‘Dear Mrs. Hastings, I must wait no +longer. I will run to the Hall by a short +path. Good-evening. A rivederci.’</p> + +<p>Without looking again at the two men, +she walked quickly out, through the front-door +and away.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Scarcely had she left the garden of +Minna’s house, and got into the grounds +which strictly belonged to her own, than +she saw Signor Giuseppe coming towards +her, apparently returning from his walk<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> +or wherever he had gone when he left them +so suddenly.</p> + +<p>‘You are going home?’ he asked, stopping.</p> + +<p>‘Yes; it is late. The brother and the +cousin of Mrs. Hastings have arrived,’ +said she, and, rapidly though she had been +walking, she also paused. It was very +rarely that they exchanged words when +no one else was present.</p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe seemed to forget that +he also ought to be going in, that dinner—imperious +dinner—would be ready immediately +at the small house as well as +at the great one. And Fulvia, though +she knew full well that nothing so much +exasperated her husband as waiting for +this function, and though she made it +her study not to cross him in things of +that kind—Fulvia also betrayed no haste. +Her face changed and grew softer. Signor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +Giuseppe was looking very earnestly, yea, +even wistfully, at her. She did not return +his glance. On the contrary, her eyes +were downcast—it almost appeared as if +she had not the courage to meet his +gaze.</p> + +<p>‘I will go with you to the Hall, if I may,’ +he said.</p> + +<p>‘It will give me the greatest pleasure if +you will,’ was her low-voiced response, and +they moved on. But there was no haste in +her step now. Signor Oriole, though no +weakling, was now an old man, and his +griefs and troubles had added to the years +which by nature were his. No doubt he +would have walked quickly, and hastened, +had she shown herself in a hurry. But +she did not. She waited till she found +out his pace, and then accommodated +herself to it. She was silent, but still +her eyes were downcast, and Fulvia<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> +Marchmont, in the flush of her womanhood +and in all her glorious beauty, with +that expression of greater softness relaxing +its usual smiling, cold composure, was as +lovely a thing as man or woman could +wish to look upon, be the same father or +mother, lover, husband or friend.</p> + +<p>‘You are glad to be here, near Mrs. +Hastings?’ he asked her. They spoke +Italian.</p> + +<p>‘As glad as I can be of anything,’ she +replied in a low voice. ‘I can look +forward to the summer now with peace, +at any rate. And it is better to be here +in this quiet English country place than +in some German bath or French watering-place, +or——’</p> + +<p>‘Or even some nook in Italian hills,’ +he continued for her.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, the two first would be a weariness, +with their endless monotony of fashions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +and bands, and entertainments; and the +last——’</p> + +<p>‘And the last—Frascati, for instance, or +further afield: Olevano, or Subiaco, or +Rocco di Papa. Olevano—would not +Olevano Romano please you now?’</p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe, though speaking +quietly, had forgotten himself and his +great self-restraint. He had forgotten the +stately <i>voi</i>, and had called her ‘thee’ in a +tone which seemed to stir some feeling at +her inmost heart—who should say what +feeling, what recollection of her childish +days at Casa Dietrich, when she had hung +on his arm, and teased him, and called him +Beppo, and said ‘Cattivo!’ when he would +not indulge her in some whim? She +became very white, and looked at him +speechlessly for a moment from a pair of +wide-open, dry eyes, full of a pain that +stabbed his own heart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> + +<p>‘Don’t!’ was all she said, but humbly, +deprecatingly, not sharply.</p> + +<p>‘Carina, forgive me!’ he exclaimed in +great distress, thereby making bad worse. +He stopped again. ‘It is unwise; we +had better not talk. I wish to spare +your feelings, not to hurt them,’ he said +quickly. ‘I will return now. Good-night.’</p> + +<p>He refrained from even holding out his +hand. Fulvia, with a white face and a +wan smile, bowed her head, returned his +valediction almost in a whisper, then +darted onwards at a rapid pace. Soon she +turned a corner, and was hidden from his +view by a great clump of immense evergreen +trees.</p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe turned back and went +homewards. His head was sunk, his +hands were clasped behind him, his walk +was dejected.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> + +<p>‘If I might go away while she is here—go +away, and not see it all!’ was the +thought in his heart, which was filled to +bursting with a great pain and a great +anger.</p> + +<p>‘Coward!’ then he told himself. ‘In +spite of her white face, and her grief at my +stupid mistake, I know that she prefers me +to be here. If she were asked, she would +not have me go. Ah, poverina! I wonder +if she thinks I do not know—a stupid old +fellow, engrossed in his studies, who cannot +understand a young human heart, and +its pain and its woe and its peril. Can I +not see that heart, and understand both its +weakness and its strength? Do I not +know that she has fronted the storm, and +come through it strong and proud, entitled +to mock at weaker ones? Poor Minna is +always pained by what she thinks my +child’s cynicism—a skin-deep cynicism.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> +Altro! She is steeled to meet all misfortune +with a smile, that superb smile which +only they smile who have gone through +the worst, and who know that all else +which may befall them is but trivial. +Grief and hatred and unhappiness will +neither bend nor break her—she is used to +them and despises them. But love, but +worship, but adoration from one whom she +too could love—ah!’</p> + +<p>He raised his head, and looked up into +the deep-blue sky, with its rolling white +clouds, and thought deeply, as if trying to +recollect something. Then—</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I remember—a lesson lies before +her when she could so well do with a +respite. She is like my Rome, described +by the historian from whom Minna long +ago read me the description of its walls—a +mighty city and a strong, defended on +three sides by nature as well as art, but on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +the fourth, where there was “no river to +embank, no cliff to scarp,” weak and +vulnerable. Servius made it strong by +artificial means—the city. And she too—per +Dio! A mighty defence am I, and a +virtuous example!’</p> + +<p>He laughed sarcastically at his own +reflections as he entered the house.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Fulvia’s mocking amusement at her husband’s +grandiose ideas as to the society +they would presently be called upon to +entertain was not altogether justified by +the result. A good many people did come +to call upon them—a good many more +people than Minna had expected to do so; +as for Fulvia, she had not expected anyone, +except perhaps the parson of the +parish, with whom a visit to them would +be all in the day’s work. In spite of all +her experience of the world in the last five +years, she had overrated the repellant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +power of somewhat misty antecedents when +backed by an anything but misty purse, +suddenly appearing in the midst of a +remote country district, where variety was +not too frequent, and where curiosity was +rampant. The clergyman did call, and it +was known that Mrs. Hastings was on +intimate terms with Mrs. Marchmont. +Mrs. Marchmont’s beauty, like her husband’s +riches, was a light which could not +be hidden under a bushel; it burnt through +it, and was evident to all who had the +fortune to see her.</p> + +<p>Society was kind enough to a certain +extent to glaze over the fact of Marchmont’s +being a mere parvenu, and a disagreeable +one. His illness and helplessness +were much in his favour, especially as +it was understood that he had no wish to +cloister that beautiful young wife whose +devotion and absolute propriety of conduct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +were understood to be exemplary. As the +summer went on, invitations came, all of +which he feverishly insisted upon her accepting. +She was utterly averse to it, not, +of course, from the motives attributed to +her by society, but from sheer inner joylessness, +emotional and moral starvation. +She had been smitten to the heart when +she had parted with her girlhood, and the +wonderful strength which was hers was +not the strength of joy and life, which +initiates, enjoys, anticipates, but only that +of repression and endurance. Whether +she stayed at home or whether she went +abroad was much the same to her. Each +course was equally blank and barren and +futile.</p> + +<p>But perhaps it was less troublesome to +put on the fine clothes and go and mix +with others, with ever the same glacial +smile, than to refuse to do it, and submit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +to the querulous complaints and reproaches +of her husband. Minna, who usually +loved quietness, was quite willing to break +through her habit to chaperon Fulvia, and +she went out with her constantly. There +was only one verdict as to Mrs. Marchmont. +She was beautiful; she was +clever; she was perfectly <i>comme il faut</i>; +good style, quiet, self-possessed, no nonsense +about her, ‘so much more like an +Englishwoman than a foreigner,’ some +discriminating critics said. But, then, she +had been thrown so much amongst English +people—she was so much with Mrs. Hastings—she +had taken the stamp. The +one fault that was found with her was +that she was almost too quiet—was, +at times, almost, if not quite, uninteresting.</p> + +<p>Minna heard these comments, of course, +and never replied to them. Fulvia may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +have known more of them than was supposed. +They were of about as much consequence +to her as if they had never been +uttered.</p> + +<p>Marchmont was feverishly eager to, as +she euphoniously put it, ‘make some return +for all this hospitality,’ and lawn-tennis +parties were arranged, archery was +revived, the biggest strawberries and the +thickest cream that the county produced +were freely dispensed, together with rivers +of champagne-cup and claret-cup; dances +of an impromptu nature sometimes followed +these entertainments, at which some young +people, at any rate, had a good time. +Yewridge Hall had not been so gay or +seen so much dissipation for many a year, +but, then, for many a year it had not been +inhabited by a millionaire.</p> + +<p>At all these entertainments the mistress +of the house showed herself ever the same—calm,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +cool, and beautiful, polite to all, +effusive to none. She was perfectly independent. +She chose to distinguish one +man beyond others by her preference for +his company, and by permitting him to +render her fifty little services and attentions +which many another man would have +performed with delight. She did it openly, +in the light of day, in the face of all her +guests and of her husband, on the rare +occasions when he could be present at any +of these gatherings. That man was Hans +Riemann, who accepted the distinction +accorded to him, or, rather, availed himself +of it as a matter of course, without excitement, +without showing either exultation or +embarrassment. At first, some malicious +tongues said it was odd. It went on, +whether it was odd or not, and at last +people ceased to talk about it.</p> + +<p>Hans Riemann had known Mrs. Marchmont<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +in Rome long ago, when Minna +Hastings had been her friend there; +Marchmont himself had known him there. +He always welcomed the rising painter +with effusion. It was all right, not a doubt +of it. The parties proceeded and gossip +dropped.</p> + +<p>One evening Minna, her brother, and +Hans were to dine alone at the Hall. +Signor Giuseppe, who had never entered +the house nor exchanged a word with +Marchmont, was left at home with Rhoda +Hamilton, who, as has been said, was a +fast friend of his, finding a never-failing +delight in his society. Rhoda revelled in +the stories which Signor Oriole, when he +was in a communicative humour, would +tell her.</p> + +<p>She was intelligent and sensitive, with a +nature at once strong and romantic, and +for such a girl no more delightful companion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> +could be imagined than the elderly +Italian gentleman, with his stores of learning +and knowledge and research, and with +also the background of his own life, +chequered and varied, from his early boyhood +on his father’s estate amongst the +Sicilian hills; all the strange games he +used to play, all the wild adventures he +knew of, with brigands and robbers, with +peasants and gentry—tales of savage +vendetta or romantic love, of curious +hereditary customs appertaining to his +house and family. Then, later, when he +was a youth, the burning sense of wrong +before the Italian risings against the hated +foreign rule, the yoke of the Bourbon—this +sense of wrong which ate into his +soul and into the souls of other generous, +hot-blooded lads like him; the secret societies +into which they banded themselves, +their thrilling adventures and escapes—not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> +always escapes, either; their seizure by the +minions of the foreign Government: there +was a story of one whole month in a veritable +dungeon which absolutely enthralled +Rhoda.</p> + +<p>Then the utter renunciation of his +entire inheritance in order to serve <i>la +patria</i>; his services first in the Garibaldian +army; the battles, the sorties, the fighting +in the red shirt, the wounds, the hardships, +the privations; his enrolment amongst +regular troops, the ultimate triumph, the +march into Rome through the breach by +Porta Pia, the hoisting of the tricolour on +Castel Sant’ Angelo and the Quirinal. +Different bits of this long story he would +tell her at different times, and of how he +had been so very poor ‘after the battle +was over,’ how for a time he had gained +his living by cutting cameos till he +had found shelter as a clerk for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +foreign correspondence of Gismondi and +Nephew.</p> + +<p>Rhoda listened, spell-bound, watching +with fearsome delight for what she called +the ‘gory passages,’ when Signor Giuseppe’s +head was uplifted and his nostrils +dilated, and his dark eyes flashed fire from +under his shaggy, still black eyebrows.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Aunt Minna, doesn’t he look +terrible,’ she would whisper beneath her +breath, with a delicious shudder, ‘when +he tells of battles and wounds!’</p> + +<p>Then Signor Oriole would laugh sarcastically, +and say:</p> + +<p>‘Ah, Rhoda, mia carina, you are like +all the rest of your sex—so soft and +gentle, and delighting so thoroughly in +blood. I will wager that if the amphitheatre +still existed, and the gladiators +and the wild beasts were known to be +particularly savage, you would flock there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +in crowds, even as in the days of Nero, +and Caligula and Commodus. And some +of the best seats would still be set apart +for the Vestal Virgins, who in this case +would be the daintiest and most high-born +dames in society, and who would never +fail to claim their privilege, any more than +those pagan priestesses did—you are all +alike, everyone exactly alike.’</p> + +<p>Rhoda would be uncomfortable and +abashed at this ironical address, and +would wriggle uneasily, till her old +friend—her magician, as she called him—would +go off on another tack, and, +inspired by his own mention of the +amphitheatre, would pour forth for her +his stores of learning, the history of +ancient times, and would make Rome +live for her again. Rhoda did not know +which kind of story she liked best. One +day she said to him abruptly:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> + +<p>‘You tell these things so well, I am +sure you have told them before. You say +we are all alike. Did you ever tell them to +any other girl, and did she like them too?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes!’ he answered, with something +like a start.</p> + +<p>‘She liked them?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, very much.’</p> + +<p>‘Tell me, was she an English girl or +an Italian girl?’</p> + +<p>‘An Italian girl—a Roman girl, carina.’</p> + +<p>‘And where is she now—that girl?’</p> + +<p>They were alone on this occasion. +Rhoda looked earnestly into Signor +Giuseppe’s face. A strange expression +came over it.</p> + +<p>‘That girl,’ said he very gently, ‘is now +dead.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh—h!’ breathed Rhoda, shocked +at her own indiscretion. ‘I’m sorry I +asked,’ she added softly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p>By way of answer he began to tell her +another story.</p> + +<p>These two firm friends then were left +at home, and Minna with her two men +walked across the park to the Hall.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>They were received by Fulvia alone.</p> + +<p>‘My husband is intensely disappointed,’ +she said, ‘but he is not at all well to-day. +Dr. Brownrigg was here this morning, +and absolutely forbade his coming in to +dinner. You will be kind enough to take +me by myself.’</p> + +<p>They had all enough <i>savoir faire</i> not +to betray their great exultation at the +announcement, and to say, without even +a conscious look amongst them, that they +were sorry Mr. Marchmont was suffering.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<p>The dinner was a charming one. The +conversation never ceased, and Marchmont’s +name was scarcely mentioned. +When the meal was over—they had +lingered over it—they all went out of the +dining-room together. In the hall Fulvia +said:</p> + +<p>‘If you want to smoke, do it now. I +am going to ask Mrs. Hastings to do me +a favour. Come with me,’ she added, +turning to Minna. ‘I must just go and +speak to him for a few moments before we +go to the drawing-room.’</p> + +<p>Minna assented, and they went to Marchmont’s +rooms.</p> + +<p>They found him in the midst of his +luxuries—the softly shaded lights, the +cunningly padded couches, the endless +appliances for securing ease and comfort. +He was already beginning to look very +much flushed; his hard eyes were bright,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +and his twisted mouth looked more +askew, more grotesquely sardonic than +ever.</p> + +<p>When he saw Minna, he made an +effort at something approaching politeness, +but he looked at his wife with an +irritated impatience which he did not +attempt to conceal.</p> + +<p>‘What have you been doing?’ he asked +snappishly. ‘Does it take over two hours +for four people to eat their dinner? I +thought you were never coming.’</p> + +<p>‘Have we been so long? We were +enjoying ourselves, I suppose,’ said Fulvia, +with a slight smile, as she approached his +couch. ‘Che, che! Don’t excite yourself, +or you will have a dreadfully bad +night. You know you will.’</p> + +<p>She spoke lightly, as one would speak +to a fretful child, but without any of +the tenderness one would use to such a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> +child. Her face was hard, and her eyes +undisturbed.</p> + +<p>‘Go and stand a little way off,’ he told +her, not heeding what she had said to +him. ‘I want to see what you look like. +What gown is that? How long have +you had it? It’s a new one.’ He spoke +excitedly.</p> + +<p>‘Indeed it is not. I have had it on +several times. The flowers are different, +that’s all.’</p> + +<p>‘A preposterous dress for the occasion,’ +he said crossly, but his eyes devoured +the figure that wore it, and the +face that looked so coldly and quietly +down upon him from a little distance +away.</p> + +<p>‘That is very polite to Mrs. Hastings, +who has done me the honour to come +in evening dress,’ said Fulvia, and she +pushed a chair forward for Minna. ‘Sit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +down here,’ she said to her, looking at +her with, as Minna could not help thinking, +an underlying feeling of some kind—hatred, +or despair, or a boundless ennui, +under the forced patience of her eyes—for +they were patient, those eyes of Fulvia +Marchmont, or, if it were not patience, +it was death that was in them—the death +of all susceptibility and sensibility.</p> + +<p>‘I meant no harm to Mrs. Hastings,’ +said Marchmont with a kind of disgusted +apology in his tone. Then, after a pause, +when both the women were seated, he +began:</p> + +<p>‘Fulvia, this doctor here isn’t up to +anything. I ought to have been on my +legs again long before now. Why don’t +you hurry him up? I believe you are in +league together, he and you, to keep +me ill.’</p> + +<p>‘What a horridly uncomfortable feeling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +to have!’ said his wife dryly. ‘Not +a feeling I should like to have at all. I +would much rather die at once than be +always suspecting that the people about +me were slowly killing me.’</p> + +<p>‘Die!’ he repeated angrily. ‘I don’t +mean to die, I can tell you. I mean to +get well again—of course I shall. Bless +my soul! I’m only five-and-thirty now. +The idea of a man of five-and-thirty being +incurably ill! Ridiculous! But I need +very thorough treatment, and he doesn’t +give it to me. He does nothing to make +me well.’</p> + +<p>‘No? What do you mean? What do +you want doing?’</p> + +<p>‘I want to have him dismissed, and +another sent for.’</p> + +<p>‘Another? They are not so plentiful +here. You remember what the man in +London said about you?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> + +<p>‘Of course—every word.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, has anything been neglected +which he advised? You have the little +book in which I wrote it all out. You +can check off each thing, and judge for +yourself whether or not his orders have +been obeyed. He’s the first authority +in the world on such matters, and you +know it.’</p> + +<p>A kind of inarticulate growl or snarl was +the response. Fulvia went on:</p> + +<p>‘If you mistrust Mr. Brownrigg to such +an extent, you had better tell him so yourself—I +shall not do it, for I think him +most conscientious, and much cleverer +than one would expect to find a country +practitioner in an out-of-the-way place like +this.’</p> + +<p>‘I have told him more than once,’ said +Marchmont sulkily.</p> + +<p>‘You have? And what does he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> +say to it? I should really like to +know.’</p> + +<p>‘Sometimes he laughs. The last time +he was quite angry because I said something +about you. He said, “Come! none +of that,” or something like it. It’s no good. +They are either in love with you or afraid +of you, all the lot of them. The next time +I see a doctor I don’t intend you to come +near till I’ve had it all out with him, and +got to know his real opinion about me.’</p> + +<p>‘I am sure I shall be very glad to be +away,’ replied Fulvia with icy indifference. +‘We have talked long enough about this, +too. I didn’t bring Mrs. Hastings to have +anything of this kind inflicted upon her. +Do you know what we were talking +about at dinner?’</p> + +<p>‘No—and don’t want to.’</p> + +<p>‘Very well; we’ll say good-evening, +then. It is too great a penance for my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +visitor.—Come!’ She looked at Minna, +and rose.</p> + +<p>Minna followed her example.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t go, Fulvia!’ cried her husband +in a thin, piercing voice, which had a sound +in it of fretful tears. ‘Can’t you understand +what a man feels like, mewed up here all +day, and not able to do anything that anyone +else can?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it must be very unpleasant, I am +sure,’ she replied with perfect tranquillity. +‘But that is no reason why other people +should be made uncomfortable by your +discomfort.—Come!’ She again turned to +Minna, with a smile.</p> + +<p>‘You will come back again?’ he cried in +a persistent, shrill voice.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, of course I shall come as usual,’ she +replied.</p> + +<p>Minna shook hands with the poor little +suspicious, fretful mummy of a creature,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> +disliking him a degree less than she had +ever done before. He was being punished +so obviously and so severely.</p> + +<p>They left the room, and went back +towards the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>‘A man!’ ejaculated Fulvia, half to +herself, as she paused for a moment, and +then gave a kind of laugh. ‘A man—già!’</p> + +<p>Minna made no remark beyond one to +the effect that he really seemed very ill.</p> + +<p>‘Oh yes, he is very ill,’ replied Fulvia, +shrugging her shoulders.</p> + +<p>They found Hans and Mr. Hamilton in +the drawing-room waiting for them. They +sat down in a group near one of the windows, +and left the rest of the great cold-looking +room to itself. The light grew +dimmer and dimmer. A servant came +with a lamp. Fulvia bade him place it +on a table in the corner, and not to bring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +any more lights. It made a radiant soft +yellow glow in the background, with its +gold-silk shade. They talked in low voices +about Italy, even about Rome. Hans’ eye +roved round the walls as if in search of +something.</p> + +<p>‘What are you looking for, as if you +missed something?’ Fulvia asked him.</p> + +<p>‘There is hardly a trace here, if any, +that you are a foreigner, and have lived +abroad most of your time,’ he said, laughing. +‘I speak, of course, from an English +point of view.’</p> + +<p>‘What a fine irony!’ observed Mr. +Hamilton carelessly.</p> + +<p>Hans looked nettled.</p> + +<p>Fulvia said he was right.</p> + +<p>‘So far as this room goes, at any rate,’ +she added. ‘But Mrs. Hastings knows that +I have things upstairs, in my own sitting-room.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p> + +<p>‘For example?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh,’ said Fulvia very gently, but with +a change in her voice for all that, ‘two of +Melozzo da Forli’s angels.’</p> + +<p>‘Those in the Sacristy dei Canonici, do +you mean?’ asked Hans eagerly.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, the divinely sentimental one, and +the one with a drum—a kind of drum; do +you remember? I have other things, too. +Some of those white angels which are in +one of the chapels, a broken-down place +belonging to S. Gregorio Magno. Do +you remember those, too?’</p> + +<p>‘Do I remember?’ he again repeated. +‘Per Dio! do I remember?’</p> + +<p>‘I should never have seen those pictures +but for Mrs. Hastings,’ continued Fulvia. +‘I don’t think Roman girls as a rule know +much of what there is all around them in +their own city. Even Bep——’</p> + +<p>She stopped suddenly and crimsoned.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +There was a silence. Even Fulvia was +embarrassed. Minna came to the rescue +by asking Hans about his travels of last +year.</p> + +<p>He related some of his adventures in +out-of-the-way places, and said carelessly +that he thought of going soon to the +Caucasus, where there was magnificent +scenery, and of there making a series of +landscape and costume studies, bringing +them home, and exhibiting them in London.</p> + +<p>‘Of course I should make them very +realistic and very bizarre,’ he added; ‘that +is the only road to name and fortune now. +Of course, too, if I went, I should have to +stay an awfully long time to accomplish +what I want to do.’</p> + +<p>Another pause. Minna wondered if it +was only her excited imagination which saw +a leaden pallor overspread Fulvia’s face. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +was Mr. Hamilton who at last asked, in a +dry kind of voice:</p> + +<p>‘Should you go for pleasure exactly?’</p> + +<p>‘For pleasure and for art,’ replied Hans +promptly. ‘For what else should I go?’</p> + +<p>‘There might be many reasons,’ was the +reply, in a tone of profound indifference. +Yet to this indifference there was, as it +were, an edge which seemed in some way +to pique or offend Hans. He rose suddenly +from his chair, observing abruptly:</p> + +<p>‘I cannot tell what on earth you mean, +Hamilton.’ Then he stood before the +window which looked across the park. +‘From here,’ he observed, in a strangled +kind of voice, ‘one can see the trees of +your garden, Minna.’</p> + +<p>‘What a discovery! what a revelation +to me!’ said she, laughing. ‘Have you +only just found it out?’</p> + +<p>‘Doubt is cast upon everything that I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +say,’ exclaimed Hans, in a tone of annoyance. +‘Were you aware of those trees, +Mrs. Marchmont?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>‘Coming to the edge of the wood, one +might signal, if necessary, to the Hall. +Did you never find it unpleasant, Minna, +when the Parkynsons were here?’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly not. The Parkynsons were +well-behaved people, and I trust I am the +same. Why should I have found it unpleasant?’</p> + +<p>After this exchange of civilities of a +dubious kind, the conversation flagged. +Though it was nearing the end of July, +the light continued strong and clear in that +Northern sky until a late hour. They did +not stay till late—left, in fact, so early that +it was still daylight out-of-doors, and +Fulvia said she would walk with them +part of the way. She took a light shawl<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> +over her arm, and they paced slowly along +in the delicious summer evening. The air +was filled with scents of flowers and hay; +the thick trees stood motionless: their +voices, if they raised them in the least, +sounded echoing and clear.</p> + +<p>‘It is lovely,’ said Fulvia, with a full sigh +as of one who passes suddenly from pain +to ease. She looked up into the glory of +the darkening sky. ‘It rests one only to +feel it.’</p> + +<p>She was walking in advance with Minna +and Richard Hamilton. The gravel drive +was wide enough for half a dozen persons +to walk abreast upon it, but Hans hung +behind. As they drew near Minna’s +domain, Fulvia said she must turn +back. It was then that Hans stepped +forward, saying in a matter-of-course tone:</p> + +<p>‘You will not go alone. I shall walk +with you to the house.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<p>‘As you like,’ replied Fulvia indifferently.</p> + +<p>She took leave of Minna and Mr. +Hamilton, and turned. Hans was by her +side.</p> + +<p>The brother and sister went on in +silence for a little time, till at last Minna +said, in a tone of vexation, deep though +muffled:</p> + +<p>‘That was pretty strong, I must say. +Richard, why did you not go back with +them too?’</p> + +<p>‘Do you think they wanted me?’</p> + +<p>‘What does it matter whether they +wanted you or not? I wish—oh, I wish +so many things! You do not know how +wild with vexation I was, when I saw +Hans sitting beside you in the waggonette +that evening! It was such impudence in +him to come without an invitation!’</p> + +<p>‘He said you had invited him.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> + +<p>‘I never did. He invited himself. Of +course I could not say no. From the very +first I have mistrusted him. He was in +love with her in Rome when she was a +mere child, and——’</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamilton shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t think you see the situation +clearly,’ he said, in his indifferent way. +‘There is a situation, and it is one in which +no outsider can do anything. For her,’ he +added after a full stop, ‘except herself, of +course. Whether she is strong or weak, it +will prove.’</p> + +<p>‘She is strong,’ Minna asseverated, almost +passionately. ‘She must be tremendously +strong, or how could she have +lived through all she has had to live +through, and have come out of it so +splendidly?’</p> + +<p>‘That’s one kind of strength—a purely +negative kind, of which you women constantly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +possess so much. Her pride has +helped her through that, and an obstinate +determination not to be dragged down by +her husband to his level. She has brains, +so of course the suffering must have been +much more acute than if she had been a +mere block of wood. But people can so +often be strong through every kind of +cruelty and hardness, and yet collapse at +the first word of affection or sympathy—especially +that kind of sympathy, of one +sex to the other.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh Richard! The first word!’</p> + +<p>‘I am saying nothing. I say, if she is +to be helped out of this, it must be by her +own strength.’</p> + +<p>‘I wish Hans were in the Caucasus now, +and would stay there,’ she said, with a +bitter, uneasy resentment.</p> + +<p>‘But he isn’t. And the Caucasus is a +long way off. Here we are, at your house,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +and here is Signor Oriole walking about +the garden.’</p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe was pacing about a +round sweep of gravel in front of the +house, his hands clasped behind him, his +head slightly bowed, his eyes fixed upon +the marks left in the gravel by his own +footsteps.</p> + +<p>He was so lost in thought that Minna +had to speak his name before he noticed +them.</p> + +<p>‘You have returned?’ he said, smiling; +and then, looking round, his face suddenly +became shadowed.</p> + +<p>‘Riemann?’ he asked. ‘Where is he?’</p> + +<p>‘Here at your service,’ replied Hans, +just behind them, and Minna, at least, +instantly began to be thoroughly ashamed +of what she called her own unworthy suspicions. +She spoke to Hans with a cordiality +which was almost eager.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> + +<p>They lingered a little out-of-doors, still +enjoying the beauty of the night, and loath +to leave it. Then the whole party went +into the house.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>In spite of all the care bestowed upon +him, and of his own unrelaxing efforts to +fulfil his doctor’s promises that he should +get well, Marchmont’s health did not <a id="Change1"></a><ins title="Original has ‘improve’">improve.</ins> +There was not, said the medical +men, the least real danger to his life; the +probability was that, as he grew more helpless, +his hold on his life would grow +stronger.</p> + +<p>‘In fact,’ said Mr. Brownrigg to Fulvia, +in a private interview after Marchmont +had had a very bad night, ‘there is no +reason why he should not live to be an old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> +man. He will have every care and consideration; +he has no worries; yes, he +will settle down into a permanent invalid, +but not one to whose life there is any +imminent danger.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, he will have every care and +consideration,’ said Fulvia dreamily.</p> + +<p>She smiled as Mr. Brownrigg rose to +take his leave.</p> + +<p>All the gaiety and visitors had been +strictly forbidden. The guest-chambers +were empty, the gardens and park untenanted. +The house was more like the +barrack of a regiment of dead soldiers than +ever.</p> + +<p>As the days went on Marchmont grew +more dissatisfied and restless, more exacting +and more difficult to manage. His +brain was not in the least touched by his +illness; only his natural suspiciousness +seemed to grow ever keener and sharper,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> +and his curiosity and determination to +know everything, down to the minutest +detail, of what went on in the household, +more boundless and ungovernable. As +August progressed, the lives of those at +the great house did not grow happier. +Marchmont’s nurse, though endowed with +quite as much patience as the rest of her +kind, grew restive, and told Fulvia one +day that as a rule she could stand any kind +of patient by simply taking no notice of +his ‘tantrums,’ as she was pleased to call +them; but that with Mr. Marchmont this +was impossible, as he had a way with him +more irritating and obnoxious than that +of anyone whom she had ever nursed +before.</p> + +<p>His man also, a valuable servant, and +one who knew that he had in some respects +a very good place, became rebellious about +the same time. Somehow or other the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +domestic phalanx had got wind of what +Mr. Brownrigg had said—that the invalid +was not in the least likely to die, only to +grow more obnoxious—and somehow it +then dawned upon them all that, whether +they said so or not, this was a great and +bitter blow—a terrible disappointment. +They did not speak it out, no one spoke +it out; but they showed it by short tempers, +irritability, and a general air of disgust +and tendency to mutiny. Morrison +and the nurse chose the same day on +which to utter their respective protests. +Morrison said that his post would be a +hard one at any wages, but that when he +was told by his master that he was worth +nothing, and that the wages of a stable-boy +would more than pay for his services, he +felt that it was not worth his while to +remain.</p> + +<p>Fulvia listened to them both, giving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +them their interviews one after the other. +She heard with grave dignity what they +had to say. She found their complaints +perfectly rational, and told them so. +She asked the nurse to remain as long as +she could, and then she would be relieved +in the order of things, according to the +rules of her institution. To Morrison she +simply explained the case, and said openly +that it depended on his goodwill whether +he endured it any longer.</p> + +<p>‘If he ever gave one word of thanks, +ma’am,’ said the man, ‘or ever spoke +pleasant to me, I could do anything, for it +must be awful to be laid on your back in +that way, so helpless, and he’s younger +than I am. But I have to wait on him +hand and foot, and then be abused for it. +It’s more than flesh and blood——’</p> + +<p>‘He will never thank you,’ said Fulvia +calmly. ‘You have been with us ever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> +since he began to be ill, and you must +know that. He will never thank you. +There is only me to do that, and I can +assure you I appreciate all you have done +to lighten my anxiety in the matter. I am +very much tied as it is. If it were not for +you, I should be very badly off. I shall +be extremely sorry if you go, and you may +be sure that everything you do for your +master you do in a sense for me. I cannot +say any more. If you will go you will +go. I cannot help it!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, ma’am, to accommodate you, I’ll +try again. You are a very good mistress, +so just and so liberal—all say that in the +servants’ hall, and we all feel it,’ said +Morrison handsomely. ‘From Mrs. Perkins +down to the scullery-maid, not one of +us ever thinks that you want to do us a +wrong.’</p> + +<p>‘I am glad to hear it. You have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +guessed my feelings, at any rate, correctly. +I wish all to be satisfied and happy as—possible.’ +The words on her lips had +been, ‘as I am sad and hopeless,’ but she +stopped in time. Morrison retired, conquered, +and Fulvia was left to realize that +the words of praise given her by a +domestic servant afforded her about as +much pleasure as any she was likely to +experience within the walls of her own +house.</p> + +<p>Left alone, she sat still for awhile, and +then, lifting her arms, clasped her hands +above her head, saying to herself, ‘How +long will it go on? How long shall I be +able to endure it?’</p> + +<p>For ever, seemed to be the answer. +Had she not asked that very question of +Minna in the days before her marriage? +‘Do you think I can go on living in this +way for three weeks longer? Don’t you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +think something is sure to happen?’ Yet +nothing had happened. Everything had +gone on to its bitter end. She had been +married, and had not died. She had been +carried about in the company of Marchmont, +hating him more and more every +day, but she had survived it. She had +not wasted away in a consumption, nor +grown silent and wretched and broken in +spirit. On the contrary, she had grown +more and more beautiful, as she knew. +As a girl, immediately after her marriage, +she had seen both men and women look at +her with undisguised delight, as something +most beautiful and most charming. The +admiration, then, had been as much what +one gives to a beautiful child as to a +woman.</p> + +<p>Now she never went anywhere without +seeing that deeper flame come into men’s +eyes as they beheld her, that sudden<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> +gravity settle over women’s faces as they +scrutinized her, and saw in her as powerful +a rival as they could possibly encounter. +And while all this went on, there went on +in her heart <i>pari passu</i> the endless dreariness +and barrenness and disgust to which +she had never tried to put any stop or any +limit, but which she had allowed in silence +to eat away at her inmost soul. She +allowed it almost unconsciously, but in her +heart was the deep conviction that to do +otherwise, to ‘make the best of things,’ +as the happy-go-lucky saying has it, +to attempt to reconcile herself to her lot +and her husband, would have been moral +degradation beyond words to describe. +Her ennui, her scornful silent endurance, +were not petulance—they were religion. +Such a thing as had happened to her +might happen to fifty women of weak or +shallow or vain nature, and they might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +have come to accept the inevitable, and +lived lives of almost contented respectability, +the loss of their latent finer feelings +compensated for by the possession of the +money and place for which their bodies +had been <a id="Change2"></a><ins title="Original has ‘sold’">sold.</ins> She was not one of the +fifty; she was the fifty-first, the exception, +and the slow tragedy in which she lived +was just as inevitable and as natural as +that sunset succeeds sunrise, and sunrise +sunset.</p> + +<p>She did not acquiesce, she did not +submit, she did not content herself. She +endured, and resented. But that did not +kill her, either. She told herself that she +was as bad as the worst of them; she +just lived on and slept when she was not +prevented from doing so, and ate, and did +not become melancholy; she read books +and newspapers, and remembered what +was in them, and was, when she came to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> +think about it, very much surprised at herself +for doing so.</p> + +<p>‘How long can I endure it? For ever.’ +Thus, so far, had run the question and +answer. But to-day, when she asked the +question, there was not cold, fastidious +disgust in her mind, but raging rebellion, +and the question, ‘How long can I?’ +seemed to turn into, ‘Why should I?’</p> + +<p>It was early in the forenoon when the +unpleasant interviews with the nurse and +Morrison had taken place. It was still +considerably before twelve when she rose +from her chair, went into the hall, took +a broad straw hat from the hook on which +it hung, and went out into the blazing +August sunshine.</p> + +<p>The grounds of Yewridge Hall were +of considerable extent—they were varied +by nature, and had been judiciously manipulated +by a good landscape gardener.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +Fulvia took her way to that part of them +most remote from her own house and +Minna’s, to where a small lake, partly +natural and partly artificial, made a cool +retreat in the summer heat, and a most +useful skating place in winter. There +was a boat-house, with a little boat in +it, and there was a kind of summer-house +made of rough logs covered with bark, +such as may be seen in many a park and +garden in the country. To this part of +the grounds Minna and her party never +penetrated unless by invitation. Minna +had a wholesome conviction as to the +value of the adage, ‘Withdraw thy foot +from thy neighbour’s house, lest he grow +weary of thee, and so hate thee.’ Moreover, +Fulvia had once said to her that +she found the solitude of the spot a +great boon, and often went there to be +alone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> + +<p>She did not hurry this morning, but +walked slowly towards the spot, clad in +her cool-looking white morning gown, +with its fresh simplicity and plainness. +It took her ten minutes to reach the +place she was going to. Though her +face did not change, her eyes dilated as +she came along between the trees towards +the side of the pond, and saw Hans +there, with his easel and other artist’s +apparatus, though he had not apparently +fixed upon the spot on which to plant +the easel.</p> + +<p>She had come along noiselessly. His +eyes were cast down, and he seemed to +be lost in reflection when she first saw +him, but as she drew nearer, slowly and +ever more slowly, he raised his eyes and +bent them full upon her. Fulvia stopped. +Hans laid down all the things that were +in his hands, and went to meet her,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> +removing his cap as he did so. He took +both her hands into his own, and looked +at her without speaking.</p> + +<p>‘Have you been here long?’ she asked +in a quiet, almost toneless voice.</p> + +<p>‘Half an hour, perhaps. I don’t know.’</p> + +<p>‘And you were not impatient?’</p> + +<p>‘I was, and I was not. I thought I +should never see you, and yet I was +absolutely certain that something—probably +something disagreeable—had prevented +you from coming. What has +happened?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh!’ she said in a prolonged tone of +weariness and exasperation, ‘that which +is always happening. It is the same +story over and over again. A miserable, +sordid bother. I have been begging +a servant man to try if he can’t stay +with us a little longer, just to make life +endurable to me. He has kindly consented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> +to do so, and I am much in his +debt.’</p> + +<p>‘Mein Gott!’ exclaimed Hans, between +his teeth. He had not let go of her +hands. He drew them together, now, +to his breast, and held them enfolded +there, and looked down into her face +with an expression of longing which +seemed to say, ‘I will force you to smile, +and to look different.’</p> + +<p>‘This cannot go on,’ he said at last with +low-voiced anger. ‘You are worse each +time I see you—more sad, more hopeless +and lifeless-looking. You will not look +into my eyes now. You will not see how +I love you, or you could not look so stern +and immovable. If you would smile as +you always have done before——’</p> + +<p>Fulvia without a word raised her eyes +and looked straight into his. There was +not the shadow of a smile on her face;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +there was not the least sign of relaxation +in what he had truly called her ‘stern’ expression.</p> + +<p>‘No, you don’t smile! What is the +meaning of it? The last time we met +you told me you had lost that despair, that +carelessness whether you lived or died. +You looked quite glad, Fulvia mia. But +to-day it is all there again, and I believe +you will dare to tell me that I do not +love you enough, could not make you +happy.’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, no; it is not that! I get depressed +oftener than I used to do. I feel +very miserable this morning. I can’t cast +it off all in a moment. But I want to live,’ +she whispered, in a passionate abandonment +of eagerness—‘I want to live. To +die now, after all the death I have lived +through, with life just breaking, just holding +out its hand to me—oh, by all the gods!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +it surely cannot happen—such a thing cannot +happen!’</p> + +<p>‘It shall not happen; I will not let it +happen!’ said Hans, and had any keen +observer been there—one who could +have listened unmoved to the passionate +utterances, and impartially weighed the +meaning and value of both—that observer +must have been struck with the +thinness and impotence of the man’s utterances, +as compared with those of the +woman.</p> + +<p>He it was who counselled hope and +spoke of happiness, and would hear nought +of despondency, nought of doubt or difficulties. +She it was who was stern and +sad, and, in the midst of her agonized +debate with her love, contemplated the +possibility of bitterness and dissatisfaction +even in the fulfilment of it. The view +which each took was sufficiently typical of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +their respective characters. Hans would +have none of disaster, none of doubt or +difficulty, because he could not or would +not have fronted them, had they come. She +spoke of them, discussed them, expected +them, because she had within her the stuff +with which to battle with them. Of course, +the lighter, more sanguine strain sounded +the stronger at that stage of the proceedings. +It made more noise, and was set in +a more effective key. It imposed upon +even her.</p> + +<p>‘To live merely as you have been living, +and are living just now, is a simply intolerable +idea,’ he said, with considerable +passion in his tones. ‘For you, it is +hideous to be in that house; for me, it is +like hell, only to think of your being +there.’</p> + +<p>‘What am I to do?’ asked Fulvia +faintly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> + +<p>For the time being there was no more +firmness nor decision left in her aspect. +Her lips trembled, her eyes sank and +wavered, her voice shook.</p> + +<p>‘Leave it at once and come with me. +I will take you away. Listen. That +journey I was talking of—we will take it +together, you and I. First we will go to +Italy, very, very far South—to Sicily, to +some place where no foreigners ever go. +Think of it now, at this moment—the life, +the sunshine, and the glory of it; then +think of this bleak place and this bleak +life; this cold air, that chill gray sea, those +cold purple moors. We will hide nothing. +In a very short time everything will be +quite right. He’—he nodded in the +direction of the Hall—‘will have applied +to the law for redress of the wrong you +have done him, which, as you are the +sinner and he the saint, with all the good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> +and pious world on his side, will be quickly +accorded to him. Then you are free, and +then you are my wife, who shall never +know a grief or a pain or a harsh word or +a humiliation again. That is what I want +you to do.’</p> + +<p>‘There is only one thing that prevents +me from doing it,’ said Fulvia quietly, +more quietly than he liked.</p> + +<p>‘Loss of position and consideration, I +suppose you mean—all the precious whited +sepulchre business in which society deals. +It is a mere prejudice, as you know. You +are at present on the right side as regards +that.... What pleasure has it ever +brought you? What good has it done +you?’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t mean that at all. I have tried +that, and I find that, though it has its +value—there is more in it, Hans, than you +will own—yet one may pay too high a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> +price for it—when you are an exceptional +case’—she spoke bitterly. ‘You see, caro +mio, society is arranged to meet the needs +of the many who don’t think, and who +only want to have things made easy for +them. The few, who have not been lucky +enough to make themselves fit into it, must +suffer the consequences of their stupidity.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t taunt me with abstract reasoning +when I am dying to hear a word of kindness +from you,’ he besought her. Indeed, +abstract reasoning in any shape was distasteful +to Hans.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I will be very concrete, very +prosaic, and very narrow,’ said she with a +faint smile. ‘It is not the fear of losing +my distinguished position in society, nor +my spotless reputation, which really is a +perfectly negative kind of good. I am +thinking of what all of them down there +would feel.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> + +<p>She moved her hand towards Minna’s +house.</p> + +<p>‘What utter nonsense! They know; +they are not children, they are not puritans. +I believe Minna would rather see you +happy than what people are fools enough +to call blameless, any day.’</p> + +<p>‘You do not know Minna, then. Her +love is very dear to me. Sometimes, in +my wretchedness, I think I am past caring +for anything of the kind. But when I +think of Minna heartbroken, I can’t bear it. +And worse than that—Signor Oriole.’ +She whispered his name.</p> + +<p>Hans was not without the coarseness +which comes, not of wilful malice, but +of utter incompetency to distinguish between +what may be said and what may +not.</p> + +<p>‘The last person in the world who +could blame you,’ he said almost sharply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p>‘Did I say he would blame me? +Shall I break his heart because he +would have no right to blame me for doing +so?’</p> + +<p>‘They cannot wish you to go on leading +this hell upon earth existence any longer,’ +said Hans savagely. ‘Sit down here, on +this bench beside me, and let us see the +thing fairly, from all sides.’</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>‘My friend, why fatigue ourselves with +anything of the kind? There is only one +side from which to see it. Shall I leave +my husband, whom I hate, with right and +reason, and my friends whom I love, to +go away with you, whom I adore, and of +whom I know nothing?’</p> + +<p>‘Know nothing of me!’ echoed Hans, +forgetting his rapture in his surprise at her +words. ‘Why, Fulvia, you have known +me for six years—six whole years.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> + +<p>‘I have known of you. I have not +known you,’ she said, smiling.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t leave me in this awful suspense,’ +he besought her. ‘Tell me now when +you will come. Tell me that you will +come.’</p> + +<p>‘I can’t now,’ said Fulvia simply. ‘I +am quite decided about one thing. I will +not make up my mind when I am vexed +and angry, and jarred to my heart’s core, +as——’</p> + +<p>‘My darling!’ whispered Hans, a flush +of triumph in his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>‘As I have been this morning. What +I do I will do deliberately. Then I shall +be strong enough to go through with +it.’</p> + +<p>‘My darling!’ he whispered again. +Fulvia’s eyes wavered at the words. +‘Promise me, then, when you will come. +Tell me when you will tell me.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> + +<p>‘You must give me three days. This +is Friday. On Monday I will meet you +here again. I promise you that I will have +made up my mind.’</p> + +<p>‘Three days!’ repeated Hans.</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ replied Fulvia. ‘It is a terribly +short time in which to decide that one +will——’</p> + +<p>She paused. Hans did not press her +farther. He made no complaint. He +had marked her words. She did not +say, ‘to decide whether one will,’ but +‘that one will.’ The victory was his.</p> + +<p>‘Do not let us talk about that any more,’ +said Fulvia; ‘it only brings back again all +the horrors I have gone through. But do +talk of something else.’</p> + +<p>‘About anything that you like,’ replied +Hans, who was sitting beside her on the +bench, and, with one elbow on his knee +and his cheek pressed upon his hand, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> +looking at her with, as it seemed to +Fulvia, all his soul in his eyes. There +was all of her soul, at least, in the full +gaze which returned his.</p> + +<p>It would have been very difficult to say +in what way their friendship had begun; +how the acquaintanceship of their youthful +days had been renewed, and how it had +grown and developed silently and almost +imperceptibly through a thousand subtle +delicate changes into the present stage, +when all talk of ‘friendship’ and sympathy +was discarded and the words ‘I love you’ +had been many a time exchanged on both +sides. Fulvia said the least, showed the +least; with her it had gone too deep for +words. The very fact that all these instincts +of her nature had been so crushed, +martyred, and repressed, ever since the +day on which her mother had handed her +over to Marchmont, gave them additional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> +strength and energy now that they had +been aroused. In the warmth of this love, +which expressed itself in terms of the most +delicate homage, all the warmth and passion +of her own nature came to life, grew, +expanded, developed into an overmastering +love, which, however reticent on the outside, +within knew no bounds. Almost had +she grown to think it well that, if she and +Hans were to be united, it would have to +be at the cost of her outside glory.</p> + +<p>No price seemed too great to pay for +the experience of a natural love, a spontaneous, +mutual delight, an exchange of soul. +This was Fulvia’s inner conviction, and +with all the strength of her nature she +gloried in it; and in all the knowledge +of the bitterness of that Dead Sea fruit +upon which she had so long been trying +to nourish herself, she could not have +enough of the sweetness of this. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +was reckless of the consequences; her +whole emotional system was strung up, +goaded to rebellion against her present +situation; she often marvelled herself at +the thin thread which held her back from +responding to Hans with all the eagerness +which he showed himself.</p> + +<p>Yet, thin as that thread was—woven out +of shadows and cobwebs, as it appeared to +her, the memory of certain faces, the echo +of certain voices—it did hold her back, +and kept her grave and reticent where +Hans was wild and impassioned. He +spoke out his feelings, raged against her +unhappiness, and the cause of it, kissed +her hands and her feet: one day he had +found her alone in the afternoon, resting +on a couch, and, maddened by the oppressed +silence with which she listened +to what he had to say, had knelt down +beside the sofa, and covered those little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> +feet with adoring kisses. Hans it was who +did all this, and gazed at her in a rapture +of love, and spoke words to her whose +adoration drowned the somewhat false ring +which sometimes sounded through them. +Fulvia it was who was calm and almost +silent, receiving it with a passion of inner +gratitude, but seldom speaking, seldom +giving expression to her feelings. It was +as if her daily life made such expressions +almost trivial, so stern was the wretchedness +she felt at home. Nevertheless, there +were now and then, very rarely, moments +in which she broke this austere gravity, +and gave him a look or a word which +repaid days or weeks of waiting and +severity.</p> + +<p>This morning, when they had been +sitting for a long time almost silent, she +turned to him, laid her hand for a moment +upon his, and said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> + +<p>‘Hans, it is since I knew you that I +feel I have a right to live. I never have +lived. I will live; I will not die without +having lived.’</p> + +<p>His heart sprang to his mouth. What +was this but a promise? He lifted her hand +to his lips, saying nothing audibly. He +did not even wish to convey too much by +a look, lest she should be startled, or begin +to repent her of her decision. He asked +no more, and did not even thank her—in +words.</p> + +<p>The sun grew hotter as mid-day was +passed, and cast a warm glow into even +this shady corner, and the lights and +shadows played about and chequered the +surface of the water, and danced on the +footpath, and flitted over Fulvia’s face, +under the shadow of her large hat. It +was a brief dream of rest and repose, of +ease from pain, and of hope for the future.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> + +<p>‘Someone is coming!’ exclaimed Hans +suddenly, in a tone of startled annoyance, +as he raised himself and looked in the +direction of the footsteps which he heard.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said Fulvia, with a superb, +almost dreaming indifference, ‘let someone +come.’</p> + +<p>‘You do not mind this being interrupted: +I do,’ said Hans angrily. ‘Confound him! +whoever he may be.’</p> + +<p>‘No—not him. I’m glad to see him,’ +Fulvia retorted, looking quietly forwards +towards the figure of Signor Giuseppe, +who was advancing up the path.</p> + +<p>He lifted his hat. Hans could not +conceal his annoyance and vexation. +Fulvia, on the contrary, rose and walked +towards him with a gracious willingness +to meet him.</p> + +<p>Minna had often noticed this profound +respect in the bearing of the young woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> +to the old man. It spoke volumes to +her.</p> + +<p>‘Good-morning!’ said she. ‘I am glad +you have found your way here. Did you +know I was here?’</p> + +<p>‘No; I was strolling through the +woods,’ said Signor Oriole, ‘and I came +round this way—that is all.—Ah, Riemann,’ +he added, with a glance more piercingly +keen than he had ever bestowed +upon that young man, ‘you are here, then! +I thought I heard you telling Mrs. Hastings +you were going to sketch by the +river?’</p> + +<p>‘I changed my mind. It was so blazingly +hot by the river. Mrs. Marchmont once +kindly told me I might come here when I +liked, and I availed myself of her permission.’</p> + +<p>‘What are you drawing?’ asked Signor +Oriole dryly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> + +<p>‘I have not yet decided. Would you +have me turn my back upon Mrs. +Marchmont, and sink myself in a +sketch?’ asked Hans, in even a worse +humour.</p> + +<p>Fulvia had become very grave. Her +natural spirit of truth and frankness liked +not these evasions and subterfuges. Why +need he have told anyone where he was +going? He was a free agent. Then she +felt sure that he had done it out of consideration +for her. He did not know how +perfectly indifferent she felt to all outsiders +and what they thought. He wished to +shield her. It was all right. It was his +true and noble self.</p> + +<p>‘I am going away now. I am wanted +at home, and cannot stay longer,’ she said. +‘Good-morning, Mr. Riemann.—Will you +come with me?’ she added, turning to +Signor Oriole.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> + +<p>‘Willingly.—A rivederci, Riemann.’</p> + +<p>They walked away towards the Hall.</p> + +<p>Hans, left alone, looked dark and +angry.</p> + +<p>‘Women will be women to the end of +the world,’ he told himself with the conviction +of one who has made a discovery. +‘Worship them, and they insult you. +Bully them, and they worship you. That +has always been my experience.’</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>‘Where is Mrs. Hastings this morning?’ +asked Fulvia.</p> + +<p>‘She has just gone out with her brother +and the <i>bambina</i>. I trust,’ said Signor +Giuseppe, ‘that you were not as displeased +with me as Riemann evidently was, for intruding +upon you. I assure you it happened +entirely by accident.’</p> + +<p>Fulvia’s face flushed.</p> + +<p>‘Do not speak to me like that!’ she exclaimed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> +in a hurried voice. ‘I am always +glad to see you—everywhere, and at any +time. You have the right to come where +I am.’</p> + +<p>‘As for rights, we will say nothing,’ he +said sadly. ‘I know you used to be glad +to see me in the old days—when you used +to penetrate into my little dark room, and +sit upon my bed, cross-legged, like a tailor, +seize upon one of my books, and ask +questions. Do you remember?’</p> + +<p>‘Do I remember?’</p> + +<p>‘No matter what I was doing,’ he pursued +with a smile, ‘your questions began. +You would read aloud; you would know +the meaning of everything; you——’</p> + +<p>‘I must have been a dreadful little +nuisance,’ said Fulvia, in a voice that was +not quite steady.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, indeed yes! I often showed you +that I thought so, did I not?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> + +<p>‘Ah, repeatedly!’ she exclaimed, suddenly +seizing his arm in her hands, as she +had so often done as a child, and smiling +at him with a child’s delight. Then, with +a sudden revulsion of feeling: ‘Don’t, +don’t! Do not talk to me about those +days, Beppo. I am miserable enough, +without having my former happiness recalled +to me.’</p> + +<p>He came to a pause, took her hands in +his, and looked into her face with an expression +which, she told herself, was almost +divine, in its immense love and tenderness, +its sorrow, its yearning.</p> + +<p>‘Carissima mia, I recall your former +happiness because I would save you from +future misery. Speak to me face to face! +The man there, who was with you, is dear +to you?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ said Fulvia, with dilated eyes, +and in a whisper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p> + +<p>‘I say nothing about it. I have lived +my life, and others will live their lives, and +no experience of others can save them +from walking straight up to their fate. +That you should encounter some such +experience was absolutely inevitable. Only +listen to me. Suppose that characters +could be taken in the hand like oranges, +and weighed in a balance like any material +thing; suppose I held the scales, and +placed your character on the one side, +and his on the other: do you know what +would happen?’</p> + +<p>She looked at him breathlessly.</p> + +<p>‘Why, his would kick the beam,’ +said Signor Oriole, with a scornful +laugh. ‘My proud Fulvia in love with +a thing of straw—at the mercy of a +<i>farceur</i>.’</p> + +<p>She grew rigid, and an angry light came +into her eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> + +<p>‘You are utterly mistaken,’ she said +very coldly. ‘I know him; you do not. +You have no right to speak of him in that +way. As for future misery’—she laughed—‘no +misery could be greater than that +which I have endured, and which I am +enduring at present. I am going back to +it now at once. Good-bye.’</p> + +<p>She snatched her hands out of the clasp +of his, and, without giving him a look, +sped on in the direction of the house.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Arrived at the house, Fulvia was met +almost at once by a servant, who told her +that her husband was very ill and in severe +pain.</p> + +<p>‘I will go to him,’ she said in a perfectly +unmoved voice, and when the servant had +gone she closed her eyes for a moment, +as if to shut out what was immediately +around her.</p> + +<p>In truth, she needed all the strength +that lay in her nature to give her the +courage, coming from the interviews she +had just had, to encounter what she knew +lay before her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> + +<p>Marchmont, as an invalid, was not +agreeable to talk with. Tortured with +pain, to which he brought no sort of self-control +or resolution to endure, his incessant +cry was for morphia or chloral to +drown his sufferings, and although utterly +dependent on the kindness of those about +him for help, for relief, and for attention, +he never attempted to conciliate any one +of them, but, losing all sense of decency, +would shriek at them all manner of accusations—that +they wished for his death, and +had endeavoured to compass it; that they +had purposely given him something to put +him into this state of torture; everything, +in short, that a good man who is being +martyred could possibly throw at a set of +miscreants who were taking advantage of +his weakness to murder him was hurled +by Marchmont at the heads of his attendants, +who, if they had spoken out their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +minds, would have told him that only self-control +on their parts prevented them from +doing what he accused them of, and so +getting rid of him for ever.</p> + +<p>If the attack lasted only a short time, +perhaps the nurse and servants would hold +out without bursting into open rebellion; +if it endured long, Fulvia generally found +herself left at the end of it in almost sole +attendance. The servants were free: they +did not receive their wages and render +their services in order to be abused and +maltreated; but a wife must surely succour +her husband, must be devoted to him in +sickness and in health. Very faithfully, +very coldly, very determinedly, had she, so +far, performed her duty. The attack this +time was an even worse one than usual. +Mr. Brownrigg became uneasy, and at last +said to Fulvia that further advice would +be desirable. The invalid, he plainly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> +intimated, besides being so very ill, was +so captious and dissatisfied that he, Mr. +Brownrigg, would be glad that his treatment +should have the approval of a high +authority. Fulvia at once agreed—anything +that Mr. Brownrigg thought desirable. +She would beg him to telegraph to +Sir Simon Sykes, the specialist whom +Marchmont had already seen. They +arranged this, and Mr. Brownrigg rode +away. Then Fulvia went to Marchmont, +and told him what had been settled. At +first he seemed satisfied, then suddenly, +with a vicious snarl, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>‘It’s all rubbish. He’ll want at least +two hundred guineas for taking such a +journey here and back to London.’</p> + +<p>‘Quite, I should say,’ replied his wife +coldly. ‘And what difference can it +make to you if he wanted five hundred +guineas?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> + +<p>‘Trust a beggar to be apt at spending +other people’s money,’ was the gracious +retort.</p> + +<p>Fulvia did not speak. She slightly +shrugged her shoulders, without any perceptible +change of countenance, only her +whole aspect expressed a supreme disdain, +which Marchmont himself saw. Absorbed, +however, in the wrongs which were +being done to him and his money, he proceeded, +after a glance at her:</p> + +<p>‘And he’ll sit here for ten minutes, and +tell us nothing that we didn’t know before, +and then he’ll go away, and jabber +with you in the drawing-room. You +are all in league against me—every one +of you.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you think we should find it very +difficult to dispose of you if we were?’ she +asked, with icy contempt. ‘As you do +not wish to have Sir Simon, I will send a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> +man after Mr. Brownrigg, and ask him +not to telegraph.’</p> + +<p>‘Do if you dare!’ almost shrieked +Marchmont. ‘I’m ill, I dare say, but I +have the use of my brains yet, and I know +what I am doing. You want to leave me +in the hands of this wretched village +ignoramus, so that I may get partial recovery, +and then you will be satisfied.’</p> + +<p>‘You credit me with complicated motives. +I am quite sure of this, that if you don’t +behave more civilly to the “village ignoramus,” +as you call him, he will refuse to +come near you any more; and you will +have to trust me alone as your physician. +Of course no man, not to mention a +gentleman, will stand being spoken to as if +he were a thief and an impostor. I really +think you had better try to understand +that thoroughly.’</p> + +<p>Marchmont subsided a little. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> +was nothing he feared so much as being +left alone with his illness; rather than +suffer that, he would have grovelled before +the meanest apothecary and would have +implored him not to leave him to his +fate.</p> + +<p>That afternoon an answer came from +Sir Simon to say he would come on the +following afternoon. Fulvia had promised +Hans to meet him on the morning of that +day, but she sent him a note to say:</p> + +<p>‘I cannot leave the house this morning, +nor at all till evening. But I must see +you before I try to sleep to-night. I have +much to explain to you. All scruples +have disappeared. I cannot live in this +any longer. Meet me after nine, at the +same place. I will come and will tell you +what I have arranged.’</p> + +<p>The day wore on. She scarcely left +Marchmont’s side, sitting near him, ministering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> +to him during the hours in which +the nurse was to take her rest; looking +at him every now and then, with a strange, +sombre light in her eyes, the inner glow +of all the suppressed passion and wrong, +and injustice and wretchedness, which for +five years had been accumulating in her +heart—the only light which can be given +by the eyes which belong to a ruined life. +All the day she was saying to herself, with +fixed, immovable resolution:</p> + +<p>‘Only this day more—then an end +of it. I will wait till it is over. I will +see this man, who will tell me just what +they have all told me—the same wretched +platitudes, meaning nothing; trying to +cover up the one word, “hopeless,” +trying to conceal the fact that it is death +coming on. It has begun—it will be +a long time before it is over, and I will +not wait all that time. To-night, oh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> +Dio mio! to leave the house, and +never to return to it—never, never! +Never to see this thing again, nor to +hear his voice, nor to feel the shudder +which comes whenever I go near him. +I will tell Hans everything when I +meet him to-night. Then I shall make +him take me to the inn in the village, +and leave me there till to-morrow. I +won’t go to Minna—oh no, impossible! +I would not pollute—no, pollute is not +the word: it is remaining here which +is pollution. I would not deceive her—that +is it. I would not tell her one thing +while all the time I was meaning to do +quite another. That is a sort of pollution—yes, +it is the kind at which I have never +yet arrived. I will stay at the inn till +to-morrow morning, and then he will +come for me, and we will go away together. +I shall make no secret of it.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> +He can do as he likes. He may tell +them or not. It is nothing to me now. +My life has been so ruined that, if I am +to keep my friends who have never gone +through this fire, I must live in undying +misery and inward degradation. If I +choose happiness and freedom, I must +lose all my friends. Some lucky people +can keep both. I have tried the one +thing, and as long as there was nothing +else I could just live in it—only just. +But now ... one may be good when +one does wrong sometimes. I can see +that very plainly. One may be doing +everything that is right and proper, and +at the same time be a very bad person.</p> + +<p>‘Wrong and right—what is wrong, and +what is right? Because I was sold shamefully +when I could not help myself, and +could see no way out of it, does that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> +deprive me of the power of judging, +when I am older and have had much +experience? Who is to settle for us, +if not ourselves? Oh, how wrong I +was not to go away with Beppo—to run +away, when he said he would take me +with him! Now people will all say I +have done wrong, but I will live rightly. +It is quite right. I am not afraid. I +wonder why I stay here now? Oh, it is +better, I think. I will go on till night—till +I have said good-night to him. He +will expect to see me again in the morning, +and time will pass, and I shall not +be there. I shall not take any notice of +him at all. It is not necessary. He may +wonder and inquire and speculate, and say +what he pleases. He may learn all his +humiliation in public, for aught I care. +It does not matter ... what time is +it now, I wonder? Lunch-time, nearly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> +Then there is the afternoon, and it will +be almost evening when the doctor +comes, and—he will stay all night, I +suppose.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I will give orders that all is to +be ready for him. I shall dine with him, +and talk to him, in that awful room, which +is just like a sepulchre. The servants will +be about, behind our chairs, waiting upon +us, just as usual. The doctor will think +me a very charming woman, and will +be quite pleased to talk to me. We shall +not mention him’—she cast a side-glance +towards Marchmont, who, under the influence +of a morphia injection, was now +lying still, with eyes closed and yellowish, +waxy-looking face, like a dead man. ‘We +shall both know that there is no need +to say anything; talking about unpleasant +subjects is not appetising. Nothing will +make any difference. In his heart the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> +doctor will say to himself: “I wonder +what she married him for—money, I +suppose. He must have been a horror +when she first met him. Women will +do anything to get money and money’s +worth.”</p> + +<p>‘After dinner I shall say that I am +going to see my husband; that I am +very tired, and shall not see him again +to-night; that he is to ask for everything +he wants, and that I have given orders +that he is to be attended to. Then we +shall shake hands, and I shall leave him +in the dining-room with the dessert and +the wine. Then I shall come back here, +and shall make inquiries, and shall speak +to the nurse, and shall say, to her more +than to him, “Well, I hope you will have +a good-night.” I shall then look round +as one does before one leaves a room in +which someone is ill, and I shall repeat,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +“Good-night,” and shall go.... In ten +minutes more I shall be on the path to +the pond, breathing.’ She suddenly lifted +her arms above her head, and stretched +them out wide and high, as if to take in +a deep draught of air, then heaved a huge +sigh, and slowly let them fall again. The +sigh was repeated, and her face looked +worn, and almost desperate. Almost +mechanically her thoughts went on, and +with none of the excited hope which +had heretofore floated them through +her mind: ‘I shall breathe—oh, to +breathe again, after being stifled for five +years!’</p> + +<p>She sat motionless again, until a servant +came and told her that lunch was ready. +Marchmont was still sleeping or stupefied. +She went away, leaving the nurse, who +had just come in, to take her place. In +the dining-room she dismissed the servant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +who was in waiting, and sat down alone in +the immense, rather light, cold room, at a +great table spread with snowy linen and +glittering with silver and glass. There +was perhaps no need for her to endure this +solitary, cold, and comfortless splendour; +but it is happy people who think of comforts +and who arrange pleasant places in +which to eat and drink and chat, not those +whose lives are spoiled by a great wrong, +so that they have no energy to attend to +such trifles.</p> + +<p>She took something on her plate, but +found she could not eat it.</p> + +<p>‘Am I excited, feverish? How ridiculous’ she +thought, shrugging her shoulders +and realizing for the first time that her lips +were dry and her mouth parched. She +took a draught of water, and sat looking at +the untasted food, and thinking of quite +other things.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> + +<p>‘How hungry I used to be once! How +delicious everything tasted! How well I +remember one day when Beppo took me! +We walked—we could not afford carriages, +not even a little carriage for a franc, to the +gate—we walked on to the Appian Way. +How beautiful it was! It was a spring +morning. How the larks sang! how the +little flowers gleamed in the grass, and the +lizards ran in and out of the crevices of the +tombs! and how the aqueducts marched +away over the campagna towards the hills—those +hills! How many things he told +me! I put my arm through his, and we +went on, sometimes quickly, sometimes +slowly, looking at things and talking +about them till we got past Casale Rotondo. +There I grew impatient, and said +it was time to have our lunch. We sat +down by the roadside and ate. What had +we? Each a hard-boiled egg and some of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +the household bread, without any butter; +an orange or two, and a little bottle of red +wine, with a tin cup from which to drink +it. When it was done I was still hungry, +and said so. He looked at me suddenly—I +remember it well—with a cloud on his +face.</p> + +<p>‘“Ma che! why did you not speak?” he +said. “I would have given you mine.”</p> + +<p>‘How I laughed! I was a mere child, +and I thought a man like Beppo, so strong +and so big compared with me, must be +much more in need of food than I. Then +he told me, I remember, how people like +me, who were growing still and to whom +all the world was new, needed so much more +nourishment and so much oftener than those +who were quite grown up and established, +and who were not surprised at anything +any more—like him. I said, “How could +being surprised make one hungry?” and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +I told him he was silly. He said, “Wait, +my child. By the time you are ready to +tell me that you understand what I say, I +shall be dead; but I think, if you come to +my grave and tell it to me there, I shall +hear it.” Oh, how awfully sad were the +things he sometimes said—all mixed with +curious, funny observations at the same +time! For the rest of our excursion he +kept regretting every now and then that I +had not had the other egg, and at the first +little shop within the gate, as we returned, +he bought me a <i>panino</i> with butter. It +was very good.’</p> + +<p>Fulvia had forgotten in her reminiscences +the meal that actually stood before her. +She had scarcely tasted food, but rose +suddenly from the table, and very soon +went back to her charge.</p> + +<p>Presently he awoke from his drugged +sleep to fresh pain, fresh fury, to ever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +more exacting demands and wilder accusations. +The hours dragged on until about +six o’clock, when a servant came and told +her that Sir Simon Sykes had arrived, and +was in the library with Mr. Brownrigg. +She went towards the room slowly, saying +to herself, as if it were not really clear in +her own mind:</p> + +<p>‘It is coming nearer now, much nearer. +There are not many hours more. Six +o’clock, seven, eight, nine; in three hours +I shall be free.’</p> + +<p>She lifted her eyes towards the open +hall door; the sunshine streamed in. All +without was light and bright and warm. +That was freedom.</p> + +<p>She opened the library door and went +into the room.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Very late that night Signor Oriole sat +in the room which was called his study, +quite alone. He slept less and less as he +grew older, and he was left, as usual, with +all the lower part of the house to himself +in a dead silence. His books and papers +and writing materials were all around him. +His study was removed only by a narrow +little anteroom from that of Minna—her +sitting-room and studio combined. These +three rooms were old, with low roofs, and +beams across the ceilings; but the original +windows, small and high up in the wall, +had been removed, and French ones opening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> +to the ground substituted for them. +Of course the three windows all commanded +the same view, of a woodland glade and a +broad slope of grass like an avenue between +thick walls of dark trees which sloped +upwards, climbing a hill. It was a portion +of the park belonging to Yewridge Hall—a +part which the inhabitants of Minna’s +house were free to wander in as much as +they chose.</p> + +<p>After Minna and Rhoda had gone upstairs +Signor Oriole went to his study. +The lamp was lighted, but the window +was still open, and he went to it, and stood +there, looking out. The yellow lamplight +was behind him. Before him was the dark +solemnity of the glade and wood, but that, +too, soon began to take a darkly silvery +appearance. A strange light, at once deep +and pale, began to palpitate in the sky. +His eyes were riveted on the summit of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> +little hill, for the awakening, if one may so +call it, in the sky seemed to proceed from +there. Whiter and whiter it grew, clearer +and clearer, till all nature seemed to wait +breathlessly for the visitor whose advent +was thus foretold.</p> + +<p>She came at last; the outline of the +hill-top grew suddenly sharp and clear, +then a crisp white spark glittered on it—spread, +grew, dilated, enlarged into a +gradually growing silver disc. All above, +below, around, is glorified, regalized, resplendent, +as the moon floats up with +majesty into the clear dark spaces of the +heavens.</p> + +<p>‘Ah!’ said Signor Giuseppe to himself, +as he watched the spectacle with the beginning +of a smile, and with the matter-of-fact +eyes of a child of the South, ‘it is a +fine night.’</p> + +<p>He nodded his head, whose white hairs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +had taken a reflected glitter from the light +without, and, leaving the blind up and the +shutters open, he turned again to his +writing-table, took up his pen, and resumed +his work. He was writing about days +long gone by; about old Rome, and +things that had happened in her. It +was an employment in which he succeeded, +almost always, in finding repose +for his mind, peace for his thoughts.</p> + +<p>He had written on for some time when +he heard the hall-door open and shut. +He had no doubt as to who the visitor +might be, but as a matter of precaution +he got up, opened the door, and looked +forth into the hall, where the light was +still burning.</p> + +<p>He had been right. Hans Riemann +was there, hanging up his little woollen +cap upon a peg of the hatstand. His face +was pale and angry. When he saw Signor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> +Giuseppe, he did not speak, but looked at +him with a curious expression.</p> + +<p>‘You have fastened the door?’ asked +the latter.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I’m off to bed. I think I shall +be off altogether, very soon. This is +a dull hole when all is said and done.’</p> + +<p>‘In the name of our hostess and her +family I thank you for your kind expressions,’ +replied Signor Giuseppe, very +politely and very cuttingly.</p> + +<p>Hans’ face flushed.</p> + +<p>‘Did it sound rude?’ he asked, in a +tone of indifference which heightened the +said rudeness. ‘I’m sorry if it did. Good-night.’</p> + +<p>He ran quickly up the stairs. Signor +Oriole, shrugging his shoulders, returned +to his study and his work. After some +time—he knew not how long—the first sensation +stole over him of something which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +he took for weariness. At first he did not +heed it, but wrote on, wishing to finish a +long paragraph in which he was engaged. +The curious sensation continued. He laid +his pen down, and, resting one elbow on +the table, propped his head on his hand, +and meditated a little. As he meditated, +he gradually grew conscious of the intense +silence and stillness which prevailed both +inside and outside—conscious of it, and impressed +by it. It must have been working +itself into his senses and his brain all the time +that he had been writing, and most likely +irritating him. Signor Giuseppe was a +true Roman; he could work better, play +better, think, philosophize, yea, even sleep +better, in a noise than in the most idyllic +silence ever known. Just now he +shrugged his shoulders, and muttered to +himself: ‘Per Dio! what a deathly +silence!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> + +<p>Oppressed by it, he knew not why, he +went towards the window with the half-formed +intention of closing it. It was +as if the immense silence of the night +flowed in through the open window, and +imposed itself upon that which reigned in +the house also, and made it almost intolerable +to him.</p> + +<p>Standing there near the window, and +looking out, and again oppressed by the +silence, he recalled to himself the walk home +with Minna one night, from her studio to +Casa Dietrich, when she had spoken to +him of the noise of Rome, and of how she +delighted in it.</p> + +<p>To Casa Dietrich that night the +signora had returned, had summoned him +to her rooms, and had told him that +Marchmont had spoken to her about +Fulvia, and that she intended to marry her +to him. She had told him with the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> +accurate foreknowledge of the horror it +would inspire in him; she had listened +with smiling obstinacy to all his expostulations, +reproaches and accusations, and had +then told him:</p> + +<p>‘You have yourself to thank for it. You +have known for many years that I was not +a woman to be played with with impunity. +You have refused my reasonable wishes +and demands; you must not be surprised +and angry that when the time comes I act +in the manner most convenient to my +interests and to those of my daughter. +Mio caro, I have waited a long time for +freedom. This man offers it to me—freedom +and independence. I shall take +it. You can do what you like.’</p> + +<p>‘You say I played with you!’ he exclaimed. +‘And you—what have you done +with me? You say I have myself to +thank for it all; and you—whom have you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> +to thank, that you are now in this position, +that you must sell your child disgracefully +to get what you call your freedom? Bianca, +give the child to me. I will work for her; +I will provide for her. She shall be no +burden to you.’</p> + +<p>Bianca had laughed.</p> + +<p>‘And I?’ she asked. ‘My daughter is +no burden to me. She is the most valuable +piece of property I have. No; I have +made up my mind. Do not trouble yourself +in the matter. It is all right.’</p> + +<p>All this scene came back to him with +the utmost vividness as he stood there in +this English house, looking forth upon this +English park, with the fresh damp English +air blowing upon his forehead and face. +He felt it not.</p> + +<p>He was again steeped in a totally +different atmosphere, in the soft, deliciously +enervating air of Rome—the odour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> +of the streets, of the houses; that peculiar, +half-pungent, half-debilitating perfume +which assails the senses there, and bathes +them, and takes them captive, pervading +everything, and which is like no +other atmosphere in the world—this ichor +he felt and imbibed now, and it was like +new life to him.</p> + +<p>The past, dark and mysterious beyond +all words to describe, with its processions +of Caesars, its armies of trained fighting +men, its dream of fair women of every +shade of vice and virtue, its holocausts of +human victims—the blood-soaked, sun-soaked, +art-soaked past; the vivid, noisy +present, full of life and action, of battles +fought and of grand hope for the future, +in which his life had been passed—all +these were summed up and concentrated +as it were in that wondrously scented air +of Rome, and in Rome he now was, with a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +fever in his veins, a passion of longing +which tore his heart-strings, parted his +lips, and drew from his heart a slight +sound, between a groan and a sigh.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Dahin, dahin geht unser Weg—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O Vater, lass’ uns zieh’n!’</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Not Mignon’s words, but Mignon’s +thought was in his heart.</p> + +<p>‘I must go. I must breathe that air +once again before I die—all the agony and +all the rapture of it. I must pace those +streets again, and feel those stones beneath +my feet, though every one were a burning +coal that blistered them.’</p> + +<p>The air blew in upon him in a rougher +gust, both keen and damp, from the mountains +of the North and her wild wastes of +moorland; from her gray, monotonous sea, +‘the unplumbed, salt, estranging sea,’ and +the nerves of the man of the South shuddered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> +under its alien breath. It had +awakened him from his dream; he opened +his eyes and brought his thoughts once +more to reality.</p> + +<p>He laid his hand on the window to push +it to, and as he did so it seemed to him +that there was a slight sound outside it. +Not a sound whose nature he could have +specified—not a sigh, not a groan or a +sob, and certainly not a cry or a spoken +word, but perhaps something of them all. +Nothing deterred by the eeriness of the +thing, for he knew not fear, he drew the +window more widely open, instead of +closing it, and looked forth again. The +scene had become even more beautiful +than before. Arrested, he still looked, +half gazing at the view before him, half +listening for that indescribable sound to +come again, when his eyes, long-sighted +and keen, detected at some little distance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> +from the house, moving hesitatingly and +uncertainly along, and emerging from the +shadow of the wood into the moonlit grass, +a slight, ink-black woman’s figure. It +paused suddenly, and perhaps turned. Of +that he could not be sure in the uncertain +light, but the figure was there. It moved +about now quickly, now slowly. Now it +looked as if its head were bowed; again, +as though its face were raised; and once +certainly it stretched its arms out with the +gesture of one who wrings hands in dire +distress.</p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe stood riveted to his +place, not in the least afraid, but very +curious. Now the figure had disappeared +again into the shadow of the wood. He +saw it no more, though he strained his +eyes to discover it. He stood for some +time, and was about to turn away—so +dense are our outward senses, so doth this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> +envelope of flesh conceal one spirit from +another, though that other may be calling +upon us, with agony unspeakable to bear, +to help and to comfort.</p> + +<p>Thus he stood, when, coming from his +right hand, from under the shadow of the +house, the figure in one second stood immediately +in front of him, with the light of the +lamp from within falling full upon its face.</p> + +<p>That face was very pale, very drawn, +very much worn with anguish and pain; +the eyes which plunged themselves into +his were haggard and glazed, and weary +beyond description.</p> + +<p>It was Fulvia’s face; those were Fulvia’s +eyes, and Fulvia’s hands they were which +were suddenly stretched out towards him; +but it was no voice he had ever heard before +which, in a hoarse, broken whisper, +groaned forth:</p> + +<p>‘Father!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> + +<p>For a moment he stood motionless—petrified; +then, stretching out his arms too, +and making a step towards her, he finished +the tearing asunder of the veil which she +had at last rent.</p> + +<p>‘My daughter!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, help me! help me!’ she said, in the +same unnatural voice, as she fell, with the +heavy gesture of one whose will no longer +controls his movements, into his arms, +broken, desperate, recking nothing of +showing her mortal anguish, caring no +more to hide anything from his eyes, at +any rate.</p> + +<p>He held her up in silence. Neither of +them spoke for a long time after they had +uttered those fateful words. Her hands +grasped his shoulders with the clinging of +one who has nothing else to hold by. +Her head was prostrate, low upon his +breast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe’s white hairs mingled +with the bright waves and coils of golden +brown; his lips touched them, moved, but +he uttered no words, till at last, as she +raised her face, furrowed with suffering +almost out of resemblance to her natural +one, he said in a deep voice, coming from +his inmost soul: ‘Mia figlia, stand here +no more. Come in and tell me what has +happened and what you wish.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I believe you can do nothing, +nothing for me, padre mio! I do not +know why I am here—I did not mean to +come. I did not mean to leave the side +of the pond alive, and yet I came on and +on here, because I have something to tell—there +is something that someone must +know. I am frightened! I had such a +horrible dream. At least, I think it was +a dream. Well, I will come in. No one +will disturb us?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> + +<p>‘No one; I am alone. There will be +no interruption,’ said he. ‘Come in. Tell +me your dream. Perhaps it was no dream +after all.’</p> + +<p>He drew her within the room, and closed +the window at last. Fulvia gazed about +her as if bewildered by the lamplight, and +by the walls which surrounded her. He +took her to a couch which stood against +the wall, placed her upon it, and seated +himself beside her. She took one of his +hands between hers, and, drawing a long +sigh, said:</p> + +<p>‘How strange this all is! Father, my +father, my father! There is someone, after +all. Padre mio, what will you do for +me?’</p> + +<p>‘Child, anything—anything in the +world, when you tell me what it is,’ said +he, with love and anguish in his voice. +There was something in her whole aspect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> +which frightened him, or, rather, which +filled him with vague alarm and apprehension.</p> + +<p>Signor Giuseppe was not one of the +people who are easily frightened. There +was, however, something enigmatical in +Fulvia’s demeanour—in her great excitement +and breathless haste, and in the +sudden strange pauses she made, when +a curious, bewildered look came over her +whole face, and her eyes looked as if they +were seeking backwards in her heart for +some clue, or purpose, or intention, which +she had formed and then lost.</p> + +<p>‘What time is it?’ she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>‘Two in the morning,’ he told her.</p> + +<p>‘Two in the morning! Well, I want +you to take me away, now at once, from +this place. Isn’t it cruel of me to ask such +a thing of you? But I cannot help it. I +have been here long enough—too long. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> +have been here so long that I have—nearly—committed +a frightful sin. It is +late—it is a strange time to be getting +up and going away, I know; but I will +go, I must go—and you will come with +me.’</p> + +<p>She looked at him with an attempt at a +smile, and pressed his hands convulsively. +Signor Oriole had lived through many +strange experiences, through scenes of +‘battle and murder and sudden death,’ +through perils of every description, both +active and passive. Many a thrill had +shot through him in moments when his +life had hung on a thread—thrills of +excitement, thrills of nervous tension, of +fierce exultation, of forlorn hope; but +never had he experienced this thrill before—the +thrill which is at the same time a +cold chill, and which is fear.</p> + +<p>‘I will go with you when you have told<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> +me one thing,’ he said, and all the blood +left his face. ‘You were desperate to-night +when you left your husband’s house. +How did you leave it? Have you killed +him?’</p> + +<p>Fulvia rose erect from the bowed-down, +crouching position of hopeless misery in +which she had been sitting, rose as if +electrified; he saw that her whole frame +stiffened and grew rigid. Her eyes became +fixed, her lips parted; she looked as +if her spirit hung in the scales between +reason and madness, and as if the balance +might incline to madness at a second’s +notice. There was some recollection of +freezing horror in her soul, which his +question, prompted by a flash of inspiration +as to the worst that might have happened, +had roused again in its full strength. +He almost repented him of having asked +it, and looked at her, trying to put an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> +expression of tender kindness into his eyes +while the awful fear tugged at his heart.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the expression which so froze +him relaxed. Her physical rigidity also +gave way. Her very hands became limp +and nerveless, and she replied, as if in +answer to some everyday question:</p> + +<p>‘No. I thought I would. I told him +I was going to—and then—I did not. I +came away. Now, father, let us go away—quite +away.’</p> + +<p>‘At once, with all my heart,’ said he +promptly, as he rose and looked about +him. The ghastly uncertainty was gone +from his heart. The light of reason was +in Fulvia’s eyes. He knew she had +spoken the truth to him. He was now +ready to give himself up to her lightest +wish, but, as his eyes fell upon his work +and papers, upon the quiet, almost solemnly +peaceful room, as his ears again became<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> +conscious of the silence which had at first +annoyed, but which now soothed them, as +he saw, in a side-glance, the broken figure +of Fulvia, a load like lead settled on his +heart.</p> + +<p>Then he took heart again. There had +been no crime, let the wretchedness be +what it might. His practical sense came +forward once more; and began to grapple +with the real and almost grotesque problem, +‘What am I to do with her? Where am +I to take her?’</p> + +<p>‘You will not see Minna?’ he asked. +‘I could awaken her and bring her down +here in a minute.’</p> + +<p>Fulvia shook her head, with a sigh that +was almost a shudder.</p> + +<p>‘Not Minna—oh no! Let us go, and +let us go alone.’</p> + +<p>She was dressed, as he now observed, +as if for travelling, in a very plain, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> +trim, elegant black walking-dress, a small, +closely fitting, black straw bonnet trimmed +with velvet; a so-called dust-cloak which +was in reality a costly thing of silk and +lace, was hung over her arm and had +remained there through all the agitation +and tragedy; long soft gray gloves fitted +her hands closely, and wrinkled over her +wrists and arms; everything she had on +was quiet and unobtrusive to the last +degree theoretically, but elegant, fashionable, +and noticeable from its perfect fit +and style, and from the beauty and +individuality of the woman who wore +it.</p> + +<p>And nothing that she had put on could +have been otherwise. We may change +our clothes, we may transform ourselves +as to outer covering, we may exchange +the masterpieces of a Worth for the +botched performances of a village Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> +Smith, but if we are Fulvia Marchmont +we can be no one else. The reverse +holds equally good. Signor Oriole was +troubled, not so much by the elegance and +distinction which made itself apparent +through all the seeming simplicity of the +costume—he was troubled to know why +she had that costume on at all.</p> + +<p>‘Very well,’ he said, in answer to her +last words. ‘You must excuse me an +instant, while I put one or two things in +a bag and get some money. And you—have +you anything? Are you prepared? +I hope at least you have none of his +money with you.’</p> + +<p>‘I have not a penny, carissimo. All +that I have of his are these clothes which +I have on, as one may not go about the +world without them. As soon as we get +somewhere where you can buy me some +others, I will be without these too. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> +have nothing—absolutely nothing. I will +sit here and wait for you.’</p> + +<p>He went out of the room, and softly +upstairs, along a long, rambling passage +which led to his own room, and another, +both of which were rather remote from +the rest of the house. The other room +was that occupied by Richard Hamilton, +and upon its door Signor Oriole knocked +softly.</p> + +<p>Hamilton appeared to be a light sleeper, +for his answer came at once, ‘Who’s +there?’</p> + +<p>‘I,’ said Signor Giuseppe, opening the +door, which was not locked, and going +just within the room. ‘Hamilton, I want +to speak to <a id="Change3"></a><ins title="Original has 'you.'">you.’</ins></p> + +<p>‘You—are you ill, sir?’ asked the other, +in quick alarm. He struck a match, +lighted a candle, and sat up in bed, looking +at his visitor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> + +<p>‘No, I am not ill. Listen, and speak +softly. Something has happened, as to +which it pleases me to take you into my +confidence. I can trust you.... My +daughter is downstairs——’</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment; Hamilton +stared at him as if fascinated, and then +said, almost in a whisper:</p> + +<p>‘Fulvia?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Fulvia; she is in dire distress. +Something which she does not choose to +explain to me yet, or which she cannot +explain, has happened. She has left her +house; I do not call it her home——’</p> + +<p>‘No, you are right,’ said Hamilton in a +deep voice. ‘Well?’</p> + +<p>‘She has chosen to break down the +barrier which has always hitherto been +between us. She has claimed my help, +and has required that I shall take her away +from here at once, now, you understand.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> +It is her right, and it is my pleasure to do +it. She refuses to see Minna. I think +she is too much broken to be able to +endure even Minna’s sympathy. I leave +everything loose that belongs to me. I +look to you to make all clear, and to explain +to your sister why I leave thus.’</p> + +<p>‘But where are you going? What are +you going to do?’ asked Hamilton in his +clear tones, which always sounded so +cold, and which yet were so much to be +trusted.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know. I suppose we are two +pilgrims to——’</p> + +<p>‘That is madness. Look here: you +must do something, or she will be worse off +than ever.’</p> + +<p>‘I shall take her to Italy,’ said Signor +Giuseppe, after a moment’s pause.</p> + +<p>‘Not to Rome, I hope?’</p> + +<p>‘No, not to Rome. I will take her to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> +Sicily, to my home there which she has +never seen.’</p> + +<p>‘That is right—yes, that is the right +thing to do; and to set about it you must +go to London; and there is a train to +London in two hours from now, at —— +Junction, which is six miles away. I will +drive you there,’ said Hamilton with utter +<i>sang-froid</i>, as he cast the bedclothes from +him and prepared to get up. ‘Do you +go and pack up whatever you may wish +to take, and in five minutes I will be +ready. This is a business which needs +speed.’</p> + +<p>‘You are right. Your head is clear,’ +said Signor Oriole, with the ghost of his +old smile, at once sarcastic and approving. +He left the room and went to his own, +where he collected all he could think of +into a small portmanteau, stowed away his +pocket-book, some notes and gold, and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> +cheque-book on his London bankers, and +was ready. As he emerged from his room +after this occupation, Hamilton came out of +his, looking as cool, as self-possessed, and +as fit as if he were going down to breakfast +in the everyday way.</p> + +<p>‘I have written a note to Minna,’ he +said: ‘I will put it outside her door, so +she will have it when she is called. Now +let us go downstairs. Of course Mrs. +Marchmont will hate me for being in at +this, but there’s nothing else for it.’</p> + +<p>Softly they went downstairs, and the +slumbering inmates of the rambling old +house knew nothing of what was going on. +Without hesitation or explanation they +went straight to Signor Oriole’s study.</p> + +<p>There the lamp was still burning; there +Fulvia still sat, her hands folded one over +the other on her knees, her eyes fixed on +the opposite wall. She looked up with a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +hungry eagerness to be gone as they +came in, and her eyes dilated with a +haughty displeasure as she saw Richard +Hamilton.</p> + +<p>‘Mrs. Marchmont,’ said he in the most +matter-of-fact tone, ‘Signor Oriole tells me +he is taking you to Sicily, and that you +have excellent reasons for wishing to set +off at once. If you will have a few moments’ +indulgence for us, we will harness +the little carriage, and I will drive you to—to +catch the London mail.’</p> + +<p>‘I will wait, but you will be quick?’ she +said, as her expression again grew quieter. +‘I don’t want to be here when the day +really begins, that is all.’</p> + +<p>‘When the day really begins I hope to +be putting you in the train for King’s +Cross,’ said he, as he left the room with +Signor Oriole.</p> + +<p>How the thing was done with such incredible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> +speed and silence and accuracy +they never knew. Circumstances were +favourable. All the household were in +their deepest sleep. The stable and +offices were away from the house. The +matter was accomplished very soon. +Signor Oriole returned to the house, took +his daughter’s hand, and said ‘Come!’</p> + +<p>She rose and followed him. In the +yard they found Hamilton throwing some +shawls and rugs into the carriage, which +was a low, open one, but had a box for the +driver.</p> + +<p>‘Here,’ said he, ‘get in, Mrs. Marchmont. +Put on your cloak—so; and wrap +all these things about you’—he was doing +it himself as fast as he could—‘for the +morning air is sharp, and it will be cold on +the open road.’</p> + +<p>He helped her in, and she mechanically +submitted to everything he did. Signor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> +Oriole got in beside her. Hamilton +wrapped him too in a rug, got on to the box, +and, not much caring now how much noise +he made, whipped up the horse. In ten +minutes they were nearly a mile away from +West Wall, and by dint of good driving +arrived at —— Junction with ten minutes +to spare, just as a wild primrose and +purple sunrise was flaming over the violet +wastes of the German Ocean, which rose +and fell and sobbed and moaned under +it like some living monster disturbed in its +sleep.</p> + +<p>The few last hurried words were exchanged. +Signor Oriole promised to +write from London and tell all he intended +to do. He swore that he would +never lose sight of his friends in this +Northern land; he would not forget them, +he would not be silent to them. As for +seeing them, that time alone would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> +decide, and—he gave a quick side-glance +at Fulvia, who was pacing about with +head downcast and in utter abstraction, +her only glances being occasionally in the +direction from which the express ought to +come.</p> + +<p>It did come at last. It made only a +very brief stoppage at that small junction. +There was an empty first-class compartment, +into which the travellers got. At the +last moment, as Hamilton, standing with +bared head, looked at Fulvia and wished +her good-bye, without even holding out +his hand to intrude upon her grief, she +roused for a moment, held out hers with an +impulsive movement, and said:</p> + +<p>‘Good-bye, Mr. Hamilton. You have +been a true friend to me to-day. I’ll never +forget it.’</p> + +<p>‘Then say “a rivederci,”’ he besought +her, with a sudden change of expression.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> + +<p>‘Willingly—in a happier hour, if one +should come to me—a rivederci.’</p> + +<p>He clasped her hand, and looked into +her eyes, and dropped from the footboard, +as the train was in motion. Soon it +was out of sight.</p> + +<p>As he turned again to the outside of +the station, the fleeting glory of that sunrise +was over. The heaven was gray; every +splendour had departed. From the leaden +sky, a drizzling rain had begun to fall into +a slate-coloured sea which moaned and +growled like the ‘fierce old mother’ that +she was.</p> + +<p>Hamilton collected all the rugs and +shawls, folded them neatly into a bundle, +and covered them up with a mackintosh. +One he reserved to fold round his own +knees as he drove back, in the teeth of +a raw wind which not even August +could make warm. His face was as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +gray as the day; his thoughts resembled +both.</p> + +<p>‘So! She is gone! And gone for +what, and to what? If only that d——l +would die! But he won’t. I wonder +what happened—I wonder what drove +her to this? Something horrible, I +haven’t a doubt—not a doubt! Oh, +Lord, what a world it is—what a world! +And how we are handicapped who have +scruples about playing off our own bat +and letting all the rest go hang. Hans +didn’t mind, and so perhaps she is lost to +me for ever.’</p> + +<p>It was seven o’clock when he drove into +the stableyard of his sister’s house, and +confronted the astonished youth who was +Minna’s only man-servant, and whom +horror and amaze at what he believed +to have been the stealing of the property +committed to his charge had reduced to such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> +a state of imbecility that its reappearance +only served to more thoroughly bewilder +and terrify him. Hamilton threw the +reins to him, bade him look to the horse, +and went into the house, leaving him +to recover as best he might from his +stupor.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It was still long before noon when Signor +Oriole and his charge arrived in London. +Some little conversation they had had on +the journey on the most prosaic, matter-of-fact +details, as to where they should go, +and when, and how. They had decided +upon travelling by train to Naples, and +thence taking the steamer to Catania, a +little to the north of which lay the small +estate which had come to Signor Giuseppe. +They were to stay in London for the rest +of the day, and for that night. It was +with some little difficulty that he persuaded +Fulvia to do this; her wide-open eyes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +betrayed no look of drowsiness, and he +at least could see the expression of suspense +and restrained excitement on her face. She +had told him nothing of what had finally +driven her to him, and made her so firmly +bent on escaping from her husband’s +house, from West Wall—yea, even from +England. When he suggested the rest +in London a blank look came over her +face.</p> + +<p>‘Could we not take the tidal train to +Calais to-night?’ she asked imploringly.</p> + +<p>‘We certainly could, but I do not wish +either you or myself to break down on the +journey,’ he said; ‘and, mia cara, if you +will let me sleep for a few hours, I am at +your service.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, forgive me, padre mio! Do not +let us speak of it again. We will stay +here all night and leave to-morrow +morning.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>Thus it was arranged. Signor Giuseppe +employed part of the day in certain business +transactions with his bankers, and in laying +in a stock of some travelling requisites +whose very existence Fulvia appeared to +have forgotten. She went with him everywhere; +she seemed nervous and afraid to +be left alone in the hotel, and told him she +could not possibly sleep, even if she tried +to do so. He let her have her way, and +the long day wore on, and he insisted upon +her going to bed early and trying to +sleep.</p> + +<p>Their rooms were next door to one +another, and he promised that when +she was in bed he would go and say +good-night to her. She presently called +him through the door which joined the +rooms. He wondered whether she would +tell him now, as he went into the room +and saw her lying still and white-looking,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +still with those eyes so painfully wide +open.</p> + +<p>But Fulvia did not speak on that subject. +She held his hand for awhile, as he sat +beside her bed, and looked at him, and +said:</p> + +<p>‘I don’t think I shall go to sleep. I +wish I had gone to a doctor and asked +for a sleeping-draught. Promise not to +shut that door, will you?’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly, darling. It shall be open all +night,’ he assured her, and in a few +minutes, to his profound relief, he saw the +eyelids, heavy and purple with grief and +long vigil, fall. Once or twice she raised +them again. Once she pressed his hand, +and carried it to her lips. Then the clasp +of her fingers upon his gradually relaxed. +By-and-by he saw that Fulvia slept—a +natural sleep.</p> + +<p>‘Thank God!’ he said to himself. ‘I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> +should have been afraid to leave London +if I had known she had had no rest.’</p> + +<p>Still without any explanation having been +made, they left London on the following +morning. Now that she had rested, and +looked strong and steady, if pale and unspeakably +sad, he was ready to agree to +her request that they should only break the +journey once before getting to Naples—at +Milan. She never swerved from this +resolution, and they were, as it seemed, +very soon far away from England, had +traversed France, had travelled through +the snows of Switzerland, all crowded with +tourists of every description, had at last +reached the southern side of the Alps, and +heard their own tongue again. As the +heat grew greater, the number of English +and American excursionists diminished. +The burning plain of Lombardy was behind +them, and on a still, breathless, sultry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> +evening they entered the great desolate +space of the Milan station, coldly orderly +under a glare of electric light.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was after they had dined that evening, +and had left the coffee-room and were +seated in Fulvia’s room, with windows +open to let in any stray breath of air which +might be wandering about, that she said to +him deliberately:</p> + +<p>‘Padre mio, I am going to tell you +about it. I could not speak before, and I +do not wish to speak now, but still less do +I wish to have to speak after we have got +home. Let us leave all this behind us, +and begin everything afresh.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, child, it will be much the best if +you can tell me about it now,’</p> + +<p>‘It was thus, then. You know the kind +of life which for five years I had led and +had made no sign—no outward sign, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> +is. I thought I was so strong. I began +to pride myself upon it, and to feel a brutal +gladness in it, as if I were above and outside +the world of other people and might +despise them. I did despise a great many +of them, women especially, whom I used +to hear loudly mourning and lamenting +because they had not got everything they +wanted, not because they were like me, +without anything I wanted, and forced +to live a life I hated. I used to wonder +how they would conduct themselves if they +were really tried. I believed that I had +been so tried that there was nothing in the +world to move me, or tempt me, or make +me waver from the path on which I was +walking. Then——’</p> + +<p>‘Then Riemann came and made love to +you,’ he interrupted her. ‘Well?’</p> + +<p>‘No, he did not come and make love to +me. If he had done that at once, and had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +really begun to make love to me, as so +many others had tried to do, I should have +smiled, as I always did, and brushed him +away at once, as such creatures always can +be brushed away by the women who do +not want them. But it all grew so gradually +that I did not know what was coming. +I really was blind for a long time. I +swear to you that until he came to West +Wall, quite unexpectedly, he had never +spoken a word of love to me. There was +something—something deep down in my +heart. I thought it was gratitude to him +for his kindness, his services, his perfect +delicacy during a very miserable illness of +my husband’s when we were on the Riviera, +before we came to England in the early +spring.</p> + +<p>‘I should have loved him, I think, and +should have confessed it to myself, if he +had never said anything, just because it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> +would have been much more respectful and +chivalrous than the conduct of those other +creatures who think a miserable woman +can cure her misery, and wishes to do so, +in their society.... But that did not last +long. I don’t know how it came about in +the end, only I found that he did love me, +though he had been so long without saying +anything about it. I wasn’t shocked—somehow, +I was not even surprised, but +the horror of it was that, instead of being +utterly contemptuous, as I always had been +before, I was glad: heaven seemed opened +to me.</p> + +<p>‘It went on—of course it was easy +for it to go on, after it had once begun; +and insensibly I began to think, not that it +was impossible, but to ask myself why +there should be anything wrong in it—why +I should not have done with all that—and +go away with him, as he wanted me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> +to, and travel with him, and share his life, +and know some happiness, and feel what it +is to live, before I should have grown too +old to care about anything. What is the +use of telling lies about such things? Besides, +I never could tell lies, either to myself +or to anyone else. I knew that it was +impossible to be more unhappy and dissatisfied +and hungry for everything I could +not get than I was then, living an exemplary +life, doing my duty and earning the +respect of all who knew me. What was +their respect to me? I am sure I did not +care anything about it. As for resignation, +that is utterly unnatural, and even +wrong, for anyone in my position. But I +need not tell you all I thought. It would +take hours, and do no good, and not explain +anything, after all. The more I +argued with myself, the more convinced I +grew that there would be nothing wrong<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> +in reversing the picture, and trying what +going away and leaving my duty undone +might bring for me.</p> + +<p>‘Then he became ill—you know. I +had borne a great many of these illnesses +before. I don’t know that this was any +worse than the others had been, or any +different. It was much the same as usual, +I believe. It was I who was changed, +and to whom everything which had so far +got to seem deadly indifferent, beneath the +trouble of noticing, now seemed like stabs, +like stings, like mortal insults and wounds—intolerable +tortures which no one was +called upon to endure, who could escape +from them. I quite made up my mind. I +was perfectly reckless. I resolved to do it. +I had to put off a promised meeting with +Hans from the morning of that day—you +know which—till the evening. I told him +to be at the pond after nine. I did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> +know what would happen before then. +The doctor came—you know, the man +from London. I knew what he would +say.</p> + +<p>‘I did not know what he would do, +whether he would stay all night at the Hall, +or go to Mr. Brownrigg’s, or go home again. +I had ordered a room to be got ready for +him, in case he should stay. He decided +in the end to dine with me and Mr. +Brownrigg, whom I invited to remain, and +to stay all night at Mr. Brownrigg’s. +There was nothing interesting at the Hall, +as he soon saw. They saw my husband, +and had a consultation, and then called +me, and went through all that solemn farce +again which they always play. He was +very ill, but they did not think him in +immediate danger—the chief thing was to +keep his mind tranquil, and let him feel as +little depressed as possible—amuse him, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +short, as well as might be! Padre mio, I +ask you, what did I, what could I, care +whether he were tranquil or agitated, +cheerful or depressed? I said nothing to +them, of course. They knew all about +it.</p> + +<p>‘They cast down their eyes as they +spoke, and did not look at each other, nor +very much at me. I said yes and no, and +felt such an immense ennui—indescribable. +Then we dined together. They knew all +about the skeleton belonging to me, which +was not even in a cupboard, but quite +visible, in a room only a few doors away; +but we talked and laughed. Is there any +moment in our lives in which we cannot +talk and laugh? Sir Simon Sykes is quite +witty; he told us some most laughable +stories about patients and doctors in +London, at which even I was amused, and +which made Mr. Brownrigg cry, “Capital!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> +capital!” and laugh till the tears ran down +his cheeks. Dinner lasted rather a long +time. I intended to go to him before I +went away for ever. At last they had +gone away, and then I turned into his +room, to give the usual look round, so as +to get it done with, without seeming remarkable. +It was nearly ten o’clock. “In a +few minutes,” I thought, “all will be settled, +and I can go.”</p> + +<p>‘In his room I found the nurse, to +whom I had had almost to go on my +knees a few days before to prevail upon +her to stay. She had moved as far away +from him as she could, and was sitting, +where he could see her, with her fingers +in her ears, looking sullen and obstinate. +She had often complained, but I had +never seen her look like that before. +As soon as I came in, she got up, and +said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p> + +<p>‘“Mrs. Marchmont, I am sorry to inconvenience +you, but I have to tell you +that I cannot remain any longer to nurse +Mr. Marchmont. I don’t know what he +is or where he comes from, but though +I have nursed all kinds of men of the +roughest sort—navvies, and coal-heavers, +and drunkards, and as bad as bad can be, +in the hospitals, I never in all my time +have heard such words as he has been +pouring out upon me for the last hour. +I leave to-morrow. I shall explain to my +matron, and if she dismisses me I can’t +help it. I will not stay here!”</p> + +<p>‘Of course, there was only one thing +that I could say to her. I knew she +spoke the truth; I could not be angry with +her. I believe I spoke with a smile, for +the thought in my heart was, “Then we +are both going away. How happy we +are!” I said, “I am very sorry you have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> +had such an unpleasant experience. I do +not ask you to remain. You can go. +Good-night.” She looked at me for a +moment, and then went away. He had +not spoken. As soon as she had gone, +and the door was shut, he turned to me +and asked where I had been all that time. +With the doctors, I told him. They had +both gone.</p> + +<p>‘“Ah! and have you decided on a plan +for my destruction?” he asked me, with +the sort of laugh that he had sometimes.</p> + +<p>‘“I am sorry to say that, when we +did speak of you, the only thing that +was discussed was the best means for +prolonging your life,” I replied. I had +never felt like that before; I had never +felt him to be so wicked, nor myself so +wronged, as I did at that moment. In +the next everything was changed.</p> + +<p>‘“You hate me—me, who have done<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> +everything for you. You wish me dead. +And I married you when no one else would +have married you. I raised you from +beggary—practical beggary—to this!” I +heard what he said, and, though it is so +monstrous, I knew in an instant that he +believed what he said—he was firmly convinced +of it. He was sure that he had +really done me an unexampled benefit in +taking me away from my shabby, poverty-stricken +home and my equivocal surroundings, +and in making me a rich man’s +wife—his own legal, unassailable wife.’ +She laughed, and there was a sound of +bitter tears in her laugh.</p> + +<p>‘I laugh now. I laughed then, too. +I could not help it. It was all so—funny, +in a way. I had intended to answer him, +to pour out upon him the whole torrent +of my wrongs and my sufferings and my +martyrdom; but as soon as he had spoken<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> +those words, and I saw that he really +meant and believed them all, I knew it +would be utterly useless. It would only +waste time, and wear out my energies, so +I said nothing of all that. I resolved that +he should think me as bad as possible, +that he should have every ground for +appealing to the world and the law, when +I had gone, and saying, “See how she +has betrayed me! Set me free from her +at once.” So I gathered myself together, +and said,</p> + +<p>‘“You are perfectly right. I do hate +you. I loathe you, and I wish with all +my heart that you were dead. Then +I should have a chance of being happy +before I have grown too old and too +warped and too ill-tempered to be capable +of feeling what happiness is.”</p> + +<p>‘“Happiness—oh!” said he: “which of +them is it, pray, whose sighs you wish to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> +reward? That painter-fellow, with the +sentimental eyes, or the Englishman with +the starched cravat—your dear friend’s +brother? It’s a race between them, as +I have seen for some time, and I only am +in the way.”</p> + +<p>‘I did not understand him altogether. +I suppose it was just an additional insult +thrown in. He wished to drag in Minna’s +name because I love her, and say something +offensive about her or about someone +who belonged to her. I do not know +whether I turned red or pale with anger. +I felt a hot glow all over me, like a breath +of air from a furnace. “I could be happier +with a ploughboy, who was honest, than +with you,” I said, “if one must have someone +to be happy with. I don’t know why +one should not be happy alone, feeling +free and decent, and able to respect one’s +self again, mind and body.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<p>‘“You will never be happy, then, either +with or without someone,” was his answer. +“Never, while I am here. I am not dead +yet, and I’m not going to die, whatever you +may think; and as long as I live here, you +are my wife—and here you have to stay. +You can do nothing to help yourself—nothing +at all.”</p> + +<p>‘Two thoughts came into my mind at the +same moment, I think. First, that I had +so behaved that this creature trusted me; +despite all he had done to crush every +good feeling in me, he had not been able +to crush out my truth and my honesty. +While he accused me in one breath of +wishing him dead and of being in a plot to +bring about his death, in the next he told +me I could never be free while he lived, +because he took it for granted that I +should never desert him. That was one +thought, and the next was, as my eyes fell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +upon a table on which stood some drugs, +that in one moment I could put him out of +the way, still his horrible voice, kill his +abominable power for ever.</p> + +<p>‘I did not speak for a moment. The two +thoughts were fighting together in my +mind. I went up to the table, and took +from it the bottle of morphia and the little +needle for injecting it, and I went up to +him.</p> + +<p>‘The last thing the doctors had said +was that he was to have morphia in +moderate quantities. I knew exactly how +much. So long as the paroxysms of +violent pain lasted it was to be administered. +I went up to him, as I tell +you. I suppose there must have been +some change in my look or on my face, for +he suddenly said, in a voice of suspicion +and fear:</p> + +<p>‘“What have you got there? What do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> +you want? Why do you look at me like +that?”</p> + +<p>‘“You know what this is,” said I; “it +is the morphia which they have been +giving you, to take away your pain and +make you sleep. You have behaved in +such a manner to Nurse Agnes that—you +heard what she said—she has gone away, +and does not intend to enter your room +again. You have treated your servant +Morrison so that he is in much the same +frame of mind. I do not know whether +he will come, even if I were to go to him +and beg him to do so. You have, as +usual, left it all to me, because no one else +will come near you. Do you think that I +have a spirit more slavish and more contemptible +than that of these servants? I +have just told you that I loathe you and +wish you were dead. By the order of +your doctors, and especially of this great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +authority from London, you are to have +an injection of this stuff in your arm every +night at bedtime, and as much oftener as +may be necessary. You think I shall +endure everything, I see. You think I +shall only talk about my unhappiness—never +rebel against it. You are forced to +honour me and trust me in your heart, you +horrible coward! while you abuse me and +tell shameful lies of me with your lips. +Do you think I shall bear it for ever? +What if I choose to put an end to it now? +You could not prevent my doing so. You +are weak and helpless and paralyzed. I +am strong and young and able to move +where I will and do all I wish to, physically.</p> + +<p>‘“I can do just what I like with you +as you lie there. I can fill this syringe +with the quantity of morphia prescribed by +the doctor, and so secure you some hours<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> +of rest and forgetfulness of your pain, or I +can put into it three times as much as the +doctor ordered, and so put you into a sleep +from which you will never awaken. Do +you understand? Now, this instant, I can +do it. Reflect well and speak honestly, if +you can, for once in your life. Do you +think it would be very strange if I decided +to give you too much? Do you really think +I am incapable of it? Do you think also +that I am not quite clever enough to escape +any disagreeable consequences of doing it? +Bah! speak the truth. Tell me, which do +you think would be my best plan—from +my point of view, not from yours?”</p> + +<p>‘Then he was really terrified, and +showed the abject coward which in his +soul he is. He began to whine and cry +and whimper, and to tell me how he loved +me, and that it was because he saw that +other people loved me also, and he could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> +not bear it, that he was jealous and fretful +and irritable. He said he had always +adored me from the very first; he said a +great many things the hearing of which +made me sick with rage. Then he whined +and prayed and cried, and begged me to +spare his life, and then he said he trusted +me and always had trusted me. He was +so pitiful, so abject, so utterly contemptible, +that I began to feel as if killing him would +be like stepping on some crawling beetle +or caterpillar and killing it—an ugly, +repulsive little object, padre mio, but quite +pitiably helpless when confronted with a +human being.... And then it was true: +he did trust me. I never yet deceived +anyone who trusted in me. I became +recklessly contemptuous of all that might +happen. I took my resolution. Physically +I would spare him, morally I would +slay him. I was a little mad, I think, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> +was I sane then, and am I a little mad +now?’</p> + +<p>She looked at him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>‘You are sane enough now, carissima, +and you were sane then. I see nothing +mad in anything you have said or done,’ +her father told her.</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps.’ She sighed profoundly, then +went on: ‘I said to him, “Listen; I am +going to give you the hypodermic injection; +just as much as the doctor has +ordered, and no more. It appears to me +that I am weak and foolish to neglect the +opportunity which the gods afford me, but +I will do it. Then, as soon as you are +asleep and unable to insult anyone, I will +call your servant and ask him to sit with +you, and then I shall leave this house, +never to return to it. I will not tell you +where I am going, nor to whom. I am +going to be happy. In spite of what you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> +say and of what you think, I am going to +be happy and free, even though you are +here, alive, and I am married to you.”</p> + +<p>‘He stared at me, and said: “I will not +have any of your morphia. I choose to +be awake. I do not want my servant; I +want you, and you must sit with me, not +he. I won’t be drugged to sleep that you +may go to your lover.”</p> + +<p>‘“You cannot help yourself, mio caro,” I +said to him. It was the first time in all +those years that I had called him so. “I +am going to leave you; that is all you +need to know.” I took his arm, and he +could not resist. I could have shrieked +and shuddered merely to touch him, but I +went through with it all. I measured the +dose, and my hand did not shake for an +instant. “You see,” I said, “so many +drops: watch me while I drop them—so.”</p> + +<p>‘And when it was ready I inserted the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> +needle, gave the injection, and replaced +the things on the table. Then I waited a +little while. That was the worst of all. +It was hideous. He tried to awake, not to +succumb to the dose. He could not. He +talked to me quickly and angrily, and I +did not stop my ears. In spite of his +efforts, the words began to stammer on his +lips, his eyes glazed and closed. He was +asleep—unconscious.</p> + +<p>‘“Good-bye,” I said to him mockingly. +Then I rang the bell, and Morrison answered +it. “Can you sit with Mr. Marchmont +for a few hours, Morrison?” I asked. +“He will now sleep for some time, and I +must have rest, if I am to remain with him +while he is awake.”</p> + +<p>‘Morrison at once agreed, and took his +place by the bedside. I wished him +good-night and went away.</p> + +<p>‘I went to my room, rang for my maid,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> +and told her she could go to bed. I did +not want anything more, and would undress +myself. Then the moments seemed +hours, while I tore off my ornaments, and +my evening dress, and my satin shoes, and +seized upon these dark things, and this +bonnet and veil—I will buy some other +things here, carissimo, and give these to +the chambermaid. I was in a wild fever. +I saw that it was nearly half-past eleven. +Hans must have been waiting two hours +and a half. Never mind. He would forgive +me as soon as he knew, and his recompense +should be my whole life. Why +do you look at me in that way?’ she added +quickly.</p> + +<p>‘His recompense!’ Signor Giuseppe repeated +after her, and laid his hand for a +moment on her head.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t, darling, don’t!’ said Fulvia, +almost sharply. ‘Wait till I have done,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> +or I shall not be able to finish it. Though +it seemed an eternity, I don’t think I was +five minutes in undressing and redressing, +and I did such a lot of things: locked up +all my jewellery and put the key of my +dressing-case into an envelope and addressed +it to—its owner, and several other +things. Then I stole downstairs, and got +out of the house, and flew along the park +towards the boat-house and the pond. +The moon had come out, and gave me +some light. I was bent upon getting +there, hearing his voice, throwing myself +into his arms. And yet, even as I flew +along the path, even in that short time, +there came a thought into my mind which +all at once caused me to stand still. It +was this, that I was going to give away +what was not mine—my name and my +fame, my honour and my honesty. They +were not his—my husband’s—oh, don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> +suppose that I was ever weak enough for +one moment to think that they were! If +there had been only him to consider, or +only me! But there are always so many +things. I don’t know why it came to me +then; but I knew all at once that this self +of mine, of which I was going to dispose so +arbitrarily, was not really mine. Nothing +is really ours to which we have given +others a claim by a certain way of living +and behaving and conducting ourselves. +It was not my own thing—it belonged to +you, and to Minna, and to poor little +Rhoda even, and to everyone to whom +my life heretofore had said, “This is what +I am—you may trust me,” and who would +ever after be obliged to feel and say, “She +lied to us.” Perhaps my being able to stop +and think of that, and consider about it, +then, showed me to be a cold-hearted +creature. I don’t think I am cold-hearted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> +by nature,’ said Fulvia, in a voice whose +pathos wrung her hearer’s heart. ‘But—well, +I put it away from me. I went on; I +said, “I have promised Hans too. He +has a claim as well.” But the eagerness +was gone. I felt the taste of the dust and +ashes. It was not that I was afraid. I +don’t know how to explain it; I will not +try. I will tell you what happened. I +arrived at last at the place. I did not see +anyone, though the moon was up. A +terrible fear took possession of me. It +was all so horrible. Where was he? +Certainly not outside. I went into the +boat-house at last. It was so dark there +that I could see nothing. I called, +“Hans!” I had to call once or twice, +before at last he answered. He had been +worn out with waiting, and had fallen +asleep. At last I heard a movement, and +his voice said, “Yes?” “Come outside,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> +said I, “where it is light. I must explain +to you.” He rose from the bench on +which he had been lying, and followed me +outside. “Hans!” I said, and held out +my hands. “You told me to be here after +nine,” he said. “I was here before. I +had given you up. I thought you were +fooling me.” “Oh, Hans, I could not +help it. It has been so awful,” I told +him. “Don’t look at me like that—so +coldly, so cruelly. What have I done?” +I asked, and my heart was growing every +moment colder. He shivered too. I was +frightened.</p> + +<p>‘“Why did you not come sooner?” he +asked. “How can one arrange anything +at this time of night?”</p> + +<p>‘“Oh, darling, there is nothing to arrange,” +I exclaimed. “I am here. I have +left him for ever and ever. I shall never +go back there any more. It is all over. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +have no one but you. Listen, Hans!” and +then I told him, in a few words, what had +happened. He grew quite still and cold as +I spoke, with that stillness which one feels +all through one, and which is so terrible. +When I had done, he looked at me, and +said in a strange voice, “You thought of +murdering him? Good God!” and no +more.</p> + +<p>‘Then I knew that my hour was come. +I knew I had risked everything, cut myself +off from everything, and broken with everything, +to be, as you once said to me, at the +mercy of a <i>farceur</i>. I did not wait; I +suddenly pushed him away from me, and +stood straight up, and said “Go! You are +no better than he is. You are just the +same. Leave me. Go home, and <i>leave</i> +me here.”</p> + +<p>‘He was very much startled. He +seemed to awaken from a dream, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +a flash came into his eyes, and he sprang +towards me again, and would have taken +me in his arms.</p> + +<p>‘“Leave you, Fulvia! Never, by God! +Come to me. Come away with me. I +care for nothing if I have you.” Never +had I heard his voice with such a tone. +Never had I seen his eyes with that look +in them. Had he so met me at first, I +should have been his beyond recall and +beyond repentance. But it had all gone—all +the belief, and all the love, and all the +dream had vanished. They were no more. +He begged, he prayed, he entreated, he +conjured me. If he had never loved me +before, he did then. Nothing that he did +or said made me waver. It was no virtue +of mine—there was no more passion left in +me. There was no answer in my heart. I +scarcely spoke, till at last I felt I must make +an end of it, so I said a few cutting words,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> +and asked if he were a poltroon that he tormented +me so, after what I had said. At +that he seemed at last to understand. He +turned on his heel and went away. I was +alone—quite alone. I don’t know what +time it was. I don’t know how long I +stayed there. I am sure I don’t know +what I thought. Everything seemed to +have come to an end, and I said to myself, +“Ah, if I could lie down here and die.” +But I knew that if I did lie down I should +not die, because I am strong; I should +only sleep, and waken again to the bitter +world, and all its lies and all the horror +of having to act a part. Life plays +with us as a cat plays with a mouse. It +torments us as long as it can, and at +last strikes us down, and opens the grave +for us.</p> + +<p>‘It was after a long time, I suppose, +that I at last thought of you, oh Beppo!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> +and the thought was like a ray of light in +the blackness. One moment before I had +been standing by the side of the water, +feeling that there was nothing for me to +do but to plunge into it. Because, what +could there be for anyone like me? Unless +I had someone to go to?’</p> + +<p>She stopped and looked at him, all the +horror of that moment reappearing in her +eyes. Signor Giuseppe knew very well +what must have passed through her mind +as she stood there, fully conscious of all +the pitfalls which this naughty world prepares +and has in readiness for such as +she, if such as she once break through +the ring-fence of conventional propriety +which fences them in. Spoiled for humble +work, not in will, but by the hothouse life +of luxury, which had stamped her with +the stamp of fashion and distinction in +outward appearance, devoid of friends,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +without money, without ‘reference’—where +could she have hidden her misery? +Where would she not have been speedily +reduced to the alternative of starvation, +suicide, or dishonour? Society makes no +provision for exceptional cases—its code is +that there must not be any exceptional +cases, and that such cases have themselves +to thank for their situation.</p> + +<p>‘For all my awful wretchedness, I shuddered +at the thought of killing myself,’ Fulvia +went on. ‘Have you not noticed, padre +mio, how much more ready these still, cold +Northerners are to put an end to themselves +than we, who seem to feel so much +more? Our thoughts and our feelings are +so much less complex than theirs, and +violence and interference with the course of +nature are so much more foreign to us. +Don’t you think so?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh yes, child! It is so much of a fact<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> +to me that I have ceased even to think of +it as remarkable. Well?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, it all comes to an end: nothing +grand, nothing heroic, or violent, or tragic. +I thought of you, as I said, and I asked +myself, “Would Beppo rather that I should +go to him and cast myself on his care and +love, and shake him out of his quiet, contented +life, and drag him about with me—a +wretched, ruined, unhappy woman—or +that I should bring all to an end now, in +this pond?” In an instant, in a flash of +light, I knew what you would think and +would feel. I turned away. I felt so +bruised, so broken, so crushed, that I could +hardly crawl along. I wandered about, +looking at the house till I saw the light in +your window and knew that you were up. +And at last I took courage to go up to +where I saw you standing, and—all the rest +you know.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span></p> + +<p>‘It is the best that could have been +done,’ he told her gently.</p> + +<p>Fulvia was leaning back, utterly exhausted, +in her chair. He stroked her +hands softly, and there was a long silence, +till at last she opened her eyes, and, looking +at him fully, and with love unspeakable +and trust unbounded, said:</p> + +<p>‘I will try to make you as happy and as +contented as you were with Minna. I will +never think of anyone else. You know I +can carry things out when I wish to do it; +and, oh, how I wish it now!’</p> + +<p>Quite overcome, Signor Oriole had +risen from his chair, and was walking +about the room, clearing his throat every +now and then. Fulvia suddenly sprang +from hers, and interrupted him in his walk +to and fro, put her hands on his shoulders, +and said:</p> + +<p>‘You will trust me to try, will you not?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span></p> + +<p>The next moment she was lying in his +arms, weeping in one wild, unquenchable +flood all the tears due to her outraged +innocence, her blighted youth, her darkened +future; and in spite of it all—in +spite of the agony, of the hopelessness, +of the bitter hardness of it all—there was, +deep down in both hearts, the consciousness, +unspoken, unformulated, but felt, +that at this moment the healing of the +gaping wounds had begun, and that the +future might bring entire restoration.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Only three years have passed since that +night when Fulvia made confession to her +father of what had happened. They pursued +their journey South on the following +day, and presently arrived at what was to +be their home.</p> + +<p>There, in profoundest quiet, they live, +returning more and more to the customs +and the habits of their own land, throwing +off more and more the stamp of foreign +life and an existence amongst aliens. +They are not without their joys, and they +have at least rest for their souls.</p> + +<p>Marchmont still lives; still hangs on to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> +his fretful, joyless existence. No word has +ever passed between him and his wife. +She has not asked for a separation; he +has not dared to suggest her to return to +him. Neither money nor written words +have ever passed between them. He has +had himself conveyed to London; and his +house is presided over by a widowed sister, +from Australia.</p> + +<p>Letters pass between the Sicilian +<i>castello</i> and the old English country +house, and Minna thinks, from the tone +of them, that perhaps after a little time +she may broach the project which is at +present the desire of her heart—a journey +to Catania, and beyond, to see those two +who hold in her heart the same places as +her brother Richard, and her niece Rhoda, +to whom she has to be mother. Up to +now she has not dared to hint at it, so +intensely strong was the desire for solitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> +and rest breathed through every one of +Fulvia’s infrequent letters, and echoed by +those of her father. But Minna waits, +and says, ‘The day will come.’</p> + +<p>Hans Riemann started off rather abruptly +on his tour to the Caucasus, with the firm +intention of remaining away for a long +time.</p> + +<p>Signora Dietrich is noted for her works +of charity, and for her rigid, unbending +adherence to the most strictly religious +life which can be led by one who is not +actually in a cloister. Her house is a +resort of some of the most accomplished +of the Roman clergy, and it is known that, +in a quiet way, she does an immense +amount of work for the Church. She is +a clever woman, and her life at present +is a highly successful one. Intrigue, +and the management of other people’s +affairs, and interference with them, are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> +dependent on their subjects’ characters; +undirected, they are apt to get into narrow +grooves, and the result of their labours is +not, in that case, productive of unmixed +good—at least, to the mind of the vulgar—but +manipulated by the hands of authority, +by such a Church as that of Rome, with +proper consideration and proper discipline, +there is no knowledge of what value they +may become to their superiors, nor what +satisfaction and content they may secure +for themselves.</p> + +<p>For such a road in life Signora +Dietrich was born; if she entered the +right path somewhat late, she at least +strives to make up in zeal and mature +intelligence the wasted years which +slipped by before she had found her +vocation.</p> + + +<p class="center"> +THE END.<br> +<br> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span>BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.<br> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</span></p> + + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Telegraphic Address:</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Sunlooks, London</i>.</div> + <div class="verse indent6"><span class="smcap"><i>21 Bedford Street, W.C.</i></span></div> + <div class="verse indent6"><span class="smcap"><i>November 1892.</i></span></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +A LIST OF<br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">Mr</span> WILLIAM HEINEMANN’S<br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">Publications</span><br> +<br> +AND<br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">Forthcoming Works</span><br> +</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;"><i>The Books mentioned in this List can</i></span><br> +<i>be obtained</i> to order <i>by any Bookseller</i><br> +<span style="margin-right: 6.5em;"><i>if not in stock, or will be sent</i></span><br> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;"><i>by the Publisher post free on receipt</i></span><br> +<span style="margin-right: 16em;"><i>of price</i>.</span><br> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Index_of_Authors">Index of Authors.</h2> +</div> + + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">PAGE</span><br> +<br> +Alexander, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +Arbuthnot, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +Atherton, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +Baddeley, <a href="#Page_iv" title="Go to page iv">iv</a><br> +Balestier, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +Barrett, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Behrs, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Bendall, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Björnson, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a>, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a>, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Bowen, <a href="#Page_v" title="Go to page v">v</a><br> +Brown, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +Brown and Griffiths, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Buchanan, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a>, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a>, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a>, <a href="#Page_xiv" title="Go to page xiv">xiv</a><br> +Butler, <a href="#Page_v" title="Go to page v">v</a><br> +<br> +Caine, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a>, <a href="#Page_xii" title="Go to page xii">xii</a><br> +Caine, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Cambridge, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a>, <a href="#Page_xii" title="Go to page xii">xii</a><br> +Chester, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Clarke, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Colomb, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Compayre, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Couperus, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +<br> +Davidson, <a href="#Page_v" title="Go to page v">v</a><br> +Dawson, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +De Quincey, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +<br> +Eeden, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Ellwanger, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Ely, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +<br> +Farrar, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Fitch, <a href="#Page_v" title="Go to page v">v</a><br> +Forbes, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Fothergill, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Franzos, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +Frederic, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a>, <a href="#Page_xii" title="Go to page xii">xii</a><br> +<br> +Garner, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Garnett, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a><br> +Gilchrist, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Gore, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Gosse, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a>, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Gray, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Gray (Maxwell), <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Griffiths, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +<br> +Hall, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Harland, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +Hardy, <a href="#Page_xii" title="Go to page xii">xii</a><br> +Heine, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a><br> +Henderson (Major), <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Henderson, <a href="#Page_xiv" title="Go to page xiv">xiv</a><br> +Howard, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a><br> +Hughes, <a href="#Page_v" title="Go to page v">v</a><br> +Hungerford, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a>, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +<br> +Ibsen, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Irving, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Ingersoll, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +<br> +Jæger, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a>, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Jeaffreson, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +<br> +Kimball, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Kipling and Balestier, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +<br> +Lanza, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +<br> +Le Caron, <a href="#Page_iv" title="Go to page iv">iv</a><br> +Lee, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a><br> +Leland, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Lie, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +Lowe, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a>, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a><br> +Lynch, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +<br> +Maartens, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a><br> +Maeterlinck, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Maude, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Maupassant, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +Maurice, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Mitford, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +Murray, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +<br> +Norris, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +<br> +Ouida, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +<br> +Palacio-Valdés, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +Pearce, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a><br> +Pennell, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a><br> +Philips, <a href="#Page_xiv" title="Go to page xiv">xiv</a><br> +Phelps, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +Pinero, <a href="#Page_xiv" title="Go to page xiv">xiv</a><br> +<br> +Rawnsley, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Renan, <a href="#Page_iv" title="Go to page iv">iv</a><br> +Richter, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Riddell, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Rives, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a><br> +Roberts (C.G.D.), <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +Roberts (F. von), <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +Robinson, <a href="#Page_xiv" title="Go to page xiv">xiv</a><br> +<br> +Salaman (M. C.), <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Salaman (J. S.), <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a><br> +Scudamore, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a><br> +Serao, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +Sienkiewicz, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +<br> +Tasma, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a>, <a href="#Page_x" title="Go to page x">x</a>, <a href="#Page_xii" title="Go to page xii">xii</a><br> +Terry, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Thurston, <a href="#Page_xvi" title="Go to page xvi">xvi</a><br> +Tolstoy, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a>, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a>, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +Tree, <a href="#Page_xv" title="Go to page xv">xv</a><br> +<br> +Valera, <a href="#Page_xi" title="Go to page xi">xi</a><br> +<br> +Warden, <a href="#Page_xii" title="Go to page xii">xii</a><br> +Waugh, <a href="#Page_iv" title="Go to page iv">iv</a><br> +Weitemeyer, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +West, <a href="#Page_v" title="Go to page v">v</a><br> +Whistler, <a href="#Page_iii" title="Go to page iii">iii</a>, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a><br> +Whitman, <a href="#Page_vi" title="Go to page vi">vi</a>, <a href="#Page_viii" title="Go to page viii">viii</a><br> +Williams, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a><br> +Wood, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +<br> +Zangwill, <a href="#Page_vii" title="Go to page vii">vii</a>, <a href="#Page_ix" title="Go to page ix">ix</a><br> +Zola, <a href="#Page_xiii" title="Go to page xiii">xiii</a><br> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> +</div> + +<p class="center"> + +<span class="xsize6">THE GREAT WAR OF 189-.</span><br> +<span class="xsize5"><i>A FORECAST.</i></span><br> +<span class="xsize3">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize4">REAR-ADMIRAL COLOMB, COL. MAURICE, R.A.,<br> +MAJOR HENDERSON, <span class="smcap">Staff College</span>,<br> +CAPTAIN MAUDE, ARCHIBALD FORBES,<br> +CHARLES LOWE, D. CHRISTIE MURRAY,<br> +and F. SCUDAMORE.<br></span> +<span class="xsize3">In One Volume, large 8vo. With Numerous Illustrations, 12s. 6d.</span><br> +</p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> + +<span class="xsize6">VICTORIA:</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">QUEEN AND EMPRESS.<br></span> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">JOHN CORDY JEAFFRESON,</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">Author of “The Real Lord Byron,” etc.<br> +In Two Volumes, 8vo. With Portraits. [<i>In the Press.</i></span><br> +</p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize6">SONGS ON STONE.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">J. McNEILL WHISTLER.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">A series of lithographic drawings in colour, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Whistler</span><br>, +will appear from time to time in parts, under the above title. Each<br> +containing four plates. The first issue of 200 copies will be sold at<br> +Two Guineas net per part, by Subscription for the Series only.<br> +<i>There will also be issued 50 copies on Japanese paper signed by the<br> +artist, each Five Guineas net.</i></span> +</p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize6">REMINISCENCES OF<br> +COUNT LEO NICHOLAEVITCH<br> +TOLSTOI.<br></span> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">C. A. BEHRS,</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">PROFESSOR C. E. TURNER.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">In One Volume, Crown 8vo. [<i>In the Press.</i></span><br> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</span></p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize6">TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE<br> +SECRET SERVICE.</span><br> +<span class="xsize5"><i>THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A SPY.</i></span><br> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">MAJOR LE CARON.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">In One Volume, 8vo. With Portraits and Facsimiles. Price 14<i>s.</i></span><br> +</p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize6">ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON:</span><br> +<span class="xsize5"><i>A STUDY OF HIS LIFE AND WORK</i>.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">ARTHUR WAUGH, B.A. <span class="smcap">Oxon.</span></span><br> +<span class="xsize2">WITH TWENTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS,</span><br> +<span class="xsize5"><i>From Photographs Specially Taken for this Work,</i><br> +<i>and Five Portraits</i>.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">Second Edition, Revised. In One Volume, Demy 8vo, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span><br> +</p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize6">STUDIES OF RELIGIOUS<br> +HISTORY.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">ERNEST RENAN,</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">LATE OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY.</span><br> +<span class="xsize6">In One Volume, 8vo, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span><br> +</p> + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize6">QUEEN JOANNA I.</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">OF NAPLES, SICILY, AND JERUSALEM;</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">COUNTESS OF PROVENCE FORCALQUIER,<br> +AND PIEDMONT.</span><br> +<span class="xsize5"><i>AN ESSAY ON HER TIMES.</i></span><br> +<span class="xsize2">BY</span><br> +<span class="xsize5">ST. CLAIR BADDELEY.</span><br> +<span class="xsize2">Imperial 8vo. With Numerous Illustrations, 16<i>s.</i><br></span> +</p> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</span> + + +<hr class="ad"> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="gothic">The Great Educators.</span><br> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="xsize5"><i>A Series of Volumes by Eminent Writers, presenting in their</i><br> +<i>entirety “A Biographical History of Education.”</i></span><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>The Times.</i>—“A Series of Monographs on ‘The Great Educators’ should +prove of service to all who concern themselves with the history, theory, and +practice of education.”</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>The Speaker.</i>—“There is a promising sound about the title of Mr. Heinemann’s +new series, ‘The Great Educators.’ It should help to allay the hunger +and thirst for knowledge and culture of the vast multitude of young men and +maidens which our educational system turns out yearly, provided at least with +an appetite for instruction.”</p> + +<p class="center"> +Each subject will form a complete volume, crown 8vo, 5s.<br> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Now ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="xsize5"><b>ARISTOTLE, and the Ancient Educational Ideals.</b></span><br> +<span class="xsize2"><span class="smcap">Thomas Davidson</span>, M.A., LL.D.</span><br> +<i>The Times.</i>—“A very readable sketch of a very interesting subject.” +</p> + + +<p class="blockquot"><b>LOYOLA, and the Educational System of the Jesuits.</b><br> +<span class="xsize2">By Rev. <span class="smcap">Thomas Hughes</span>, S.J.</span><br> +<i>Saturday Review.</i>—“Full of valuable information.... If a schoolmaster +would learn how the education of the young can be carried on so as to +confer real dignity on those engaged in it, we recommend him to read Mr. +Hughes’ book.” +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>ALCUIN, and the Rise of the Christian Schools.</b><br> +By Professor <span class="smcap">Andrew F. West</span>, Ph.D. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>ABELARD, and the Origin and Early History of Universities.</b> +By <span class="smcap">Jules Gabriel Compayre</span>, Professor in the Faculty of +Toulouse.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>ROUSSEAU; or, Education according to Nature.</b></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>HERBART; or, Modern German Education.</b></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>PESTALOZZI; or, the Friend and Student of Children</b>.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>FROEBEL.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. Courthope Bowen</span>, M.A.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>HORACE MANN, and Public Education in the United States.</b><br> +By <span class="smcap">Nicholas Murray Butler</span>, Ph.D.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>BELL, LANCASTER, and ARNOLD; or, the English +Education of To-Day.</b><br> +By <span class="smcap">J. G. Fitch</span>, LL.D., Her Majesty’s Inspector of Schools.</p> + + +<p class="center"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</span><i>Others to follow.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE ARBITRATOR’S MANUAL.</b> Under the London +Chamber of Arbitration. Being a Practical Treatise on the Power and +Duties of an Arbitrator, with the Rules and Procedure of the Court of +Arbitration, and the Forms. By <span class="smcap">Joseph Seymour Salaman</span>, Author of +“Trade Marks,” etc. Fcap. 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES.</b> As +pleasingly exemplified in many instances, wherein the serious ones of this +earth, carefully exasperated, have been prettily spurred on to indiscretions +and unseemliness, while overcome by an undue sense of right. By +<span class="smcap">J. M’Neil Whistler</span>. <i>A New Edition.</i> Pott 4to, half cloth, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> +</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE JEW AT HOME.</b> Impressions of a Summer and +Autumn Spent with Him in Austria and Russia. By <span class="smcap">Joseph Pennell</span>. +With Illustrations by the Author. 4to, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE NEW EXODUS.</b> A Study of Israel in Russia. By +<span class="smcap">Harold Frederic</span>. Demy 8vo, Illustrated, 16<i>s.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE REALM OF THE HABSBURGS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Sidney +Whitman</span>, Author of “Imperial Germany.” In One Volume. Crown +8vo, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>PRINCE BISMARCK.</b> An Historical Biography. By +<span class="smcap">Charles Lowe</span>, M.A. With Portraits. Crown 8vo, 6<i>s.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE WORKS OF HEINRICH HEINE.</b> Translated +by <span class="smcap">Charles Godfrey Leland</span>, M.A., F.R.L.S. (Hans Breitmann.) +Crown 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i> per Volume.</p> + +<p class="blockquot2">I. FLORENTINE NIGHTS, SCHNABELEWOPSKI, +THE RABBI OF BACHARACH, and SHAKESPEARE’S +MAIDENS AND WOMEN.</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Ready.</i><br> +</p> + + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Times.</i>—“We can recommend no better medium for making acquaintance +at first hand with ‘the German Aristophanes’ than the works of Heinrich +Heine, translated by Charles Godfrey Leland. Mr. Leland manages pretty +successfully to preserve the easy grace of the original.”</p> + +<p class="blockquot2">II., III. PICTURES OF TRAVEL. 1823-1828. In Two +Volumes.</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—“Mr. Leland’s translation of ‘The Pictures of Travel’ +is one of the acknowledged literary feats of the age. As a traveller Heine is +delicious beyond description, and a volume which includes the magnificent +Lucca series, the North Sea, the memorable Hartz wanderings, must needs +possess an everlasting charm.”</p> + +<p class="blockquot2">IV. THE BOOK OF SONGS.</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot2">V., VI. GERMANY. In Two Volumes.</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>Ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—“Mr. Leland has done his translation in able and +scholarly fashion.”</p> + +<p class="blockquot2">VII., VIII. FRENCH AFFAIRS. In Two Volumes.</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot2">IX. THE SALON.</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i> +</p> +<p class="blockquot">⁂ <i>Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Numbered Copies. Particulars on application.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>LIFE OF HEINRICH HEINE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard Garnett</span>, +LL.D. With Portrait. Crown 8vo (uniform with the translation of Heine’s +Works).</p> +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>LITTLE JOHANNES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frederick van Eeden</span>. Translated +from the Dutch by <span class="smcap">Clara Bell</span>. With an Introduction by +<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span>, illustrated.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +⁂ <i>Also a Large Paper Edition.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS.</b> By Professor <span class="smcap">R. L. +Garner</span>. Crown 8vo, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE OLD MAIDS’ CLUB.</b> By <span class="smcap">I. Zangwill</span>, Author of +“The Bachelors’ Club.” Illustrated by <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>. Crown 8vo, +cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>WOMAN—THROUGH A MAN’S EYEGLASS.</b> By +<span class="smcap">Malcolm C. Salaman</span>. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Dudley Hardy</span>. Crown +8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>GIRLS AND WOMEN.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. Chester</span>. Pott 8vo, cloth, +2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, or gilt extra, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>GOSSIP IN A LIBRARY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span>, Author of +“Northern Studies,” &c. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, +7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot">⁂ <i>Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Numbered Copies, 25s. net.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henrik Jæger</span>. +Translated by <span class="smcap">Clara Bell</span>. With the Verse done into English from the +Norwegian Original by <span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>DE QUINCEY MEMORIALS.</b> Being Letters and other +Records here first Published, with Communications from <span class="smcap">Coleridge</span>, The +<span class="smcap">Wordsworths</span>, <span class="smcap">Hannah More</span>, <span class="smcap">Professor Wilson</span> and others. Edited, +with Introduction, Notes, and Narrative, by <span class="smcap">Alexander H. Japp</span>, LL.D., +F.R.S.E. In two volumes, demy 8vo, cloth, with portraits, 30<i>s.</i> net.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><b>THE POSTHUMOUS WORKS OF THOMAS DE +QUINCEY.</b> Edited with Introduction and Notes from the Author’s +Original MSS., by <span class="smcap">Alexander H. Japp</span>, LL.D, F.R.S.E., &c. Crown +8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p>I. SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS. With other Essays.</p> + +<p>II. CONVERSATION AND COLERIDGE. With other +Essays.</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE WORD OF THE LORD UPON THE WATERS.</b> +Sermons read by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Germany, while +at Sea on his Voyages to the Land of the Midnight Sun. Composed by +Dr. <span class="smcap">Richter</span>, Army Chaplain, and Translated from the German by <span class="smcap">John +R. McIlraith</span>. 4to, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE HOURS OF RAPHAEL, IN OUTLINE.</b> +Together with the Ceiling of the Hall where they were originally painted. +By <span class="smcap">Mary E. Williams</span>. Folio, cloth, £2 2<i>s.</i> net.</p> + +<p><b>THE PASSION PLAY AT OBERAMMERGAU, 1890.</b> +By <span class="smcap">F. W. Farrar</span>, D.D., F.R.S., Archdeacon and Canon of Westminster, +&c. &c. 4to, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE GARDEN’S STORY</b>; or, Pleasures and Trials of an +Amateur Gardener. By <span class="smcap">G. H. Ellwanger</span>. With an Introduction by the +Rev. <span class="smcap">C. Wolley Dod</span>. 12mo, cloth, with Illustrations, 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p><b>IDLE MUSINGS</b>: Essays in Social Mosaic. By <span class="smcap">E. Conder +Gray</span>, Author of “Wise Words and Loving Deeds,” &c. &c. Crown 8vo, +cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</span></p> + +<p><b>THE COMING TERROR.</b> And other Essays and Letters. +By <span class="smcap">Robert Buchanan</span>. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, cloth, 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p><b>ARABIC AUTHORS</b>: A Manual of Arabian History and +Literature. By <span class="smcap">F. F. Arbuthnot</span>, M.R.A.S., Author of “Early Ideas,” +“Persian Portraits,” &c. 8vo, cloth, 10<i>s.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE LABOUR MOVEMENT IN AMERICA.</b> By +<span class="smcap">Richard T. Ely</span>, Ph.D., Associate in Political Economy, Johns Hopkins +University. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE LITTLE MANX NATION.</b> (Lectures delivered at +the Royal Institution, 1891.) By <span class="smcap">Hall Caine</span>, Author of “The Bondman,” +“The Scapegoat,” &c. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; paper, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p><b>NOTES FOR THE NILE.</b> Together with a Metrical +Rendering of the Hymns of Ancient Egypt and of the Precepts of Ptahhotep +(the oldest book in the world). By <span class="smcap">Hardwicke D. Rawnsley</span>, M. A. +16mo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p><b>DENMARK</b>: Its History, Topography, Language, Literature, +Fine Arts, Social Life, and Finance. Edited by <span class="smcap">H. Weitemeyer.</span> Demy +8vo, cloth, with Map, 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p class="center"> +⁂ <i>Dedicated, by permission, to H.R.H. the Princess of Wales.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>IMPERIAL GERMANY.</b> A Critical Study of Fact and +Character. By <span class="smcap">Sidney Whitman</span>. New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. +Crown 8vo, cloth 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; paper, 2<i>s.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE CANADIAN GUIDE-BOOK.</b> Part I. The Tourist’s +and Sportsman’s Guide to Eastern Canada and Newfoundland, including full +descriptions of Routes, Cities, Points of Interest, Summer Resorts, Fishing +Places, &c., in Eastern Ontario, The Muskoka District, The St. Lawrence +Region, The Lake St. John Country, The Maritime Provinces, Prince +Edward Island, and Newfoundland. With an Appendix giving Fish and +Game Laws, and Official Lists of Trout and Salmon Rivers and their +Lessees. By <span class="smcap">Charles G. D. Roberts</span>, Professor of English Literature in +King’s College, Windsor, N.S. With Maps and many Illustrations. +Crown 8vo. limp cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Part II. <b>WESTERN CANADA.</b> Including the Peninsula +and Northern Regions of Ontario, the Canadian Shores of the Great +Lakes, the Lake of the Woods Region, Manitoba and “The Great +North-West,” The Canadian Rocky Mountains and National Park, +British Columbia, and Vancouver Island. By <span class="smcap">Ernest Ingersoll</span>. With +Maps and many Illustrations. Crown 8vo, limp cloth. [<i>In preparation.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE GENESIS OF THE UNITED STATES.</b> A +Narrative of the Movement in England, 1605-1616, which resulted in the +Plantation of North America by Englishmen, disclosing the Contest +between England and Spain for the Possession of the Soil now occupied +by the United Slates of America; set forth through a series of Historical +Manuscripts now first printed, together with a Re-issue of Rare Contemporaneous +Tracts, accompanied by Bibliographical Memoranda, Notes, +and Brief Biographies. Collected, Arranged, and Edited by <span class="smcap">Alexander +Brown</span>, F.R.H.S. With 100 Portraits, Maps, and Plans. In two volumes. +Royal 8vo, buckram, £3 13<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Fiction"><span class="gothic">Fiction.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">In Three Volumes.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE HEAD OF THE FIRM.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Riddell</span>, Author +of “George Geith,” “Maxwell Drewett,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>THE TOWER OF TADDEO.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Ouida</span>, +Author of “Two Little Wooden Shoes,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>KITTY’S FATHER.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frank Barrett</span>. Author of +“Lieutenant Barnabas,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In November.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO.</b> By <span class="smcap">I. Zangwill</span>, +Author of “The Old Maids’ Club,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>THE COUNTESS RADNA.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. E. Norris</span>, Author of +“Matrimony,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In January.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>ORIOLE’S DAUGHTER.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Jessie Fothergill</span>, +Author of “The First Violin,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In February.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>THE LAST SENTENCE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maxwell Gray</span>, Author of +“The Silence of Dean Maitland,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In March.</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +In Two Volumes.<br> +</p> + +<p><b>WOMAN AND THE MAN.</b> A Love Story. By <span class="smcap">Robert +Buchanan</span>, Author of “Come Live with Me and be My Love,” “The +Moment After,” “The Coming Terror,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>A KNIGHT OF THE WHITE FEATHER.</b> By “<span class="smcap">Tasma</span>,” +Author of “The Penance of Portia James,” “Uncle Piper of Piper’s +Hill,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>A LITTLE MINX.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ada Cambridge</span>, Author of “A +Marked Man,” “The Three Miss Kings,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + + +<p class="center"> +In One Volume.<br> +</p> + +<p><b>THE NAULAHKA.</b> A Tale of West and East. BY <span class="smcap">Rudyard +Kipling</span> and <span class="smcap">Wolcott Balestier</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> Second +Edition.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>THE SECRET OF NARCISSE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span>. +Crown 8vo, 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Just ready.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>AVENGED ON SOCIETY.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. F. Wood</span>, Author of +“The Englishman of the Rue Cain,” “The Passenger from Scotland +Yard.” Crown 8vo.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>THE DOMINANT SEVENTH.</b> A Musical Story. By +<span class="smcap">Kate Elizabeth Clarke</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Speaker.</i>—“A very romantic story.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>PASSION THE PLAYTHING.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">R. Murray +Gilchrist</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span></p><div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“This well-written story must be read to be appreciated.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Crown_Copyright_Series"><span class="gothic"> +The Crown Copyright Series.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Heinemann</span> has made arrangements with a number of the <span class="smcap">First and +Most Popular English</span>, <span class="smcap">American</span>, and <span class="smcap">Colonial Authors</span> which will +enable him to issue a series of <span class="smcap">New and Original Works</span>, to be known as +<span class="smcap">The Crown Copyright Series</span>, complete in One Volume, at a uniform +price of <span class="smcap">Five Shillings each</span>. These Novels will not pass through an Expensive +Two or Three Volume Edition, but they will be obtainable at the +<span class="smcap">Circulating Libraries</span>, as well as at all Booksellers’ and Bookstalls.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>ACCORDING TO ST. JOHN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Amélie Rives</span>, Author +of “The Quick or the Dead.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Scotsman.</i>—“The literary work is highly artistic.... It has beauty and +brightness, and a kind of fascination which carries the reader on till he has read +to the last page.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE PENANCE OF PORTIA JAMES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tasma</span>, +Author of “Uncle Piper of Piper’s Hill,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“A powerful novel.”</p> + +<p><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—“Captivating and yet tantalising, this story is far above +the average.”</p> + +<p><i>Vanity Fair.</i>—“A very interesting story, morally sound, and flavoured +throughout with ease of diction and lack of strain.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>INCONSEQUENT LIVES.</b> A Village Chronicle, shewing +how certain folk set out for El Dorado; what they attempted; and what +they, attained. By <span class="smcap">J. H. Pearce</span>, Author of “Esther Pentreath,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Saturday Review.</i>—“A vivid picture of the life of Cornish fisher-folk. It +is unquestionably interesting.”</p> + +<p><i>Literary World.</i>—“Powerful and pathetic ... from first to last it is +profoundly interesting. It is long since we read a story revealing power of so +high an order, marked by such evident carefulness of workmanship, such skill in +the powerful and yet temperate presentation of passion, and in the sternly +realistic yet delicate treatment of difficult situations.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>A QUESTION OF TASTE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maarten Maartens</span>, +Author of “An Old Maid’s Love,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>National Observer.</i>—“There is more than cleverness; there is <a id="Change4"></a><ins title="Original has 'origina'">original</ins> +talent, and a good deal of humanity besides.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE.</b> By +<span class="smcap">Robert Buchanan</span>, Author of “The Moment After,” “The Coming +Terror,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Globe.</i>—“Will be found eminently readable.”</p> + +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—“We will conclude this brief notice by expressing our +cordial admiration of the skill displayed in its construction, and the genial +humanity that has inspired its author in the shaping and vitalising of the individuals +created by his fertile imagination.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>VANITAS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Vernon Lee</span>, Author of “Hauntings,” &c.</p> + +<p><b>THE O’CONNORS OF BALLINAHINCH.</b> By Mrs. +<span class="smcap">Hungerford</span>, Author of “Molly Bawn,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><b>A BATTLE AND A BOY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Blanche Willis Howard</span>, +Author of “Guenn,” &c.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Heinemanns_International_Library"> +<span class="gothic">Heinemann’s International Library.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><span class="smcap">Edited by</span> EDMUND GOSSE.</p> + + + +<p><i>New Review.</i>—“If you have any pernicious remnants of literary chauvinism +I hope it will not survive the series of foreign classics of which Mr. William +Heinemann, aided by Mr. Edmund Gosse, is publishing translations to the great +contentment of all lovers of literature.”</p> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—“A venture which deserves encouragement.”</p> + +<p><i>Each Volume has an Introduction specially written by the Editor.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +Price, in paper covers, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each, or cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>IN GOD’S WAY.</b> From the Norwegian of <span class="smcap">Björnstjerne +Björnson</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“Without doubt the most important and the most interesting +work published during the twelve months.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>PIERRE AND JEAN.</b> From the French of <span class="smcap">Guy de Maupassant</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—“So fine and faultless, so perfectly balanced, so +steadily progressive, so clear and simple and satisfying. It is admirable from +beginning to end.”</p> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“Ranks amongst the best gems of modern French fiction”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE CHIEF JUSTICE.</b> From the German of <span class="smcap">Karl Emil +Franzos</span>, Author of “For the Right,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>New Review.</i>—“Few novels of recent times have a more sustained and +vivid human interest.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE LIGHT.</b> From the +Russian of Count <span class="smcap">Lyof Tolstoy</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Manchester Guardian.</i>—“Readable and well translated; full of high and +noble feeling.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>FANTASY.</b> From the Italian of <span class="smcap">Matilde Serao</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Scottish Leader.</i>—“The book is full of a glowing and living realism.... +There is nothing like ‘Fantasy’ in modern literature.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>FROTH.</b> From the Spanish of Don <span class="smcap">Armando Palacio-Valdés</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—“Vigorous and powerful in the highest degree. It +abounds in forcible delineation of character, and describes scenes with rare and +graphic strength.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>FOOTSTEPS OF FATE.</b> From the Dutch of <span class="smcap">Louis +Couperus</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Gentlewoman.</i>—“The consummate art of the writer prevents this tragedy +from sinking to melodrama. Not a single situation is forced or a circumstance +exaggerated.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>PEPITA JIMÉNEZ.</b> From the Spanish of <span class="smcap">Juan Valera</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>New Review</i> (Mr. George Saintsbury):—“There is no doubt at all that +it is one of the best stories that have appeared in any country in Europe for the +last twenty years.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE COMMODORE’S DAUGHTERS.</b> From the Norwegian +of <span class="smcap">Jonas Lie</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“Everything that Jonas Lie writes is attractive and pleasant; +the plot of deeply human interest, and the art noble.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS.</b> From the Norwegian +of <span class="smcap">Björnstjerne Björnson</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>National Observer.</i>—“It is a book to read and a book to think about, for, +incontestably, it is the work of a man of genius.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>LOU.</b> From the German of <span class="smcap">Baron F. v. Roberts</span>.</p> + +<p><b>DONA LUZ.</b> From the Spanish of <span class="smcap">Juan Valera</span>.</p> + +<p><b>WITHOUT DOGMA.</b> From the Polish of <span class="smcap">H. Sienkiewicz</span>.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Popular_3s_6d_Novels"><span class="gothic">Popular 3s. 6d. Novels.</span></h2> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>CAPT’N DAVY’S HONEYMOON</b>, The Blind Mother, +and The Last Confession. By <span class="smcap">Hall Caine</span>, Author of “The Bondman,” +“The Scapegoat,” &c.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE SCAPEGOAT.</b> By <span class="smcap">Hall Caine</span>, Author of “The +Bondman,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Mr. Gladstone writes</i>:—“I congratulate you upon ‘The Scapegoat’ as a +work of art, and especially upon the noble and skilfully drawn character of +Israel.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—“In our judgment it excels in dramatic force all his previous efforts. +For grace and touching pathos Naomi is a character which any romancist in the +world might be proud to have created.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE BONDMAN.</b> A New Saga. By <span class="smcap">Hall Caine</span>. +Twentieth Thousand.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Mr. Gladstone.</i>—“‘The Bondman’ is a work of which I recognise the +freshness, vigour, and sustained interest no less than its integrity of aim.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Standard.</i>—“Its argument is grand, and it is sustained with a power that is +almost marvellous.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>DESPERATE REMEDIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hardy</span>, Author +of “Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Saturday Review.</i>—“A remarkable story worked out with abundant skill.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>A MARKED MAN</b>: Some Episodes in his Life. By <span class="smcap">Ada +Cambridge</span>, Author of “Two Years’ Time,” “A Mere Chance,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—“A depth of feeling, a knowledge of the human heart, and +an amount of tact that one rarely finds. Should take a prominent place among +the novels of the season.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE THREE MISS KINGS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ada Cambridge</span>, Author +of “A Marked Man.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“A charming study of character. The love stories are excellent, +and the author is happy in tender situations.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>NOT ALL IN VAIN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ada Cambridge</span>, Author of “A +Marked Man,” “The Three Miss Kings,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Guardian.</i>—“A clever and absorbing story.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Queen.</i>—“All that remains to be said is ‘read the book.’”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>UNCLE PIPER OF PIPER’S HILL.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tasma</span>. New +Popular Edition.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Guardian.</i>—“Every page of it contains good wholesome food, which demands +and repays digestion. The tale itself is thoroughly charming, and all the +characters are delightfully drawn. We strongly recommend all lovers of wholesome +novels to make acquaintance with it themselves, and are much mistaken if +they do not heartily thank us for the introduction.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>IN THE VALLEY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Harold Frederic</span>, Author of +“The Lawton Girl,” “Seth’s Brother’s Wife,” &c. With Illustrations.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—“The literary value of the book is high; the author’s studies of +bygone life presenting a life-like picture.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>PRETTY MISS SMITH.</b> By <span class="smcap">Florence Warden</span>, Author +of “The House on the Marsh,” “A Witch of the Hills,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Punch.</i>—“Since Miss Florence Warden’s ‘House on the Marsh,’ I have +not read a more exciting tale.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>NOR WIFE, NOR MAID.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Hungerford</span>, Author +of “Molly Bawn,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Queen.</i>—“It has all the characteristics of the writer’s work, and greater +emotional depth than most of its predecessors.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Scotsman.</i>—“Delightful reading, supremely interesting.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>MAMMON.</b> A Novel. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Alexander</span>, Author of “The +Wooing O’t,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Scotsman.</i>—“The present work is not behind any of its predecessors. +‘Mammon’ is a healthy story, and as it has been thoughtfully written it has the +merit of creating thought in its readers.”</p> +</div> + + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>DAUGHTERS OF MEN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Hannah Lynch</span>, Author of +“The Prince of the Glades,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—“Singularly clever and fascinating.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Academy.</i>—“One of the cleverest, if not also the pleasantest, stories that +have appeared for a long time.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>A ROMANCE OF THE CAPE FRONTIER.</b> By <span class="smcap">Bertram +Mitford</span>, Author of “Through the Zulu Country,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Observer.</i>—“This is a rattling tale, genial, healthy, and spirited.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>‘TWEEN SNOW AND FIRE.</b> A Tale of the Kafir War of +1877. By <span class="smcap">Bertram Mitford</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE MASTER OF THE MAGICIANS.</b> By <span class="smcap">Elizabeth +Stuart Phelps</span> and <span class="smcap">Herbert D. Ward</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“A thrilling story.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE AVERAGE WOMAN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Wolcott Balestier</span>. +With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Henry James</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE ATTACK ON THE MILL and Other Sketches +of War.</b> By <span class="smcap">Emile Zola</span>. With an essay on the short stories of M. +Zola by Edmund Gosse.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>DUST.</b> By <span class="smcap">Björnstjerne Björnson</span>. Translated from the +Norwegian.</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>MADEMOISELLE MISS and Other Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry +Harland</span>, Author of “Mea Culpa,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>LOS CERRITOS.</b> A Romance of the Modern Time. By +<span class="smcap">Gertrude Franklin Atherton</span>, Author of “Hermia Suydam,” and +“What Dreams may Come.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“Full of fresh fancies and suggestions. Told with strength +and delicacy. A decidedly charming romance.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>A MODERN MARRIAGE.</b> By the Marquise <span class="smcap">Clara Lanza</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Queen.</i>—“A powerful story, dramatically and consistently carried out.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</span></p><div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Black and White.</i>—“A decidedly clever book.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Popular_Shilling_Books"><span class="gothic">Popular Shilling Books.</span></h2> +</div> + + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>MADAME VALERIE.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. C. Philips</span>, Author of “As +in a Looking-Glass,” &c.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE MOMENT AFTER</b>: A Tale of the Unseen. By +<span class="smcap">Robert Buchanan</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“Should be read—in daylight.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Observer.</i>—“A clever <i>tour de force</i>.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Guardian.</i>—“Particularly impressive, graphic, and powerful.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>CLUES; or, Leaves from a Chief Constable’s Note-Book.</b> +By <span class="smcap">William Henderson</span>, Chief Constable of Edinburgh.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Mr. Gladstone.</i>—“I found the book full of interest.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>A VERY STRANGE FAMILY.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. W. Robinson</span>, +Author of “Grandmother’s Money,” “Lazarus in London,” &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Glasgow Herald.</i>—“An ingeniously devised plot, of which the interest is +kept up to the very last page. A judicious blending of humour and pathos +further helps to make the book delightful reading from start to finish.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Dramatic_Literature"><span class="gothic">Dramatic Literature.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO.</p> + +<p>With Introductory Notes by <span class="smcap">Malcolm C. Salaman</span>. 16mo, Paper Covers, +1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; or Cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE TIMES</b>: A Comedy in Four Acts. With a Preface by +the Author. (Vol. I.)</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—“‘The Times’ is the best example yet given of Mr. +Pinero’s power as a satirist. So clever is his work that it beats down opposition. +So fascinating is his style that we cannot help listening to him.”</p> + +<p><i>Morning Post.</i>—“Mr. Pinero’s latest belongs to a high order of dramatic +literature, and the piece will be witnessed again with all the greater zest after the +perusal of such admirable dialogue.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE PROFLIGATE</b>: A Play in Four Acts. With Portrait +of the Author, after <span class="smcap">J. Mordecai</span>. (Vol. II.)</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—“Will be welcomed by all who have the true interests +of the stage at heart.”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE CABINET MINISTER</b>: A Farce in Four Acts. +(Vol. III.)</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>Observer.</i>—“It is as amusing to read as it was when played.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE HOBBY HORSE</b>: A Comedy in Three Acts. +(Vol. IV.)</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><i>St. James’s Gazette.</i>—“Mr. Pinero has seldom produced better or more +interesting work than in ‘The Hobby Horse.’”</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>LADY BOUNTIFUL</b>: A Play in Four Acts. (Vol. V.)</p> + +<p><b>THE MAGISTRATE</b>: A Farce in Three Acts. (Vol. VI.)</p> + +<p><b>DANDY DICK</b>: A Farce in Three Acts. (Vol. VII.)</p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +To be followed by The Schoolmistress, The Weaker Sex, Lords and<br> +Commons, The Squire, and Sweet Lavender.<br> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>A NEW PLAY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henrik Ibsen</span>. Translated from the +Norwegian. Small 4to.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + + +<p><b>A NEW PLAY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Björnstjerne Björnson</span>. Translated +from the Norwegian.</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + + +<p><b>THE PRINCESSE MALEINE</b>: A Drama in Five Acts +(Translated by Gerard Harry), and THE INTRUDER: A Drama in +One Act. By <span class="smcap">Maurice Maeterlinck</span>. With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Hall +Caine</span>, and a Portrait of the Author. Small 4to, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></p> + +</div> +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Athenæum.</i>—“In the creation of the ‘atmosphere’ of the play M. Maeterlinck +shows his skill. It is here that he communicates to us the <i>nouveau frisson</i>, +here that he does what no one else has done. In ‘The Intruder’ the art +consists of the subtle gradations of terror, the slow, creeping progress of the +nightmare of apprehension. Nothing quite like it has been done before—not +even by Poe—not even by Villiers.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT</b>: A Comedy in +Four Acts. By Count <span class="smcap">Lyof Tolstoy</span>. Translated from the Russian by +<span class="smcap">E. J. Dillon</span>. With Introduction by <span class="smcap">A. W. Pinero</span>. Small 4to, with +Portrait, 5<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—“The whole effect of the play is distinctly Molièresque; +it has something of the large humanity of the master. Its satire is genial, almost +gay.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>HEDDA GABLER</b>: A Drama in Four Acts. By <span class="smcap">Henrik +Ibsen</span>. Translated from the Norwegian by <span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span>. Small 4to, +cloth, with Portrait, 5<i>s.</i> Vaudeville Edition, paper, 1<i>s.</i> Also a Limited +Large Paper Edition, 21<i>s.</i> <i>net</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Times.</i>—“The language in which this play is couched is a model of brevity, +decision, and pointedness.... Every line tells, and there is not an incident +that does not bear on the action immediate or remote. As a corrective to the +vapid and foolish writing with which the stage is deluged ‘Hedda Gabler’ is +perhaps entitled to the place of honour.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE DRAMA, ADDRESSES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Irving</span>. Fcap. +8vo. With Portrait by J. McN. Whistler.</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>STRAY MEMORIES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ellen Terry</span>. In one volume. +Illustrated.</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In preparation.</i><br> +</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>SOME INTERESTING FALLACIES OF THE</b> +Modern Stage. An Address delivered to the Playgoers’ Club at St. +James’s Hall, on Sunday, 6th December, 1891. By <span class="smcap">Herbert Beerbohm +Tree</span>. Crown 8vo, sewed, 6<i>d.</i></p> + + +<p><b>THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henrik Jæger</span>. +Translated by <span class="smcap">Clara Bell</span>. With the Verse done into English from the +Norwegian Original by <span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>St. James’s Gazette.</i>—“Admirably translated. Deserves a cordial and +emphatic welcome.”</p> + +<p><i>Guardian.</i>—“Ibsen’s dramas at present enjoy a considerable vogue, and +their admirers will rejoice to find full descriptions and criticisms in Mr. Jæger’s +book.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Poetry"><span class="gothic">Poetry.</span></h2> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>LOVE SONGS OF ENGLISH POETS, 1500-1800.</b> +With Notes by <span class="smcap">Ralph H. Caine</span>. Fcap. 8vo, rough edges, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +⁂ <i>Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Copies, 10s. 6d. Net.</i><br> +</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>IVY AND PASSION FLOWER</b>: Poems. By <span class="smcap">Gerard +Bendall</span>, Author of “Estelle,” &c. &c. 12mo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Scotsman.</i>—“Will be read with pleasure.”</p> + +<p><i>Musical World.</i>—“The poems are delicate specimens of art, graceful and +polished.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>VERSES.</b> By <span class="smcap">Gertrude Hall</span>. 12mo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Manchester Guardian.</i>—“Will be welcome to every lover of poetry who +takes it up.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>MAGONIA</b>: A Poem. By <span class="smcap">Charles Godfrey Leland</span> (<span class="smcap">Hans +Breitmann</span>). Fcap. 8vo.</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>In the Press.</i><br> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>IDYLLS OF WOMANHOOD.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. Amy Dawson</span>. +Fcap. 8vo, gilt top, 5<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Heinemanns_Scientific_Handbooks"> +<span class="gothic">Heinemann’s Scientific Handbooks.</span></h2> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>MANUAL OF BACTERIOLOGY.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. B. Griffiths</span>, +Ph.D., F.R.S. (Edin.), F.C.S. Crown 8vo, cloth, Illustrated. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + + + +<p><b>MANUAL OF ASSAYING GOLD, SILVER, COPPER,</b> +and Lead Ores. By <span class="smcap">Walter Lee Brown</span>, B.Sc. Revised, Corrected, +and considerably Enlarged, with a chapter on the Assaying of Fuel, &c. +By <span class="smcap">A. B. Griffiths</span>, Ph.D., F.R.S. (Edin.), F.C.S. Crown 8vo, cloth, +Illustrated, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Colliery Guardian.</i>—“A delightful and fascinating book.”</p> + +<p><i>Financial World.</i>—“The most complete and practical manual on everything +which concerns assaying of all which have come before us.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>GEODESY.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Howard Gore</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, Illustrated, +5<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>St. James’s Gazette.</i>—“The book may be safely recommended to those who +desire to acquire an accurate knowledge of Geodesy.”</p> + +<p><i>Science Gossip.</i>—“It is the best we could recommend to all geodetic students. +It is full and clear, thoroughly accurate, and up to date in all matters of earth-measurements.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>THE PHYSICAL PROPERTIES OF GASES.</b> By +<span class="smcap">Arthur L. Kimball</span>, of the Johns Hopkins University. Crown 8vo, +cloth, Illustrated, 5<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Chemical News.</i>—“The man of culture who wishes for a general and accurate +acquaintance with the physical properties of gases, will find in Mr. Kimball’s +work just what he requires.”</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p><b>HEAT AS A FORM OF ENERGY.</b> By Professor <span class="smcap">R. H. +Thurston</span>, of Cornell University. Crown 8vo, cloth, Illustrated, 5<i>s.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot2"> + +<p><i>Manchester Examiner.</i>—“Bears out the character of its predecessors for +careful and correct statement and deduction under the light of the most recent +discoveries.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +LONDON:<br> +WILLIAM HEINEMANN<br> +21 BEDFORD STREET, W.C.<br> +</p> + +<div class="transnote chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2> + +<p>Page numbers in the Index of Authors have been changed from Arabic +to Roman because they duplicated page numbers in the work itself.</p> + +<p>The ⁂ character was originally printed as an inverted asterism.</p> + +<p>In plain-text version, showed italics as _, and ignored +boldface and small caps markings.</p> + +<p>Changes made to text:</p> + +<p> +<a href="#Change1">On page 66</a>, changed “improve ” to “improve.”<br> +<a href="#Change2">On page 75</a>, changed “sold” to “sold.”<br> +<a href="#Change3">On page 148</a>, changed “you.” to “you.’”<br> +<a href="#Change4">On page x</a>, changed “origina talent” to “original talent”<br> +</p> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76769 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76769-h/images/cover.jpg b/76769-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc59f13 --- /dev/null +++ b/76769-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/76769-h/images/signet.jpg b/76769-h/images/signet.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..809dd52 --- /dev/null +++ b/76769-h/images/signet.jpg |
