Marcus Aurelius - "Meditations "

Ralph Henry Barbour - "The New Boy at Hilltop"

Catherine Parr Traill - "Lady Mary and her Nurse"

Jean de La Fontaine - "The Tales and Novels, v23: The River Scamander &c."

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: He Knew He Was Right

A >> Anthony Trollope >> He Knew He Was Right




'And you don't call this wrong?' said Miss Stanbury, in a tone of
indignation.

'But perhaps mamma will tell them to go.'

'I hope she will. I hope she has. But he was allowed to be there for
hours. And now three days have passed and there is no sign of anything
being done. He came and went and may come again when he pleases.' Still
Dorothy pleaded. 'I shall do my duty,' said Miss Stanbury.

'I am quite sure mamma will do nothing wrong,' said Dorothy. But the
letter was written and sent, and the answer to the letter reached the
house in the Close in due time.

When Miss. Stanbury had read and re-read the very short reply which her
niece had written, she became at first pale with dismay, and then red
with renewed vigour and obstinacy. She had made herself, as she
thought, quite certain of her facts before she had acted on her
information. There was some equivocation, some most unworthy deceit in
Priscilla's letter. Or could it be possible that she herself had been
mistaken? Another gentleman had been there not, however, with the
object of seeing Mrs Trevelyan! So said Priscilla. But she had made
herself sure that the man in question was a man from London, a
middle-aged, man from London, who had specially asked for Mrs
Trevelyan, and who had at once been known to Mrs Clegg, at the
Lessboro' inn, to be Mrs Trevelyan's lover. Miss Stanbury was very
unhappy, and at last sent for Giles Hickbody. Giles Hickbody had never
pretended to know the name. He had seen the man and had described him,
'Quite a swell, ma'am; and a Lon'oner, and one as'd be up to anything;
but not a young 'un; no, not just a young 'un, zartainly.' He was
cross-examined again now, and said that all he knew. about the man's
name was that there was a handle to it. This was ended by Miss Stanbury
sending him down to Lessboro' to learn the very name of the gentleman,
and by his coming back with that of the Honourable George Glascock
written on a piece of paper. 'They says now as he was arter the other
young 'ooman,' said Giles Hickbody. Then was the confusion of Miss
Stanbury complete.

It was late when Giles returned from Lessboro', and nothing could be
done that night. It was too late to write a letter for the next
morning's post. Miss Stanbury, who was as proud of her own
discrimination as she was just and true, felt that a day of humiliation
had indeed come for her. She hated Priscilla almost as vigorously as
Priscilla hated her. To Priscilla she would not write to own her fault;
but it was incumbent on her to confess it to Mrs Stanbury. It was
incumbent on her also to confess it to Dorothy. All that night she did
not sleep, and the next morning she went about abashed, wretched,
hardly mistress of her own maids. She must confess it also to Martha,
and Martha would be very stern to her. Martha had poob-poohed the whole
story of the lover, seeming to think that there could be no reasonable
objection to a lover past fifty.

'Dorothy,' she said at last, about noon, 'I have been over hasty about
your mother and this man. I am sorry for it, and must beg everybody's
pardon.'

'I knew mamma would do nothing wrong,' said Dorothy.

'To do wrong is human, and she, I suppose, is not more free than
others; but in this matter I was misinformed. I shall write and beg her
pardon; and now I beg your pardon.'

'Not mine, Aunt Stanbury.'

'Yes, yours and your mother's, and the lady's also for against her has
the fault been most grievous. I shall write to your mother and express
my contrition.' She put off the evil hour of writing as long as she
could, but before dinner the painful letter had been written, and
carried by herself to the post. It was as follows:



'The Close, August 9, 186-.

Dear Sister Stanbury,

I have now learned that the information was false on which my former
letter was based. I am heartily sorry for any annoyance I may have
given you. I can only inform you that my intentions were good and
upright. Nevertheless, I humbly beg your pardon.

Yours truly,

Jemima Stanbury.'



Mrs Stanbury, when she received this, was inclined to let the matter
drop. That her sister-in-law should express such abject contrition was
to her such a lowering of the great ones of the earth, that the apology
conveyed to her more pain than pleasure. She could not hinder herself
from sympathising with all that her sister-in-law had felt when she had
found herself called upon to humiliate herself. But it was not so with
Priscilla. Mrs Stanbury did not observe that her daughter's name was
scrupulously avoided in the apology; but Priscilla observed it. She
would not let the matter drop, without an attempt at the last word.
She therefore wrote back again as follows:


'Nuncombe Putney, August 4, 186-.

DEAR AUNT STANBURY,

I am glad you have satisfied yourself about the gentleman who has so
much disquieted you. I do not know that the whole affair would be worth
a moment's consideration, were it not that mamma and I, living as we do
so secluded a life, are peculiarly apt to feel any attack upon our good
name which is pretty nearly all that is left to us. If ever there were
women who should be free from attack, at any rate from those of their
own family, we are such women. We never interfere with you, or with
anybody; and I think you might abstain from harassing us by
accusations.

Pray do not write to mamma in such a strain again, unless you are quite
sure of your ground.

Yours truly,

PRISCILLA STANBURY.'



'Impudent vixen!' said Miss Stanbury to Martha, when she had read the
letter. 'Ill-conditioned, impudent vixen!'

'She was provoked, miss,' said Martha.

'Well; yes; yes and I suppose it is right that you should tell me of
it. I dare say it is part of what I ought to bear for being an old
fool, and too cautious about my own flesh and blood. I will bear it.
There. I was wrong, and I will say that I have been justly punished.
There there!'

How very much would Miss Stanbury's tone have been changed had she
known that at that very moment Colonel Osborne was eating his breakfast
at Mrs Crocket's inn, in Nuncombe Putney!



CHAPTER XI - BOZZLE, THE EX-POLICEMAN

When Mr Trevelyan had gone through the miserable task of breaking up
his establishment in Curzon Street, and had seen all his furniture
packed, including his books, his pictures, and his pet Italian
ornaments, it was necessary that he should go and live somewhere. He
was very wretched at this time so wretched that life was a burden to
him. He was a man who loved his wife to whom his child was very dear;
and he was one too to whom the ordinary comforts of domestic life were
attractive and necessary. There are men to whom release from the
constraint imposed by family ties will be, at any rate for a time, felt
as a release. But he was not such a man. There was no delight to him in
being able to dine at his club, and being free to go whither he pleased
in the evening. As it was, it pleased him to go nowhere in the
evenings; and his mornings were equally blank to him. He went so often
to Mr Bideawhile, that the poor old lawyer became quite tired of the
Trevelyan family quarrel. Even Lady Milborough, with all her power of
sympathising, began to feel that she would almost prefer on any morning
that her dear young friend, Louis Trevelyan, should not be announced.
Nevertheless, she always saw him when he came, and administered comfort
according to her light. Of course he would have his wife back before
long. That was the only consolation she was able to offer; and she
offered it so often that he began gradually to feel that something
might be done towards bringing about so desirable an event. After what
had occurred they could not live again in Curzon Street nor even in
London for awhile; but Naples was open to them. Lady Milborough said so
much to him of the advantages which always came in such circumstances
from going to Naples, that he began to regard such a trip as almost the
natural conclusion of his adventure. But then there came that very
difficult question what step should be first taken? Lady Milborough
proposed that he should go boldly down to Nuncombe Putney, and make the
arrangement. 'She will only be too glad to jump into your arms,' said
Lady Milborough. Trevelyan thought that if he went to Nuncombe Putney,
his wife might perhaps jump into his arms; but what would come after
that? How would he stand then in reference to his authority? Would she
own that she had been wrong? Would she promise to behave better in
future? He did not believe that she was yet sufficiently broken in
spirit to make any such promise. And he told himself again and again
that it would be absurd in him to allow her to return to him without
such subjection, after all that he had gone through in defence of his
marital rights. If he were to write to her a long letter,
argumentative, affectionate, exhaustive, it might be better. He was
inclined to believe of himself that he was good at writing long,
affectionate, argumentative, and exhaustive letters. But he would not
do even this as yet. He had broken up his house, and scattered all his
domestic gods to the winds, because she had behaved badly to him; and
the thing done was too important to allow of redress being found so
easily.

So he lived on a wretched life in London. He could hardly endure to
show himself at his club, fearing that every one would be talking of
him as the man who was separated from his wife perhaps as the man of
whose wife Colonel Osborne was the dear friend. No doubt for a day or
two there had been much of such conversation; but it had died away from
the club long before his consciousness had become callous. At first he
had gone into a lodging in Mayfair; but this had been but for a day or
two. After that he had taken a set of furnished chambers in Lincoln's
Inn, immediately under those in which Stanbury lived; and thus it came
to pass that he and Stanbury were very much thrown together. As
Trevelyan would always talk of his wife this was rather a bore; but our
friend bore with it, and would even continue to instruct the world
through the columns of the D. R. while Trevelyan was descanting on the
peculiar cruelty of his own position.

'I wish to be just, and even generous; and I do love her with all my
heart,' he said one afternoon, when Hugh was very hard at work.

'"It is all very well for gentlemen to call themselves reformers,"'
Hugh was writing,' "but have these gentlemen ever realised to
themselves the meaning of that word? We think that they have never done
so as long as--" Of course you love her,' said Hugh, with his eyes still
on the paper, still leaning on his pen, but finding by the cessation of
sound that Trevelyan had paused, and therefore knowing that it was
necessary that he should speak.

'As much as ever,' said Trevelyan, with energy.

'"As long as they follow such a leader, in such a cause, into whichever
lobby he may choose to take them--'Exactly so, exactly,' said Stanbury;
'just as much as ever.'

'You are not listening to a word,' said Trevelyan.

'I haven't missed a single expression you have used,' said Stanbury.
'But a fellow has to do two things at a time when he's on the daily
press.'

'I beg your pardon for interrupting you,' said Trevelyan, angrily,
getting up, taking his hat, and stalking off to the house of Lady
Milborough. In this way he became rather a bore to his friends. He
could not divest his mind of the injury which had accrued to him from
his wife's conduct, nor could he help talking of the grief with which
his mind was laden. And he was troubled with sore suspicions, which, as
far as they concerned his wife, had certainly not been merited. It had
seemed to him that she had persisted in her intimacy with Colonel
Osborne in a manner that was not compatible with that wife-like
indifference which he regarded as her duty. Why had she written to him
and received letters from him when her husband had plainly told her
that any such communication was objectionable? She had done so, and as
far as Trevelyan could remember her words, had plainly declared that
she would continue to do so. He had sent her away, into the most remote
retirement he could find for her; but the post was open to her. He had
heard much of Mrs Stanbury, and Priscilla, from his friend Hugh, and
thoroughly believed that his wife was in respectable hands. But what
was to prevent Colonel Osborne from going after her if he chose to do
so? And if he did so choose, Mrs Stanbury could not prevent their
meeting. He was racked with jealousy, and yet he did not cease to
declare to himself that he knew his wife too well to believe that she
would sin. He could not rid himself of his jealousy, but he tried with
all his might to make the man whom he hated the object of it, rather
than the woman whom he loved.

He hated Colonel Osborne with all his heart. It was a regret to him
that the days of duelling were over; so that he could not shoot the
man. And yet, had duelling been possible to him, Colonel Osborne had
done nothing that would have justified him in calling his enemy out or
would even have enabled him to do so with any chance of inducing his
enemy to fight. Circumstances, he thought, were cruel to him beyond
compare, in that he should have been made to suffer so great torment
without having any of the satisfaction of revenge. Even Lady
Milborough, with all her horror as to the Colonel, could not tell him
that the Colonel was amenable to any punishment. He was advised that he
must take his wife away and live at Naples because of this man that he
must banish himself entirely if he chose to repossess himself of his
wife and child and yet nothing could be done to the unprincipled rascal
by whom all his wrong and sufferings were occasioned! Thinking it very
possible that Colonel Osborne would follow his wife, he had a watch set
upon the Colonel. He had found a retired policeman a most discreet man,
as he was assured who, for a consideration, undertook the management of
interesting jobs of this kind. The man was one Bozzle who had not lived
without a certain reputation in the police courts. In these days of his
madness, therefore, he took Mr Bozzle into his pay; and after a while
he got a letter from Bozzle with the Exeter post-mark. Colonel Osborne
had left London with a ticket for Lessboro'. Bozzle also had taken a
place by the same train for that small town. The letter was written in
the railway carriage, and, as Bozzle explained, would be posted by him
as he passed through Exeter. A further communication should be made by
the next day's post, in a letter which Mr Bozzle proposed to address to
Z. A., Post-office, Waterloo Place.

On receiving this first letter, Trevelyan was in an agony of doubt, as
well as misery. What should he do? Should he go to Lady Milborough, or
to Stanbury; or should he at once follow Colonel Osborne and Mr Bozzle
to Lessboro'. It ended in his resolving at last to wait for the letter
which was to be addressed to Z. A. But he spent an interval of horrible
suspense, and of insane rage. Let the laws say what they might, he
would have the man's blood, if he found that the man had even attempted
to wrong him. Then, at last, the second letter reached him. Colonel
Osborne and Mr Bozzle had each of them spent the day in the
neighbourhood of Lessboro', not exactly in each other's company, but
very near to each other. 'The Colonel' had ordered a gig, on the day
after his arrival at Lessboro', for the village of Cockchaffington;
and, for all Mr Bozzle knew, the Colonel had gone to Cockchaffington.
Mr Bozzle was ultimately inclined to think that the Colonel had really
spent his day in going to Cockchaffington. Mr Bozzle himself, knowing
the wiles of such men as Colonel Osborne, and thinking at first that
that journey to Cockchaffington might only be a deep ruse, had walked
over to Nuncombe Putney. There he had had a pint of beer and some bread
and cheese at Mrs Crocket's house, and had asked various questions, to
which he did not receive very satisfactory answers. But he inspected
the Clock House very minutely, and came to a decided opinion as to the
point at which it would be attacked, if burglary were the object of the
assailants. And he observed the iron gates, and the steps, and the
shape of the trees, and the old pigeon-house-looking fabric in which
the clock used to be placed. There was no knowing when information
might be wanted, or what information might not be of use. But he made
himself tolerably sure that Colonel Osborne did not visit Nuncombe
Putney on that day; and then he walked back to Lessboro'. Having done
this, he applied himself to the little memorandum book in which he kept
the records of these interesting duties, and entered a claim against
his employer for a conveyance to Nuncombe Putney and back, including
driver and ostler; and then he wrote his letter. After that he had a
hot supper, with three glasses of brandy and water, and went to bed
with a thorough conviction that he had earned his bread on that day.

The letter to Z. A. did not give all these particulars, but it did
explain that Colonel Osborne had gone off apparently, to
Cockchaffington, and that he Bozzle had himself visited Nuncombe
Putney. 'The hawk hasn't been nigh the dovecot as yet,' said Mr Bozzle
in his letter, meaning to be both mysterious and facetious.

It would be difficult to say whether the wit or the mystery disgusted
Trevelyan the most. He had felt that he was defiling himself with dirt
when he first went to Mr Bozzle. He knew that he was having recourse to
means that were base and low which could not be other than base or low,
let the circumstances be what they might. But Mr Bozzle's conversation
had not been quite so bad as Mr Bozzle's letters; as it may have been
that Mr Bozzle's successful activity was more insupportable than his
futile attempts. But, nevertheless, something must be done. It could
not be that Colonel Osborne should have gone down to the close
neighbourhood of Nuncombe Putney without the intention of seeing the
lady whom his obtrusive pertinacity had driven to that seclusion. It
was terrible to Trevelyan that Colonel Osborne should be there, and not
the less terrible because such a one as Mr Bozzle was watching the
Colonel on his behalf. Should he go to Nuncombe Putney himself? And if
so, when he got to Nuncombe Putney what should he do there? At last, in
his suspense and his grief, he resolved that he would tell the whole to
Hugh Stanbury.

'Do you mean,' said Hugh, 'that you have put a policeman on his track?'

'The man was a policeman once.'

'What we call a private detective. I can't say I think you were right.'

'But you see that it was necessary,' said Trevelyan.

'I can't say that it was necessary. To speak out, I can't understand
that a wife should be worth watching who requires watching.'

'Is a man to do nothing then? And even now it is not my wife whom I
doubt.'

'As for Colonel Osborne, if he chooses to go to Lessboro', why
shouldn't he? Nothing that you can do, or that Bozzle can do, can
prevent him. He has a perfect right to go to Lessboro'.'

'But he has not a right to go to my wife.'

'And if your wife refuses to see him; or having seen him for a man may
force his way in anywhere with a little trouble if she sends him away
with a flea in his ear, as I believe she would.'

'She is so frightfully indiscreet.'

'I don't see what Bozzle can do.'

'He has found Out at any rate that Osborne is there,' said Trevelyan.
'I am not more fond of dealing with such fellows than you are yourself.
But I think it is my duty to know what is going on. What ought I to do
now?'

'I should do nothing except dismiss Bozzle.'

'You know that that is nonsense, Stanbury.'

'Whatever I did I should dismiss Bozzle.' Stanbury was now quite in
earnest, and, as he repeated his suggestion for the dismissal of the
policeman, pushed his writing things away from him. 'If you ask my
opinion, you know, I must tell you what I think. I should get rid of
Bozzle as a beginning. If you will only think of it, how can your wife
come back to you if she learns that you have set a detective to watch
her?'

'But I haven't set the man to watch her.'

'Colonel Osborne is nothing to you, except as he is concerned with her.
This man is now down in her neighbourhood; and, if she learns that, how
can she help feeling it as a deep insult? Of course the man watches her
as a cat watches a mouse.'

'But what am I to do? I can't write to the man and tell him to come
away. Osborne is down there, and I must do something. Will you go down
to Nuncombe Putney yourself, and let me know the truth?'

After much debating of the subject, Hugh Stansbury said that he would
himself go down to Nuncombe Putney alone. There were difficulties about
the D. R.; but he would go to the office of the newspaper and overcome
them. How far the presence of Nora Rowley at his mother's house may
have assisted in bringing him to undertake the journey, perhaps need
not be accurately stated. He acknowledged to himself that the claims of
friendship were strong upon him; and that as he had loudly disapproved
of the Bozzle arrangement, he ought to lend a hand to some other scheme
of action.

Moreover, having professed his conviction that no improper visiting
could possibly take place under his mother's roof, he felt bound to
shew that he was not afraid to trust to that conviction himself. He
declared that he would be ready to proceed to Nuncombe Putney tomorrow
but only on condition that he might have plenary power to dismiss
Bozzle.

'There can be no reason why you should take any notice of the man,'
said Trevelyan.

'How can I help noticing him when I find him prowling about the place?
Of course I shall know who he is.'

'I don't see that you need know anything about him.'

'My dear Trevelyan, you cannot have two ambassadors engaged in the same
service without communication with each other. And any communication
with Mr Bozzle, except that of sending him back to London, I will not
have.' The controversy was ended by the writing of a letter from
Trevelyan to Bozzle, which was confided to Stanbury, in which the
ex-policeman was thanked for his activity and requested to return to
London for the present 'As we are now aware that Colonel Osborne is in
the neighbourhood,' said the letter, 'my friend Mr Stanbury will know
what to do.'

As soon as this was settled Stanbury went to the office of the D. R.
and made arrangement as to his work for three days. Jones could do the
article on the Irish Church upon a pinch like this, although he had not
given much study to the subject as yet; and Puddlethwaite, who was
great in City matters, would try his hand on the present state of
society in Rome, a subject on which it was essential that the D. R.
should express itself at once. Having settled these little troubles
Stanbury returned to his friend, and in the evening they dined together
at a tavern.

'And now, Trevelyan, let me know fairly what it is that you wish,' said
Stanbury.

'I wish to have my wife back again.'

'Simply that. If she will agree to come back, you will make no
difficulty.'

'No; not quite simply that. I shall desire that she shall be guided by
my wishes as to any intimacies she may form.'

'That is all very well; but is she to give any undertaking? Do you
intend to exact any promise from her? It is my opinion that she will be
willing enough to come back, and that when she is with you there will
be no further cause for quarrelling. But I don't think she will bind
herself by any exacted promise; and certainly not through a third
person.'

'Then say nothing about it. Let her write a letter to me proposing to
come and she shall come.'

'Very well. So far I understand. And now what about Colonel Osborne?
You don't want me to quarrel with him I suppose?'

'I should like to keep that for myself,' said Trevelyan, grimly.

'If you will take my advice you will not trouble yourself about him,'
said Stanbury. 'But as far as I am concerned, I am not to meddle or
make with him? Of course,' continued Stanbury, after a pause, 'if I
find that he is intruding himself in my mother's house, I shall tell
him that he must not come there.'

'But if you find him installed in your mother's house as a visitor how
then?'

'I do not regard that as possible.'

'I don't mean living there,' said Trevelyan, 'but coming backwards and
forwards going on in habits of intimacy with with ?' His voice trembled
so as he asked these questions, that he could not pronounce the word
which was to complete them.

'With Mrs Trevelyan, you mean.'

'Yes; with my wife. I don't say that it is so; but it may be so. You
will be bound to tell me the truth.'

'I will certainly tell you the truth.'

'And the whole truth.'

'Yes; the whole truth.'

'Should it be so I will never see her again never. And as for him but
never mind.' Then there was another short period of silence, during
which Stanbury smoked his pipe and sipped his whisky toddy. 'You must
see,' continued Trevelyan, 'that it is absolutely necessary that I
should do something. It is all very well for you to say that you do not
like detectives. Neither do I like them. But what was I to do? When you
condemn me you hardly realise the difficulties of my position.'