Ignatius Donnelly - "Ragnarok: The Age of Fire and Gravel"

P. G. Wodehouse - "Love Among the Chickens"

Bram Stoker - "The Lady of the Shroud"

Richard Bradley - "The Country Housewife and Lady's Director"

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

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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
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Books: He Knew He Was Right

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




'Here is Mr Gibson himself,' said Mrs French.

'How do you do, Mr Gibson?' said Miss Stanbury, with a very stately
courtesy. They had never met since the day on which he had been, as he
stated, turned out of Miss Stanbury's house. He now bowed to her; but
there was no friendly greeting, and the Frenches were able to
congratulate themselves on the apparent loyalty to themselves of the
gentleman who stood among them. 'I have come here, Mr Gibson,'
continued Miss Stanbury, 'to put a small matter right in which you are
concerned.'

'It seems to me to be the most insignificant thing in the world,' said
Camilla.

'Very likely,' said Miss Stanbury. 'But it is not insignificant to me.
Miss Camilla French has asserted publicly that you have authorised her
to make a statement about my niece Dorothy.'

Mr Gibson looked into Camilla's face doubtingly, inquisitively, almost
piteously.' 'You had better let her go on,' said Camilla.'she will make
a great many mistakes, no doubt, but you had better let her go on to
the end.'

'I have made no mistake as yet, Miss Camilla. She so asserted, Mr
Gibson, in the hearing of a friend of mine, and she repeated the
assertion here in this room to me just before you came in. She says
that you 'have authorised her to declare that that that I had better
speak it out plainly at once.'

'Much better,' said Camilla.

'That you never entertained an idea of offering your hand to my niece.'
Miss Stanbury paused, and Mr Gibson's jaw fell visibly. But he was not
expected to speak as yet; and Miss Stanbury continued her accusation.
'Beyond that, I don't want to mention my niece's name, if it can be
avoided.'

'But it can't be avoided,' said Camilla.

'If you please, I will continue. Mr Gibson will understand me. I will
not, if I can help it, mention my niece's name again, Mr Gibson. But I
still have that confidence in you that I do not think that you would
have made such a statement in reference to yourself and any young lady
unless it were some young lady who had absolutely thrown herself at
your head.' And in saying this she paused, and looked very hard at
Camilla.

'That's just what Dorothy Stanbury has been doing,' said Camilla.

'She has been doing nothing of the kind, and you know she hasn't,' said
Miss Stanbury, raising her arm as though she were going to strike her
opponent. 'But I am quite sure, Mr Gibson, that you never could have
authorised these young ladies to make such an assertion publicly on
your behalf. Whatever there may have been of misunderstanding between
you and me, I can't believe that of you.' Then she paused for a reply.
'If you will be good enough to set us right on that point, I shall be
obliged to you.'

Mr Gibson's position was one of great discomfort. He had given no
authority to anyone to make such a statement. He had said nothing about
Dorothy Stanbury to Camilla; but he had told Arabella, when hard
pressed by that lady, that he did not mean to propose to Dorothy. He
could not satisfy Miss Stanbury because he feared Arabella. He could
not satisfy the Frenches because he feared Miss Stanbury. 'I really do
not think,' said he, 'that we ought to talk about a young lady in this
way.'

'That's my opinion too,' said Camilla; 'but Miss Stanbury will.'

'Exactly so. Miss Stanbury will,' said that lady. 'Mr Gibson, I insist
upon it, that you tell me whether you did give any such authority to
Miss Camilla French, or to Miss French.'

'I wouldn't answer her, if I were you,' said Camilla.

'I really don't think this can do any good,' said Mrs French.

'And it is so very harassing to our nerves,' said Arabella.

'Nerves! Pooh!' exclaimed Miss Stanbury. 'Now, Mr Gibson, I am waiting
for an answer.'

'My dear Miss Stanbury, I really think it better the situation is so
peculiar, and, upon my word, I hardly know how not to give offence,
which I wouldn't do for the world.'

'Do you mean to tell me that you won't answer my question?' demanded
Miss Stanbury.

'I really think that I had better hold my tongue,' pleaded Mr Gibson.

'You are quite right, Mr., Gibson,' said Camilla.

'Indeed, it is wisest,' said Mrs French.

'I don't see what else he can do,' said Arabella.

Then was Miss Stanbury driven altogether beyond her powers of
endurance. 'If that be so,' said she, 'I must speak out, though I
should have preferred to hold my tongue. Mr Gibson did offer to my
niece the week before last twice, and was refused by her. My niece,
Dorothy, took it into her head that she did not like him; and, upon my
word, I think she was right. We should have said nothing about this not
a word; but when these false assertions are made on Mr Gibson's alleged
authority, and Mr Gibson won't deny it, I must tell the truth.' Then
there was silence among them for a few seconds, and Mr Gibson struggled
hard, but vainly, to clothe his face in a pleasant smile. 'Mr Gibson,
is that true?' said Miss Stanbury. But Mr Gibson made no reply. 'It is
as true as heaven,' said Miss Stanbury, striking her hand upon the
table. 'And now you had better, all of you, hold your tongues about my
niece, and she will hold her tongue about you. And as for Mr Gibson
anybody who wants him after this is welcome to him for us.
Good-morning, Mrs French; good-morning, young ladies.' And so she
stalked out of the room, and out of the house, and walked back to her
house in the Close.

'Mamma,' said Arabella as soon as the enemy was gone, 'I have got such
a headache that I think I will go upstairs.'

'And I will go with you, dear,' said Camilla.

Mr Gibson, before he left the house, confided his secret to the
maternal ears of Mrs French. He certainly had been allured into making
an offer to Dorothy Stanbury, but was ready to atone for this crime by
marrying her daughter Camilla as soon as might be convenient. He was
certainly driven to make this declaration by intense cowardice not to
excuse himself, for in that there could be no excuse but how else
should he dare to suggest that he might as well leave the house?'shall
I tell the dear girl?' asked Mrs French. But Mr Gibson requested a
fortnight, in which to consider how the proposition had best be made.



CHAPTER XLIX - MR BROOKE BURGESS AFTER SUPPER

Brooke Burgess was a clerk in the office of the Ecclesiastical
Commissioners in London, and as such had to do with things very solemn,
grave, and almost melancholy. He had to deal with the rents of
episcopal properties, to correspond with clerical claimants, and to be
at home with the circumstances of underpaid vicars and perpetual
curates with much less than 300 pounds a-year; but yet he was as jolly
and pleasant at his desk as though he were busied about the collection
of the malt tax, or wrote his letters to admirals and captains instead
of to deans and prebendaries. Brooke Burgess had risen to be a senior
clerk, and was held in some respect in his office; but it was not
perhaps for the amount of work he did, nor yet on account of the
gravity of his demeanour, nor for the brilliancy of his intellect. But
if not clever, he was sensible; though he was not a dragon of official
virtue, he had a conscience and he possessed those small but most
valuable gifts by which a man becomes popular among men. And thus it
had come to pass in all those battles as to competitive merit which had
taken place in his as in other public offices, that no one had ever
dreamed of putting a junior over the head of Brooke Burgess. He was
tractable, easy, pleasant, and therefore deservedly successful. All his
brother clerks called him Brooke except the young lads who, for the
first year or two of their service, still denominated him Mr Burgess.

'Brooke,' said one of his juniors, coming into his room and standing
before the fireplace with a cigar in his mouth, 'have you heard who is
to be the new Commissioner?'

'Colenso, to be sure,' said Brooke.

'What a lark that would be. And I don't see why he shouldn't. But it
isn't Colenso. The name has just come down.'

'And who is it?'

'Old Proudie, from Barchester.'

'Why, we had him here years ago, and he resigned.'

'But he's to come on again now for a spell. It always seems to me that
the bishops ain't a bit of use here. They only get blown up, and
snubbed, and shoved into corners by the others.'

'You young reprobate to talk of shoving an archbishop into a corner.'

'Well don't they? It's only for the name of it they have them. There's
the Bishop of Broomsgrove he's always sauntering about the place,
looking as though he'd be so much obliged if somebody would give him
something to do. He's always smiling, and so gracious just as if he
didn't feel above half sure that he had any right to be where he is,
and he thought that perhaps somebody was going to kick him.'

'And so old Proudie is coming up again,' said Brooke.

'It certainly is very much the same to us whom they send. He'll get
shoved into a corner, as you call it only that he'll go into the corner
without any shoving.' Then there came in a messenger with a card, and
Brooke learned that Hugh Stanbury was waiting for him in the stranger's
room. In performing the promise made to Dorothy, he had called upon her
brother as soon as he was back in London, but had not found him. This
now was the return visit.

'I thought I was sure to find you here,' said Hugh. 'Pretty nearly sure
from eleven till five,' said Brooke. 'A hard stepmother like the Civil
Service does not allow one much chance of relief. I do get across to
the club sometimes for a glass of sherry and a biscuit but here I am
now, at any rate; and I'm very glad you have come.' Then there was some
talk between them about affairs at Exeter; but as they were interrupted
before half an hour was over their heads by a summons brought for
Burgess from one of the secretaries, it was agreed that they should
dine together at Burgess's club on the following day. 'We can manage a
pretty good beef-steak,' said Brooke, 'and have a fair glass of sherry.
I don't think you can get much more than that anywhere nowadays unless
you want a dinner for eight at three guineas, ahead. The magnificence
of men has become so intolerable now that one is driven to be humble in
one's self-defence.' Stanbury assured his acquaintance that he was
anything but magnificent in his own ideas, that cold beef and beer was
his usual fare, and at last allowed the clerk to wait upon the
secretary.

'I wouldn't have any other fellow to meet you,' said Brooke as they sat
at their dinners, 'because in this way we can talk over the dear old
woman at Exeter. Yes, our fellow does make good soup, and it's about
all that he does do well. As for getting a potato properly boiled,
that's quite out of the question. Yes, it is a good glass of sherry. I
told you we'd a fairish tap of sherry on. Well, I was there, backwards
and forwards, for nearly six weeks.'

'And how did you get on with the old woman?'

'Like a house on fire,' said Brooke.

'She didn't quarrel with you?'

'No upon the whole she did not. I always felt that it was touch and go.
She might or she might not. Every now and then she looked at me, and
said a sharp word, as though it was about to come. But I had determined
when I went there altogether to disregard that kind of thing.'

'It's rather important to you is it not?'

'You mean about her money?'

'Of course, I mean about her money,' said Stanbury.

'It is important and so it was to you.'

'Not in the same degree, or nearly so. And as for me, it was not on the
cards that we shouldn't quarrel. I am so utterly a Bohemian in all my
ideas of life, and she is so absolutely the reverse, that not to have
quarrelled would have been hypocritical on my part or on hers. She had
got it into her head that she had a right to rule my life; and, of
course, she quarrelled with me when I made. her understand that she
should do nothing of the kind. Now, she won't want to rule you.'

'I hope not.'

'She has taken you up,' continued Stanbury, 'on altogether a different
understanding. You are to her the representative of a family to whom
she thinks she owes the restitution of the property which se enjoys. I
was simply a member of her own family, to which she owes nothing. She
thought it well to help, one of us out of what she regarded as her
private purse, and she chose me. But the matter is quite different with
you.'

'She might have given everything to you, as well as to me,' said
Brooke.

'That's not her idea. She conceives herself bound to leave all she has
back to a Burgess, except anything she may save as she says, off her
own back, or out of her own belly. She has told me so a score of
times.'

'And what did you say?'

'I always told her that, let her do as she would, I should never ask
any question about her will.'

'But she hates us all like poison except me,' said Brooke. 'I never
knew people so absurdly hostile as are your aunt and my uncle Barty.
Each thinks the other the most wicked person in the world.'

'I suppose your uncle was hard upon her once.'

'Very likely. He is a hard man and has, very warmly, all the feelings
of an injured man. I suppose my uncle Brooke's will was a cruel blow to
him. He professes to believe that Miss Stanbury will never leave me a
shilling.'

'He is wrong, then,' said Stanbury.

'Oh yes he's wrong, because he thinks that that's her present
intention. I don't know that he's wrong as to the probable result.'

'Who will have it, then?'

'There are ever so many horses in the race,' said Brooke. 'I'm one.'

'You're the favourite,' said Stanbury.

'For the moment I am. Then there's yourself.'

'I've been scratched, and am altogether out of the betting.'

'And your sister,' continued Brooke.

'She's only entered to run for the second money; and, if she'll trot
over the course quietly, and not go the wrong side of the posts, she'll
win that.'

'She may do more than that. Then there's Martha.'

'My aunt will never leave her money to a servant. What she may give to
Martha would come from her own savings.'

'The next is a dark horse, but one that wins a good many races of this
kind. He's apt to come in with a fatal rush at the end.'

'Who is it?'

'The hospitals. When an old lady finds in her latter days that she
hates everybody, and fancies that the people around her are all
thinking of her motley, she's uncommon likely to indulge herself a
little bit of revenge, and solace herself with large-handed charity.'

'But she's so good a woman at heart,' said Hugh.

'And what can a good woman do better than promote hospitals?'

'She'll never do that. She's too strong. It's a maudlin sort of thing,
after all, for a person to leave everything to a hospital.'

'But people are maudlin when they're dying,' said Brooke 'or even when
they think they're dying. How else did the Church get the estates, of
which we are now distributing so bountifully some of the last remnants
down at our office? Come into the next room, and we'll have a smoke.'

They had their smoke, and then they went at half-price to the play;
and, after the play was over, they eat three or four dozen of oysters
between them. Brooke Burgess was a little too old for oysters at
midnight in September; but he went through his work like a man. Hugh
Stanbury's powers were so great, that he could have got up and done the
same thing again, after he had been an hour in bed, without any serious
inconvenience.

But, in truth, Brooke Burgess had still another word or two to say
before he went to his rest, They supped somewhere near tile Haymarket,
and then he offered to walk home with Stanbury, to his chambers in
Lincoln's Inn. 'Do you know that Mr Gibson at Exeter?' he asked, as
they passed through Leicester Square.

'Yes; I knew him. He was a sort of tame-cat parson at my aunt's house,
in my days.'

'Exactly but I fancy that has come to an end now. Have you heard
anything about him lately?'

'Well yes I have,' said Stanbury, feeling that dislike to speak of his
sister which is common to most brothers when in company with other men.

'I suppose you've heard of it, and, as I was in the middle of it all,
of course I couldn't but know all about it too. Your aunt wanted him to
marry your sister.'

'So I was told.'

'But your sister didn't see it,' said Brooke.

'So I understand,' said Stanbury. 'I believe my aunt was exceedingly
liberal,' and meant to do the best she could for poor Dorothy; but, if
she didn't like him, I suppose she was right not to have him,' said
Hugh.

'Of course she was right,' said Brooke, with a good deal of enthusiasm.

'I believe Gibson to be a very decent sort of fellow,' said Stanbury.

'A mean, paltry dog,' said Brooke. There had been a little whisky-toddy
after the oysters, and Mr Burgess was perhaps moved to a warmer
expression of feeling than he might have displayed had he discussed
this branch of the subject before supper. 'I knew from the first that
she would have nothing to say to him. He is such a poor creature!'

'I always thought well of him,' said Stanbury, 'and was inclined to
think that Dolly might have done worse.'

'It is hard to say what is the worst a girl might do; but I think she
might do, perhaps, a little better.'

'What do you mean?' said Hugh.

'I think I shall go down, and ask her to take myself.'

'Do you mean it in earnest?'

'I do,' said Brooke. 'Of course, I hadn't a chance when I was there.
She told me--'

'Who told you Dorothy?'

'No, your aunt she told me that Mr Gibson was to marry your sister. You
know your aunt's way. She spoke of it as though the thing were settled
as soon as she had got it into her own head; and she was as hot upon it
as though Mr Gibson had been an archbishop. I had nothing to do then
but to wait and see.'

'I had no idea of Dolly being fought for by rivals.'

'Brothers never think much of their sisters,' said Brooke Burgess.

'I can assure you I think a great deal of Dorothy,' said Hugh. 'I
believe her to be as sweet a woman as God ever made. She hardly knows
that she has a self belonging to herself.'

'I'm sure she doesn't,' said Brooke.

'She is a dear, loving, sweet-tempered creature, who is only too ready
to yield in all things.'

'But she wouldn't yield about Gibson,' said Brooke.

'How did she and my aunt manage?'

'Your sister simply said she couldn't and then that she wouldn't. I
never thought from the first moment that she'd take that fellow. In the
first place he can't say boo to a goose.'

'But Dolly wouldn't want a man to say boo.'

'I'm not so sure of that, old fellow. At any rate I mean to try myself.
Now what'll the old woman say?'

'She'll be pleased as Punch, I should think,' said Stanbury.

'Either that or else she'll swear that she'll never speak another word
to either of us. However, I shall go on with it.'

'Does Dorothy know anything of this?' asked Stanbury.

'Not a word,' said Brooke. 'I came away a day or so after Gibson was
settled; and as I had been talked to all through the affair by both of
them, I couldn't turn round and offer myself the moment he was gone.
You won't object will you?'

'Who; I?' said Stanbury. 'I shall have no objection as long as Dolly
pleases herself. Of course you know that we haven't as much as a brass
farthing among us?'

'That won't matter if the old lady takes it kindly,' said Brooke. Then
they parted, at the corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and Hugh as he went
up to his own rooms, reflected with something of wonderment on the
success of Dorothy's charms. She had always been the poor one of the
family, the chick out of the nest which would most require assistance
from the stronger birds; but it now appeared that she would become the
first among all the Stanburys. Wealth had first flowed down upon the
Stanbury family from the will of old Brooke Burgess; and it now seemed
probable that poor Dolly would ultimately have the enjoyment of it all.



CHAPTER L - CAMILLA TRIUMPHANT

It was now New Year's day, and there was some grief and perhaps more
excitement in Exeter for it was rumoured that Miss Stanbury lay very
ill at her house in the Close. But in order that our somewhat uneven
story may run as smoothly as it may be made to do, the little history
of the French family for the intervening months shall be told in this
chapter, in order that it may be understood how matters were with them
when the tidings of Miss Stanbury's severe illness first reached their
house at Heavitree.

After that terrible scene in which Miss Stanbury had so dreadfully
confounded Mr Gibson by declaring the manner in which he had been
rebuffed by Dorothy, the unfortunate clergyman had endeavoured to make
his peace with the French family by assuring the mother that in very
truth it was the dearest wish of his heart to make her daughter Camilla
his wife. Mrs French, who had ever been disposed to favour Arabella's
ambition, well knowing its priority and ancient right, and who of late
had been taught to consider that even Camilla had consented to waive
any claim that she might have once possessed, could not refrain from
the expression of some surprise. That he should be recovered at all out
of the Stanbury clutches was very much to Mrs French was so much that,
had time been given her for consideration, she would have acknowledged
to herself readily that the property had best be secured at once to the
family, without incurring that amount of risk, which must
unquestionably attend any attempt on her part to direct Mr Gibson's
purpose hither or thither. But the proposition came so suddenly, that
time was not allowed to her to be altogether wise. 'I thought it was
poor Bella,' she said, with something of a piteous whine in her voice.
At the moment Mr Gibson was so humble, that he was half inclined to
give way even on that head. He felt himself to have been brought so low
in the market by that terrible story of Miss Stanbury's which he had
been unable either to contradict or to explain that there was but
little power of fighting left in him. He was, however, just able to
speak a word for himself, and that sufficed, 'I hope there has been no
mistake,' he said; 'but really it is Camilla that has my heart.' Mrs
French made no rejoinder to this. It was so much to her to know that Mr
Gibson's heart was among them at all after what had occurred in the
Close, that she acknowledged to herself after that moment of reflection
that Arabella must be sacrificed for the good of the family interests.
Poor, dear, loving, misguided, and spiritless mother! She would have
given the blood out of her bosom to get husbands for her daughters,
though it was not of her own experience that she had learned that of
all worldly goods a husband is the best. But it was the possession
which they had from their earliest years thought of acquiring, which
they first expected, for which they had then hoped, and afterwards
worked and schemed and striven with every energy and as to which they
had at last almost despaired. And now Arabella's fire had been
rekindled with a new spark, which, alas, was to be quenched so
suddenly! 'And am I to tell them?' asked Mrs French, 'with a tremor in
her voice. To this, however, Mr Gibson demurred. He said that for
certain reasons he should like a fortnight's grace; and that at the end
of the fortnight he would be prepared to speak. The interval was
granted without further questions, and Mr Gibson was allowed to leave
the house.

After that Mrs French was not very comfortable at home. As soon as Mr
Gibson had departed, Camilla at once returned to her mother and desired
to know what had taken place. Was it true that the perjured man had
proposed to that young woman in the Close? Mrs French was not clever at
keeping a secret, and she could not keep this by her own aid. She told
all that happened to Camilla, and between them they agreed that
Arabella should be kept in ignorance till the fatal fortnight should
have passed. When Camilla was interrogated as to her own purpose, she
said she should like a day to think of it. She took the twenty-four
hours, and then made the following confession of her passion to her
mother. 'You see, mamma, I always liked Mr Gibson always.'

'So did Arabella, 'my dear before you thought of such things.'

'I dare say that may be true, mamma; but that is not my fault. He came
here among us on such sweetly intimate terms that the feeling grew up
with me before I knew what it meant. As to any idea of cutting out
Arabella, my conscience is quite clear, lit I thought there had been
anything really between them. I would have gone anywhere to the top of
a mountain rather than rob my sister of a heart that belonged to her.'

'He has been so slow about it,' said Mrs French.

'I don't know about that,' said Camilla. 'Gentlemen have to be slow, I
suppose, when they think of their incomes. He only got St.
Peter's-cum-Pumpkin three years ago, and didn't know for the first year
whether he could hold that and the minor canonry together. Of course a
gentleman has to think of these things before he comes forward.'

'My dear, he has been very backward.'

'If I'm to be Mrs Gibson, mamma, I beg that I mayn't hear anything said
against him. Then there came all this about that young woman; and when
I saw that Arabella took on so which I must say was very absurd I'm
sure I put myself out of the way entirely. If I'd buried myself under
the ground I couldn't have done it more. And it's my belief that what
I've said, all for Arabella's sake, has put the old woman into such a
rage that it has made a quarrel between him and the niece; otherwise
that wouldn't be off. I don't believe a word of her refusing him, and
never shall. Is it in the course of things, mamma?' Mrs French shook
her head. 'Of course not. Then when you question him very properly he
says that he's devoted to poor me. If I was to refuse him, he wouldn't
put up with Bella.'