Charles Dickens - "The Haunted Man and the Ghost's Bargin"

A. H. Leahy - "Heroic Romances of Ireland Volume 1"

Charlotte M. Yonge - "A Modern Telemachus"

Pliny the Younger - "The Letters of Pliny the Younger"

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: Love and Life

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Love and Life




"Madge," said Lady Belamour to the witch-like old woman who had
admitted her, "this young lady is to remain here. You will open a
bedroom and sitting-room for her at the back of the house. Let her
be properly cared for, and go out in the court behind, but on no
account approach the front gates. Let no one know she is here."

Madge muttered some demands about supplies and payments, and Lady
Belamour waved her to settle them with Mrs. Loveday, turning meantime
to the prisoner and saying, "There, child, you are to remain here on
your good behaviour. Do your best to merit my good will, so that I
may overlook what is past. Recollect, the least attempt to escape,
or to hold intercourse with the young, or the old, fool, and it shall
be the worse with them and with your father."

Therewith she departed, followed by Loveday, leaving Aurelia standing
in the middle of the hall, the old hag gazing on her with a malignant
leer. "Ho! ho'! So that's the way! He has begun that work early,
has he? What's your name, my lass? Oh, you need give yourself airs!
I cry you mercy," and she made a derisive curtsey.

Poor Aurelia, pride had less to do with her silence than absolute
uncertainty what to call herself. The wedding ring was on her finger,
and she would not deny her marriage by calling herself Delavie, but
Belamour might be dangerous, and the prefix was likewise a difficulty,
so faltered, "You may call me Madam Aurelia."

"Madam Really. That's a queer name, but it will serve while you are
here."

"Pray let me go to my room," entreated the poor prisoner, who felt as
ineffable disgust at her jailor, and was becoming sensible to extreme
fatigue.

"Your room, hey? D'ye think I keep rooms and beds as though this were
an inn, single-handed as I am? You must wait, unless you be too fine
to lend a hand."

"Anything will do," said Aurelia, "if I may only rest. I would help,
but I am so much tired that I can hardly stand."

"My Lady has given it to you well, Mistress Really or Mistress Falsely,
which ever you may be," mumbled Madge, perhaps in soliloquy, fumbling
at the lock of a room which at last she opened. It smelt very close
and fusty, and most of the furniture was heaped together under a cloth
in the midst, dimly visible by the light of a heart-shaped aperture in
the shutters. Unclosing one of the leaves, the old woman admitted
enough daylight to guide Aurelia to a couch against the wall, saying,
"You can wait there till I see to your bed. And you'll be wanting
supper too!" she added in a tone of infinite disgust.

"O never mind supper, if I can only go to bed," sighed Aurelia, sinking
on the couch as the old woman hobbled off. Lassitude and exhaustion
had brought her to a state like annihilation--unable to think or guess,
hope or fear, with shoes hurting her footsore feet, a stiff dress
cramping her too much for sleep, and her weary aching eyes gathering
a few impressions in a passive way. On the walls hung dimly seen
portraits strangely familiar to her. The man in a green dressing gown
with floating hair had a face she knew; so had the lady in the yellow
ruff. And was that not the old crest, the Delavie butterfly, with the
motto, _Ma Vie et ma Mie_, carved on the mantelpiece? Thus she knew
that she must be in Delavie House, and felt somewhat less desolate as
she recognised several portraits as duplicates of those at the Great
House at Carminster, and thought they looked at her in pity with
their eyes like her father's. The youngest son in the great family
group was, as she knew, an Amyas, and he put her in mind of her own.
Oh, was he her own, when she could not tell whether those great soft,
dark-grey eyes that looked so kindly on her had descended to the young
baronet? She hoped not, for Harriet and she had often agreed that
they presaged the fate of that gallant youth, who had been killed by
Sir Bevil Grenville's side. He must have looked just as Sir Amyas
did, lying senseless after the hurt she had caused.

No more definite nor useful thought passed through the brain of the
overwearied maiden as she rest on the couch, how long she knew not;
but it was growing dark by the time Madge returned with a guttering
candle, a cracked plate and wedge of greasy-looking pie, a piece of
dry bread, a pewter cup of small beer, and an impaired repulsive
steel knife with a rounded end, and fork with broken prong. The fact
of this being steel was not distressing to one who had never seen a
silver fork, but the condition of both made her shudder, and added to
the sick sense of exhaustion that destroyed her appetite. She took
a little of the bread, and, being parched with thirst, drank some of
the beer before Madge came back again. "Oh ho, you're nice I see,
my fine Dame Really!"

"Thank you, indeed I can't eat, I am so much tired," said Aurelia
apologetically.

"You'll have to put up with what serves your betters, I can tell you,"
was all the reply she received. "Well be ye coming to your bed?"

So up the creaking stairs she was guided to a room, very unlike that
fresh white bower at Bowstead, large, eerie, ghostly-looking, bare
save for a dark oak chest, and a bed of the same material, the posts
apparently absolute trees, squared and richly carved, and supporting
a solid wooden canopy with an immense boss as big as a cabbage, and
carved something like one, depending from the centre, as if to
endanger the head of the unwary, who should start up in bed. No
means of ablution were provided, and Aurelia felt so grimed and dusty
that she ventured to beg for an ewer and basin; but her amiable hostess
snarled out that she had enough to do without humouring fiddle-faddle
whimsies, and that she might wash at the pump if nothing else would
serve her.

Aurelia wished she had known this before going up stairs, and, worn
out as she was, the sense implanted by her mother that it was wicked
to go to sleep dirty, actually made her drag herself down to a grim
little scullery, where she was permitted to borrow a wooden bowl,
since she was too _nice_ forsooth to wash down stairs. She carried
it up with a considerable trouble more than half full, and a bit
of yellow soap and clean towel were likewise vouchsafed to her. The
wash--perhaps because of the infinite trouble it cost her--did her
great good,--it gave her energy to recollect her prayers and bring
good angels about her. If this had been her first plunge from home,
when Jumbo's violin had so scared her, such a place as this would have
almost killed her; but the peace that had come to her in Sedhurst
Church lingered still round her, and as she climbed up into the lofty
bed the verse sang in her ears "Love is strong as death." Whether
Love Divine or human she did not ask herself, but with the sense of
soothing upon her, she slept--and slept as a seventeen-years'-old
frame will sleep after having been thirty-six hours awake and afoot.

When she awoke it was with the sense of some one being in the room.
"O gemini!" she heard, and starting up, only just avoiding the knob,
she saw Mrs. Loveday's well-preserved brunette face gazing at her.

"Your servant, ma'am," she said. "You'll excuse me if I speak with
you here, for I must be back by the time my Lady's bell rings."

"Is it very late?" said Aurelia, taking from under her pillow her
watch, which had stopped long ago.

"Nigh upon ten o'clock," said Loveday. "I must not stay, but it is my
Lady's wish that you should have all that is comformable, and you'll
let me know how Madge behaves herself."

"Is there any news from Bowstead?" was all Aurelia could at first
demand.

"Not yet; but bless you, my dear young lady, you had best put all
that matter out of your head for ever and a day. I know what these
young gentlemen are. They are not to be hearkened to one moment,
not the best of them. Let them be ever so much in earnest at the
time, their parents and guardians have the mastery of them sooner
or later, and the farther it has gone, the worse it is. I saw you
lying asleep here looking so innocent that it went to my heart, and
I heard you mutter in your sleep 'Love is strong as death,' but
that's only a bit of some play-book, and don't you trust to it, for
I never saw love that was stronger than a spider's web."

"Oh, hush, Mrs. Loveday. It is in the Bible!"

"You don't say so, ma'am," the woman said awestruck.

"I would show it you, only all my things are away. God is love, you
know," said Aurelia, sitting up with clasped hands, "and He gives it,
so it must be strong."

"Well, all the love I've ever seen was more the devil's," said Loveday
truly enough; "and you'll find it so if you mean to trust to these
fine young beaux and what they say."

Aurelia shook her head a little as she sat up in bed with her clasped
hands; and there was a look on her face that Mrs. Loveday did not
understand, as she went on with her advice.

"So, my dear young lady, you see all that is left for you is to frame
your mind to keep close here, and conform to my Lady's will till all
is blown over one way or another."

"I know that," said Aurelia.

"Don't' you do anything to anger her," added the waiting-woman, "for
there's no one who can stand against her; and I'll speak up for you
when I can, for I know how to come round my Lady, if any one does.
Tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you; but don't try to
get out, and don't send Madge, for she is not to be trusted with
money. If I were you, I'd not let her see that watch, and I'd lock
my door at night. You're too innocent, whatever my Lady may say.
Here's half a pound of tea and sugar, which you had best keep to
yourself, and I've seen to there being things decent down stairs.
Tell me, my dear, is there anything you want? Your clothes, did you
say? Oh, yes, you shall have them--yes, and your books. Here's some
warm water," as a growling was heard at the door; "I must not wait
till you are dressed, but there's a box of shells down in your room
that Mr. Wayland sent home for my Lady to line a grotto with, and
she wants them all sorted out. 'Tell her she must make herself of
use if she wants to be forgiven,' says my Lady, for she is in a
mighty hurry for them now she has heard of the Duchess of Portland's
grotto; though she has let them lie here unpacked for this half year
and more. So if they are all done by night, maybe may Lady will be
pleased to let you have a bit more liberty."

Mrs. Loveday departed, having certainly cheered the captive, and
Aurelia rose, weary-limbed and sad-hearted, with a patient trust in
her soul that Love Divine would not fail her, and that earthly love
would do its best.

She found matters improved in the down-stairs room, the furniture was
in order, a clean cloth on the table, a white roll, butter, and above
all clean bright implements, showing Mrs. Loveday's influence. She
ate and drank like a hungry girl, washed up for herself rather than
let Madge touch anything she could help, and looked from the window
into a dull court of dreary, blighted-looking turf divided by flagged
walks, radiating from a statue in the middle, representing a Triton
blowing a conch--no doubt intended to spout water, for there was a
stone trough round him, but he had long forgotten his functions, and
held a sparrow's nest with streaming straws in his hand. This must
be the prison-yard, where alone she might walk, since it lay at the
back of the house; and with a sense of depression she turned to the
task that awaited her.

A very large foreign-looking case had been partly opened, and when
she looked in she was appalled at the task to be accomplished in one
day. It was crammed with shells of every size and description, from
the large helmet-conch and Triton's trumpet, down to the tiny pink
cowry and rice-volute, all stuffed together without arrangement or
packing, forming a mass in which the unbroken shells reposed in a
kind of sand, of _debris_ ground together out of the victims; and
when she took up a tolerably-sized univalve, quantities of little
ones came tumbling out of its inner folds. She took up a handful,
and presently picked out one perfect valve like a rose petal, three
fairy cups of limpets, four ribbed cowries, and a thing like a green
pea. Of course she knew no names, but a kind of interest was
awakened by the beauty and variety before her. A pile of papers had
been provided, and the housewife [a pocket-size container for small
articles (as thread)--D.L.] which Betty made her always carry in her
pocket furnished wherewithal to make up a number of bags for the
lesser sorts; and she went to work, her troubles somewhat beguiled
by the novel beauties of each delicate creature she disinterred, but
remembering with a pang how, if she could have described them to Mr.
Belamour, he would have discoursed upon the Order of Nature.

London noises were not the continuous roar of vehicles of the present
day, but there was sound enough to remind the country girl where she
was, and the street cries "Old Clothes!" "Sprats, oh!" "Sweep!" were
heard over the wall, sometimes with tumultuous voices that seemed to
enhance her loneliness, as she sat on the floor, hour after hour,
sifting out the entire shells, and feeling a languid pleasure in
joining the two halves of a bivalve, especially those lovely sunset
shells that have rosy rays diverging from their crimson hinge over
their polished surface, white, or just tinted with the hues of a
daffodil sky. She never clasped a pair together without a little
half-uttered ejaculation, "Oh, bring me and my dear young love thus
together again!" And when she found a couple making a perfect heart,
and holding together through all, she kissed it tenderly in the hope
that thus it might be with her and with him whose hand and whose
voice returned on her, calling her his dearest life!

She durst only quit the shells to eat the dinner which Madge served
at one o'clock--a tolerable meal of slices of cold beef from a cook's-
shop, but seasoned with sour looks and a murmur at ladies' fancies.
The weariness and languor of the former day's exertions made her for
the present disinclined to explore the house, even had she had time,
and when twilight came there could have been little but fragments at
the bottom of the case, though she could see no more to sort them.

And what were these noises around her making her start? Rats! Yes,
here they were, venturing out from all the corners. They knew there
had been food in the room. This was why Madge had those to gaunt,
weird-looking cats in her kitchen! Aurelia went and sat on the step
into the court to be out of their way, but Madge hunted her in that
the door might be shut and barred; and when she returned trembling to
the sitting room, she heard such a scampering and a scrambling that
she durst not enter, and betook herself to her chamber and to bed.

Alas! that was no refuge. She had been too much tired to hear
anything the night before, but to-night there was scratching,
nibbling, careering, fighting, squeaking, recoil and rally, charge
and rout, as the grey Hanover rat fought his successful battle with
his black English cousin all over the floors and stairs--nay, once
or twice came rushing up and over the bed--frightening its occupant
almost out of her senses, as she cowered under the bed-clothes, not
at all sure that they would not proceed to eating her. Happily
daylight came early. Aurelia, at its first ray, darted across the
room, starting in horror when she touched a soft thing with her bare
foot, opened the shutter, and threw open the casement. Light drove
the enemy back to their holes, and she had a few hours' sleep, but
when Mrs. Loveday came to the room when she was nearly dressed, she
exclaimed, "Why, miss, you look paler than you did yesterday."

"The rats!" said Aurelia under her breath.

"Ah! the rats! Of course they are bad enough in an old desolate place
like this. But you've done the shells right beautiful, that I will
say; and you may leave this house this very day if you will only give
your consent to what my Lady asks. You shall be sent down this very
day to Carminster, if so be you'll give up that ring of yours, and
sign a paper giving up all claim to be married to his Honour. See,
here it is, all ready, in my Lady's letter."

"I cannot," said Aurelia, with her hands behind her.

"You can read my Lady's letter," said Loveday; "that can do you no
harm."

Aurelia felt she must do that at least.


"CHILD,

"I will overlook your Transgression on the One Condition, that
you sign this Paper and send it with your so-called Wedding Ring back
to me immediately. Otherwise you must take the Consequences, and
remain where you are till after my Son's Marriage.

"URANIA BELAMOUR."


The paper was a formal renunciation of all rights or claims from the
fictitious marriage by which she had been deceived, and an absolute
pledge never to renew any contract with Sir Amyas Belamour, Knight
Baronet, who had grossly played on her.

"No, I cannot," said Aurelia, pushing it from her.

"Indeed, miss, I would not persuade you to it if it were not for your
own good; but you may be sure it is no use holding out against her
Ladyship. If you sign it now, and give it up honourable, she will
send Mr. Dove home with you, and there you'll be as if nothing had
been amiss, no one knowing nothing about it; but if you persist it
will not make the marriage a bit more true, and you will only be
kept moped up in this dismal place till his Honour is married, and
there's no saying what worse my Lady may do to you."

Another night of rats came up before Aurelia's imagination in contrast
with the tender welcome at home; but the white face and the tones that
had exclaimed, "Madam, what are you doing to my wife?" arose and
forbade her. She would not fail him. So she said firmly once more,
"No, Mrs. Loveday, I cannot. I do not know what lawyers may say, but
I feel myself bound to Sir Amyas, and I will not break my vow--God
helping me," she added under breath.

"You must write it to her ladyship then. She will never take such a
message through me. Here is paper and pen that I brought, in hopes
that you would be wise and submit for your honoured father's sake."

"My father cannot be persecuted for what he has nothing to do with,"
said Aurelia, with the gentle dignity that had grown on her since
her troubles. And taking the pen, she wrote her simple refusal,
signing it Aurelia Belamour.

"As you please, ma'am," said Mrs. Loveday, "but I have my Lady's
orders to bring this paper every day till you sign it, and it would
be better for you if you would do it at once."

Aurelia only shook her head, and asked if Mrs. Loveday had seen that
she had finished sorting the shells. Yes; and as she was now dressed
they went down together to the sitting-room. The shutters were
still closed, Madge would not put a hand to the room except on the
compulsion, and Aurelia's enemies had left evidence of their work;
not only was the odour of the room like that of a barn, but the paper
bags had in some cases been bitten through, and the shells scattered
about, and of the loaf and butter which Aurelia had left on a high
shelf in the cupboard nothing remained but a few fragments.

Loveday was very much shocked, all the more when Aurelia quietly said
she should not mind it so much if the rats would only stay down stairs,
and not run over her in bed.

"Yet you will not sign the paper."

"I cannot," again said Aurelia.

"My stars, I never could abear rats! Why they fly at one's throat
sometimes!"

"I hope God will take care of me," said Aurelia, in a trembling voice.
"He did last night."

Loveday began a formal leave-taking curtsey, but presently turned back.
"There now," she said, "I cannot do it, I couldn't sleep a wink for
thinking of you among the rats! Look here, I shall send a porter to
bring away those shells if you'll make up their bags again that the
nasty vermin have eaten, and there's a little terrier dog about the
place that no one will miss, he shall bring it down, and depend upon
it, the rats won't venture near it."

"Oh! thank you, Mrs. Loveday, how good you are!"

"Ah, don't then! If you could say that my dear!"

Mrs. Loveday hurried away, and after breakfasting, Aurelia repaired
the ravages of the rats, and made a last sorting of the residuum of
shell dust, discovering numerous minute beauties, which awoke in her
the happy thought of the Creator's individual love.

She had not yet finished before Madge's voice was heard in querulous
anger, and a heavy tread came along with her. A big man, who could
have carried ten times the weight of the box of shells, came in with
a little white dog with black ears, under his arm.

"There," said the amiable guardian of the house, "that smart madam
says that it's her ladyship's pleasure you should have that little
beast to keep down the rats. As if my cats was not enough! But
mind you, Madam Really, if so be he meddles with my cats, it will
be the worse for him."

The porter took up the box, and departed, and Aurelia was left with
her new companion sniffing all round the room, much excited by the
neighbourhood of his natural enemies. However, he obeyed her call,
and let her make friends, and read the name on the brass plate upon
his collar. When she read "Sir A. Belamour, Bart.," she took the
little dog in her arms and kissed it's white head.

Being fairly rested, and having no task to accomplish, she felt the
day much longer, though less solitary, in the companionship of the dog,
to whom she whispered many fond compliments, and vain questions as to
his name. With him at her heels and Madge and her cats safely shut
into the kitchen, she took courage to wander about the dull court,
and then to explore the mansion and try to get a view from the higher
windows, in case they were not shuttered up like the lower ones. The
emptiness of Bowstead was nothing to this, and she smiled to herself
at having thought herself a prisoner there.

Most of the rooms were completely dismantled, or had only ghastly rags
of torn leather or tapestry hanging to their walls. The upper windows,
however, were merely obscured by dust and cobwebs. Her own bedroom
windows only showed the tall front of an opposite house, but climbing
to the higher storey, she could see at the back over the garden wall
the broad sheet of the Thames, covered with boats and wherries, and
the banks provided with steps and stairs, at the opening of every
street on the opposite side, where she beheld a confused mass of trees,
churches, and houses. Nearer, the view to the westward was closed in
by a stately edifice which she did not know to be Somerset House; and
from another window on the east side of the house she saw, over
numerous tiled roofs, a gateway which she guessed to be Temple Bar,
and a crowded thoroughfare, where the people looked like ants, toiling
towards the great dome that rose in the misty distance. Was this the
way she was to see London?

Coming down with a lagging step, she met Madge's face peering up.
"Humph! there you be, my fine miss! No gaping after sweethearts
from the window, or it will be the worse for you."

The terrier growled, as having already adopted his young lady's defence,
and Aurelia, dreading a perilous explosion of his zeal in her cause,
hurried him into her parlour.




CHAPTER XXXI. THE SECOND TASK.


Hope no more,
Since thou art furnished with hidden lore,
To 'scape thy due reward if any day
Without some task accomplished passed away.
MOORE.


The little dog's presence was a comfort, but his night of combat and
scuffling was not a restful one and the poor prisoner's sickness of
heart and nervous terrors grew upon her every hour, with misgivings
lest she should be clinging to a shadow, and sacrificing her return
to Betty's arms for a phantom. There were moments when her anguish
of vague terror and utter loneliness impelled her to long to sign
her renunciation that moment; and when she thought of recurring hours
and weeks of such days and such nights her spirit quailed within her,
and Loveday might have found her less calmly steadfast had she come
in the morning.

She did not come, and this in itself was a disappointment, for at
least she brought a human voice and a pitying countenance which,
temptress though she might be, had helped to bear Aurelia through
the first days. Oh! could she but find anything to do! She had
dusted her two rooms as well as she could consistently with care
for the dress she could not change. She blamed herself extremely
for having forgotten her Bible and Prayer-book when hastily making
up her bundle of necessaries, and though there was little chance
that Madge should possess either, or be able to read, she nerved
herself to ask. "Bible! what should ye want of a Bible, unless
to play the hypocrite? I hain't got none!" was the reply.