Azel Ames - "The Mayflower and Her Log, v1"

Henry C. Shelley - "Inns and Taverns of Old London"

John Lothrop Motley - "The Life of John of Barneveld, 1617"

John Lothrop Motley - "The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1570 72"

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: My Young Alcides

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> My Young Alcides




When the mother and uncle came in, it was manifestly time for us to
convey ourselves away. Harold had come on foot from Mycening, but I
was only too glad to walk my pony along the lanes, and have his
company in the gathering winter twilight.

"You have spoken to her?" he said.

"Yes. Harold, it is of no use. She will never have him."

"Her mother thinks she will."

"Her mother knows what is in Viola no more than she knows what is in
that star. Has Dermot never said anything--"

"Lady Diana made everyone promise not to say a word to him."

"Oh!"

"But, Lucy, what hinders it? There's nothing else in the way, is
there?"

I did not speak the word, but made a gesture of assent.

"May I know who it is," said Harold in a voice of pain. "Our poor
fellow shall never hear."

"Harold," said I, "are you really so ridiculous as to think any girl
could care for Eustace while you are by?"

"Don't!" cried Harold, with a sound as of far more pain than
gladness.

"But why not, Harry? You asked me."

"Don't light up what I have been struggling to quench ever since I
knew it."

"Why?" I went on. "You need not hold back on Eustace's account.
I am quite sure nothing would make her accept him, and I am equally
convinced--"

"Hush, Lucy!" he said in a scarcely audible voice. "It is
profanation. Remember--"

"But all that is over," I said. "Things that happened when you were
a mere boy, and knew no better, do not seem to belong to you now."

"Sometimes they do not," he said sadly; but--"

"What is repented," I began, but he interrupted.

"The fact is not changed. It is not fit that the purest, gentlest,
brightest creature made by Heaven should be named in the same day
with one stained with blood--aye, and deeds I could not speak of to
you."

I could not keep from crying as I said, "If I love you the more,
Harry, would not she?"

"See here, Lucy," said Harry, standing still with his hand on my
rein; "you don't know what you do in trying to inflame what I can
hardly keep down. The sweet little thing may have a fancy for me
because I'm the biggest fellow she knows, and have done a thing or
two; but what I am she knows less than even you do; and would it not
be a wicked shame either to gain the tender heart in ignorance, or to
thrust on it the knowledge and the pain of such a past as mine?" And
his groan was very heavy, so that I cried out:

"Oh, Harry! this is dreadful. Do you give up all hope and joy for
ever because of what you did as an ungovernable boy left to
yourself?"

We went on for some time in silence; then he said in an indescribable
tone, between wonder, disgust, and pity, "And I thought I loved Meg
Cree!"

"You knew no one else," I said, feeling as if, when Dora threw away
that ring, the wild, passionate animal man had been exorcised; but
all the answer I had was another groan, as from the burthened breast,
as if he felt it almost an outrage to one whom he so reverenced to
transfer to her the heart that had once beat for Meg Cree. There was
no more speech for a long time, during which I feared that I had
merely made him unhappy by communicating my conjecture, but just as
we were reaching our own grounds he said, "You will say nothing,
Lucy?"

"No, indeed."

"I thought it was all over, and for ever," he said, pausing; "it
ought to have been. But the gates of a new world were opened to me
when I saw her and you walking in the garden! If it had only been
five or six years sooner!"

He could not say any more, for Dora, who had been watching, here
burst on us with cries of welcome, and it was long before there was
any renewal of the conversation, so that I could not tell whether he
really persuaded himself that he had no hopes, or was waiting to see
how matters should turn out.

It was never easy to detect expressions of feeling or spirits on his
massive face, and he could hardly be more silent than usual; but it
was noticeable that he never fell asleep after his former wont when
sitting still. Indeed, he seldom was still, for he had a great deal
of business both for the estate and the potteries on his hands, and
stayed up late at night over them; and not only over them, for my
room was next to his, and I heard the regular tramp, tramp of his
feet, and the turn at the end of the room, as he walked up and down
for at least an hour when the rest of the house were asleep, or the
closing of the door when he returned from wandering on the moor at
night. And in the early morning, long before light, he always walked
or rode over to Arked House, bestowed on Dermot's hurts the cares
which both had come to look on as essential, and stayed with him till
the family were nearly ready to appear at their nine o'clock
breakfast, not seeing Viola at all, unless any special cause led to a
meeting later in the day, and then his eyes glowed, and he would do
her devoted, unobserved service--no, not unobserved by her, whom it
made blush and sparkle--and utter little words of thanks, not so gay
as of old, but deeper, as if for a great honour and delight. And
then he would bow his head, colour, and draw into the background,
where, with folded arms, he could watch her.

Once, when Dora, in her old way, claimed to be his wife, Harold told
her with some impatience that she was growing too old for that
nonsense. The child looked at him with bent brows and questioning
eyes for a moment, then turned and fled. An hour later, after a long
search, I found her crouched up in the corner of the kangaroo's stall
among the straw, having cried herself to sleep, with her head on the
creature's soft back.

As soon as Dermot was able to bear any strain on mind or attention,
he gave his keys to Harold. All his long and unhappy accumulation of
bills and bonds were routed out from their receptacles at Biston, and
brought over by Harold to his office, where he sorted them, and made
them intelligible, before harassing his friend with the questions he
alone could explain. An hour a day was then spent over them--hours
that cost poor Dermot more than he was equal to; but his mind was
made up, as he told me, "to face anything rather than go on in the
old miserable way." It was much that he had learnt to think it
miserable.

Lady Diana was not much obliged to Harold. She could not think why
her patient was so often left out of spirits, and with a headache
after those visits, while he was in a feverish state of anxiety about
them, that made it worse to put them off than to go through with
them; and then, when she had found out the cause, the family pride
much disliked letting an outsider into his involvments, and she
thought their solicitor would have done the thing much better.

Poor woman, it was hard that, when she thought illness was bringing
her son back to her, she found his confidence absorbed by the "bush-
ranger," whom she never liked nor trusted, and his reformation, if
reformation it were to prove, not at all conducted on her views of
visible repentance and conversion. Dermot was responsive to her
awakened tenderness, but he was perversely reticent as to whether
repentance or expedience prompted him. She required so much
religious demonstration, that she made him shrink from manifesting
his real feelings as "humbug," and Viola knew far more that his
repentance was real than she did. Those proofs of true repentance--
confession and restitution--I am sure he gave, and that most bravely,
when, after weeks of weary and sorrowful work on Harold's part and
his, the whole was sufficiently disentangled to make a lucid
statement of his affairs.

He made up his mind to make an arrangement with his creditors, giving
up Biston, all his horses--everything, in fact, but Killy Marey,
which was entailed on his Tracy cousins. And this second year of
George Yolland's management had made the shares in the Hydriot
Company of so much value, that the sale of them would complete the
clearance of his obligations. The full schedule of his debts,
without reserve, and the estimate of his means of paying them off,
was then given by Dermot to his mother, and sent to his uncle, who
went over them with his solicitor.

Lady Diana writhed under the notion of selling Biston. It seemed to
her to be the means of keeping her son from the place in Ireland,
which she disliked more than ever, and she hoped her brother would
advance enough to prevent this from being needful; but for this Lord
Erymanth was far too wise. He said, as Dermot felt, that Biston had
never been anything but an unjustifiable and pernicious luxury and
temptation; but he did voluntarily, since it joined his property,
propose to purchase it himself, and at such a sum as secured the
possibility of a real payment of the debts when the other sales
should have been effected.

And they were carried out. It was well for Dermot that, as a
convalescent in his mother's house, he was sheltered from all counter
influences, such as his easy good nature might not have withstood;
and under that shelter it was his purpose to abide until the voyage
which would take him out of reach for a time, and bring him home
ready for his fresh start.

Of course Lady Diana hated the notion of the voyage, and though her
brother advised her not to oppose it, yet to the last I think she
entertained hopes that it would end in Harold's going alone.

When Harold came in and told me that Dermot Tracy's horses, English
and Irish, were all sold, and named the sum that they had realised,
my spirits leaped up, and I was certain, after such a voluntary
sacrifice, the dear old companion of my childhood would be a joy and
exultation to us all, instead of a sorrow and a grief.




CHAPTER XI. THE RED VALLEY CATTLE STEALERS.



In the Easter recess our Northchester member had his house full, and
among his guests was one of the most influential men of the day, who,
though not a cabinet minister himself, was known to have immense
influence with Government and in Parliament, from his great weight
and character.

Eustace and I were invited to meet him, also Lady Diana and her
daughter and son, who was called well now, though far from strong.
When the gentlemen came out of the dining-room, Eustace and Dermot
came up to us, the former much excited, and saying, "Lucy, you must
make preparations. They are all coming to luncheon to-morrow at
Arghouse."

"Ah!"

"Yes, Sir James (the great man himself), and Mr. Vernon, and the
General, and all the party. I asked them all. Sir James has heard
of the potteries, and of my system, and of the reformation I have
effected, and there being no strikes, and no nothing deleterious--
undesirable I mean--and the mechanics having an interest, he wants to
see for himself--to inspect personally--that he may name it in
Parliament in illustration of a scheme he is about to propose. So
Mr. Vernon will bring him over to see the Hydriot works to-morrow,
and I have asked them to luncheon. Only think--named in Parliament!
Don't you think now it might lead to a baronetcy, Tracy?"

"Or a peerage," quoth naughty Viola, out of reach of mother or
Harold. "My Lord Hardbake would be a sweet title."

"I should revive the old honours of the family," said Eustace, not
catching the bit of wickedness. "Calldron of Arghouse was an old
barony. Lord Calldron of Arghouse! Should you object, Miss Tracy?"

"Earthen pot or copper kettle? Which?" laughed Viola. "Ah! there's
Miss Vernon going to sing. I want to hear her," and she jumped up.

"Sit down, Dermot, in my place; you are not to stand."

She threaded her way to the piano, followed by Eustace, who still
viewed himself as her suitor.

"Poor little Vi!" said Dermot, who by this time was aware of the
courtship, and regarded it with little favour.

"She will rub him off more easily among numbers," I said, as he
settled down by me. "But is this really so, Dermot?"

"What, is she to be my Lady Calldron? I am afraid my hopes of that
elevation are not high. But as to the luncheon, you will really
have to slaughter your turkeys, and declare war on your surviving
cocks and hens. He has been inviting right and left. And tell
Harold from me that if he votes the thing a bore, and keeps out of
the way for fear of having to open his mouth, he'll be doing serious
damage. If respect to the future baronetcy makes him get into the
background, tell him, with my compliments, the whole thing will be a
muddle, and I'll never speak a good word for him again."

"Then you have been speaking good words?"

"When Sir James began to inquire about the Hydriots, Mr. Alison was
called on to answer him, and you are aware that, except to certain
constitutions of intellect, as my uncle would say, certain animals
cannot open their mouths without proclaiming themselves. The most
sensible thing he said was the invite to come and see. Really, he
made such mulls with the details that even I had to set him right,
and that led to Sir James talking it out with me, when I had the
opportunity of mentioning that a certain person, not the smallest of
mankind, had been entirely overlooked. Yes I did, Lucy. I up and
told him how our friend came over as heir; and when he was done out
of it, set to work as agent and manager and improver-general, without
a notion of jealousy or anything but being a backbone to this cousin
of his, and I could not say what besides to all that came in his way;
but I flatter myself there's one man in the room who has some notion
of the difference there is between the greater and the less."

"Harold would not thank you," I said.

"Not he. So much the more reason that you should take care he comes
to the front."

Dermot did Eustace a little injustice in fancying he wanted to
suppress Harold. He never did. He was far too well satisfied with
his own great personality to think that anyone could interfere with
it; and having asked everyone in the room, ladies and all, to the
inspection and the luncheon, discoursed to me about it all the way
home, and would almost have made me and all the servants stay up all
night to prepare. Harold, who was still up when we came home,
received the tidings equably, only saying he would go down to Yolland
the first thing in the morning and get things made tidy. "And don't
bother Lucy," he added, as we went upstairs.

Well, the supplies were contrived, and the table laid without anyone
being quite distracted. From Richardson downwards, we all had learnt
to take our own way, while the master talked, and Mrs. Alison was
really very happy, making delicate biscuits after a receipt of her
own. Things came to a point where I was sure they would finish
themselves off more happily without either of us, and though one idle
female more might not be desirable, I thought at least I might
prevent Harold's effacement, and went down to Mycening with Eustace
to receive the guests.

Sure enough, Harold was not in the entrance yard, nor the
superintendent's office. Mr. Yolland was there, looking grim and
bored, and on inquiry being made, said that Mr. Harold had insisted
on his being on the spot, but was himself helping the men to clear
the space whence it would be easiest to see the action of the
machinery. I made a rush after him, and found him all over dust,
dragging a huge crate into a corner, and to my entreaty he merely
replied, pushing back his straw hat, "I must see to this, or we shall
have everything smashed."

The carriages were coming, and I could only pick my way back by the
shortest route, through stacks of drain-tiles and columns of garden-
pots, to Eustace, who, becoming afraid it would seem as if he were
keeping shop, was squeezing down the fingers of his left-hand glove,
while impressing on Mr. Yolland and me that everyone must understand
he was only there as chairman of the directors.

The people came, and were conducted round, and peeped about and made
all sorts of remarks, wise and foolish. Eustace was somewhat
perplexed between the needful attentions to Mrs. Vernon and to Sir
James, who, being much more interested in the men than the
manufacture, was examining Mr. Yolland on their welfare, spirit,
content, &c.; and George Yolland might be trusted for making Mr.
Harold Alison the prominent figure in his replies, till at last he
could say, "But here is Mr. Harold Alison, Sir James. He can reply
better than I." (Which was not strictly true, for George Yolland had
by far the readiest tongue.) But he had managed to catch Harold in
the great court, moving back one of his biggest barrels of heavy
ingredients, with face some degrees redder and garments some degrees
dustier than when I had seen him ten minutes before. It really was
not on purpose, or from any wish to hide, but the place needed
clearing, there was little time, and his strength could not be
spared.

I am sorry to say that a chattering young lady, who stood close to
Eustace, exclaimed, "Dear me, what a handsome young foreman!" making
Eustace blush to the eyes, and say, "It is my cousin--he is so very
eccentric--you'll excuse him."

Sir James, meantime, had heartily shaken the hand which, though
begrimed at the moment, Harold held out to him, and plunged into
inquiries at once, not letting him go again; for Harold, with the
intuition that nothing was idly asked, and that each observation
told, answered to the point as no man could do better, or in fewer
words. When the round was over, and Eustace was prepared with the
carriage to drive the grandees the mile up to Arghouse, Sir James
returned his thanks, but he was going to walk up with Mr. Harold
Alison, who was going to show him his workmen's reading-room,
cottages, &c. Eustace looked about for someone to whom to resign the
reins, but in vain, and we all had to set off, my housewifely mind
regretting that time and Eustace had combined to make the luncheon a
hot instead of a cold one.

We found the Tracys when we arrived at home. Dermot was not equal to
standing about at the pottery, but Lady Diana had promised to come
and help me entertain the party, and very kindly she did so during
the very trying hungry hour to which we had to submit, inasmuch as,
when Sir James at last appeared, it turned out that he never ate
luncheon, and was in perfect ignorance that we were waiting for him.

He offered me his arm and we went to the long-deferred luncheon.
I listened to his great satisfaction with what he had seen, and the
marvel he thought it; and meanwhile I looked for Harold, and saw him
presently come in, in exactly that condition of dress, as he
considered due to me, and with the long blue envelope I knew full
well in one hand, in the other the little figure of the Hope of
Poland which Miss Woolmer had given him; and oh! what a gladness
there was in his eyes. He put them both down beside Sir James, and
then retreated to a side table, where Dora had been set to entertain
a stray school-boy or two.

I longed to hear Sir James's observations, but his provoking opposite
neighbour began to talk, and I got nothing more to myself, and I had
to spend the next half-hour in showing our grounds to Mrs. Vernon,
who admired as if she were electioneering, and hindered me from
knowing what anybody was about, till the people had had their cups of
coffee and their carriages had come.

We three found ourselves in the porch together when Eustace had
handed in Mrs. Vernon, and Sir James, turning for a last shake of
Harold's hand, said, "I shall expect you this day week." Then, with
most polite thanks to the master of the house, he was driven off,
while Harold, beaming down on us, exclaimed, "It is as good as done.
I am to go up and see the Secretary of State about it next week."

I had no doubt what it was, and cried out joyfully to ask how he had
done it. "I told him who first discovered the capabilities of the
clay, and laid the state of the case before him. He was very much
touched, said it was just such a matter as needed severity at the
time, but was sure to be pardoned now."

"Pardoned! What do you mean?" exclaimed Eustace. "You don't mean
that you have not done with that wretched old Prometesky yet? I
thought at least, when you took up Sir James all to yourself,
spoiling the luncheon and keeping everyone waiting, you were doing
something for the benefit of the family."

As Harold seemed dumb with amazement, I asked what he could possibly
have been expected to do for the good of the family, and Eustace
mumbled out something about that supposed Calldron barony, which
seemed to have turned his head, and I answered sharply that Sir James
had nothing at all to do with reviving peerages; besides, if this one
had ever existed, it would have been Harold's. I had much better
have held my tongue. Eustace never recovered that allegation. That
day, too, was the very first in which it had been impossible for
Harold to avoid receiving marked preference, and the jealousy
hitherto averted by Eustace's incredible vanity had begun to awaken.
Moreover, that there had been some marked rebuff from Viola was also
plain, for, as the Arked carriage was seen coming round, and I said
we must go in to the Tracys, Eustace muttered, "Nasty little stuck-up
thing; catch me making up to her again!"

It was just as well that Harold did not hear, having, at sight of the
carriage, gone off to fetch a favourite cup, the mending of which he
had contrived for Viola at the potteries. When we came into the
drawing-room, I found Lady Diana and Mrs. Alison with their heads
very close together over some samples of Welsh wool, and Dermot lying
on the sofa, his hands clasped behind his head, and his sister
hanging over him, with her cheeks of the colour that made her
beautiful.

The two elder ladies closed on Eustace directly to congratulate him
on the success of his arrangements, and Dermot jumped up from the
sofa, while Viola caught hold of my hand, and we all made for the
window which opened on the terrace. "Tell her," said Viola to her
brother, as we stood outside.

Dermot smiled, saying, "Only that Sir James thinks he has to-day seen
one of the most remarkable men he ever met in his life."

"And he has promised to help him to Prometesky's pardon," I said;
while Viola, instead of speaking, leaped up and kissed me for joy.
"He is to go to London about it."

"Yes," Dermot said. "Sir James wants him to meet some friends, who
will be glad to pick his brains about New South Wales. Hallo, Harry!
I congratulate you. You've achieved greatness."

"You've achieved a better thing," said Viola, with her eyes beaming
upon him.

"I hope so," he said in an under tone.

"I am so glad," with a whole heart in the four words.

"Thank you," he said. "This was all that was wanting."

The words must have come out in spite of himself, for he coloured up
to the roots of his hair as they ended. And Viola not only coloured
too, but the moisture sprang into her fawn-like eyes. Dermot and I
looked at each other, both knowing what it meant.

That instant Lady Diana called, and Dermot, the first of all, stooped
under the window to give his sister time, and in the little bustle to
which he amiably submitted about wraps and a glass of wine, Lady
Diana failed to look at her daughter's cheeks and eyes. Viola never
even thanked Harold for the cup, which he put into her lap after she
was seated beside Dermot's feet on the back seat of the carriage.
She only bent her head under her broad hat, and there was a clasp of
the two hands.

I turned to go up to my sitting-room. Harold came after me and shut
the door.

"Lucy," he said, "may one give thanks for such things?"

The words of the 107th Psalm came to my lips: "Oh that men would
therefore praise the Lord for His goodness, and declare the wonders
that He doeth for the children of men."

He put his hands over his face, and said presently, in a smothered
voice, "I had just begun to pray for the old man."

I could not say any more for happy tears, less for "the captive
exile" than for my own Harry.

Soon he looked up again, and said with a smile, "I shan't fight
against it any longer."

"I don't think it is of any use," was my answer, as if pretending to
condole; and where another man would have uttered a fervent rhapsody,
he exclaimed, "Lovely little darling!"

But after another interval he said, "I don't mean to speak of it till
I come back." And on my question, "From London?" "No, from Boola
Boola."

He had evidently debated the whole matter during his midnight tramps,
and had made up his mind, as he explained, that it would be cruel to
Viola to touch the chord which would disclose her feelings to
herself. She was a mere child, and if her fancy were touched, as he
scarcely allowed himself to believe, it was hard to lay fully before
her those dark pages in his history which she must know before she
could be allowed to give herself to him. Besides, her mother and
uncle would, even if there were nothing else amiss, be sure to oppose
a match with one who had nothing in England but his cousin's agency
and a few shares in the potteries; and though Harold had plenty of
wealth at Boola Boola, it was certain that he should not have a
moment's audience from the elders unless he could show its amount in
property in England. If things went well, he would buy a piece of
Neme Heath, reclaim it, and build a house on it; or, perhaps, an
estate in Ireland, near Killy Marey, where the people had gained his
heart. Till, however, he could show that he had handsome means in a
form tangible to Lady Diana, to express his affection would only be
exposing Viola to displeasure and persecution. Moreover, he added,
his character was not cleared up as much as was even possible. He
had told Lord Erymanth the entire truth, and had been believed, but
it was quite probable that even that truth might divide for ever
between him and Viola, and those other stories of the Stympsons both
cousins had, of course, flatly denied, but had never been able
otherwise to confute.