John Lothrop Motley - "The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1577"

Holman Day - "All Wool Morrison"

Philip Gibbs - "Now It Can Be Told"

Immanuel Kant - "The Metaphysical Elements of Ethics"

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
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: Our Friend the Charlatan

G >> George Gissing >> Our Friend the Charlatan




And she watched the eager little face with eyes which read its every
line remorselessly: her smile more pitiless in ironic mischief even
than of wont.

On the morning of May the 28th, Lashmar wrote a full letter to
Rivenoak. It told of a dinner successful beyond his hopes. Mrs.
Toplady had surpassed herself in brilliant graciousness; Lord
Dymchurch had broken through his reserve, and talked remarkably--
most remarkably. "As for the host, why, he did what in him lay, and
Mrs. Toplady was good enough to remark, as he handed her into her
carriage, 'A few more dinners such as this, and all London will want
to know the--' I won't finish her sentence. Joking apart, I think
my friends enjoyed themselves, and they were certainly very
encouraging with regard to our project."

At the same hour, Mrs. Toplady, propped with pillows, was also
writing to Rivenoak.

"It came off very well indeed, and I see that we must take serious
account of Mr. Lashmar. You know that, of course, and I didn't doubt
your judgment, but intellectual distinction doesn't always go
together with the qualities necessary to a political career. Beyond
a doubt, he is our coming man! And now let me know when to expect
you in London. I look forward to the delight of seeing you, and of
making the acquaintance of your niece, who must be _very_
interesting. How lucky you are to have discovered at the same time
two such brilliant young people! By the bye, I have not mentioned
Miss Tomalin to any one; it occurred to me that silence in this
matter was perhaps discretion. If I have been needlessly reticent,
pray say so. Of course at a word from you, I can speak to the right
people, but possibly you had rather nothing at all were said until
the young lady has been seen. Myself, I see no reason whatever for
explanations."

As she closed this letter, Mrs. Toplady's smile all but became a
chuckle. Nothing had so much amused her for a twelvemonth past.

Lashmar had no reply from Rivenoak. This silence disappointed him.
Ten days having elapsed, he thought of writing again, but there
arrived a letter addressed in Miss Bride's hand, the contents a few
lines in tremulous but bold character, signed "A. Ogram." He was
invited to lunch, on the next day but one, at Bunting's Hotel,
Albemarle Street.

This same afternoon, having nothing to do, he went to call upon Mrs.
Woolstan. It was his second visit since the restaurant dinner, and
Iris showed herself very grateful for his condescension. She
regarded him anxiously; made inquiries about his health; was he not
working too hard? His eyes looked rather heavy, as if he studied too
late at night. Dyce, assuming the Toplady smile, admitted that he
might have been rather over-zealous at his constitutional history of
late; concession to practicality had led him to take up that
subject. In his thoughts, he reproached himself for a freak of the
previous evening, a little outbreak of folly, of no grave
importance, which had doubtless resulted from the exciting tenor of
his life recently. On the whole, it might serve a useful purpose,
reminding him to be on guard against certain weaknesses of his
temperament, likely to be fostered by ease and liberty.

"Lady Ogram is in town," he announced. "I lunch with her to-morrow."

The news agitated Mrs. Woolstan.

"Will she be alone?"

"I suppose so--except for her secretary, who of course is always
with her."

Iris desired to know all about the secretary, and Lashmar described
a neutral-tinted, pen-wielding young woman, much interested in
social reform.

"Perhaps I shall come to know Lady Ogram," said Iris, modestly. "I
may meet her at Mrs. Toplady's. That would be delightful! I should
be able to follow everything much better."

"To be sure," was the rather dry response. "But I shall be surprised
if the old lady stays long, or sees many people. Her health is of
the shakiest, and London life would be a dangerous experiment, I
should say. I don't at all know why she's coming, unless it is to
see doctors."

"Oh, I _do_ hope she'll be careful," panted Iris. "What a terrible
thing it would be if she died suddenly--terrible for you, I mean.
She ought to have some one to look well after her, indeed she ought.
I wish"--this with a laugh--"she would take me as companion. Oh,
wouldn't I have a care of her precious health!"

When he drove to Bunting's Hotel, he had no thought of seeing anyone
but Lady Ogram and Constance; the possibility that there might be
other guests at luncheon did not enter his mind. Conducted to a
private drawing-room on the first floor, he became aware, as the
door opened, of a handsome girl in animated conversation with his
two friends; she seemed so very much at home that he experienced a
little shock, as of the unaccountable, the disconcerting, and his
eyes with difficulty turned from this new face to that of the
venerable hostess. Here again a surprise awaited him; Lady Ogram
looked so much younger than when he took leave of her at Rivenoak,
that he marvelled at the transformation. Notwithstanding her
appearance she spoke in a strained, feeble voice, often indistinct;
one noticed, too, that she was harder of hearing. Having pressed his
hand--a very faint pressure, though meant for cordial--Lady
Ogram turned a look upon the bright young lady near her, and said,
with a wheezy emphasis:

"Let me introduce you to my niece, Miss Tomalin."

Never had Lashmar known her so ceremonious; never had she appeared
so observant of his demeanor during the social formality. Overcome
with astonishment at what he heard, he bowed stiffly, but
submissively. The autocrat watched him with severe eyes, and only
when his salute was accomplished did the muscles of her visage again
relax. Mechanically, he turned to bow in the same way to Miss Bride,
but she at once offered her hand with a friendly, "'low do you do?"

"My niece, Miss Tomalin." Where on earth did this niece spring from?
Everybody understood that Lady Ogram was alone in the world.
Constance had expressly affirmed it--yet here was she smiling in
the most natural way possible, as if nieces abounded at Rivenoak.
Dyce managed to talk, but he heard not a word from his own lips, and
his eyes, fixed on Lady Ogram's features, noted the indubitable fact
that her complexion was artificial. This astounding old woman, at
the age of four score, had begun to paint? So confused was Dyce's
state of mind. that, on perceiving the truth of the matter, he all
but uttered an exclamation. Perhaps only Miss Tomalin's voice
arrested him.

"My aunt has told me all about your new Socialism, Mr. Lashmar. You
can't think how it has put my mind at rest! One has so felt that one
_ought_ to be a Socialist, and yet there were so many things one
couldn't accept. It's delightful to see everything reconciled--all
one wants to keep and all the new things that _must_ come!"

May had been developing. She spoke with a confidence which, on
softer notes, emulated that of her aged relative; she carried her
head with a conscious stateliness which might have been--perhaps
was--deliberately studied after the portrait in the Rivenoak
dining-room. Harmonious with this change was that in her attire;
fashion had done its best to transform the aspiring young provincial
into a metropolitan Grace; the result being that Miss Tomalin seemed
to have grown in stature, to exhibit a more notable symmetry, so
that she filled more space in the observer's eye than heretofore.
For all that, she looked no older; her self-assertion, though more
elaborate, was not a bit more impressive, and the phrases she used,
the turn of her sentences, the colour of her speech, very little
resembled anything that would have fallen from a damsel bred in the
modish world. Her affectation was shot through with spontaneity; her
impertinence had a juvenile seriousness which made it much more
amusing than offensive; and a feminine charm in her, striving to
prevail over incongruous elements, made clear appeal to the
instincts of the other sex.

"That is very encouraging," was Lashmar's reply. "If only one's
thoughts can be of any help to others--"

"What time is it?" broke in Lady Ogram. "Why doesn't that man come?
What business has he to keep us waiting?"

"It's only just half-past one," said Miss Bride.

"Then he ought to be here." She turned to Lashmar. "I'm expecting a
friend you've heard of--Sir William Amys. How long are we to sit
here waiting for him, I wonder?"

"What do you think of Herbert Spencer, Mr. Lashmar?" inquired May.

Dyce's reply was rendered doubly unnecessary by the opening of the
door, and the announcement of the awaited guest.

"Willy! Willy!" cried Lady Ogram, with indulgent reproof. "You
always used to be so punctual."

The gentleman thus familiarly addressed had grey hair and walked
with a stoop in the shoulders. His age was sixty, but he looked
rather older. Lady Ogram, who had known him as a boy, still saw him
in that light. His pleasant face, full of sagacity and good-humour,
wore a gently deprecating smile as he stepped forward, and whether
intentionally or not--he smoothed with one hand his long, grizzled
beard.

"This is military!" he exclaimed. "Are not a few minutes' grace
granted to a man of peace, when he comes to eat your salt?--And
how are you, my dear lady? How are you?"

"Never was better in my life, Willy!" shrilled Lady Ogram, her voice
slipping out of control in her excitement. "Do you know who this
is?"

"I could make a guess. The face speaks for itself."

"Ha! You see the likeness!--May, shake hands with Sir William, and
make friends with him; he and I knew each other a lifetime before
you were born.--And this is Mr. Lashmar, our future Member for
Hollingford."

"If the voters are as kind to me as Lady Ogram," said Dyce,
laughing.

The baronet gave his hand, and regarded the young man with shrewd
observation. Sir William had no part in public life, and was not
predisposed in favour of parliamentary ambitions; he lived quietly
in a London suburb, knowing only a few congenial people, occupying
himself with the history of art, on which he was something of an
authority. His father had been a friend of Sir Quentin Ogram; and
thus arose his early familiarity with the lady of Rivenoak.

They went to table in an adjoining room, and for a few minutes there
was talk between the hostess and Sir William about common
acquaintances. Lashmar, the while, kept turning his look towards
Miss Tomalin. With his astonishment had begun to mingle feelings of
interest and attraction. He compared Miss Tomalin's personal
appearance with that of Constance Bride, and at once so hardened
towards the latter that he could not bring his eyes to regard her
again. At the same time he perceived, with gratification, that Lady
Ogram's niece was not heedless of his presence; once at least their
looks come to the encounter, with quick self-recovery on the young
lady's part, and a conscious smile. Dyce began to think her very
good-looking indeed. Sir William's remark recurred to him, and he
saw an undeniable resemblance in the girl's features to those of
Lady Ogram's early portrait. He grew nervously desirous to know
something about her.

Presently conversation directed itself towards the subject with
which Lashmar was connected. Sir William appeared by no means eager
to discuss political or social themes, but May Tomalin could not
rest till they were brought forward, and her aunt, who seemed to
have no desire but to please her and put her into prominence, helped
them on.

"Are you going to stand as a Socialist?" asked the baronet of
Lashmar, with some surprise, when May's talk had sufficiently
confused him.

Dyce quietly explained (a shadow of the Toplady smile about his
lips) that his Socialism was not Social-democracy.

"For my own part," declared Sir William, "I want to hear a little
more of men, and a little less of government. That we're moving into
Socialism of one kind or another is plain enough, and it goes
against the grain with me. I'm afraid we're losing our vigour as
individuals. It's all very well to be a good citizen, but it's more
important, don't you think, to be a man?"

"I quite see your point, Sir William," said Lashmar, his eyes
brightening as they always did when he found his opportunity for
borrowed argument and learning. "Clearly there's an excess to be
avoided; individuality mustn't be lost sight of. But I can make
absolutely no distinction between the terms Man and Citizen. To my
mind they are synonymous, for Man only came into being when he
ceased to be animal by developing the idea of citizenship. In my
view, the source of all our troubles is found in that commonly
accepted duality. He didn't exist in the progressive ancient world.
The dualism of Man and State began with the decline of Graeco-Roman
civilisation, and was perpetuated by the teaching of Christianity.
The philosophy of Epicurus and of Zeno an utter detachment from the
business of mankind--prepared the way for the spirit of the
Gospels. So, at length, we get our notion of Church and State--a
separation ruinous to religion and making impossible anything like
perfection in politics; it has thoroughly rooted in people's minds
that fatal distinction between Man as a responsible soul and Man as
a member of society. Our work is to restore the old monism. Very,
very slowly, mankind is working towards it. A revolution greater
than any of those commonly spoken of--so wide and deep that it
isn't easily taken in even by students of history--a revolution
which is the only hope of civilisation, has been going on since the
close of the thirteenth century. We are just beginning to be dimly
conscious of it. Perhaps in another century it will form the
principle of Liberalism."

The baronet heard all this with some surprise; he had not been
prepared for such solidity of doctrine from Lady Ogram's candidate,
and at the luncheon table. As for May Tomalin, she had listened
delightedly. Her lips savoured the words "dualism" and "monism" of
which she resolved to make brave use in her own argumentative
displays. The first to speak was Constance.

"We are getting on very quickly," she said, in her driest and most
practical tone, "towards one ideal of Socialism. Look at the way in
which municipalities are beginning to undertake, and sometimes
monopolise, work which used to be left to private enterprize. Before
long we shall have local authorities engaged in banking,
pawnbroking, coal-supplying, tailoring, estate agency, printing--
all these, and other undertakings, are already proposed."

May cast a glance of good-natured envy at the speaker. How she
wished she could display such acquaintance with public life. But the
information was stored for future use.

"Why, there you are!" exclaimed the baronet. "That's just what I'm
afraid of. It's the beginning of tyranny. It'll mean the bad work of
a monopoly, instead of the good to be had by free competition. You
favour this kind of thing, Mr. Lashmar?"

"In so far as it signifies growth of the ideas of citizenship, and
of association. But it interests me much less than purely
educational questions. Whatever influence I may gain will be used
towards a thorough reconstruction of our system of popular
schooling. I believe nothing serious can be done until we have a
truly civic education for the masses of the people."

This was the outcome of Lashmar's resolve to be practical, whilst
adhering to his philosophy. He knew that it sounded well, this
demand for educational reform; however vague in reality, it gave the
ordinary hearer a quasi-intelligible phrase to remember and repeat.
Sir William Amys was not proof against the plausibility of such
words: he admitted that one might do worse than devote oneself to
that question; popular schooling, heaven knew, being much in need of
common-sense reform. Dyce tactfully pressed his advantage. He
ridiculed the extravagance of educationalism run mad, its waste of
public money, the harm it does from a social point of view; and, the
longer he spoke, the better pleased was Sir William to hear him.
Their hostess, silent and closely attentive, smiled with
satisfaction. Constance, meanwhile, noted the countenance of May
Tomalin, which exhibited the same kind of pleased approval.--Only
a day or two ago, May, speaking on this subject, had expressed views
diametrically opposite.

After luncheon, Lady Ogram held Lashmar in talk, whilst the two
young ladies conversed with the baronet apart. Dyce had hoped for a
little gossip with Miss Tomalin, but no chance offered; discretion
bade him take leave before Sir William had given sign of rising.

"I don't know how long we shall be in town," said Lady Ogram, who
did not seek to detain him, "but of course we shall see you again.
We shall generally be at home at five o'clock."

He had hoped for a more definite and a more cordial invitation.
Issuing into Albemarle Street, he looked vaguely about him, and
wondered how he should get through the rest of the afternoon. A dull
sky hastened the failure of his spirits; when, in a few minutes,
rain began to fall, he walked on under his umbrella, thoroughly
cheerless and objectless. Then it struck him that he would go
presently to Pont Street; Mrs. Toplady might help him to solve the
mystery of Lady Ogram's niece.

Confound Lady Ogram's niece! Her appearance could not have been more
inopportune. The old woman was obviously quite taken up with her,
and, as likely as not, would lose all her interest in politics. Here
was the explanation of her not having answered his last long letter.
Confound Miss--what was her foolish name?--Tomalin!

And yet--and yet--there glimmered another aspect of the matter.
Suppose Miss Tomalin followed her aunt's example, and saw in him a
coming man, and seriously interested herself in his fortunes? Then,
indeed, she would be by no means a superfluous young person; for who
could say to what such interest might lead? Miss Tomalin would be
her aunt's heiress, or so one might reasonably suppose. And she was
a very pretty girl, as well as intelligent.

Could it be that the real course of his destiny was only just
beginning to reveal itself?

By this time, he felt better. To pass an hour, he went into his
club, read the papers, and looked, vainly, for Lord Dymchurch.

Greatly to his surprise, he found the world-shunning nobleman in
Mrs. Toplady's drawing-room; the hostess and he alone together--it
was early--and seeming to have been engaged in rather intimate
talk.

"Oh, this is nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Toplady. "What have you to tell
us?"

"Little of interest, I'm afraid--except that I have lunched to-day
with Lady Ogram and made the acquaintance of her niece."

"We were speaking of her," said the hostess, with very pronounced
mischief at the corner of her lips, and eyes excessively gracious.

"You know Miss Tomalin?" Lashmar inquired, rather abruptly, of Lord
Dymchurch.

"I have met her once," was the colourless reply.

Dyce wished to ask where and when, but of course could not. He
resented this advantage of Lord Dymchurch.

"She is very clever," the hostess was saying, "and quite charming. A
Canadian, you know, by birth. Such a fresh way of looking at things;
so bright and--"

Other callers were announced. Lord Dymchurch looked his desire to
escape, but sat on. You would have thought him a man with a troubled
conscience.





CHAPTER XIII




A few days later, Lashmar found on his breakfast table a copy of the
_Hollingford Express_, blue-pencilled at an editorial paragraph
which. he read with interest. The leaded lines announced that
Hollingford Liberalism was at length waking up, that a campaign was
being quietly but vigorously organised, and that a meeting of active
politicians would shortly be held for the purpose of confirming a
candidature which had already met with approval in influential
circles. The same post brought a letter from Mr. Breakspeare, "Will
you," asked the editor, "name a convenient date for meeting your
friends and supporters? Say, about the 20th of this month. I am
working up enthusiasm. We shall take the public room at the Saracen's
Head. Admission to be by invitation card. I write to Lady Ogram,
and no doubt you will consult with her."

This looked like business. Dyce reflected rather nervously that he
would have to make a speech--a practical speech; he must define
his political attitude; philosophical generalities would not serve
in the public room at the Saracen's Head. Well, he had a fortnight
to think about it. And here was an excuse for calling on Lady Ogram,
of which he would avail himself at once.

In the afternoon he went to Bunting's Hotel, but Lady Ogram was not
at home. He inquired for Miss Bride, and was presently led up to the
private drawing-room, where Constance sat writing. As they shook
hands, their eyes scarcely met.

"Can you spare me a few minutes?" asked the visitor. "There's
something here I wanted to show Lady Ogram; but I shall be still
more glad to talk it over with you."

Constance took the newspaper and Breakspeare's note. As she read,
her firm-set lips relaxed a little. She handed the papers back with
a nod.

"Has Lady Ogram heard?" Dyce asked.

"Yes; she had a letter this morning, and I have answered it. She was
pleased So far, so good. You have had Mrs. Toplady's card for the
evening of the 13th?"

"I have."

"One of the Liberal whips will be there--an opportunity for you."

Every time he saw her, Constance seemed to be drier and more
laconic. Their intercourse promised to illustrate to the full his
professed ideal of relation between man and woman in friendship;
every note of difference in sex would soon be eliminated, if indeed
that point were not already attained.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Miss Bride, carelessly; for Dyce had
thrown hat and stick aside, and was moving about with his hands in
his pockets.

"But you're busy."

"Not particularly."

"How is our friend?"

"Lady Ogram? Pretty well, I think, but overtaxing herself. I don't
think she'll be able to stay here long. It certainly wouldn't be
wise."

"Of course it's on her niece's account. By the bye--" Dyce paused
before Constance's chair--"where has this niece sprung from? You
told me she hadn't a relative in the world."

"So she believed. Miss Tomalin is a recent discovery--the fruit of
Mr. Kerchever's researches."

"Ah! That's rather amusing. Lucky, I imagine, that she is such a
presentable person. She might have been--"

He checked himself significantly, and Constance allowed an absent
smile to pass over her face.

"I'm afraid," Dyce continued, "this change won't be quite pleasant
to you?"

"To me? It makes no difference--none whatever. Will you please sit
down? I dislike to talk with anyone who keeps fidgeting about."

One might have detected more than discomfort in Miss Bride's look
and voice. A sudden flash of something very like anger shone in her
eyes; but they were bent and veiled.

"Let us talk about Hollingford," said Lashmar, drawing up a chair.
"It begins to look as if things were really in train. Of course, I
shall go down to talk to them. Will you help me in putting my
programme together?"

"Isn't that already done?"

"Why, no. What do I care about their party questions? I'm sure your
advice would be valuable. Could you find time to jot down a few
ideas?"

"If you think it any use, certainly. I can't promise to do it this
evening; we have people to dine."

Lashmar was secretly offended that Lady Ogram should give a
dinner-party in which he had no place.

"Anyone coming that I know?" he asked, off-hand.

"Let me see. Yes, there's Mrs. Toplady--and Lord Dymchurch--"

Dyce exclaimed:

"What an extraordinary thing! Dymchurch, who never went anywhere,
seems all at once to be living in the thick of the world. The other
day, I found him at Mrs. Toplady's, drinking tea. Was it there he
came to know Lady Ogram?"

"Yes." Constance smiled. "Lady Ogram, you remember, much wished to
meet him."

"And he dines here? I can't understand it."

"You are not very complimentary;" said Constance, with dry
amusement.

"You know what I mean. I shouldn't have thought Lady Ogram would
have had much attraction for him."

Miss Bride laughed, a laugh of all but genuine gaiety.

"Hadn't we better talk about your programme?" she resumed, in an
altered voice, as though her humour had suddenly improved; "I should
take counsel with Mr. Breakspeare, if I were you. I fancy he likes
to be consulted, and his activity will be none the less for it."

Lashmar could not easily fix his thoughts on political tactics. He
talked impatiently, all the time absorbed in another subject; and at
the first pause he took his leave.

Decidedly it offended him that he was left out from this evening's
dinner-party. A suspicion, too, had broken upon his mind which he
found very distasteful and perturbing. Lady Ogram must have
particular reasons for thus cultivating Lord Dymchurch's
acquaintance; conjecturing what they might be, he perceived how he
had allowed himself to shape visions and dream dreams during the
last day or two. It was foolish, as he now saw plainly enough; in
ambition, one must discern the probable, and steady one's course
thereby. All at once, he felt a strong dislike of Lord Dymchurch,
and even a certain contempt. The man was not what he had thought
him.