Emile Zola - "The Three Cities Trilogy: Paris, Vol. 1"

Louisa May Alcott - "Jo's Boys"

Joel Chandler Harris - "Uncle Remus"

Rene Bazin - "The Ink Stain, v2"

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: Our Friend the Charlatan

G >> George Gissing >> Our Friend the Charlatan




"To my great regret, Miss Tomalin--or May, as I have come to call
her--leaves me the day after to-morrow. But the advantage is yours
at Rivenoak. Please give my love to dear Lady Ogram, who I hope is
now quite well again. With kindest regards.

"Sincerely yours,

"GERALDINE TOPLADY."

Constance had read the article in question, and, immediately after
doing so, had dispatched an order to London for the French
sociological work therein discussed.





CHAPTER XVII




Pillow-propped at her morning studies, the humourist of Pont Street,
as she glanced rapidly over the close-printed pages of a
trans-Atlantic monthly, had her eye caught by the word
"bio-sociological." Whom had she heard using that sonorous term? It
sounded to her with the Oxford accent, and she saw Lashmar. The
reading of a few lines in the context seemed to remind her very
strongly of Lashmar's philosophic eloquence. She looked closer;
found that there was question of a French book of some importance,
recently published; and smilingly asked herself whether it could be
that Lashmar knew this book. That he was capable of reticence
regarding the source of his ideas, she had little doubt; and what
would be more amusing than to see "the coming man" convicted of
audacious plagiarism? She wished him no harm; none whatever. It
delighted her to see a man make his way in the stupid world by
superiority of wits, and Dyce Lashmar was a favourite of hers; she
had by no means yet done with him. All the same, this chance of
entertainment must not be lost.

Having gone down rather earlier than usual, she found Miss Tomalin
also studiously engaged, a solid tome open before her.

"My dear May, what waste of time that is! If you would only believe
me that all the substance of big books is to be found in little
ones! One gets on so much more quickly, and has a much clearer view
of things. Why, no end of poor people nowadays make their living by
boiling down these monsters to essence. It's really a social duty to
make use of their work. Look, for instance, at this article I have
just been reading--'Recent Sociological Speculations.' Here the
good man gives us all that is important in half a dozen expensive
and heavy volumes. Here's all about bio-sociology. Haven't I heard
you talk of bio-sociology?"

"But," cried May, "that's Mr. Lashmar's theory! Has he been
publishing it?"

"No. Someone else seems to have got hold of the same idea. Perhaps
it's like Darwin and Wallace--that kind of thing."

May took the periodical, and read.

"Why, this is astonishing!" she exclaimed. "There's a passage quoted
which is exactly like Mr. Lashmar--almost the very words I have
heard him use!"

"Yet, you see, it's from a French book. This would certainly
interest him. Perhaps he doesn't see the American reviews. Suppose I
sent it to Miss Bride? They can read it together, and it will amuse
them."

May assented, and the periodical was addressed to Rivenoak.

Friends came to lunch with them. In the afternoon, they made three
calls. At dinner some score of persons were Mrs. Toplady's guests.
Only as the clock pointed towards midnight did they find an
opportunity of returning to the subject of bio-sociology. Mrs.
Toplady wished for an intimate chat with her guest, who was soon to
leave her; she reclined comfortably in a settee, and looked at the
girl, who made a pretty picture in a high-backed chair.

"I hear that Mr. Lashmar leaves Rivenoak to-morrow," she said,
referring to a letter that had arrived from Lady Ogram this evening.
"I hope he won't be gone when the magazine arrives."

"Indeed? He comes back to-morrow?" said May.

"Not to London. He goes to spend a day or two with his people, it
seems. You don't know them?"

"Not at all. I only know that his father is a rural clergyman."

Mrs. Toplady had observed that May's tone in speaking of Lashmar
lacked something of its former vivacity. The change had been
noticeable since the announcement of the philosopher's betrothal.
More than that; the decline of interest was accompanied by a
tendency to speak of Lashmar as though pityingly, or perhaps even
slightingly; and this it was that manifested itself in May's last
remark.

"I don't think it's very common;" Mrs. Toplady let fall, "for the
country clergy--or indeed the clergy anywhere--to have brilliant
sons."

"It certainly isn't," May agreed. And, after reflecting, she added:
"I suppose one may call Mr. Lashmar brilliant?"

Miss Tomalin had continued to profit by her opportunities. Before
coming to London, it would have been impossible for her to phrase a
thought thus, and so utter it. That easy superciliousness smacked
not at all of provincial breeding.

"On the whole, I think so," was Mrs. Toplady's modulated reply. "He
has very striking ideas. How odd that somebody else should have hit
upon his theory of civilisation! He ought to have written a book, as
I told him."

"But suppose," suggested May, with some uneasiness, "that he knew
about that French book?"

"Oh, my dear, we can't suppose that! Besides, we haven't read the
book. It may really be quite different in its tendency from Mr.
Lashmar's view."

"I don't see how it _can_ be, Mrs. Toplady. Judging from those
quotations, and the article, it's Mr. Lashmar from beginning to
end."

"Then it's a most curious case of coincidence. Poor Mr. Lashmar will
naturally be vexed. It's hard upon him, isn't it?"

May did not at once respond. The friend, watching her with the
roguish smile, let fall another piece of intelligence.

"I hear that his marriage is to be in the autumn."

"Indeed?" said May, indifferently.

"Between ourselves," pursued the other, "didn't you feel just a
little surprised?"

"Surprised?"

"At his choice. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I quite appreciate Miss
Bride's cleverness and seriousness. But one couldn't help thinking
that a man of Mr. Lashmar's promise--. Perhaps you don't see it in
that way?"

"I really think they are rather well suited," said May, again calmly
supercilious.

"It may be so. I had almost thought that--how shall I express it?"
Mrs. Toplady searched for a moment. "Perhaps Lady Ogram might have
made a suggestion, which Mr. Lashmar, for some reason, did not feel
able to disregard. He has quite a chivalrous esteem for Lady Ogram,
haven't you noticed? I like to see it. That kind of thing is rare
nowadays. No doubt he feels reason for gratitude; but how many men
does one know who can be truly grateful? That's what I like in Mr.
Lashmar; he has character as well as intellect."

"But how do you mean, Mrs. Toplady?" inquired May, losing something
of her polish in curiosity. "Why should my aunt have wanted him to
marry Miss Bride?"

"Ah, that I don't know. Possibly she thought it, knowing him as she
does, really the best thing for him. Possibly--one could make
conjectures. But one always can."

May puzzled over the hint, her brow knitted; Mrs. Toplady regarded
her with veiled amusement, wondering whether it would really be
necessary to use plainer words. The girl was not dull, but perhaps
her small experience of life, and her generally naive habit of mind,
obscured to her what to the more practised was so obvious.

"Do you mean," said May, diffidently, "that she planned it out of
kindness to Miss Bride? Of course I know that she likes Miss Bride
very much. Perhaps she thought there would never be a better
opportunity."

"It might be so," replied the other, absently.

"Miss Bride is very nice, and very clever," pursued May, sounding
the words on the thinnest possible note. "But one didn't think of
her as very likely to marry."

"No; it seemed improbable."

There was a pause. As if turning to quite another subject, Mrs.
Toplady remarked:

"You will have visitors at Rivenoak next week. Sir William Amys is
to be there for a day or two, and Lord Dymchurch--"

"Lord Dymchurch?"

The girl threw off her air of cold concentration, and shone
triumphantly.

"Does it surprise you, May?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of it--I didn't know my aunt had invited him--"

"The wonder is that Lord Dymchurch should have accepted," said Mrs.
Toplady, with a very mature archness. "Did he know, by the bye, that
you were going down?"

"I fancy he did."

Their eyes met, and May relieved her feelings with a little laugh.

"Then perhaps the wonder ceases. And yet, in another way--" Mrs.
Toplady broke off, and added in a lower voice, "Of course you know
all about his circumstances?"

"No, in deed I don't. Tell me about him, please."

"But haven't you heard that he is the poorest man in the House of
Lords?"

"I had no idea of it," cried May. "How should I have known? Really?
He is so poor?"

"I imagine he has barely enough to live upon. The family was ruined
long ago."

"But why didn't you tell me? Does my aunt know?" May's voice did not
express resentment, nor, indeed, strong feeling of any kind. The
revelation seemed merely to surprise her. She was smiling, as if at
the amusingly unexpected.

"Lady Ogram certainly knows," said Mrs. Toplady.

"Then of course that's why he does nothing," May exclaimed. "Fancy!"
Her provincialism was becoming very marked. "A lord with hardly
enough to live upon! But I'm astonished that he seems so cheerful."

"Lord Dymchurch has a very philosophical mind," said the older lady,
with gravity humorously exaggerated.

"Yes, I suppose he has. Now I shall understand him better. I'm glad
he's going to be at Rivenoak. You know that he asked me to advise
him about what he should do. It'll be rather awkward, though. I must
get him to tell me the truth."

"You'll probably have no difficulty in that. It's pretty certain
that he thinks you know all about him already. If he hadn't, I feel
sure he wouldn't go to Rivenoak."

The girl mused, smiling self-consciously.

"I had better tell you the truth, Mrs. Toplady," were her next
words, in a burst of confidence. "I think Lord Dymchurch is very
nice--as a friend. But only as a friend."

"Thank you for your confidence, May. Do you know that I suspected
something of the kind."

"I want to be friends with him," pursued May, impulsively. "I shall
get him to tell me all about himself, and we shall see what he can
do. Of course there mustn't be any misunderstanding."

Mrs. Toplady had not been prepared for this tranquil reasonableness.
May was either more primitive, or much more sophisticated, than she
had supposed. Her interest waxed keener.

"Between ourselves, my dear," she remarked, "that is exactly what I
should have anticipated. You are very young, and the world is at
your feet. Of money you have no need, and, if Lord Dymchurch _had_
had the good fortune to please you--. But you are ambitious. I
quite understand; trust me. Poor Dymchurch will never do anything.
He is merely a bookish man. But, whilst we are talking of it,
there's no harm in telling you that your aunt doesn't quite see the
matter with our eyes. For some reason--I don't know exactly what
it is--Lady Ogram is very favourable to poor Lord Dymchurch."

"I have noticed that," said May, quietly. "Of course it makes no
difference."

"You think not?" asked Mrs. Toplady, beginning to be genuinely
impressed by this young woman's self-confidence.

"I mean that my aunt couldn't do more than suggest," May answered,
slightly throwing back her head. "I have only to let her know how I
think about anything."

"You are sure of that?" asked the other, sweetly.

"Oh, quite!"

May's smile was ineffable. The woman of the world, the humourist and
cynic, saw it with admiration.

"Ah, that puts my mind at ease!" murmured Mrs. Toplady. "To tell the
truth, I have been worrying a little. Sometimes elderly people are
so very tenacious of their ideas. Of course Lady Ogram has nothing
but your good at heart."

"Of course!" exclaimed the girl.

"Shall I confess to you that I almost fancied _this_ might be the
explanation of Miss Bride's engagement?"

"Miss Bride--? How?"

"I only tell you for your amusement. It occurred to me that, having
set her heart on a scheme which had reference to Lord Dymchurch,
your aunt was perhaps a little uneasy with respect to a much more
brilliant and conspicuous man. Had that been so--it's all the
merest supposition--she might have desired to see the brilliant
and dangerous man made harmless--put out of the way."

A gleam of sudden perception illumined the girl's face. For a moment
wonder seemed tending to mirth; but it took another turn, and became
naive displeasure.

"You think so?" broke from her, impetuously. "You really think
that's why she wanted them to be engaged?"

"It's only what I had fancied, my dear--"

"But I shouldn't wonder if you were right! Indeed, I shouldn't! Now
that you put it in that way--. I remember that my aunt didn't care
for me to see much of Mr. Lashmar. It amused me, because, to tell
you the truth, Mrs. Toplady, I should never have thought of Mr.
Lashmar as anything but a friend. I feel quite sure I shouldn't."

"I quite understand _that_," replied the listener, the corners of
her lips very eloquent.

"Such a thing had never entered my mind," pursued May, volubly and
with emphasis. "Never!"

"It may have entered someone else's mind, though," interposed Mrs.
Toplady, again maturely arch.

"Oh, do you think so!" exclaimed the girl, with manifest pleasure.
"I'm sure I hope not. But, Mrs. Toplady, how could my aunt oblige
such a man as Mr. Lashmar to engage himself against his will?"

"You must remember, May, that, for the moment at all events, Mr.
Lashmar's prospects seem to depend a good deal on Lady Ogram's good
will. She has a great deal of local influence. And then--by the
bye, is Mr. Lashmar quite easy in his circumstances?"

"I really don't know," May answered, with an anxious fold in her
forehead "Surely he, too, isn't quite poor?"

"I hardly think he is wealthy. Isn't it just possible that something
may depend upon the marriage--?"

Mrs. Toplady's voice died away in a considerate vagueness. But May
was not at all disposed to leave the matter nebulous.

"If he is really poor," she said, in a clear-cut tone, "it's quite
natural that he should want to marry someone who can help him. But
why didn't he choose someone really suitable?"

"Poor Mr. Lashmar!" sighed the other, humorously. "If he had no
encouragement, my dear May!"

"But he didn't wait to see whether he had any or not!"

"What if he had very good reason for knowing that lady Ogram would
never, never, never consent to--something we needn't specify?"

"But," May ejaculated, "surely he needn't take it for granted that
my aunt would never change her mind. If it's as you say, how
foolishly he must have behaved! It doesn't concern me in the least.
You see I can speak quite calmly about it. I'm only sorry and
astonished that he should be going to marry--well, after all, we
must agree that Miss Bride isn't quite an ideal for him, however one
looks at it. Of course it's nothing to me. If it _had_ been, I think
I should feel more offended than sorry."

"Offended?"

"That he had taken for granted that I had no will of my own, and no
influence with my aunt."

"It seems rather faint-hearted, I admit."

The dialogue lasted but a few minutes longer. May repeated once or
twice that she had no personal interest in Lashmar's fortunes, but
her utterance grew mechanical, and she was evidently withdrawing
into her thoughts. As a clock in the room told softly the first hour
of the morning, Mrs. Toplady rose; she spoke a few words about her
engagements for the day which had nominally begun, then kissed her
friend on the cheek.

"Don't think any more of it, May. It mustn't interfere with your
sleep."

"That indeed it won't, Mrs. Toplady!" replied the girl, with a
musically mocking laugh.

Appearances notwithstanding, May told the truth when she declared
that she had never thought of marrying Lashmar. This, however, did
not necessarily involve an indifference to Lashmar's homage. That
the coming man should make his court to her, she saw as a natural
and agreeable thing; that he should recognise her intellectual
powers, and submit to her personal charm, was only what she had
hoped and expected from the first. After their conversation in the
supper-room, she counted him a conquest, and looked forward with no
little interest to the development of this romance. Its sudden
termination astonished and mortified her. Had Lashmar turned away to
make some brilliant alliance, her pique would have endured only for
a moment; Lord Dymchurch's approach would have more than compensated
the commoner's retirement. But that she should merely have amused
his idle moments, whilst his serious thoughts were fixed on
Constance Bride, was an injury not easy to pardon. For she disliked
Miss Bride, and she knew the sentiment was mutual.

Seeing the situation in the new light shed by Mrs. Toplady's
ingenious conjectures, her sense of injury was mitigated; the
indignant feeling that remained she directed chiefly against Lady
Ogram, who seemed inclined to dispose of her in such a summary way.
Constance, naturally, she disliked more than ever, but Lashmar she
viewed with something of compassion, as a victim of circumstances.
Were those circumstances irresistible? Was there not even now a
possibility of defeating them?--not with a view to taking Miss
Bride's place, but for the pleasure of asserting herself against a
plot, and reassuring her rightful position as arbitress of
destinies. Lady Ogram was a kind old woman, but decidedly despotic,
and she had gone too far. If indeed Lashmar were acting in helpless
obedience to her, it would be the merest justice to make an attempt
at rescuing him and restoring his liberty.

Not without moral significance was the facial likeness between Lady
Ogram in her youth and May Tomalin. One who had seen the girl as she
sat to-night in her bedroom, brooding deeply, without the least
inclination for repose, must have been struck by a new vigour in the
lines of her countenance. Thus--though with more of obstinate
purpose--had Arabella Tomalin been wont to look at moments of
crisis in her adventurous youth.

The clock was pointing to two, when May rose from the velvet-seated
chair, and went to the little writing-table which stood in another
part of the room. She took a plain sheet of note-paper, and, with a
hand far from steady, began, not writing, but printing, certain
words, in large, ill-formed capitals.

"HAVE MORE COURAGE. AIM HIGHER. IT IS NOT TOO LATE."

At this achievement she gazed smilingly. The ink having dried, she
folded the paper, and put it into an envelope, which she closed.
Then her face indicated a new effort. She could think of only one
way of disguising her hand in cursive--the common device of
sloping it backwards. This she attempted. The result failing to
please her, she tried again on a second envelope, and this time with
success; the writing looked masculine, and in no respect suggested
its true authorship. She had addressed the letter to Dyce Lashmar,
Esq., at Rivenoak.

Nine o'clock next morning saw her out of doors. In Sloane Street she
found a hansom, and was driven rap idly eastward. Before ten she sat
in her own room again, glowing with satisfaction.





CHAPTER XVIII




"At last," declared Mrs. Lashmar, "it really looks as if Dyce was
going to do something. I've just been writing to Lady Susan, and I
have let her see unmistakably what I think of her friendship. But
I'm very glad Dyce isn't indebted to her, for a more unendurable
woman, when she thinks she has done anyone a kindness, doesn't
exist. If she gets a place for a servant-girl, all the world is told
of it, and she expects you to revere her saintly benevolence. I am
_very_ glad that she never did anything for Dyce. Indeed, I always
felt that she was very little use. I doubt whether she has the
slightest influence with respectable people."

It was just after breakfast, and the day promised to be the hottest
of the year. The vicar, heavy-laden man, had sat down in his study
to worry over parish accounts. When the door opened to admit his
wife, he quivered with annoyance. Mrs. Lashmar had a genius for the
malapropos. During breakfast, when her talk would have mattered
little, she had kept silence; now that her husband particularly
wished to be alone with his anxieties, she entered with an air
forboding long discourse.

"Twenty-three pounds, four shillings and sixpence," muttered the
vicar, as he passed a handkerchief over his moist forehead. "Dear
me! how close it is! Twenty-three--"

"If Dyce is elected," pursued the lady, "we must celebrate the
occasion in some really striking way. Of course there must be a
dinner for all our poor--"

"What I want to know," interrupted Mr. Lashmar, with mild
irritableness, "is, how he proposes to meet his expenses, and what
he is going to live upon. If he is still looking to _me_--I hope
you haven't encouraged him in any hope of that kind?"

"Of course not. In my last letter I expressly reminded him that our
affairs were getting into a lamentable muddle. Of course, if _I_ had
had the management of them, this wouldn't have come about.--Do you
know what I have been thinking? It might be an advantage to Dyce if
you made friends with the clergy at Hollingford. Couldn't you go
over one day, and call on the rector. I see he's a Cambridge man,
but--"

"Really," cried Mr. Lashmar, half-distraught, "I must beg you to let
me get this work done in quietness. By some extraordinary error--"

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a man's voice.

"May I come in?"

"There you are!" Mrs. Lashmar exclaimed. "It's Dyce himself. Come
in! Come in! Why, who could have thought you would get here so
early!"

"I chose the early train for the sake of coolness," answered Dyce,
who shook hands with his parents. "The weather is simply tropical.
And two days ago we were shivering. What is there to drink, mother?"

Mrs. Lashmar took her son to the dining-room, and, whilst he was
refreshing himself, talked of the career before him. Her sanguine
mind saw him already at Westminster, and on the way to high
distinction.

"There's just one thing I'm anxious about," she said, sinking her
voice. "You know the state of your father's affairs. It happens most
unfortunately, just when a little help would be so important to you.
For years I have foreseen it, Dyce. Again and again I have urged
prudence; but you know your father, the most generous of men, but a
mere child in matters of business. I feared; but it was only the
other day that I discovered the real state of things. I shouldn't be
at all surprised, Dyce, if some day we have to look to you for
succour."

"Don't worry," answered her son. "Things'll come right, I think.
Just go on as prudently as you can, for the present. Is father
really in a hobble?"

"My dear, he doesn't know where to turn for a five-pound note!"

Dyce was sincerely troubled. He seldom thought of his parents; none
the less they represented his only true affection, and he became
uncomfortable at the prospect of disaster befalling their latter
years.

"Well, well, don't bother about it, more than you can help. Things
are going pretty well with me, I fancy."

"So I supposed, Dyce. But your father is afraid--you know how he
looks on the dark side of everything--lest you should be incurring
liabilities. I have told him that that was never your habit."

"Of course not," said Dyce, confidently. "You may be sure that I
haven't taken such serious steps without seeing my way clear before
me."

"I knew it! I have always had the fullest faith in you. And, Dyce,
how you are improving in looks! You must go to a photographer again--"

"I've just been sitting at Hollingford. The local people wanted it,
you know. But I'll send you one from London presently."

"And you assure me that there is no money difficulty?" asked Mrs.
Lashmar, with inquisitive eyes.

"None whatever. The fact of the matter is that I am standing to
please Lady Ogram, and of course--" He waved an explanatory hand.
"Things are not finally arranged yet, but all will be smooth."

His smile made dignified deprecation of undue insistence on trivial
detail.

"I'm delighted to hear it!" exclaimed his mother. "It's just what I
had supposed. What could be more natural. Do you think, by the bye,
that I ought to go and see Lady Ogram? It might seem to her a right
and natural thing. And, from what you tell me of her, I feel sure we
should have a good deal in common."

"I've thought of that too," Dyce answered, averting his look. "But
wait a little. Just now Lady Ogram isn't at all well; she sees
hardly anybody."

"Of course I shall be guided by your advice. A little later, then.
And, Dyce, you haven't told me anything about Miss Bride. Is she
still with Lady Ogram?"

"Oh yes. Still acting as secretary."

"Of course you don't see much of her?"

"Why, to tell you the truth, we have to see each other a good deal,
owing to her duties,"

"Ah, yes, I understand. She writes to dictation, and that kind of
thing. Strange that Lady Ogram should have engaged such a very
unpleasant young woman. I've seldom known anyone I disliked so
much."