Lousia Muhlbach - "Andreas Hofer"

Edward Lasker - "Chess and Checkers: The Way to Mastership"

Booth Tarkington - "The Guest of Quesnay"

Azel Ames - "The Mayflower and Her Log, v6"

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




"He won't believe that story. If he does, he'll think it very
dishonourable."

Dyce checked the words in amorous fashion, but they conveyed an
unpleasant truth, which he turned about in his mind as he hastened
towards the interview with Dymchurch. For once in his life, however,
he saw a clear course of action before him, indicated alike by
interest and by honour. He was roused by supreme impulse and
necessity; seeing him as he strode along, you might have supposed
him bent on some very high purpose, so gallantly did he hold his
head, and so radiant was his visage. There are men capable of
viewing themselves as heroes in very unheroic situations, and
Lashmar was one of them. Because his business with Dymchurch and
with Constance would be distinctly disagreeable, and yet he was
facing it without hesitation, his conscience praised him aloud.
Nothing less than brilliant issue could be the reward of such noble
energy.

Meanwhile, May had begun to retrace her steps through the little
wood. She wished to go quickly, but was afraid, if she did so, of
overtaking Lord Dymchurch. In her, too, the self-approving mind was
active; she applauded herself for having given the preference to
love over ambition. With the choice of becoming a peeress, she had
bestowed her beauty, intellect, wealth upon a man who had nothing to
offer but his hopes. Was not this nobler than any nobility of rank?
The sentimentality of a hundred novels surged within her; verses of
Browning chanted in her brain. "Love is best!" She walked a heroine
of passion. All obstacles would fall before her burning resolve.
This was living in high romance!

She passed from among the trees into the open park and there before
her stood the man she least wished to see. He had evidently been
waiting; he began to move towards her. A score of more or less
ingenious lies rose to her tongue, instinctively; but she remembered
that deceit was not called for. Lord Dymchurch had raised his hat.
He looked very grave, but not at all ill-tempered. May did not offer
her hand. After the "good-morning," he walked beside her, and at
once began to speak.

"I find I must leave Rivenoak, Miss Tomalin." His voice was low,
gentle, not unkind.

"Must you indeed, Lord Dymchurch?"

"I'm afraid I must," he answered quietly.

"I am _so_ sorry. But you will be able to see Lady Ogram?"

"I fear not. I wish to leave almost at once."

They were drawing near to the garden. Dymchurch paused, glanced at
his companion with sad eyes, and, his look cast down, again spoke.

"Miss Tomalin, I came here wishing to ask you to be my wife. Only a
foolish shyness prevented me from doing so yesterday. This morning,
I know that it would be too late. Pray forgive me for speaking of
the matter at all. I feel obliged to explain myself. Perhaps I had
better make the explanation complete by saying that I saw you go
through the garden, and followed in the same direction, hoping for
an opportunity of speaking with you alone."

May felt that a man in this position could not well have conducted
himself more kindly and delicately. No hint in look or voice that he
thought her behaviour extraordinary; he had been defeated by a
rival, that was all; his tone begged excuse for unwilling intrusion
upon her privacy. But for the hopelessly compromising moment at
which he had arrived, probably he would have given her all benefit
of the doubt, and in one way or another, would still have prosecuted
his wooing. Very nervous and confused, she made what seemed to her
an appropriate answer.

"Thank you very much, Lord Dymchurch. I had so hoped we could be
friends--simply friends. Do let me think of you still in that
way."

"Will you give me a proof of friendship," said the other, smiling
kindly, "by permitting me to tell Lady Ogram, in a note I shall
leave for her, that you have declined my offer of marriage?"

This, thought May, was indeed a smoothing of her difficulties. She
glanced at the speaker with gratitude.

"You will really do that? How generous of you, Lord Dymchurch!"

"Allow me to leave you now, Miss Tomalin. I must prepare for my
journey."

May offered her hand. Dymchurch just perceptibly pressed it, saluted
with the gravest politeness, and walked away.

On the terrace before the house, he encountered Lashmar, who came up
to him with a glowing countenance.

"I hoped I should find you here. Nothing could be better. Just a
moment's talk."

Dyce had thrust out a hand, but as the other appeared not to see it,
he drew it hack again as naturally as he could. Dymchurch stood
waiting in an attitude of cold civility.

"It's rather a delicate matter. Accident has obliged me to speak;
otherwise, I shouldn't, of course, have troubled you with my private
affairs. I wish to tell you that the engagement which once existed
between Miss Bride and myself is at an end."

"I presumed so," was the reply, spoken with unmoved features.

"Also, that Miss Tomalin has for some days been aware of this state
of things."

"I took it for granted."

"So that," Dyce continued, in a stumbling way, "you won't retain any
disagreeable impression from this morning's incident? I am very glad
indeed to have been able to see you at once. It puts an end to a
natural uneasiness on both sides."

"I am obliged to you," said Dymchurch.

With a bow and a look past his interlocutor, he turned to enter the
house.

As soon as he had disappeared, Lashmar followed, and rang the door
bell. Of the servant who came, he asked whether Miss Bride was down
yet. The domestic went to inquire. Waiting in the hall, Dyce heard a
footstep behind him; he turned and saw May, who, with features
discomposed, just met his eyes and hurried away up the staircase.
When the servant returned, it was with a request that Mr. Lashmar
would step into the library. There, in a few minutes, Constance
joined him.

"You are early!" she exclaimed. "No bad news, I hope?"

"No. But I want a little quiet talk with you. Of course it's absurd
to come at this hour. You know I lunch here to-day, and I couldn't
have gone through with it without seeing you in private. I'm in a
queer state of mind; very much upset; in fact, I never felt such
need of a true friend to consult."

Constance kept her eyes fixed upon him. She had been up for a couple
of hours, reading in the French book which had reached her
yesterday. The same volume had occupied her till long after
midnight. Her face showed the effects of over-study.

"Tell me all about it," she said, with voice subdued to the note of
intimacy, and look in which there shone an indulgent kindliness.

"You have often said that you wished me well, that you desired to
help me in my career."

"Have I not done more than say it?" returned the other, softly.

"Indeed you have! Few women would have been capable of such
self-sacrifice on a friend's behalf. You know the law of human
nature; we always make old kindness a reason for demanding new.
Again I am come to ask your help, and again it involves heroism on
your part."

The listener's face grew troubled; her lips lost their suavity.
Lashmar's eyes fell before her look.

"I feel ashamed," he went on, with an uneasy movement of his hands.
"It's too bad to expect so much of you. You have more pride than
most people, yet I behave to you as if you didn't know the meaning
of the word. Do, I beg, believe me when I say that I am downright
ashamed, and that I hardly know how to tell you what has happened."

Constance did not open her lips; they were sternly compressed.

"I want you," Dyce continued, "first of all to consent to the
termination of our formal engagement. Of course," he hastened to
add, "that step in itself is nothing to you. Indeed, you will be
rather glad of it than otherwise; it relieves you from an annoying
and embarrassing situation, which only your great good-nature
induced you to accept. But I ask more than that. I want it to be
understood that our engagement had ended when I last left Rivenoak.
Can you consent to this? Will you bear me out when I break the news
to Lady Ogram?"

"You propose to do that yourself?" asked Constance, with frigid
sarcasm.

"Yes, I shall do it myself. I am alone responsible for what has
happened, and I must face the consequences."

"Up to a certain point, you mean," remarked the same pungent voice.

"It's true, I ask your help in that one particular."

"You say that something has happened. Is it within my privilege to
ask what, or must I be content to know nothing more?"

"Constance, don't speak like that?" pleaded Dyce. "Be generous to
the end! Haven't I behaved very frankly all along? Haven't we talked
with perfect openness of all I did? Don't spoil it all, now at the
critical moment of my career. Be yourself, generous and
large-minded!"

"Give me the opportunity," she answered, with an acid smile. "Tell
what you have to tell."

"But this is not like yourself," he remonstrated. "It's a new
spirit. I have never known you like this."

Constance moved her foot, and spoke sharply.

"Say what you have to say, and never mind anything else."

Lashmar bent his brows.

"After all, Constance, I am a perfectly free man. If you are annoyed
because I wish to put an end to what you yourself recognise as a
mere pretence, it's very unreasonable, and quite unworthy of you."

"You are right," answered the other, with sudden change to
ostentatious indifference. "It's time the farce stopped. I, for one,
have had enough of it. If you like, I will tell Lady Ogram myself,
this morning."

"No!" exclaimed Dyce, with decision. "That I certainly do _not_
wish. Are you resolved, all at once, to do me as much harm as you
can?"

"Not at all, I thought I should relieve you of a disagreeable
business."

"If you really mean that, I am very grateful. I wanted to tell you
everything, and talk it over, and see what you thought best to be
done. But of course I shouldn't dream of forcing my confidence upon
you. It's a delicate matter and only because we were such intimate
friends."--

"If you will have done with all this preamble," Constance
interrupted, with forced calm, "and tell me what there is to be
told, I am quite willing to listen."

"Well, I will do so. It's this. I am in love with May Tomalin, and I
want to marry her."

Their eyes met, Dyce was smiling, an uneasy, abashed smile.
Constance wore an expression of cold curiosity, and spoke in a
corresponding voice.

"Have you asked her to do so?"

"Not yet," Lashmar replied.

For a moment, Constance gazed at him; then she said, quietly:

"I don't believe you."

"That's rather emphatic," cried Dyce, affecting a laugh. "It conveys
my meaning. I don't believe you, for several reasons. One of them is--"
She broke off, and rose from her chair. "Please wait; I will be
back in a moment."

Lashmar sat looking about the room. He began to be aware that he had
not breakfasted,--a physical uneasiness added to the various forms
of disquiet from which his mind was suffering. When Constance
re-entered, he saw she had a book in her hand, a book which by its
outward appearance he at once recognised.

"Do you know this?" she asked, holding the volume to him. "I
received it yesterday, and have already gone through most of it. I
find it very interesting."

"Ah, I know it quite well," Dyce answered, fingering the pages. "A
most suggestive book. But--what has it to do with our present
conversation?"

Constance viewed him wonderingly. If he felt at all disconcerted,
nothing of the kind appeared in his face, which wore, indeed, a look
of genuine puzzlement.

"Have you so poor an opinion of my intelligence?" she asked, with
subdued anger. "Do you suppose me incapable of perceiving that all
the political and social views you have been living upon were taken
directly from this book? I admire your audacity. Few educated men,
nowadays, would have ventured on so bold a--we call it
plagiarism."

Dyce stared at her.

"You are very severe," he exclaimed, on the note of deprecation.
"Views I have been 'living upon?' It's quite possible that now and
then something I had read there chanced to come into my talk; but
who gives chapter and verse for every conversational allusion? You
astound me. I see that, so far from wishing me well, you have
somehow come to regard me with positive ill-feeling. How has it come
about, Constance?"

"You dare to talk to me in this way!" cried Constance, passionately.
"You dare to treat me as an imbecile! This is going too far! If you
had shown ever so little shame I would have thrown the book aside,
and never again have spoken of it. But to insult me by supposing
that force of impudence can overcome the testimony of my own reason!
Very well. The question shall be decided by others. All who have
heard you expatiate on your--_your_ 'bio-sociological' theory
shall be made acquainted with this French writer, and form their own
opinion as to your originality."

Lashmar drew himself up.

"By all means." His voice was perfectly controlled. "I have my
doubts whether you will persuade anyone to read it--people don't
take very eagerly to philosophical works in a foreign language--
and I think it very unlikely that anyone but yourself has troubled
to keep in mind the theories and arguments which you are so kind as
to say I stole. What's more, will it be very dignified behaviour to
go about proclaiming that you have quarrelled with me, and that you
are bent on giving me a had character? Isn't it likely to cause a
smile?"

As she listened, Constance shook with passion.

"Are you so utterly base," she cried, "as to stand there and deny
the truth of what I say?"

"I never argue with anyone in a rage. Why such a thing as this--a
purely intellectual matter--a question for quiet reasoning--
should infuriate you, I am at a loss to understand. We had better
talk no more for the present. I must hope for another opportunity."

He moved as though to withdraw, but by no means with the intention
of doing so, for he durst not have left Constance in this mood of
violent hostility. Her outbreak had astonished him; he knew not of
what she might be capable. There flashed through his mind the easy
assurance he had given to May--that Constance Bride should be
persuaded to friendly offices on their behalf, and he had much ado
to disguise his consternation. For a moment he thought of flattering
her pride by unconditional surrender, by submissive appeal, but to
that he could not bring himself. Her discovery, her contempt and
menaces, had deeply offended him; the indeterminate and shifting
sentiments with which he had regarded her crystallised into
dislike--that hard dislike which commonly results, whether in man or
woman, from trifling with sacred relations. That Constance had
been--perhaps still was tenderly disposed to him, served merely to
heighten his repugnance. To stand in fear of this woman was a more
humiliating and exasperating sensation than he had ever known.

"Do as you think fit," he added in a stern voice, pausing at a
little distance. "It is indifferent to me. In any case, Lady Ogram
will soon know how things stand, and the result must be what it
will. I have chosen my course."

Constance was regarding him steadily. Her wrath had Leased to flare,
but it glowed through her countenance.

"You mean," she said, "that just at the critical moment of your
career you are bent on doing the rashest thing you possibly could?
And you ask me to believe that you are acting in this way before you
even know whether you have a chance of gaining anything by it?"

"It had occurred to me," Lashmar replied, "that, when you understood
the state of things, you might be willing to exert yourself to help
me. But that was before I learnt that you regarded me with contempt,
if not with hatred. How the change has come about in you, I am
unable to understand. I have behaved to you with perfect frankness--"

"When, for instance, you wished me to admire you as a sociologist?"

"It's incredible," cried Dyce, "that you should harp on that paltry
matter! Who, in our time, is an original thinker? Ideas are in the
air. Every man uses his mind--if he has any--on any suggestion
which recommends itself to him. If it were worth while, I could
point out most important differences between the bio-sociological
theory as matured by me and its crude presentment in that book you
have got hold of.--By the bye, how did it come into your hands?"

After an instant's reflection, Constance told him of Mrs. Toplady's
letter and the American magazine.

"And," he asked, "does Mrs. Toplady regard me as a contemptible
plagiarist?"

"It is probable that she has formed conclusions."

Lashmar's eyes fell. He saw that Constance was watching him. In the
turmoil of his feelings all he could do was to jerk out an impatient
laugh.

"It's no use," he exclaimed. "You and I have come to a deadlock. We
no longer understand each other. I thought you were the kind of
woman whom a man can treat as his equal, without fear of ridiculous
misconceptions and hysterical scenes. One more disillusion!"

"Don't you think?" asked Constance, with a bitter smile, "that you
are preparing a good many others for yourself?"

"Of course I know what you mean. There are certain things it
wouldn't be easy to discuss with you at any time; you can't expect
me to speak of them at present. Suppose it an illusion. I came to
you, in all honesty, to tell you what had happened. I thought of you
as my friend, as one who cared about my happiness."

"Why this morning?"

"For the reason I began by explaining. I have to come here to
lunch."

"Would it surprise you, when you do come, to be met with the news
that Lord Dymchurch has proposed to Miss Tomalin and been accepted?"

"Indeed," Dyce answered, smiling, "it would surprise me very much."

"Which is as much as to say that I was right, just now, in refusing
to believe you. Do you know," Constance added, with fresh acerbity,
"that you cut a very poor figure? As a diplomatist, you will not go
very far. As an ordinary politician, I doubt whether you can make
your way with such inadequate substitutes for common honesty.
Perhaps you _do_ represent the coming man. In that case, we must
look anxiously for the coming woman, to keep the world from
collapse.--Be so good, now, as to answer a plain question. You
will do so, simply because you know that I have but to speak
half-a-dozen words to Lady Ogram, and you would be spared the
trouble of coming here to lunch. What is your scheme? If I had been
so pliant as you expected, what would you have asked of me?"

"Merely to use your influence with Lady Ogram when she is vexed by
learning that May Tomalin is not to marry Dymchurch. What could be
simpler and more straightforward? Scheme there is none. I have done
with that kind of thing. I wish to marry this girl, for her own
sake, but if I can keep Lady Ogram's good-will at the same time, I
suppose there's nothing very base in wishing to do so?"

"You speak of 'vexation.' Do you really imagine that that word will
describe Lady Ogram's state of mind if she learns that Lord
Dymchurch is rejected?"

"Of course there will be a scene. We can't help that. We must face
it, and hope in Lady Ogram's commonsense."

"Answer another question. How do you _know_ that May Tomalin will
refuse Lord Dymchurch?"

"I had better refuse to answer. You talk much of honour. If you know
what it means, you will accept my refusal as the only thing possible
under the circumstances."

Constance stood in hesitation. It seemed as if she might concede
this point, but at the critical moment jealous wrath again seized
her, extinguishing the better motive.

"You will answer my question. You will tell me what has passed."

She glared at him, and it was Lashmar's turn to betray indecision.

"You are at my mercy," Constance exclaimed, "and you will do as I
bid you."

Lashmar yielded to exasperation.

"I have enough of this," he cried angrily. "Go and do as you please!
Take your silly feminine revenge, and much good may it do you! I
have no more time to waste."

He caught up his hat, and left the room.

Passing the foot of the staircase, he saw someone descending. It was
May. Involuntarily he stopped; the girl's gesture of alarm, bidding
him be off, was disregarded. He waved to her, and she joined him.

"I've seen them both. It's all right. Keep up your courage!"

"Go! Go!" whispered May in fright. "Someone will see us."

"At lunch!"

He pressed her hand, smiled like a general in the thick of battle,
and hurried away. Scarcely had he vanished through the portal, when
Constance, issuing from the library, encountered Miss Tomalin. May
uttered an unnaturally suave "good-morning!" The other looked her in
the eye, and said in a voice of satisfaction:

"Mr. Lashmar has just been here. Didn't you see him?"

"Mr. Lashmar?--No."

Gazing full at the oonfused face, Constance smiled, and passed on.





CHAPTER XXIII




At the door of the breakfast-room, Miss Bride was approached by Lady
Ogram's maid, who in an undertone informed her that Dr. Baldwin had
been sent for. Lady Ogram had passed a very bad night, but did not
wish it to be made known to her guests, whom she hoped to meet at
luncheon. Of the possibility of this, the maid declared herself very
doubtful; she did not think the doctor would allow her mistress to
get up.

"Let me know when the doctor is leaving," said Constance. "I should
like to see him."

Sir William and his wife breakfasted with the two young ladies. Lord
Dymchurch did not appear. When the others had left the room,
Constance asked a servant if his lordship was down yet, and learnt
that he had this morning gone away, leaving a note for Lady Ogram.
At the same moment, word was brought to Miss Bride that Dr. Baldwin
waited in the library. Constance replied that she would see him.
Then, turning to the other attendant, she asked whether Lord
Dymchurch's note had been delivered to Lady Ogram. It lay, she
learnt, with the rest of the morning's letters, which the maid had
not yet taken up. Thereupon Constance sought and found it, and
carried it with her as she entered the library.

"How do you find your patient, doctor?" she inquired, in her usual
tone.

"Quite unfit to get up to-day, though I fear she is determined to do
so," replied Dr. Baldwin. "Wonderful, the influence of her mind upon
her physical state. I found her alarmingly weak, but, as usual, she
insisted on hearing the news of the town, and something I was able
to tell her acted with more restorative force than any drug in the
pharmacopaeia."

"What was that?"

"Mr. Robb's will. I hear on good authority that he leaves not a
penny to our hospital. Lady Ogram was delighted. It makes the field
clear for her. She declares that she will buy the site on Burgess
Hill immediately. The will is dated fifteen years ago, they say; no
doubt he meant to make another."

"That, I am sure, was a cordial," exclaimed Constance. "Impossible
for Mr. Robb to have done Lady Ogram a greater kindness."

After a few more inquiries concerning the patient, she let the
doctor take his leave. Then she stood looking at the outside of Lord
Dymchurch's letter, and wondering what might be its contents. Beyond
a doubt, they were of an explosive nature. Whatever his excuse, Lord
Dymchurch's abrupt departure would enrage Lady Ogram. Had he been
refused by May? Or had something come to pass which made it
impossible for him to offer marriage something connected with
Lashmar's early visit this morning? That he had intended a proposal,
Constance could not doubt. Meanwhile, she felt glad of the outbreak
in prospect; her mood desired tumultuous circumstances. What part
she herself would play in to-day's drama, she had not vet decided;
that must largely depend upon events. Her future was involved in the
conflict of passions and designs which would soon be at its height.
How much it would have helped her could she have read through the
envelope now in her hand!

There came a knock to the door. Lady Ogram wished to speak with Miss
Bride.

It was the rarest thing for the secretary to be summoned to her
ladyship's bedroom. In the ante-chamber, the maid encountered her.

"My lady means to get up," whispered this discreet attendant. "She
thinks herself very much better, but I am sure she is very ill
indeed. I know the signs. The doctor forbade her to move, but I
durstn't oppose her."

"Does she know that Lord Dymchurch has gone?" asked Constance.

"No, miss. I thought it better to say nothing just yet. Everything
excites her so."

"You were very wise. Keep silence about it until Lady Ogram leaves
her room."

"My lady has just asked for her letters, miss."

"Bring up those that have come by post. I will deliver the other
myself."

Constance entered the bedroom. With cheeks already touched into
ghastly semblance of warm life, with her surprising hair
provisionally rolled into a diadem, the old autocrat lay against
upright pillows. At sight of Constance, she raised her skeleton
hand, and uttered a croak of triumph.

"Do you know the news?" followed in scarce articulate utterance.
"Robb's will! Nothing to the hospital--not a penny for town
charities."