Willa Cather - "My Antonia"

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Louisa May Alcott - "Jack and Jill"

Charles Lyell - "The Antiquity of Man"

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




Constance affected equal rejoicing, for she knew how the singular
old philanthropist had loathed the thought that Hollingford's new
hospital might bear Robb's name instead of her own.

"But I beg you not to excite yourself," she added. "Try to think
quietly--"

"Mind your own business!" broke in the thick voice, whilst the dark
eyes flashed with exultation. "I want to know about Lord Dymchurch.
What are the plans for this morning?"

"I don't think they are settled yet. It's still early."

"How is May?"

"Quite well, I think."

"I shall be down at mid-day, if not before. Tell Lord Dymchurch
that."

The morning's correspondence was brought in. Lady Ogram glanced over
her letters, and bade Constance reply to two or three of them. She
gave, also, many instructions as to matters which had been occupying
her lately; her mind was abnormally active and lucid; at times her
speech became so rapid that it was unintelligible.

"Now go and get to work," she said at length, coming to an abrupt
close. "You've enough to occupy you all the morning."

Constance had paid little attention to these commands, and, on
returning to the library, she made no haste to begin upon her
secretarial duties. For more than an hour she sat brooding. Only as
a relief to her thoughts did she at length begin to write letters.
It was shortly before mid-day when again there came a summons from
Lady Ogram; obeying it, Constance took Lord Dymchurch's letter in
her hand.

Lady Ogram had risen. She was in the little drawing-room upstairs,
reclining upon a sofa; the effort of walking thus far had exhausted
her.

"I hear that Mr. Lashmar has called this morning," she began, half
raising herself, but at once sinking back again. "What did he come
about? Can't he come to lunch?"

"Yes, he will be here at one o'clock," Constance replied.

"Then why did he come? It was before nine. What had he to say?"

"He wanted to speak to me in private."

"Oh, I suppose that's privileged," returned the autocrat, smiling.
"What have you got there? Something just come?"

"It's a note for you from Lord Dymchurch."

"From Lord Dymchurch? Give it me at once, then. Where is he? Why
couldn't he wait till I came down?"

She tore the envelope with weak trembling hands. Constance watched
her as she read. Of a sudden, the shrunk, feeble figure sprang
upright, and stood as though supported by the vigorous muscles of
youth.

"Do you know what this contains?" sounded a clear, hard voice,
strangely unlike that which had just been speaking.

"I have no idea."

"But you knew that he had left?"

"Yes, I knew. I kept it from you till now, because I feared you were
not well enough to bear the agitation."

"And who," cried the other fiercely, "gave you authority to detain
letters addressed to me? What have you to do with my health? When
did Lord Dymchurch leave?"

"Whilst we were at breakfast," Constance answered, with a great
effort at self-command. "He saw nobody."

"Then you lied to me when you came up before?"

"I think, Lady Ogram," said Constance, standing rigid and with white
face, "you might give me credit for good intentions. It was nothing
to me whether you heard this news then or later; but I knew that you
had passed a sleepless night, and that the doctor had been sent
for."

"You knew--you knew!" cried the listener, with savage scorn. "Did
you know why Lord Dymchurch had gone?"

"I took it for granted that--it had something to do with Miss
Tomalin."

"Answer me in plain words, without a lie, and without shiftiness. Do
you know that Lord Dymchurch has proposed to May, and been refused?"

"I did not know it."

"You suspected as much."

"I thought it possible. But the business was none of mine, and I
gave very little heed to it."

Lady Ogram had begun to totter. She let herself sink upon the sofa,
and re-read the letter that shook in her hand.

"He says he has a sister ill. Did you hear anything of that?"

"Nothing at all."

The autocrat stared for a moment, as though trying to read
Constance's thoughts; then she waved her hand.

"Go back to your work. Stay in the library till you hear from me
again."

Constance quivered with the impulse to make indignant reply, but
prudence prevailed. She bent her head to conceal wrathful features,
and in silence went from the room.

Five minutes later, May Tomalin entered by the awful door. She knew
what was before her, and had braced her nerves, but at the first
sight of Lady Ogram a sinking heart drew all the blood from her
checks. Encountering the bloodshot glare from those fleshless
eye-caverns, she began to babble a "Good-morning, aunt!" But the
words failed, and her frightened simper, meant for a smile, passed
into mere blankness of visage.

"Come here, May. Is it true that you have refused Lord Dymchurch?"

The voice was less terrifying than her aunt's countenance had led
her to expect. She was able to recover her wits sufficiently to make
the reply she had spent all the morning in preparing.

"Refused him? I didn't mean that. He must have misunderstood me."

"What _did_ you mean, then?"

"I hardly knew what Lord Dymchurch meant," answered May, trying to
look playfully modest.

"Let us have no nonsense," sounded in stern accents. "Lord Dymchurch
writes me a letter, saying distinctly that he has proposed to you,
and that you have refused him, and then he goes off without a word
to anyone. Did you know he was leaving this morning?"

"Certainly not," answered the girl, with a bold plunge into
mendacity. "I expected to see him at breakfast. Then I was told he
was gone. I don't understand it at all."

From the moment of entering the room, she had put away all thought
of truthfulness. This, plainly, was no time for it. As soon as
possible, she would let Dyce Lashmar know that they must feign and
temporise: the policy of courage looked all very well from a
distance, but was quite another thing in the presence of the
mistress of Rivenoak enraged. Lashmar must caution Constance, who
seemingly (much to May's surprise) had submitted to his dictation at
this juncture. For a time, nothing could be done beyond cloaking
what had really happened, and soothing Lady Ogram's wrath with
apparent submission.

"When did you see him last?" pursued the questioner.

"This morning, before breakfast, for a few minutes in the garden."

Better to be veracious so far, thought May. She might otherwise fall
into self-contradiction.

"Was it an appointment?"

"No. By chance. I never thought of meeting him."

"And what did he say to you? Tell me his words."

"I couldn't possibly recall them," said May, who had seated herself,
and was becoming all but calm. "Lord Dymchurch has a very vague way
of talking. He rambles from one subject to another."

"But didn't he say anything at all about marriage?" cried Lady
Ogram, in exasperation.

"He spoke of his position and his prospects. Perhaps he hoped I
should understand--but it was all so vague."

"Why, then, the man is a scoundrel! He never proposed to you at all,
and he runs away leaving a lying letter behind him. Yet I should
never have thought that of Lord Dymchurch."

She fixed her eyes on May, and added fiercely:

"Are you telling me the truth?"

The girl bridled, staring straight before her with indignant
evasiveness of look.

"My dear aunt! How can you ask me such a question? Of course I may
have misunderstood Lord Dymchurch, but, if it hadn't been for what
you have once or twice said to me, I really shouldn't ever have
supposed that he meant anything. He talks in such a rambling way--"

She grew voluble. Lady Ogram listened awhile, then cut her short.

"Very well. There has been some queer sort of mistake, that's plain.
I should like to know what Lord Dymchurch means. Why couldn't he see
me, like an honest man? It's very extraordinary, this running away
before breakfast, saying good-bye to nobody."

She mused stormily, her eye ever and again turning upon the girl.

"Look here, May; do you think Constance knows anything about it?"

"I really can't say--I don't see how--"

"It was she that brought me his letter. Do you think he spoke to
her?"

"About me?" exclaimed May, uneasily. "Oh! I don't think so--I
never noticed that they were friendly."

"Ring the bell."

Constance Bride was sent for. Some moments passed; Lady Ogram
stamped impatiently. She ordered May to ring again, and demanded why
Miss Bride kept her waiting. Considerably more than five minutes had
elapsed before the figure of the secretary appeared: her face wore
an expression of proud indifference, and at the sight of May's
subdued, timid air, she smiled coldly.

"Why have you been so long?" cried Lady Ogram.

"I came as soon as I could," was the clear reply.

"Now listen to me, Constance," broke vehemently from the bloodless
lips. "I'll have no nonsense! You understand that? I'll not be
played with. Deceive me, or treat me in any way unbecomingly, and
you shall remember it the longest day you live. I want to know
whether Lord Dymchurch said anything to you to explain his sudden
departure?"

"To me? Certainly not."

"Now mind! I'll get at the truth of this. You know me! May says that
Lord Dymchurch never proposed to her at all. What do you make of
that?"

Constance glanced at Miss Tomalin, whose eyes fell. Again she
smiled.

"It's very strange," she answered, with a certain air of sympathy.
"That's really all I can say. It's impossible to have any opinion
about such a personal matter, which doesn't in the least concern
me."

"Please remember, aunt," put in May, "that I only said I didn't
_understand_ Lord Dymchurch in that sense."

"Are you a fool, girl!" screeched the autocrat, violently. "I never
thought you so, and if he had said anything that was meant for an
offer of marriage, you would have understood it quickly enough.
Either you're telling me the truth, or you're lying. Either he
proposed to you, or he didn't."

May caught the look of Constance turned upon her; it suggested
amusement, and this touched her feelings far more deeply than the
old lady's strong language.

"I am obliged to remind you, aunt," she said, her cheek flushing,
"that I have no experience of--of this kind of thing. If I made a
mistake, I think it's excusable. I see that Miss Bride thinks it
funny, but she has the advantage of me in age, and in--in several
other ways."

Even whilst speaking, May knew that she committed an imprudence; she
remembered all that depended upon Constance's disposition towards
her. And indeed, she could not have spoken more unwisely. In the
inflamed state of Constance's pride, a feminine slap such as this
sent such a tingling along her nerves that she quivered visibly. It
flashed into her mind that Dyce Lashmar had all but certainly talked
of her to May--with significant look and tone, whatever his words.
How much had he told her? Lady Ogram's voice was again heard.

"Well, that's true. You're only a child, and perhaps you said
something which sounded as you didn't mean it."

Constance was gazing at the speaker. Her lips moved, as if in a
nervously ineffectual effort to say something.

"Miss Bride can go back to her work again," said Lady Ogram, as if
dismissing a servant.

May smiled, openly and disdainfully. She could not resist the
pleasure of showing her superiority. The smile had not died away,
when Constance spoke.

"I will ask your permission to stay for a few minutes longer, Lady
Ogram. As Miss Tomalin has so satisfactorily explained her part in
this unfortunate affair, I think I had better use this opportunity
for making known to you something which concerns her, and which, I
am sure, will interest you very much. It won't take me long--if
you feel able to listen."

"What is it?" asked the autocrat, sharply.

"You are aware that Mr. Lashmar called very early this morning. He
came, as I said, on private business. He had something of importance
to tell me, and he asked my help in a great difficulty."

"Something about the election?"

"It had nothing whatever to do with that. I'll put it in the fewest
possible words, not to waste your time and my own. Mr. Lashmar began
by saying that if I didn't mind, he would be glad to be released
from his engagement to me."

"What!"

"Pray don't let there be any misunderstanding--this time," said
Constance, whose grave irony was perhaps somewhat too fine for the
intelligence of either of her hearers. "Mr. Lash mar behaved like a
man of honour, and I quite approve of the way in which he expressed
himself. His words would have been perfectly intelligible--even to
Miss Tomalin. Admitting his right to withdraw from the engagement if
he had conscientious objections to it, I ventured to ask Mr. Lashmar
whether there was any particular reason for his wish to be released.
He paid me the compliment of perfect frankness. His reason was, that
he wished to marry someone else."

"And who is that?" came hoarsely from Lady Ogram.

"Miss Tomalin."

May had lost her natural colour. She could not take her eyes from
the speaker; her lips were parted, her forehead was wrinkled into a
strange expression of frightened animosity. Until the utterance of
her name, she had hoped against hope that Constance did not intend
the worst. For the first time in her life, she felt herself struck
without pity, and the mere fact of such stern enmity affected her
with no less surprise than dread. She would have continued staring
at Constance, had not an alarming sound, a sort of moaning snarl,
such as might proceed from some suddenly wounded beast, caused her
to turn towards her aunt. The inarticulate sound was followed by
words painfully forced out.

"Go on--what else?--go on, I tell you!"

The speaker's breath came with difficulty. She was bent forward, her
eyes starting, her scraggy throat working as if in anguish.
Constance had stepped nearer to her.

"Are you ill, Lady Ogram? Shall I call for help?"

"Go on! Go _on_, I tell you!" was the hoarse reply. "I hadn't
thought of that. I see, now. What next did he say?"

"Mr. Lashmar," pursued Constance, in a voice somewhat less under
control, "did me the honour to say that he felt sure I had only his
interests and his happiness at heart. He knew that there might be
considerable difficulties in his way, even after it had been made
known that he was free to turn his attention to Miss Tomalin, and he
was so good as to request my assistance. It had occurred to him that
I might be able to present his case in a favourable light to you,
Lady Ogram. Naturally, I was anxious to do my best. Perhaps this is
hardly the moment to pursue the subject. Enough for the present to
have made known Mr. Lashmar's state of mind."

Lady Ogram seemed to have overcome her physical anguish. She sat
upright once more, and, looking at May, asked in a voice only just
above a whisper:

"What have you to say to this?"

"What can I say," exclaimed the girl, with high-voiced vehemence. "I
know nothing about it. Of course it's easy enough to believe that
Mr. Lashmar wants to get out of his engagement to Miss Bride." She
laughed scornfully. "He--"

She stopped, checking in her throat words which she suddenly
remembered would be fatal to the attitude she had assumed.

"Go on!" cried Lady Ogram. "He--what?"

"I was only going to say that Mr. Lashmar might easily have thought
that he had made a mistake. Well, that's my opinion; if it isn't
pleasant to Miss Bride, I can't help it. I tell the truth, that's
all."

"And that I will have!" said her aunt, with new self-command. "The
very last word of it, mind you! Constance, why are you standing all
this time? Sit down here, on this chair. Now I want you to repeat
what you have told me. First of all, at what o'clock did this
happen?"

"At about half-past eight this morning."

Had it been possible, Constance would have rolled oblivion over all
she had spoken. Already she found her vengeance a poor, savourless
thing; she felt that it belittled her. The fire of her wrath burnt
low, and seemed like to smoulder out under self-contempt. She spoke
in a dull, mechanical voice, and gazed at vacancy.

"May," Lady Ogram resumed, "when did you get up this morning?

"At about--oh, about half-past seven, I think."

"Did you go out before breakfast?"

"I have told you that I did, aunt. I saw Lord Dymchurch in the
garden."

"I remember," said her aunt, with a lowering, suspicious look. "And
you saw Mr. Lashmar as he was coming to the house?"

"No. I didn't see him at all."

"How was that? If you were in the garden?"

May glibly explained that her encounter with Lord Dymchurch took
place not before, but behind, the house. She had a spot of red on
each cheek; her ears were scarlet; she sat with clenched hands, and
stared at the lower part of her aunt's face.

"Constance," pursued the questioner, whose eyes had become small and
keen as her utterance grew more sober, "tell it me all over again.
It's worth hearing twice. He began--?"

The other obeyed, reciting her story in a curt, lifeless way, so
that it sounded less significant than before.

"And you promised to help him?" asked Lady Ogram, who repeatedly
glanced at May.

"No, I didn't. I lost my temper, and said I don't know what foolish
things."

This was self-punishment, but it, too, sounded idle in her ears as
soon as she had spoken.

"But you consented to release him?"

"Of course."

"Now, look at me. Have you told me all he said?"

"All."

"Look at me! If I find that you are keeping any secret--! I shall
know everything, you understand that. I won't sleep till I know
everything that has been going on. Deceive me, if you dare!"

"I am not deceiving you," answered Constance, wearily. "You have
heard all I know."

"Now, then, for what you suspect," said Lady Ogram, leaning towards
her. "Turn your mind inside out. Tell me what you _think_!"

"That is soon done. I suspect--indeed, I believe that Mr.
Lashmar's behaviour is that of a man with an over-excited mind. He
thinks everything is within his reach, and everything permitted to
him. I believe he spoke to me quite honestly, thinking I might
somehow plead his cause with you."

"That isn't what I want. Do you suspect that he had any hopes to go
upon?"

"I care so little about it," answered Constance, "that I can't form
any conjecture. All I can say is, that such a man would be quite
capable of great illusions--of believing anything that flattered
his vanity."

Lady Ogram was dissatisfied. She kept a brief silence, with her eyes
on May's countenance.

"Ring the bell," were her next words.

Constance rose and obeyed. A servant entered.

"When Mr. Lashmar arrives," said Lady Ogram, "you will bring him at
once to me here."

"Mr. Lashmar has just arrived, my lady."





CHAPTER XXIV




"Ask him to come--. No! Stay!"

Lady Ogram stood up, not without difficulty. She took a step or two
forwards, as if trying whether she had the strength to walk. Then
she looked at her two companions, who had both risen.

"Constance, give me your arm. I will go downstairs."

They left the room, May slowly following and watching them with
anxiety she vainly endeavoured to disguise. The descent was slow.
Constance held firmly the bony arm which clung to her own, and felt
it quiver at every step. Just before they reached the bottom, Lady
Ogram ordered the servant who came after them to pass before and
conduct Mr. Lashmar into the library. At the foot of the stairs, she
paused; on her forehead stood little points of sweat, and her lips
betrayed the painful effort with which she continued to stand
upright.

"May"--she looked into the girl's face--"if I don't come when
the luncheon bell rings, you will excuse me to Sir William and Lady
Amys, and take my place at table."

Slowly she walked on, still supported by Constance, to the library
door. When it was opened, and she saw Lashmar awaiting her within
(he had passed into the library by the inner door which communicated
with the drawing-room), she spoke of her companion.

"Thank you, Constance. If I don't come, sit down with the others. I
hope your meal will not be disturbed, but I may have to send for
you."

"Lady Ogram--"

Constance began in a low, nervous voice. She was looking at Lashmar,
who, with an air of constraint, moved towards them.

"What is it?"

"Will you let me speak to you for a moment before--"

"No!"

With this stern monosyllable, Lady Ogram dismissed her, entered the
room, and closed the door.

Then her face changed. A smile, which was more than half a grin of
pain, responded to Lashmar's effusive salutation; but she spoke not
a word, and, when she had sunk into the nearest chair, her eyes,
from beneath drooping lids, searched the man's countenance.

"Sit down," were her first words.

Lashmar, convinced that Constance Bride had sought to avenge
herself, tried to screw up his courage. He looked very serious; he
sat stiffly; he kept his eye upon Lady Ogram's.

"Well, what have you to tell me?" she asked, with a deliberation
more disconcerting than impatience would have been.

"Everything goes on pretty well--"

"Does it? I'm glad you think so."

"What do you allude to, Lady Ogram?" Lashmar inquired with grave
respectfulness.

"What do _you_?"

"I was speaking of things at Hollingford."

"And I was thinking of things at Rivenoak."

Lashmar's brain worked feverishly. What did she know? If Constance
had betrayed him, assuredly May also must have been put to the
question, and with what result? He was spared long conjecture.

"Let us understand each other," said the autocrat, who seemed to be
recovering strength as the need arose. "I hear that you want to
break off with Constance Bride. She is no bride for you. Is that the
case?"

"I am sorry to say it is the truth, Lady Ogram."

Having uttered these words, Dyce felt the heroic mood begin to stir
in him. He had no alternative now, and would prove himself equal to
the great occasion.

"You want to marry someone else?"

"I'm sure you will recognise," Lashmar replied, in his academic
tone, "that I am doing my best to act honourably, and without giving
any unnecessary pain. Under certain circumstances, a man is not
entirely master of himself--"

There sounded the luncheon bell. It rang a vague hope to Lashmar,
whose voice dropped.

"Are you hungry?" asked the hostess, with impatience.

"Not particularly, thank you."

"Then I think we had better get our little talk over and done with.
We shan't keep the others waiting."

Dyce accepted this as a good omen. "Our little talk!" He had not
dreamt of such urbanity. Here was the result of courage and honesty.
Evidently his bearing had made a good impression upon the old
despot. He began to look cheerful.

"Nothing could please me better."

"Go on, then," said Lady Ogram, drily. "You were saying--"

"I wish to use complete frankness with you," Dyce resumed. "As I
think you know, I always prefer the simple, natural way of looking
at things. So, for instance, in my relations with women I have
always aimed at fair and candid behaviour; I have tried to treat
women as they themselves, justly enough, wish to be treated, without
affectation, without insincerity. Constance knew my views, and she
approved them. When our friendship developed into an engagement of
marriage, we both of us regarded the step in a purely reasonable
light; we did not try to deceive ourselves, and, less still, to
deceive each other. But a man cannot always gauge his nature. To use
the common phrase, I did not think I should ever fall in love; yet
that happened to me, suddenly, unmistakably. What course had I to
follow? Obviously I must act on my own principles; I must be
straightforward, simple, candid. As soon as my mind was made up, I
came to Constance."

He broke off, observed the listener's face, and added with an
insinuating smile:

"There was the _other_ course--what is called the unselfish, the
heroic. Unfortunately, heroism of that kind is only another name for
deliberate falsehood, in word and deed, and I confess I hadn't the
courage for it. Unselfishness which means calculated deception seems
to me by no means admirable. It was not an easy thing to go to
Constance, and tell her what I had to tell; but I know that she
herself would much prefer it to the sham-noble alternative. And I am
equally sure, Lady Ogram, what your own view will be of the choice
that lay before me."

The listener made no sort of response to this appeal. "And what had
Constance to say to you?" she asked. Lashmar hesitated, his
embarrassment half genuine, half feigned.

"Here," he replied, in a thoughtfully suspended voice, "I find
myself on very delicate ground. I hardly feel that I should be
justified in repeating what passed between us. I hoped you had
already heard it. Was it not from Constance that you learnt--?"

"Don't begin to question _me_," broke in Lady Ogram, with sudden
severity. "What I know, and how I know it, is none of your business.
You'll have the goodness to tell me whatever I ask you."

Dyce made a gesture of deprecating frankness.

"Personally," he said in a low voice, "I admit your right to be kept
fully informed of all that comes to pass in this connection. Will it
be enough if I say that Constance accepted my view of what had
happened?"