Kathleen Norris - "Harriet and the Piper"

Andre Theuriet - "A Woodland Queen, v3"

Andre Theuriet - "A Woodland Queen, v3"

Philip Gibbs - "Now It Can Be Told"

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: Isobel

J >> James Oliver Curwood >> Isobel




In that moment he forgot everything, and with a great, glad cry he
drew himself up and sprang to the ground on the other side.

"Isobel-- Isobel-- my little Isobel!"

He was beside her, on his knees, with her in his hungry arms, and for
a brief space the child was so frightened that she held her breath and
stared at him without a sound.

"Don't you know me-- don't you know me--" he almost sobbed. "Little
Mystery-- Isobel--"

He heard a sound, a strange, stifled cry, and he looked up. From
behind the shrubbery there had come a woman, and she was staring at
Billy MacVeigh with a face as white as chalk. He staggered to his
feet, and he believed that at last he had gone mad. For it was the
vision of Isobel Deane that he saw there, and her blue eyes were
glowing at him as he had seen them for an instant that night a long
time ago on the edge of the Barren. He could not speak. And then, as
he staggered another step back toward the wall, he held out his ragged
arms, without knowing what he was doing, and called her name as he had
spoken it a hundred times at night beside his lonely campfires.
Starvation, his injury, weeks of illness, and his almost superhuman
struggle to reach McTabb's cabin, and after that civilization, had
consumed his last strength. For days he had lived on the reserve
forces of a nervous energy that slipped away from him now, leaving him
dizzy and swaying. He fought to overcome the weakness that seemed to
have taken the last ounce of strength from his exhausted body, but in
spite of his strongest efforts the sunlit garden suddenly darkened
before his eyes. In that moment the vision became real, and as he
turned toward the wall Isobel Deane called him by name; and in another
moment she was at his side, clutching him almost fiercely by the arms
and calling him by name over and over again. The weakness and
dizziness passed from him in a moment, but in that space he seemed
only to realize that he must get back-- over the wall.

"I wouldn't have come-- but-- I-- I-- thought you were-- dead," he
said. "They told me-- you were dead. I'm glad-- glad-- but I wouldn't
have come--"

She felt the weight of him for an instant on her arm. She knew the
things that were in his face-- starvation, pain, the signs of ravage
left behind by fever. In these moments Billy did not see the wonderful
look that had come into her own face or the wonderful glow in her
eyes.

"It was Indian Joe's mother who died," he heard her say. "And since
then we have been waiting-- waiting-- waiting-- little Isobel and I. I
went away north, to David's grave, and I saw what you had done, and
what you had burned into the wood. Some day, I knew, you'd come back
to me. We've been waiting-- for you--"

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but Billy heard it; and all
at once his dizziness was gone, and he saw the sunlight shining in
Isobel's bright hair and the look in her face and eyes.

"I'm sorry-- sorry-- so sorry I said what I did-- about you-- killing
him," she went on. "You remember-- I said that if I got well--"

"Yes--"

"And you thought I meant that if I got well you should go away-- and
you promised-- and kept your promise. But I couldn't finish. It didn't
seem right-- then. I wanted to tell you-- out there-- that I was
sorry-- and that if I got well you could come to me again-- some day
somewhere-- and then--"

"Isobel!"

"And now-- you may tell me again what you told me out on the Barren--
a long time ago."

"Isobel-- Isobel--"

"You understand"-- she spoke softly-- "you understand, it cannot
happen now-- perhaps not for another year. But now"-- she drew a
little nearer-- "you may kiss me," she said. "And then you must kiss
little Isobel. And we don't want you to go very far away again. It's
lonely-- terribly lonely all by ourselves in the city-- and we're glad
you've come-- so glad--"

Her voice broke to a sobbing whisper, and as Billy opened his great,
ragged arms and caught her to him he heard that whisper again, saying,
"We're glad-- glad-- glad you've come back to us."

"And I-- may-- stay?"

She raised her face, glorious in its welcome.

"If you want me-- still."

At last he believed. But he could not speak. He bent his face to hers,
and for a moment they stood thus, while from behind the shrubbery came
the sound of little Isobel's joyous laughter.

THE END