Various - "Half Hours with Great Story Tellers"

Lucy Fitch Perkins - "THE JAPANESE TWINS"

Alfred de Musset - "Child of a Century, v2"

Anonymous - "The Royal Game of the Ombre"

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: Herb of Grace

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Herb of Grace




"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Herrick," he observed
volubly. "We have a mutual friend, I believe. What a capital fellow
Templeton is--charming--charming! We are going to put him up at our
diggings for a few days;" and then before Malcolm could answer, some
one tapped Mr. Jacobi on the shoulder and asked him a question, and
Malcolm found himself beside Miss Jacobi.

"Mr. Templeton is an intimate friend of yours, is he not?" she asked
carelessly. Her voice was very full and rich, but she spoke slowly,
as though she were accustomed to weigh each word. It struck Malcolm
that she listened with some intentness to his answer.

"Oh yes, we are very good friends," he returned with studied
indifference.

"Mr. Templeton is more demonstrative," she said with a curiously
grave smile that seemed habitual to her. "He sings your praises, Mr.
Herrick; you would be amused to hear him. It is so refreshing to
find any one natural and unconventional in this world; but he is so
nice and frank--a nice boy," with a low laugh that showed her white
teeth. Mr. Jacobi turned round at the sound.

"Come, Leah," he said impatiently; "the horses are tired of
standing, and I want my luncheon." Miss Jacobi bowed in rather a
hurried fashion and at once rejoined her brother. Malcolm looked
after the mail phaeton as it dashed down the road, but he made no
response as Mr. Jacobi waved his whip to him in an airy fashion.

"Well, Mr. Herrick," said Mrs. Godfrey quietly, "I suppose I may ask
your opinion now?"

"I do not think I am anxious for a further acquaintance," returned
Malcolm grimly. "The big M's are too much in evidence for my taste.
I suppose I am a bit of a misanthrope, but I hate to be hail-fellow-
well-met with every one. Why, that fellow Jacobi actually patronised
me, patted me on the back, don't you know. He might have known me
for six months."

"I call that sort of thing bad form," observed Colonel Godfrey.
"Jacobi is too smooth and plausible. My wife will have it that he is
not a gentleman."

"Oh, Alick, you ought not to have repeated that."

"Why not, my dear lady?" observed Malcolm. "You are perfectly safe
with me. I expect we think alike there. Somehow Jacobi has not the
right cut."

"But his sister is very ladylike," murmured Mrs. Godfrey, her kindly
heart accusing her of censoriousness and want of charity. Both the
gentlemen agreed to this. Then Malcolm, true to his character as a
lover of the picturesque, launched into unrestrained praise of Miss
Jacobi's beauty.

"If my friend Keston were to see her," he remarked, "he would be
wild to paint her as Rebekah at the well--or Ruth in the harvest-
fields. One does not often see a face like Miss Jacobi's." And then
after a little more talk they reached the Manor House.

The following morning Malcolm spent on the river, and late in the
afternoon they drove to Glebelands--where the Etheridges lived.

The beautiful grounds sloping to the river presented a most animated
scene. A band was playing, and a gaily-dressed crowd streamed from
the house on to the lawn. Canoes, punts, and a tiny steam-launch
were ready for any guests who wished to enjoy the river; and the
croquet, archery, and tennis grounds were well filled.

Tea and refreshments were served in a huge marquee just below the
house. Malcolm, who met several people whom he knew, soon began to
enjoy himself, and he was deep in conversation with a young artist
when Miss Jacobi and her brother passed them; she bowed to Malcolm
with rather a pleased smile of recognition.

"What, do you know la belle Jacobi?" observed his friend enviously.
"What a lucky fellow you are! Look here, couldn't you do a good turn
for a chap and introduce me?"

"My dear Rodney, I have not spoken a dozen words to Miss Jacobi
myself. Get one of the Etheridge girls to do the job for you. You
had better look sharp," he continued, "for there is quite a small
crowd of men round her now;" and as Mr. Rodney speedily acted on
this hint, Malcolm joined some more of his friends.

Later in the afternoon, as he was listening to the band, he saw Miss
Jacobi opposite to him; she had still a little court round her, and
seemed talking with great animation. She looked far handsomer than
on the previous day, and her dress became her perfectly. She wore a
cream-coloured transparent stuff over yellow silk, her Gainsborough
hat was cream-colour and yellow too, and she carried a loosely-
dropping posy of tea-roses, and two or three rosebuds of the same
warm hue were nestled at her throat. The contrast of her dark eyes
and hair and warm olive complexion was simply superb, and Malcolm
secretly clapped his hands and murmured "bravo" under his breath.
"She has the soul of the coquette and the artist too," he said to
himself. "Oh, woman, woman, surely Solomon had you in his thoughts
when he declared 'All is vanity;'" and then he remembered Elizabeth
Templeton and felt ashamed of his cynicism. The next moment he
noticed the coast was clear, and obeying an involuntary impulse he
crossed the lawn.

Miss Jacobi welcomed him with a soft, flickering smile, but did not
speak.

"Your court has deserted you, Miss Jacobi?"

"Not entirely," she returned. "Captain Fawcett has gone to fetch me
an ice--it is so hot in the tent--and Mr. Dysart is looking for my
fan; they will be back presently." She spoke in rather a weary tone.

"Why do you stand here?" he remonstrated. "There is a vacant seat
under that acacia, and you will hear the music quite well. There,
let me take you to it; the afternoon is unusually warm, in spite of
the river breeze." Rather to his surprise, she bent her head in
assent, in her queenly way, and he guided her to the cool retreat.

"Will you not sit down too?" she asked in rather a hesitating
manner, but there was no coquetry in her glance. Malcolm shook his
head.

"I must look out for Dysart and the other man," he observed, "or
they will think I have spirited you away. I am not the least tired.
What a pretty scene it is, Miss Jacobi! Look at those children
dancing under the elm trees."

"They seem very happy," was her reply; but there was a sad
expression in her eyes. "Certainly childhood is the happiest time in
one's life. If it could only last for ever!"

"Are you sure you mean what you say?" replied Malcolm in a grave,
argumentative tone. "Remember it is the age of ignorance as well as
innocence; with knowledge comes responsibility and the pains and
penalties of life, nevertheless few of us desire to remain
children."

"I am one of the few," she returned curtly.

"I cannot believe that," and Malcolm smiled; "but I grant you that
the best and highest natures have some-thing of the child in them.
As Mencius says, 'The great man is he who does not lose his child's
heart.'"

Miss Jacobi looked impressed.

"That is well said," she replied softly. "Mr. Herrick, I think your
friend Mr. Templeton is rather like that: he is so young and fresh,
it is delightful to listen to him. He is two-and-twenty, is he not?
and he is such a boy." She laughed an odd, constrained little laugh
as she said this, and added in a curious undertone, "And I am only
nine-and-twenty, and I feel as though I were seventy. See what
responsibilities and the pains and penalties of life do for a
woman!"

It was a strange speech, and a strange flash of the eye accompanied
it; then her tone and manner suddenly changed, as a footstep in
their vicinity reached her ear.

"Saul, were you looking for me?" she said, starting from her seat.
"I was tired, so Mr. Herrick found me this nice shady place. I
suppose it is time for us to go."

"Well, we have a dinner-party on to-night," returned her brother
blandly, "and it will hardly do for the hostess to be late. Wait a
moment, Leah," as she was about to take leave of Malcolm, "I found
Dysart hunting for your fan, so I told him I had it. It cost ten
guineas, you remember," in a meaning tone. Then Miss Jacobi flushed
a little as she took it from his hand.

"I must have dropped it in the tent-there was such a crush," she
murmured. "Good-bye, Mr. Herrick, I am much rested now."

"Good-bye, Herrick," observed Mr. Jacobi in a familiar tone that
grated on Malcolm; "we shall be very glad to see you at Beechcroft
when young Templeton is with us. It is Telemachus and Mentor over
again, is it not?" and here he broke into a little cackling laugh.
"Well, ta-ta. Come along, Leah;" and taking his sister by the arm,
Mr. Jacobi quickly crossed the lawn with her.

"He is a cad if ever a man was," mused Malcolm as he followed them
slowly; "and if I do not mistake there is a touch of the Tartar
about him. She may be a devoted sister, as Mrs. Sinclair observes,
but she is afraid of him all the same."

"What a strange girl she seems," he continued--"woman rather, I
should say; for there is little of the girl about her. Somehow she
interests me, and she puzzles me too. She is so beautiful--why is
she still Miss Jacobi?" He stood still for a minute to ponder over
this mystery; then he walked on very thoughtfully. "I am a bit
bothered about it all--I wish Cedric had never made their
acquaintance;" and Malcolm looked so grave when he rejoined his
friends that Mrs. Godfrey thought he was bored and hastened her
adieux.

Malcolm did not undeceive her, neither did he speak of the Jacobis
again to her; but he made himself very pleasant all that evening,
and the next day he left the Manor House.




CHAPTER XX

A WHITE SUN-BONNET


My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery:
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived.
Aroers

One lovely morning in August, about a fortnight after the garden-
party at Glebelands, Malcolm Herrick sauntered slowly down the
woodland path which the Templetons always called "the lady's mile."
His face was set towards Rotherwood, and in spite of his loitering
pace there was an intent and watchful look in his eyes; but what his
purpose or design might be was best known to himself; for wonderful
and devious are the ways of man, and who can fathom them? Presently
a tempting tangle of honeysuckle attracted him, and he clambered up
the bank in search of it. The bank was dry and slippery, and the
honeysuckle was difficult to reach, but Malcolm was not to be
conquered. He had just caught hold of the branch, when the far-off
click of a gate attracted his attention, and still holding the
branch he peeped cautiously through the brambles.

The next minute a tall, massive young woman in a white sun-bonnet
came into view-actually a white sun-bonnet, such as a milkmaid or
farming wench might have worn; but this was no rustic lass who
walked so briskly through the woodlands--none but Elizabeth
Templeton moved with that free, graceful step, or carried her head
in that queenly fashion.

In his hiding-place Malcolm had a good view of her face. Her eyes
were bright, and she had a soft smile on her lips, as though some
thought pleased her--some dream's dream that seemed fair to her
inward vision.

"Miss Templeton--" then Elizabeth gave a great start, and stood
still and looked up at him. "Wait a moment, please," he continued
hurriedly; "this branch is so tough and my knife is small. There, I
have secured it;" and then, waving the festoon of honeysuckle
triumphantly, he scrambled down the bank and stood beside her.

Elizabeth shook hands with him rather gravely.

"So you have taken up your quarters at the Crow's Nest," she
observed as they walked on together.

"Yes, I came down last evening, and settled in with all my goods and
chattels. I thought I was in the Garden of Eden when I woke this
morning and saw all those pink and white roses nid-nodding their
beautiful heads at me."

"Oh, I remember how the roses clambered into the room," returned
Elizabeth in an interested tone.

"Yes, and the birds seemed as though they wanted to get up a sort of
Handel Festival, only the prima donnas and the big guns were
missing. But there was plenty of twittering and bird chatter--I
think they were settling the solos."

Elizabeth laughed--she was always amused at Mr. Herrick's nonsense.

"I have begun by enjoying myself immensely," he went on. "I have
eaten a record breakfast and smoked two pipes, and now I have picked
all this honeysuckle and met you"--a slight emphasis on the last
word. "To tell you the truth, Miss Templeton"--and here he looked at
her with a pleasant smile--"the meeting was not purely accidental, I
knew it was your morning for the schools."

"And you came to meet me?" Elizabeth's manner stiffened; if Malcolm
had been thin-skinned he might have suspected that she was not quite
pleased at this avowal.

"Yes, I was anxious to meet you." Malcolm spoke with quiet
assurance. "There is something I wanted to tell you--if I had waited
to call at the Wood House this afternoon your sister would have been
with you."

"And it is something you do not wish her to hear?" and Elizabeth's
slight frown vanished.

"Well, I thought it would be better to talk it over with you first.
I have seen the Jacobis, Miss Templeton, and I must confess that I
am not favourably impressed by them."

"Cedric is with them now," exclaimed Elizabeth in rather a
distressed voice. "Dinah heard from him this morning; he is very
happy, having a good old time, as he expresses it. He saw the
Godfreys before they left for Scotland."

"They have gone then--what a pity!" observed Malcolm. Then Elizabeth
looked at him inquiringly.

"You mean on Cedric's account. Yes, I am sorry too. Will you tell me
all you can about the Jacobis?" And then Malcolm, with masculine
brevity and great distinctness, retailed his impressions of the
brother and sister. Elizabeth's face grew grave as she listened.

"Oh, I am sorry!" she exclaimed. "What will poor Dinah say when I
tell her; she is so anxious for Cedric to choose his friends well,
and by your account Mr. Jacobi is certainly not a gentleman."

"I thought perhaps you would keep this to yourself;" but Elizabeth
shook her head.

"I dare not; Cedric is her own boy, and I must hide nothing from
her. There was only one thing I kept to myself, but then Cedric told
it me in the strictest confidence. Mr. Herrick, it is an absurd
question, for Cedric is such a boy--but is not Miss Jacobi likely to
be the attraction? You say she is so handsome."

"I might go farther and say she is a beautiful woman," returned
Malcolm. "But tastes differ, you know; I admire Miss Jacobi as I
should a picture or a statue, but I could not imagine falling in
love with her."

"Indeed! I am rather surprised to hear you say that; I thought you
were a lover of the picturesque." Elizabeth's tone was a little
teasing.

"I do not deny the soft impeachment," replied Malcolm somewhat
seriously; "but moral beauty and the loveliness of a well-balanced
character outweigh, in my estimation, mere outward beauty. Miss
Jacobi is a stranger to me certainly, but in my opinion there is
something complex and mysterious in her personality; there are hard
lines in her face, and her expression is at once cynical and
unhappy. One could pity such a woman," continued Malcolm to himself,
"but one would never, never yearn to take her to one's heart."

Elizabeth looked at him curiously, as though she understood this
unspoken speech; and when she spoke again it was with a new and
added friendliness.

"You are a good judge of character, Mr. Herrick, and I feel I can
rely on your opinion. If only the Godfreys were at the Manor House!"

"You forget that Beechcroft is at Henley," he observed with a smile.
"Oh no, I have not forgotten, but I was thinking that I might have
gone down to spy out the land for myself. Of course it would have
vexed Cedric, but I should have done it all the same. Well, there is
nothing for it but patience. By the bye, Mr. Herrick, we have fixed
the date of the Templeton Bean-feast; Cedric will have to come back
for that."

"Do you think he would care to bring his friends?" he asked in
rather a meaning tone. Then at this daring suggestion Elizabeth's
eyes opened widely. "Do you think that would be wise, that it might
not complicate matters and increase the intimacy?" Elizabeth put
this question with manifest anxiety. "We have no desire to have the
Jacobis on our visiting-list."

"Of course not," was Malcolm's answer, "you know I never meant that;
but it would give you and Miss Templeton an opportunity of studying
them, and it could be managed without difficulty."

"I wish you would tell me how. I suppose we should have to send Miss
Jacobi a card of invitation?"

"No, I think not--at least not at first. Tell Cedric that he may
have carte blanche for his friends, and leave him to follow up the
hint. He will answer by return, and tell you that he has asked the
Jacobis, and then the card can be sent."

"Yes, I see; it is a good idea. I will talk to Dinah, but thank you
all the same for your suggestion. I am quite ashamed of bothering
you about our concerns; I fear we trespass on your good-nature."

"Not at all," returned Malcolm easily. "I was going to ask your
advice about a little protegee of my own;" and then Elizabeth lent a
willing ear while Malcolm, in his best style, told the story of
little Kit.

They had turned in at the gate of the Wood House by this time, and
the dark firs stretched on either side. Elizabeth had taken off her
sun-bonnet, and it dangled from her arm; her eyes were soft with
womanly sympathy; never had the charm of her personality appealed so
strongly to Malcolm, he scarcely dared to look at her for fear she
should discover the truth. "It is too soon, she would not believe
it," he said to himself. But as he talked his voice was strangely
vibrant and full of feeling; and when the sun-bonnet brushed lightly
against him he was conscious that his arm trembled.

But Elizabeth was too much occupied with little Kit to notice
Malcolm's slight discomposure.

"Oh, I am so glad you told me," she said in her eager way. "I really
think I shall be able to help you. There is the dearest old woman in
the village, Mrs. Sullivan. She lives in a pretty cottage quite
close to 'The Plough,' and she was only telling me the other day
that she wished that she had another child to mother. Sometimes my
sister and I have a little East-end waif and stray down for a few
weeks in the summer," continued Elizabeth modestly--"some sick
child, or occasionally some over-burdened worker, and we always
lodge them at Mrs. Sullivan's. It is not much of a place, but we
call it 'The Providence House;' the cottage is really our own
property, and Mrs. Sullivan has it rent-free."

"Do you think that she would take care of Kit?"

"I am sure of it. But, Mr. Herrick, Kit must be our guest, please
remember that. Hush," peremptorily, "I will not hear a word to the
contrary. And there is something else I want to say. Would not Caleb
Martin like to come too? Kit would be strange without him, and there
is plenty of room for them both. Think what a month of this sweet
country air would mean to him after Todmorden's Lane. You must write
to him at once, and tell him to hurry Kit down."

"I think it would be better to go up and speak to him myself to-
morrow morning," returned Malcolm. He spoke rather reluctantly, but
the beaming look of approval that followed this speech rewarded him
for the little sacrifice.

"Now I call that kind," returned Elizabeth warmly. "Very few people
would take so much trouble for a shabby little cobbler and an ailing
child," she thought. "How pleased Dinah will be when she hears about
it."

"The kindness is on your part, Miss Templeton," returned Malcolm.
But he was much gratified by her manner. "If Kit and her father are
to be your guests there is little enough for me to do; when I spoke
to you just now I had quite decided to take lodgings for them at
Rotherwood."

"Kit is my guest," replied Elizabeth obstinately. "Now, will you
come in, Mr. Herrick, and have luncheon with us?" But Malcolm
declined this; he would look in later in the day and pay his
respects to Miss Templeton; and then he lifted his hat and turned
away. Elizabeth stood in the porch and watched him. "He is a good
man," she said softly, "and I like him--I like him very much;" but
she sighed a little heavily as she turned away.

Meanwhile Malcolm was saying to himself in his whimsical way, "It is
my destiny--is it not written in the book of fate? The Parcae
Sisters three have willed it so. Good heavens, what an enigma life
is! Some winged insect whirling in a cyclone would have as much
chance of escaping its doom as a human being under such
circumstances." Then he stopped, and looked with blank, unseeing
eyes down the slanting fir avenue. "It is a mystery," he went on--
"the very mystery of mysteries; the Sphinx is nothing to it. A month
ago we were strangers--I neither knew nor cared that such a person
as Elizabeth Templeton existed; and a week--a little cycle of seven
or eight nights and days--has wrought this wondrous change. Am I the
same man? Is this the solid earth on which I am walking?" And then
he gave an odd sort of laugh, which seemed to hurt him. "My God," he
muttered, "how I love this woman!" and his head was bowed as he
walked on.

The following afternoon, when Malcolm returned from his charitable
errand to Todmorden's Lane, he saw the Keston family grouped on the
shady patch of lawn in the front garden. Verity, who had Babs in her
arms, flew to meet him; but Amias merely waved his pipe and grunted
in an amicable fashion.

"Oh, how tired and dusty you look!" exclaimed Verity, in the pretty,
maternal way that always sat so quaintly on her. "Look at him,
Amias; I do believe he has walked all those miles from Earlsfield."

"Yea-Verily, you are right, child," returned the giant placidly; and
then Verity put down Babs on the grass to sprawl among the daisies.

"Sit down," she said, pushing Malcolm with her tiny hands into a big
hammock chair; "I am going to make you some fresh tea--iced lemonade
is out of the question;" and then she flitted into the house on her
usual errand of "hunting the Snark."

Malcolm was certainly tired; he had been unable to get a fly at
Earlsfield, and the long climb in the heat had rather taken it out
of him, so he was well content to lie back in his lounge and let
Verity wait on him.

"We have had visitors," she observed presently; then Malcolm looked
up quickly.

"The ladies from the Wood House," she continued. "They were here for
quite an hour. You are right, Mr. Herrick, the eldest Miss Templeton
is a perfect darling. Amias was just saying as you turned the corner
that he would like to paint her as a Puritan lady; the dress would
exactly suit her."

"She has a very sweet face," endorsed Amias, "and her manners are
remarkably pleasing. Yea-Verily fell in love with her because she
admired Babs. 'Love me, love my Babs,' don't you know!"

"Don't be a goose, Amias! He was as much pleased as I was, Mr.
Herrick, when Miss Templeton kissed Baby and made much of her; she
said the sweetest things to her, and Babs was so charmed that she
actually put up her face and kissed her of her own accord."

"The other Miss Templeton is a striking-looking woman of rather
uncommon type," observed Amias, blowing away a cloud of smoke rather
lazily. "She made herself very pleasant too, and said all sorts of
civil things."

"I thought her rather formidable at first," annotated Verity, "but I
soon discovered that she was interesting; she is very bright and
original, and we soon got on very nicely together."

"By the bye, Mr. Herrick, they want us all to dine at the Wood House
to-morrow; it is to be a comfortable, informal sort of meal. I told
Miss Templeton that I had no company manners, as I had lived all my
life in Bohemia; and then Miss Elizabeth laughed, and said she was
rather unconventional herself, and that she thought I should exactly
suit them."

"I told you so," responded Malcolm in a low voice. "I suppose there
will be no other guests?"

"Only the Carlyons," returned Verity. "Mr. Carlyon is the curate at
Rotherwood, Miss Templeton told us, and just now his father is
staying with him."

"Oh, Carlyon junior seems always on the premises," replied Malcolm
carelessly; "he is a sort of tame cat. Well, I am off to the Garden
of Eden now." But as he stood by his window the nodding roses turned
their pink cheeks to him in vain, and wasted their sweetness on the
desert air.

"He is always there," he muttered; "one is never free from him.
Perhaps it is her goodness of heart, she is so kind to every one,
and he is her clergyman. Of course it must be that." He frowned and
sighed impatiently; but as he turned away he saw the sprays of
honeysuckle that he had gathered the previous day lay on the window-
sill forgotten and neglected, with all the beautiful creamv blossoms
withered and dead.




CHAPTER XXI

"IF I WERE ONLY LIKE YOU!"


Who, seeking for himself alone, ever entered heaven?
In blessing we are blest.
--C. SEYMOUR.


There is no separation--no Past; Eternity, the Now is
continuous.... The continuity of Now is for ever.
--RICHARD JEFFERIES.