John Keats - "Poems 1817"

GEORGE BERNARD SHAW - "PREFACE TO MAJOR BARBARA: FIRST AID TO CRITICS"

Rudyard Kipling - "The Light That Failed"

Christopher Pierce Cranch - "The Last of the Huggermuggers"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

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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




"Well, Annachen," one of his pet names for her, "what is it, little
woman?" Then her soft hand smoothed his coat-sleeve.

"Malcolm dear, I don't like to ask, but I am sure something has gone
wrong between you and your friends at the Wood House; you have not
once mentioned their name, and there is such a sad, sad look in your
eyes."

Malcolm took the girl's slender wrists and held them firmly.

"Anna, you are my dear little sister, are you not?"

"Oh yes," in a shrinking voice, for he was evidently waiting for an
answer.

"A faithful little sister, who will not misunderstand her brother,
even if he doesn't confide in her?"

"Anna, you are right, and something is troubling me--something that
can never be set straight in this world; but not even to you can I
speak of it." Then she knew, and in her innocent love she would fain
have comforted him.

"I am very sorry--very, very sorry," was all she could find to say.

"I am sorry too," he returned gently, and then he kissed her cheek,
and Anna stole away sadly to her own room. If she shed tears they
were for him, and not for herself. Anna's affection for her adopted
brother was perfectly unconscious and selfless; she never indulged
in unwholesome introspection; she never asked herself why her heart
ached that night, and a sense of loneliness and desolation stole
over her.

Malcolm was unhappy, that was her one thought--things had gone wrong
with him. Oh, if she could only give him his heart's desire! This
wonderful unknown Elizabeth--had she refused him? Was there some one
else? Alas, these questions were not to be answered. She must play
her part of a faithful little sister, who must ask nothing, refuse
nothing.

Malcolm's ordeal was not yet over. When he threw away his cigarette
and went back to the drawing-room, he found his mother alone.

"I thought Anna was with you," he said apologetically, "or I would
not have stayed out there so long. I am afraid I must be going now."

"You have your latch-key," she returned quietly; "sit down a moment,
I want to speak to you, Malcolm. You are not yourself this evening,
something has gone wrong." Again Anna's very words. He was silent.
Why had his womankind such sharp eyes?

"I am a bit flattened out," he acknowledged, "but I shall be all
right in a day or two;" but she passed this by almost
contemptuously.

"Something is troubling you," she continued, "and to judge by your
looks it is no light thing. You have grown thinner, Malcolm."

"Oh, I was always one of the lean kine," he returned lightly; but
she seemed almost affronted at the little joke.

"Does that mean you do not intend to tell me your trouble?" and here
her eyes grew very wistful. "You are my only son, Malcolm;" she
never called him her only child, her adopted daughter was too dear
to her. "Is there anything that I can do to help you?"

"Nothing--nothing," and he kissed her hand gratefully, for her
motherly tone touched his heart. "Mother dear, forgive me if I
cannot speak to you or Anna about this."

"Not even to poor little Anna?"

"No, not even to her. Mother, please do not misunderstand me, or
think me ungrateful, but there are some things of which a man does
not find it easy to speak." Then Mrs. Herrick said no more; she must
bide her time, and until then she could only pray for him.

And up in her pretty room Anna was praying her guileless, innocent
prayers, and watering every petition with her tears.

"How could she--how could she?" she cried more than once; "how could
any woman refuse my dear Malcolm?"

Can such prayers help? Yea--a thousand times yea! Only He who reads
human hearts knows the value of such prayers! When the son--the
brother--the lover--has gone into the battle of life, when his
strength is failing and the Philistines are upon him, it may be that
the pure petition of some loving heart may be as an invisible shield
to withstand the darts of the evil one, or haply that "arrow drawn
at a venture" which else had pierced between the joints of his
armour. "I said little, but I prayed much for you, my son," Mrs.
Herrick once said to Malcolm in after-years when they understood
each other better, and he knew that she spoke the truth.




CHAPTER XXVI

"I SEE LIGHT NOW"


Every man's task is his life-preserver.
--EMERSON.

Life is an opportunity for service.
--DR. WESTCOTT.


It is in the silence that follows the storm, and not in
the silence before it, that we should search for the
budding flower.
--Hindu Proverb.


One gray October afternoon, a fortnight later, Malcolm was walking
down Victoria Street, when he came face to face with Colonel
Godfrey. The Colonel, who was full of business as usual, seemed
unfeignedly pleased at the meeting.

"This is a stroke of good luck!" he exclaimed in his hearty way.
"You are just the man I want, Herrick. I was rather in a fix, and
was going to Victoria for one of those boy messengers; but you will
do my business for me, like a good fellow? Have you anything
particular to do?"

"Nothing special. I was only going to the Army and Navy Stores for
some stationery." Then the Colonel looked still more delighted.

"There, I was sure of it! My wife is in the tea-room at this very
minute expecting me to join her. I should have been punctual to the
minute, only I came across Erskine of ours; he wants my advice about
a mare he is thinking of buying, and he was so pressing that I felt
I must send Catherine a message."

"And I am to do the job for you? All right: Barkis is willin'." And
then they both laughed at the familiar words, for Colonel Godfrey
loved and studied his Dickens as some men study their classics.

"Tell her to be at the entrance at a quarter to six, and I will be
there. Well, I must be off, Erskine will be waiting for me." And the
Colonel saluted Malcolm and marched off with his head in the air,
while more than one fashionable lounger turned round to look at the
fine soldierly figure.

At this hour the refreshment-rooms at the Army and Navy Stores were
generally crowded, and for two or three minutes Malcolm searched
them vainly, before he discovered Mrs. Godfrey sitting alone at a
table at the other end of the long room.

She gave an exclamation when she saw him. "Life is full of
surprises," she said with the bright, vivid smile that always
welcomed her favourite--"Alick promised to join me here!" And
Malcolm sat down beside her and gave her the Colonel's message.

Mrs. Godfrey was evidently well used to these messages, for she
received it with becoming resignation.

"I have ten minutes to spare," she observed serenely, "so you had
better order yourself some tea, and we can tell each other our news.
By the bye, how long have you been in town?" And when Malcolm told
her nearly a month, she seemed surprised.

"I made up my mind you were still at Staplegrove," she replied;
"though, now I come to think of it, there has certainly been no
mention of you in Elizabeth's last two letters. By the bye," turning
to him with her customary quickness--but Malcolm was just then
studying the menu--"what do you think of this engagement?"

"I think it is for me to put the question to you," he returned with
admirable sang-froid; but one hand clenched itself so tightly under
the table that the marks of the nails were in the palm.

"Then I may as well be frank and tell you that I would forbid the
banns if I could. Elizabeth ought to have married better--she is far
too fine a creature to throw herself away on David Carlyon."

"He is a very good fellow," observed Malcolm rather feebly; it was
hard lines that he should be expected to discuss this.

"Oh yes, he is a good fellow," a little contemptuously. "I remember
I liked him very well when we were down at the Wood House this
spring; there is nothing to say against the young man, he is as good
as gold, and an excellent clergyman; and he is gentlemanly too--both
the Carlyons are that; but," very decidedly, "he is not good enough
for Elizabeth."

Malcolm agreed with every word, but he dared not trust himself to
say so; he waited a moment, and then said quietly--

"It seems that Miss Templeton holds a different opinion; she appears
quite satisfied with her choice."

"Satisfied"--and here Mrs. Godfrey gave a little laugh. "To judge
from her letters--and we have been corresponding pretty freely
lately--one would think she was a girl in her teens; she is absurdly
happy--even Dinah says so. But between you and me I don't believe
Dinah is a bit better pleased than the rest of us."

"What does the Colonel think?" asked Malcolm, feeling as though he
ought to say something.

"Oh, Alick always agrees with me, though he expresses his ideas
rather differently. He took quite a fancy to Mr. Carlyon, and they
were always together last spring; so of course he will not say much-
-only he will have it that he is not big enough or strong enough for
Elizabeth. 'She will master him, and make him look small,' that was
what Alick said. They are not to be married until Easter, I hear,
and Dinah wishes them to live at the Wood House."

Malcolm had never felt anything like the sudden throb of pain that
shot through him when Mrs. Godfrey said this; he grew so pale that
she rose hastily, thinking the room was too hot for him.

"Shall we go downstairs?" she said kindly; "the atmosphere of this
place is quite suffocating." And Malcolm agreed to this; he was just
thinking that he would make some excuse to leave her, when to his
chagrin she led the way to the little waiting-place by the entrance,
and, seating herself, beckoned to him to follow her example. "There
is something I ought to tell you," she said rather seriously; "it is
nice and quiet here, and there is plenty of fresh air. You are not
looking the thing, Mr. Herrick; you are thinner--much thinner; I am
afraid you have been working too hard."

"Oh, no, I cannot lay that flattering unction to my soul," he
returned. "Is this what you have to tell me? for in that case I must
remark that I have about a ton of stationery on my mind."

"No, do be quiet a moment," and her faultlessly gloved hand rested
on his arm. "There is really something I want to say. You know we
saw Cedric when he was staying at Fettercairn?" Malcolm's forced
rigidity relaxed.

"Oh, yes, Cedric told me that in one of his letters."

"The Wallaces are nice people, and in our cramped quarters the Hall
was rather a find. Sir Richard and my husband took to each other,
and Lady Wallace and I followed suit."

"That must have been a pleasant sort of arrangement," observed
Malcolm.

"I liked the girls too, they were so honestly, frankly ugly; and
they were so good-natured, and so delightfully aware of their
shortcomings, that they were quite refreshing. Fancy Martha, the
eldest girl, saying to me seriously, 'Dick is the only one who takes
after mother and father; he is really nice-looking, you know, but
Ailie and I are a couple of squat little toads. Now, please don't
laugh, Mrs. Godfrey,' she went on, 'for we are very fond of toads,
and they have such bright, projecting eyes.' What on earth could I
say! for indeed poor Martha is almost grotesque-looking, and yet one
can't help loving her. I know I had a fit of laughing, and both of
them laughed with me."

"Cedric always said they were good sort of girls."

"Cedric--oh, he is their hero. By the bye, Mr. Herrick, did you know
the Jacobis were staying a mile and a half from Fettercairn? Ah I
thought so"--as Malcolm started and frowned--"I was sure that bad
boy never let any of you know."

"Were they there all the time?"

"Yes, they all travelled together. Mr. Jacobi had taken the cottage
they call Shepherd's Hut, because at one time Sir Richard's shepherd
lived there; but a room or two has been added, and people take it
for the fishing. Alick rather thought of it himself, only the rooms
are so small, and one of the chimneys smoked; we were far more
comfortable at the shooting-lodge."

"I suppose Miss Jacobi was there too?"

"Of course she was there," in a significant tone, "and Cedric and
Dick Wallace spent most of their time with them. I believe they
fished, and wandered over the moors, and when they were not at
Shepherd's Hut the Jacobis were at the Hall. Mr. Herrick, I am
afraid--I am really afraid that that foolish boy Cedric is head over
ears in love with Leah Jacobi."

"It looks rather shady," acknowledged Malcolm; "he is not the sort
of fellow to keep things to himself." Then with a sudden change of
tone--"Did you tell his sisters?"

"I just mentioned the fact of their being there; and then
Elizabeth's engagement occupied my attention. Young Dick was half in
love too. Miss Jacobi is really very handsome, but, as Alick says,
she ought to marry a man at least ten years older."

"My dear lady, she will never marry Cedric; she is only fooling him
a bit."

"Don't be too sure of that," returned Mrs. Godfrey quietly; "you
know I am rather observant, and it struck me more than once that Mr.
Jacobi was playing a double game. He seemed at one time to take a
great deal of notice of Dick Wallace, and Cedric was rather shunted.
But one Sunday afternoon, when Mr. Jacobi and Sir Richard had been
having a long walk together, he suddenly changed, and Cedric was in
favour again."

"I am afraid I don't quite follow you," returned Malcolm, who
certainly did not understand what she meant to convey to him.

Mrs. Godfrey arched her eyebrows in surprise.

"My dear friend, you are not generally so dense. Don't you see the
poor man had never heard of the existence of Ralph Wallace, and so
he thought Master Dick was heir to the baronetcy--voila, tout."

"Oh, I see light now."

"Sir Richard, who is immensely proud of his eldest son, entertained
his companion with graphic descriptions of Ralph, Mrs. Ralph, and
all the Ralph olive branches; and of course Mr. Jacobi was immensely
interested. But he was rather cool to poor Dick that evening, and
now Cedric is in the ascendant again."

Malcolm reflected for a moment; then he said in rather a puzzled
tone--

"Of course I see my bearings now, but all the same I am not out of
the fog. At the garden-party at the Wood House Jacobi was evidently
fishing for information; but he got precious little, I can tell you.
But I remember he seemed to know far more than I did about the
Templetons"--here Malcolm's voice unconsciously changed; "he even
told me about the tin mine that had been discovered on a Cornish
farm that belonged to them."

"I wonder where he got his information," observed Mrs. Godfrey
thoughtfully. "But he was quite correct. Mr. Templeton was not a
rich man by any means; he was just a country squire, with a moderate
income, which his first wife brought him, and of course her money
was left to her daughters. Cedric is absolutely dependent on his
sisters."

"Oh, Jacobi quite understands that."

"So much the better. Well, then, three or four years ago this mine
was discovered, and that beggarly little farm has brought them quite
a fortune. Elizabeth told me that their income was nearly doubled."

"Oh, then Jacobi was right when he said they were rich." And then
Malcolm smiled bitterly as he remembered the two maiden ladies of
uncertain age.

"Of course he was right. Dinah was talking to me on this very
subject last May. She said then that she felt that Elizabeth would
marry, and that in that case she would like her to have the Wood
House. Of course, I am telling you this in confidence. 'Cedric will
be my heir,' she continued; 'but I do not wish him to know this at
present. It will be better for him to work, and not eat the bread of
idleness;' and of course I approved of this. Now, Mr. Herrick, I
must not wait a moment longer. Why do you not come down to the Manor
House for a quiet Sunday?" But Malcolm excused himself. He was busy;
he had been away so much, he could not take any more holidays, and
so on. Mrs. Godfrey looked as though she hardly believed him.

"It would do you good," she persisted, looking at him very kindly.
"This week we have a young American coming to us for two or three
nights--Hugh Rossiter, the famous bear-hunter. I have often
mentioned him to you. Alick is devoted to him; he says of all the
acute Yankees he is the acutest, and that he could see through any
number of brick walls. No, I will not ask you to meet him. Bears are
not in your line. Come the week after." But Malcolm shook his head.

Much as he valued his friends, and dearly as he loved to be with
them, the Manor House was the last place for him just then.
Elizabeth's name would be frequently mentioned, and there would be
constant references to the Wood House, and he fancied that at some
unguarded moment he might betray himself. At present Mrs. Godfrey
had no suspicion. She very naturally attributed his jaded looks to
overwork, and he had been able to mask his feelings, except at that
one dreadful moment. When she spoke of the intended marriage the
sudden sickening pain at his heart told him that he could not trust
himself. As he walked towards the station, when he had done his
business, he pondered over all Mrs. Godfrey had told him.

Was it possible that the sisters had known all these weeks that
Cedric had been thrown into daily and hourly contact with Leah
Jacobi and her brother? Was it likely that Cedric had told them that
there was even such a place as Shepherd's Hut?

Perhaps he did not mean to wilfully deceive them. Very probably he
had his excuse ready. Malcolm could almost hear his words. "I said
nothing about the Jacobis because I knew your prejudice, and I did
not want to fluster you. I thought Mrs. Godfrey would spin her yarn,
and I left it to her. It was not my fault if the Wallaces took to
them, and that they were often up at Fettercairn." Some such words
Cedric would say when he saw his sisters.

What a blessing term had begun and he was back at Oxford! He was
safe from the Jacobis there. They would be in town probably; and
then the fancy came into his head that he would find that out for
himself before he went home. His evening hours always hung heavily
on his hands, and a walk more or less would not hurt him, That was
the best of living with Bohemians. No one questioned his movements,
or took it amiss if he were an hour or two late for meals.

He knew where the Jacobis lived--Cedric had told him--at 12 Gresham
Gardens; so he went on to Queen's Road by train.

It was quite dark by that time, but he would just pass by the house
and see if it were lighted up. His curiosity to know if they were
there rather surprised himself. When he came in sight of No. 12 the
door opened, and, unwilling to be seen, he stole into the portico of
the next house, which was dark and uninhabited, and waited there for
a moment.

He could hear Saul Jacobi's voice distinctly, smooth and unctuous as
usual, and Leah's deep, flute-like tones chiming in. Somebody, a
young man he guessed, was answering her. "You will not be late on
Monday. I always like to be in good time for a new piece."

"That is so like a woman," interrupted her brother in a jeering
voice. "Don't attend to her, old fellow; we have seats in the
stalls, and you can please yourself."

"You bet, I always do that!" was the answer, in a slightly nasal
tone. "Ta-ta, Jacobi;" and then a muscular, active-looking young man
ran down the steps. Malcolm had just a glimpse of a lean brown face
and deeply-set eyes, and then the door closed.

"Another string to the Jacobi bow," he thought as he followed him
slowly. "I wonder how many he has." And then, as he walked back to
the station, he made up his mind that as soon as possible he would
run down to Oxford and have a talk with Cedric. "I think I could
manage it on Friday or Saturday," he thought. "I should soon find
out for myself if those people have done him any mischief."

Malcolm felt his conscience easier when he had planned this. Mrs.
Godfrey had really made him very anxious about the boy. That evening
he was less self-centred; the conversation had roused him; it gave
him a dreary sort of satisfaction to know that there was still
something that he could do for her.

He ate his supper with something of his old appetite, and the next
evening he went to Queen's Gate and made himself very pleasant to
his mother and Anna. "I think I shall run down to Oxford to-morrow
or the next day," he said casually as he bade them good-night, "and
look up Cedric Templeton," and he was still in the same mind when he
woke the next morning. He would go to Lincoln's Inn and open his
letters and see if he could get away that afternoon. But as he
entered his chambers Malachi handed him a telegram that had just
come. It was from the Manor House. "Please come at once. Hugh
Rossiter here. Important news about Jacobi.--GODFREY."




CHAPTER XXVII

HUGH ROSSITER SPINS HIS YARN

Speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.
--Othello.


The reward of one duty is the power to fulfil another.
--GEORGE ELIOT.


Malcolm read the telegram twice. Then he took up his time-table. A
quarter of an hour later he was in a hansom on his way to the
station. With all his impracticable fads and fancies, he was not one
to let the grass grow under his feet. It was quite early, barely
noon, when he walked up the hill leading to the Manor House;
nevertheless Mrs. Godfrey was evidently on the watch for him.

"Good man," she said approvingly; "I knew you would not fail me;"
and then she led him into the morning room, her own special sanctum,
which opened into her husband's study.

Colonel Godfrey always called it his study, though it may be doubted
if he ever studied anything but his Times, Spectator, and his three
favourite authors, Thackeray, Dickens, and Kingsley; but his wife
was a great reader, and there were few modern books that she could
not discuss and criticise.

"And now, my dear lady, what is wrong?" asked Malcolm. He spoke with
the coolness of the well-bred Englishman, who refuses to give
himself away. In reality the telegram had made him very anxious--his
old friend would not have summoned him without a good reason; but
this was not apparent in his manner.

"Wrong!" she replied; "I think everything is wrong. Mr. Rossiter has
been making us so uncomfortable; by his account Mr. Jacobi is a mere
vulgar adventurer, if not worse."

"And Mr. Rossiter knows him?"

"Yes, in a sort of way. Miss Jacobi is evidently the attraction
there. As he says himself, he knocks up against lots of shady
characters in his nomadic existence. But you must question him
yourself. It was Alick who made me send you the telegram, as Mr.
Rossiter goes back to town this evening."

"You were quite right to send for me," returned Malcolm, and then he
followed her into a pleasant room with a bay window overlooking the
front drive.

Malcolm gave a slight start of recognition when he saw the American.
It was not the first time he had seen the lean brown face and deep-
set eyes, but he kept this to himself. In spite of his nasal twang
and a little surface roughness, Hugh Rossiter was decidedly a
gentleman: the mere fact of his presence at the Manor House was a
sufficient proof of this. But he was evidently a very eccentric and
unconventional being. In age he was about seven-and-thirty.

Malcolm, who felt his position was somewhat delicate, hardly knew
how to begin the conversation; but Colonel Godfrey soon put things
on a comfortable footing.

"Look here, Rossiter," he said frankly, "we are all friends here,
and you may speak out. Mr. Herrick is very much interested in this
young fellow, Cedric Templeton, and acts as a sort of guide,
philosopher, and friend to him. He has always put his foot down as
far as the Jacobis were concerned; he and my wife were dead against
them."

"I never believed in the man," observed Malcolm; "there was no ring
of true metal about him."

"You are about right there," returned the American; "but I have come
across worse fellows than Saul Jacobi. He is a clever chap--about as
cute as they make 'em, and knows a trick or two; he is not too nice,
does not stick at trifles, and the almighty dollar is his only
deity."

"Do you mind telling my friend Herrick all you said to us?" asked
Colonel Godfrey.

"Not the least, if you have a taste for chestnuts," and Hugh
Rossiter laughed in a genial way. "I owe you a good turn, Colonel--"
but here Colonel Godfrey held up a warning hand. "Well, I suppose I
must spare your blushes, so I will take up my parable."

"May I ask you one question first?" interrupted Malcolm. "How long
have you known these people?"

"About six or seven years, I should say," was the answer. "Jacobi
was a billiard-marker in San Francisco when I first came across his
trail, and his sister had just married an Italian count."

"Married! Leah Jacobi married! What on earth do you mean?"

"That's so," returned the American coolly. "Count Antonio Ferrari--
that was the name; a hoary old sinner with a pedigree that nearly
reached to Adam, and as rich and miserly as Shylock. He bid high for
the girl, I can tell you that, but I believe our friend Saul had a
tough job to get her to marry him."