Pencho Slaveykov - "Olaf van Geldern"

T.S. Arthur - "The Iron Rule"

John Lothrop Motley - "History of the United Netherlands, 1587"

Unknown - "The Koran (without footnotes)"

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




"He is a greater brute than I thought him," returned Malcolm in a
disgusted tone. "That poor girl!" Then Hugh Rossiter looked grave.

"It was a bit rough on her, but Jacobi was in Queer Street just
then, and the old fellow gave him a helping hand."

"Jacobi is an Italian Jew, is he not?" Mr. Rossiter nodded.

"Yes, his father was an artist model in Rome--a fine-looking old
fellow, I believe--and his mother sold flowers in the market. Some
one told me she had been a model too, and that they were rather a
shady couple; but peace to their manes! They have joined the
majority long ago."

"And Saul Jacobi was a billiard-marker?"

"Yes, till they turned him out; and then he became valet to a young
millionaire who had more dollars than brains. I was shooting
grizzlies in the Rockies then, and did not come across him again
until eighteen months ago. The millionaire was dead then; he never
had any constitution worth mentioning, and he was evidently
graduating for the idiot asylum. You bet, he would have taken a
first class there, for he had fits, poor beggar; so it was a mercy
that he went where the good niggers go."

"May I ask where you met Jacobi, Mr. Rossiter?"

"To be sure you may, and I have no objection to answer. It was the
Hotel de Belleville at Paris. He was sitting opposite to me at
table-d'hote, and his clothes were so new and glossy that I
contemplated them with admiration, not unmixed with awe. He had a
valuable ring on his finger, and a superb orchid in his buttonhole,
and looked like a millionaire himself; things had improved with him,
and the billiard-marker and valet were safely shunted. Miss Jacobi
was with him"--and here Hugh paused a moment--"and she was handsomer
than ever."

"Miss Jacobi--I suppose you mean the Contessa Ferrari?"

"No, Mr. Herrick, the marriage had worked badly. Count Antonio was
an infernal brute--excuse my strong language. After a few months his
behaviour was so atrocious that the poor thing left him and fled to
her brother for protection. It would have been difficult, nay
impossible, for her to obtain a divorce. Count Antonio was a wily
old rascal, and he had too much influence at court. There had been
no proper settlements; he had cheated them all through. Some people
say he was mad, that his father had been in a lunatic asylum; but
when he died he left all his money to charitable institutions."

"When did he die?"

Hugh Rossiter hesitated a moment. "Some time in September--I do not
know the exact date. But he had been failing for months. I know a
cousin of his, Count Orsino, and he was asking me what had become of
the woman he married; but I did not give him much information."

"But why does she call herself Miss Jacobi when she is really the
Contessa Ferrari?"

"Oh, that is just her craze. I believe she was a bit queer and
unhinged when Jacobi got her back. Anyhow, he was obliged to pacify
her a bit. She threw away her wedding-ring and never again alluded
to her wretched marriage, and he is obliged to give in to her. I
believe Jacobi was properly frightened that time. When I saw them in
Paris Jacobi had just had a run of good luck. It is my private
opinion he gambles. I once lost a good bit of money to him; but a
burnt child dreads the fire--eh, Colonel? No more baccarat for me."

"And Miss Jacobi seemed in fairly good spirits?"

"Yes," hesitatingly; "but I fancied she had a fit of the blues
sometimes, as though Count Antonio's ghost haunted her--oh, by the
bye, he was still in the land of the living then. She and Jacobi
seemed good friends, though she was evidently afraid of him. He told
me one day, when he had been rather too free with the Burgundy, that
she was in his way; that he wanted her to marry, and that he
intended marrying himself; but he had promised her that her next
husband should be young and an Englishman. I remember that this
greatly surprised me. 'I understood that Count Antonio was living,'
I observed; but Jacobi only winked at me in a stupid sort of way.
'Oh, we know all about that, my boy, but the gout will soon finish
him; and there is no hurry--Leah is not thirty yet, and she is
handsomer than she ever was in her life;' and he filled himself
another bumper."

Malcolm was silent. Hugh Rossiter had apparently finished his
recital, for he took up his meerschaum and polished it tenderly, an
action that was full of suggestion. But Colonel Godfrey put his hand
on his arm.

"One moment, my dear fellow, and then we will go out and have a
smoke before luncheon. I can see Herrick has something else to ask
you. Hurry up, my boy, or our friend here will lose patience."

"I shall be sorry to tax Mr. Rossiter's patience," replied Malcolm;
"but I hope he will be good enough to satisfy me on one point. Is it
your opinion," turning to him, "that Saul Jacobi and his sister have
any designs on my friend Cedric Templeton?"

Hugh Rossiter opened his eyes rather widely at this. "Well, I
suppose so--at least, Jacobi means her to marry him. Whew," with a
droll gesture, "this is getting a trifle hot--you will be telling me
next that you did not know they are engaged."

"Engaged! My good sir, excuse me, but this is no joke."

Mrs. Godfrey's face grew anxious. "You never told us that, Mr.
Rossiter," she said rather reproachfully.

"I am not sure that I should have let the cat out of the bag now,"
he replied with a laugh, "if Mr. Herrick had not asked such a direct
question. I am not one for meddling in other folks' business; but as
this seems a grave matter, and my friend Saul is evidently playing
the dark horse, I will tell you the little I know."

"I shall be obliged to you if you will do so," returned Malcolm, and
Hugh Rossiter nodded good-humouredly.

"Well, then, I was dining at Gresham Gardens about a fortnight ago,
and Jacobi told me in the course of conversation that his sister had
never been to Oxford, and that they meant to run down for a day or
two, and that a friend of theirs had offered to be showman and pilot
them about the place."

Malcolm muttered something, and Mr. Rossiter stopped and looked at
him inquiringly; but as he remained silent he resumed his narrative.

"They put up at the 'Ranelagh,' and had a good old time, and I
believe, from a word Jacobi dropped, that the job was done then. I
wanted to congratulate the lady, but Jacobi said that would do later
on; his sister wished the engagement to be kept quiet, she had not
been a widow for many weeks, and so on; so of course I took my cue.
I am bound to say that Miss Jacobi seemed in unusually good
spirits."

"And this is all you have to tell me?" asked Malcolm hurriedly.

"Well, now, I call that ungrateful, Colonel," with a droll look at
his host; "here I have been talking myself dry for the last hour."

"And I am infinitely obliged to you," returned Malcolm, trying to
smile. "The question is what are we to do next--there seems no time
to be lost." And then, before any one could speak, he added, "I
think it would be best for me to go down to Oxford at once." And as
they all agreed that this would be the wisest course to pursue,
Malcolm settled to go down by an early afternoon train.

They went out on the terrace after this, and Hugh Rossiter
entertained them with a description of his adventures in Colorado,
to which Malcolm listened some-what absently; but once, when Colonel
Godfrey had left them for a moment together, the American broke off
his story rather suddenly.

"Look here, Mr. Herrick," he said quickly, "I want to give you a
straight tip. If the youngster will not listen to reason, and you
find yourself in a fix, just talk to the girl herself."

"To Miss Jacobi?" for he was naturally surprised at this piece of
advice.

"Yes, to the fair Leah herself. Oh, the girl is not so bad,
considering her antecedents and the way she has been educated. Think
of her own flesh and blood selling her to that son of Belial! Old
Beelzebub, I call him. No wonder she got a bit queer. Jacobi knows
how to manage her: she is fond of him, but she is afraid of him too.
You will have to get her alone, remember that."

"Oh, that's the difficulty. Besides, I am not on visiting terms with
the Jacobis."

"My good sir, what does that matter! I am to give you a straight
tip, am I not? Well, then, to the best of my knowledge Miss Jacobi
is in Kensington Gardens soon after ten every morning. She takes the
dog for an airing before her brother is up. Saul is a lazy beast,"
continued Hugh Rossiter, "and is seldom down before mid-day. He
takes his beauty sleep when the rest of the world is at work."

Malcolm thanked Mr. Rossiter cordially for this advice, and then the
Colonel came back to them; but as they walked back to the house he
stole more than one glance at the young American. The thin brown
face was both intelligent and sagacious, and there was a keen,
searching look in the brown eyes.

Why was this stranger so anxious to help him, he wondered. Was it
mere good-humour and a wish to please, or had he any private reason
of his own for desiring to break off this engagement? Had Leah
Jacobi's strange beauty ensnared him too? He seemed to know her
habits as though he were a constant visitor in Gresham Gardens. But
his cool, impassive manner gave no clue to his feelings, and at this
stage of the proceedings Malcolm was not to be enlightened. They
parted in the friendliest manner. "Good luck to you, Mr. Herrick,"
he said cordially; "don't forget my straight tip."

Mrs. Godfrey walked with Malcolm to the station. She wanted a few
last words, she said, and her mankind had had their innings.

"There is one thing you must do, if Cedric refuses to listen to
reason," she said very seriously to him; "you must go down to
Staplegrove and tell his sisters every-thing."

"I suppose I must," he returned; but he spoke under his breath, for
this new duty filled him with dismay. He had shaken off the dust of
Staplegrove, as he believed, for ever, and the thought that he must
stand face to face with Elizabeth again turned him giddy. "I suppose
in that case I must do it," he went on. His hesitating manner made
Mrs. Godfrey look at him.

"It is the only thing to be done," she repeated firmly. "You must
see them both and tell them all Hugh Rossiter said. Dinah will be
very much upset, but Elizabeth never loses her wits; she will grasp
everything in a minute--Elizabeth has such a clear head, and she
never muddles things--and then you can hold a friendly council."

"Of course I will do what I can to help them," he replied quietly,
for he had been fully aware of Mrs. Godfrey's look; but as he sat in
the first-class compartment he told himself with some irritation
that his position was a cruel one.

"It is Carlyon who ought to be the family adviser now," he thought.
"If I could only wash my hands of this business! What a fool Cedric
is to get himself into this mess. Good lack, to think he has fallen
among thieves for the second time! The young jackanapes seems to
have a natural affinity for sharpers and swindlers. That infernal
cad Jacobi!" and here Malcolm boiled with impotent wrath as he
thought of that dastardly conspiracy to entrap a young and innocent
girl. "I should like to horsewhip him," he went on; "how is one to
keep one's hands off such a fellow! He may be a dark horse, as
Rossiter says, but he will have to reckon with me." And Malcolm
straightened his shoulders with quite a martial air, as though he
were ready to fight to the death.




CHAPTER XXVIII

"THE LADY CALLING HERSELF MISS JACOBI"


Master, master! news, old news, and such news as you never
heard of!--Taming of the Shrew.

The first and worst of all frauds is to cheat oneself.--BAILEY,
Festus.


Malcolm had telegraphed to Verity to pack his Gladstone bag and send
it by special messenger to Paddington. Verity, who was accustomed to
these commissions, had fulfilled her orders with neatness and
despatch, and he found it waiting for him on his arrival at the
station. It was nearly half-past six when the spires and pinnacles
of the old collegiate city came in sight, so he drove straight to
the "Randolph," ordered his room, then dined and refreshed himself
after his journey; and it was not until after eight that he went
across to St. John's and found his way to Cedric's rooms.

Cedric's sisters had taken great pride and pleasure in furnishing
them, and they were the envy of all his friends. A rather impatient
"Come in," answered Malcolm's knock.

Cedric was at his writing-table, but he was evidently not at work.
He gave a surprised exclamation when he saw his visitor's face; but
Malcolm at once perceived that he was not welcome. Cedric frowned
slightly and closed his blotting-case, but not before Malcolm's
sharp eyes had caught sight of a cabinet photograph of Leah Jacobi.

"What on earth has brought you to Oxford?" asked Cedric in rather an
uneasy tone. "I thought it was one of our fellows, and was just
swearing to myself for forgetting to sport the oak. I suppose you
are staying with Dr. Medcalf as usual?"

"No, I had no time to let him know; I am sleeping at the
'Randolph,'" returned Malcolm quietly. "I am sorry to interrupt you,
my boy," with another glance at the blotting-case; "but I have only
a few hours, so I have no time to lose. May I take this comfortable
chair?"--sinking into it as he spoke. "I have just dined, so we
might as well smoke a friendly weed together."

"You can help yourself--there are some excellent cigars in that
drawer--but I do not feel like smoking myself." Cedric spoke rather
sulkily and with none of his accustomed amiability. "Shall I give
you some whiskey and soda?" But Malcolm refused this refreshment--no
man was more abstemious than he.

"If you want to finish your letter I can look at the paper for half
an hour;" but this suggestion seemed only to irritate Cedric.

"Oh, there is no hurry," he returned hastily; "I could not write a
sentence decently, feeling you were waiting for me to finish. Well,"
struggling with his ill-humour, "what have you been doing with
yourself since you left Staplegrove? You look rather seedy and a bit
pale about the gills--do you and the giant smoke too much?"

"Oh, I am well enough," replied Malcolm hurriedly. "If we come to
that, you have rather a weedy appearance yourself;" for Cedric
looked decidedly thinner, and his eyes were almost unnaturally
bright. He seemed older, too, and changed in some undefinable way;
but he had never looked handsomer. Malcolm forgot his own troubles
in his anxiety to prevent his protege falling into the hands of the
adventurer, Saul Jacobi. For the moment his own soul seemed to yearn
over the boy who was his sisters' darling and the object of their
thoughts and prayers.

"Look here, old fellow," he went on, as Cedric seemed relapsing into
moody silence, "there is no use beating about the bush. I have come
down to-night to have a talk with you, because a report has reached
my ears. Is it true that you have been mad enough to engage yourself
to the lady calling herself Miss Jacobi?" Then Cedric flushed up,
and his eyes blazed with anger.

"May I ask if the report be true?" went on Malcolm, taking no notice
of Cedric's fiery looks.

"I object to the manner in which you frame your question," returned
Cedric proudly. Strange to say, at that moment he reminded Malcolm
of Elizabeth. "Granted that such a report were true, I fail to see
where the madness comes in. Any man might consider himself fortunate
in winning the affections of a woman like Leah Jacobi."

"And you are engaged to her? Speak out, man; I suppose you don't
intend to keep your engagement dark?"

"Of course not," angrily; but Cedric's manner was decidedly
embarrassed, and he seemed unwilling to look Malcolm in the face.
"But I must tell you, Herrick, that I strongly object to the way you
are questioning me. I don't want to quarrel with you, but what the
deuce can it matter to you if I choose to keep my private affairs to
myself for a week or two! I have reasons of my own for not wishing
my sisters to hear of my engagement for a fortnight or so. I--I,"
hesitating and floundering in his sentence, "meant to tell them
myself, and to introduce Leah to them. It is a confounded shame,"
lashing himself up to great wrath, "that it should have leaked out
in this underhand fashion. May I ask how you got your information?"

Malcolm considered for a moment; then he made up his mind that it
was best to be perfectly open.

"I had it from a man who knows the Jacobis. His name is Hugh
Rossiter. He is a friend of the Godfreys."

Cedric started. "I had quite forgotten that," he muttered; "the
fat's in the fire with a vengeance." Then aloud, "Why, the fellow's
in love with Leah himself. He made up to her, only Jacobi would not
hear of it. He said he could not bear the idea of the roving,
uncomfortable life she would have to lead as his wife."

"Mr. Rossiter is not well off, is he?" asked Malcolm tentatively.
Then Cedric looked at him as if he suspected some arriere pensee.

"No, he has lost a good bit of money lately--invested it in some
rotten concern or other. Jacobi says he can't afford to have a
wife."

"I should have thought he would have said the same of you," rather
pointedly. "He must be aware that you have only an allowance from
your sisters?" And at this plain speaking Cedric reddened again with
annoyance.

"I suppose I shall have a profession some day," he returned with a
lordly air; "and as my sisters are rich, and Dinah is certainly not
likely to marry, I think I may safely count on a pretty handsome
allowance."

"If you marry in accordance with your sister's wish, I should think
you are right," returned Malcolm coolly. "My dear fellow, would it
not have been as well to find this out before you pledged yourself
to the lady?"

"There was no necessity for that," replied Cedric; "Jacobi seemed
quite satisfied with my prospects. He is not a bit grasping. He told
me that he wished his sister to marry a gentleman; that he had been
to the Wood House and seen my sisters, and he was quite willing to
give his sanction to the engagement; and as Leah and I understood
each other perfectly, I had no difficulty with her. Why don't you
congratulate me, Herrick," exclaimed the lad excitedly, "instead of
badgering and cross-examining me like an Old Bailey witness? I am
the happiest fellow in existence! Leah's a darling--there is not
such a woman in the world!"

"Is there not?" returned Malcolm quietly. His face looked a little
haggard as he spoke, and there was a wistful, pining look in his
eyes. Oh, why was the boy so like Elizabeth? There was no real
similarity--it was only a trick of expression, a turn of the head, a
sudden impulsive movement that recalled her. "May I ask one more
question, old fellow? Is it by your own or Mr. Jacobi's wish that
the engagement is kept a secret?" But Cedric refused to answer this.
He said with a good deal of dignity that there were limits to
everything. He had a great respect for Herrick, and always looked
upon him as his best friend, but he must excuse him answering this.

"Well--well, we will talk of that again," returned Malcolm; but in
his own mind he was certain that Saul Jacobi had his own reasons for
preventing the news of Cedric's engagement from reaching his
sisters' ears. "There is another question I must ask you. Why do you
call your fiancee Miss Jacobi?"

Cedric stared at him.

"I suppose because it is her name," he replied rather impatiently.
"What a fellow you are, Herrick! I think your wits must be wool-
gathering."

"Oh dear, nothing of the kind; I am not mad, most noble Felix, but
in my sane, sober senses. I am quite aware the lady you wish to
marry was at one time Leah Jacobi, but her married name is the
Countess Antonio Ferrari."

"What!" exclaimed Cedric, springing to his feet; but he added
something rather stronger. "Confound you, Herrick, what do you mean
by talking such infernal rot?"

"Sit down," returned Malcolm calmly; "I can't talk while you are
walking to and fro like the old gentleman. My dear boy, I am sorry
to give you this shock, but do you actually mean to tell me that you
do not know, that Leah Jacobi is a widow--that neither she nor her
brother have informed you of her previous marriage?"

"No," broke from Cedric's lips; he seemed quite stunned. Then he
exclaimed indignantly, "But it is a lie--a cursed lie!"

"You would hardly dare to say that to Hugh Rossiter's face, Cedric,"
returned Malcolm somewhat sternly. "He was my informant; he knew the
Jacobis when Saul Jacobi was a billiard-marker in San Francisco, and
his sister living with her husband in Verona. You have been badly
treated, my dear boy--how badly you little know. You have been
encouraged to make love to a married woman. When you were at
Fettercairn, Count Antonio was still alive; he only died last
month."

Cedric seemed too dazed to take it in. He got up from his chair, in
spite of his friend's remonstrance, and began to pace the room
again. "Impossible," he muttered; "I will not believe it. She knew
then that I loved her, and she promised to marry me if Saul gave his
consent. For some reason he seemed to hold off a bit, but we were as
good as engaged then."

"Ah, I thought so," returned Malcolm drily; and then, like a skilful
surgeon, he did his work thoroughly; to be kind it was necessary to
be cruel, so he spared Cedric no particulars. He told him all he
knew himself; he saw him wince when he spoke of the Roman models and
the billiard-marker turned into a valet.

"Saul Jacobi told me his father was a banker and his mother of noble
blood, one of the Orsinos; I suppose he was ashamed of it all, and
wanted to keep it back. He might have trusted me and told the
truth," faltered the lad.

"Instead of which he told you this pack of lies. And his sister is
no better, for she has lied to you too; and this is the sister-in-
law you propose to introduce at the Wood House--a woman who has
allowed you to make love to her in her husband's lifetime!"

"Look here, Herrick," returned Cedric hoarsely--his fresh young face
looked quite gray--"not a word against her--not a word against my
Leah. You may be right about Jacobi--I have had my doubts about him
once or twice myself; he is not always kind to Leah, he bullies her
dreadfully and she is afraid of him, and he is too fond of getting
his own way. But I won't believe that she is to blame. Anyhow, she
is more sinned against than sinning. I will go to her to-morrow and
make her tell me everything. No one shall come between us--not even
Saul Jacobi. Leah shall account to me for this deception. I will get
to the bottom of it as sure as my name is Cedric Templeton."

Cedric spoke with an air of resolution that secretly surprised
Malcolm. "It will make a man of him," he said to himself--"it will
make a man of him." Then he put his hand on his shoulder.

"My dear boy," he said kindly, "I feel for you from the bottom of my
heart, but you must be very firm. There can be no compromise or
vacillation in a case like this; you must give her up, Cedric--you
must break off this unlucky engagement." But Cedric would not be
induced to promise this; he would decide nothing until he had seen
Leah and heard the whole story from her lips. "No one shall come
between us," cried the poor lad; "she is my promised wife." Then
Malcolm's manner changed and became more resolute.

"It will be a wrench, of course," he returned; "desperate diseases
require desperate remedies. But, Cedric, listen to me. If you refuse
to take my advice you will repent it all your life. If you go to
Gresham Gardens to-morrow you will be a lost man. The Jacobis will
talk you over and persuade you that black is white. At least let me
accompany you?" But Cedric absolutely refused this, and Malcolm
could not press it.

"You mean kindly, Herrick," he observed hurriedly, "but a man must
manage his own business. I shall have to leave you now, if I am to
see the Dean to-night and get permission for a few hours' absence;
and as I shall probably go up by the early train to-morrow, I shall
not see you again."

"I shall be in my rooms at Lincoln's Inn by mid-day," returned
Malcolm, "will you come to me there?" But Cedric hesitated.

"I shall have to go back to Oxford," he returned; "I think I had
better write to you." But this proposal by no means satisfied
Malcolm.

"That will not do," he said decidedly. "I would rather you wired to
me from Paddington--the letter can follow. Surely you can have no
objection," he continued, as Cedric seemed reluctant to do this; "it
will set my mind at rest, and I shall have a better night;" and then
Cedric rather ungraciously promised that a telegram should be sent.

"You must be very firm," were Malcolm's parting words, and Cedric
nodded impatiently as he put on his cap and gown.

Malcolm slept restlessly; he was tired and anxious, and had done a
hard day's work. His failure to influence Cedric troubled him
greatly.

"They will talk him over," he repeated, "and that woman will lure
him into her wiles again;" and Malcolm felt there was grave cause
for fear, as he remembered Leah's rare beauty, and the strange
brilliancy of her dark, melancholy eyes. Oh, what would Dinah
Templeton say if she knew of the danger that threatened her
cherished boy!