Amy Brooks - "Princess Polly's Gay Winter"

Henry Thomas Hamblin - "Within You is the Power"

Anna Katherine Green - "The Mayor's Wife"

Kathleen Norris - "The Heart of Rachael"

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




"As far as I can make out, Jacobi merely intended to have the
marriage ceremony performed, and to allow Cedric to return to Oxford
the next day. He had pacified him by promising to bring down his
sister later, and to take lodgings for a week or two; but it is
impossible to guess what the fellow really meant. As far as I can
judge, there will be no further trouble with the authorities, but
Cedric must not be left to himself."

"I know some excellent lodgings not a stone's throw from St. John's.
Do you not think it would be a good thing if you and your sister
were to take possession of them for a week or two? Cedric is not fit
to be alone, and you will be a comfort to him. It seems to me that
there is nothing else to be done. I cannot possibly remain beyond a
night or two. If you wire I will engage the rooms, and they shall be
in readiness for you." And when this letter was safely in the post,
Malcolm sought the rest he needed so urgently, and was soon sleeping
the heavy sleep of exhaustion.

Elizabeth was at the Manor House when Dinah received her letter, but
she answered it and sent off her telegram without an hour's delay.

"I told him to take the rooms, Betty," she said, as she handed the
letter to her sister the next day. "I have packed my things and
shall go to-morrow. Of course, you will do as you like about coming
too." Elizabeth considered the matter.

"If one could only have breathing-time," she murmured; "but to-
morrow gives me so little time. Could you wait until the afternoon,
Die?" she continued, "and then I could go across to Rotherwood and
have a talk with David and his father. You see, dear, I am anxious
to be with Cedric, and to settle you in comfortably, and I should
also like to tell Mr. Herrick the result of my visit to the Manor
House." Then Dinah rather reluctantly consented to put off her
journey until the afternoon. Elizabeth, preoccupied and anxious,
hardly realised what the sacrifice of those few hours was to Dinah,
who could literally hardly sleep or eat for her longing to comfort
her darling.

Perhaps Elizabeth's thoughts were engrossed by the recollection of
her conversation with Leah, for she spoke of little else that night;
but just before they separated she asked to read Malcolm's letter
again, and when she laid it down there was the old puzzled look in
her eyes.

"Why does he always think of the right thing?" she said slowly.
"What makes him so thoughtful and understanding? He leaves no margin
for other people. This Oxford plan is just splendid. You will be
such a comfort to the poor boy, Die. You will be there waiting and
watching for him, and ready to fuss over him like a mother hen, and
the sly old fox will not be able to get at him;" and she laughed,
and bade her sister good-night. But when she was in her own room the
thoughtful look returned. "He is always so wise and right," she said
to herself. "He has only made one mistake--only one," and her face
was very grave; for no one, not even her chosen lover, knew how the
thought of Malcolm Herrick's patient sorrow oppressed Elizabeth's
tender heart.

Dinah had good reason to regret their postponed journey, for they
arrived at Oxford too late to see Cedric that night; but Malcolm was
at the station to receive them, and accompanied them to their
lodgings.

"I am glad you made up your mind to come," he said, as they drove
from the station, "for I shall be obliged to go up to town to-
morrow, and I feel happier to leave you in possession. I think
Cedric likes the idea of having you. He is not looking well, but one
must expect that; he has had rather a rough time of it. Oh, I forgot
to say that he cannot possibly be with you until nearly twelve
o'clock." Dinah tried not to give her sister a reproachful look when
Malcolm said this. Malcolm only waited to hear how they liked the
rooms he had taken before he went back to his hotel; but at their
earnest request he promised to have breakfast with them the
following morning, and also to take a later train, that they might
have time for a good talk.

He kept his appointment punctually, and the conversation of course
turned first on Cedric, but Malcolm was somewhat reticent on the
subject of that stormy interview in Cheyne Walk.

"One must make allowances under such circumstances, and he was
hardly himself that night," was all he said, but they fully
understood him.

"Do you think he will get over it?" asked Dinah anxiously.

"Oh yes, he will get over it--he is so young;" but Malcolm avoided
Elizabeth's eyes as he spoke; "youth has immense advantages. But you
must give him time. If you will take my advice, dear Miss Templeton,
you will not watch him too closely, or trouble if you find him a
little altered, and not quite the old Cedric. He will come right by-
and-by."

"Oh, if I could believe that," wistfully.

"You must make yourself believe it. Of course he will give you
plenty of trouble at first. He will have his bad days, and try to
make you as miserable as he is himself, but you must prepare
yourself for that. Think what a boon it will be to him to turn in
here and find some one ready to listen to his jeremiad." Then Dinah
smiled faintly.

"I hope you intend to remain with your sister," he continued,
turning rather abruptly to Elizabeth. She coloured and hesitated.

"I am afraid I can only remain a week, but I shall come down again
later on. You need not fear that Dinah will be dull, Mr. Herrick; if
she can only be sure of seeing her boy for an hour in the day, she
will be perfectly happy. I always tell her that she is cut out for a
hermit, she loves her own company so much. I am far more gregarious
in my tastes--the society of my fellow-creatures is absolutely
necessary to me."

Malcolm was quite aware of this, but he listened gravely. "I hope
you mean to let me know your opinion of Leah Jacobi before I go," he
observed presently. To his surprise she gave an embarrassed laugh.

"I have been dreading that question all breakfast time; I am so
afraid I shall shock you. It is wicked of me, of course, but indeed
I am only too ready to sympathise with poor old Cedric, for I have
fallen in love with her myself."

"Do you know, I am not at all surprised to hear you say that,"
observed Malcolm.

"You were aware of my impulsive disposition," returned Elizabeth
with another laugh. "But she is simply the most beautiful creature I
ever saw in my life. All the time I was listening to her I thought
of all those fair women the old patriarchs loved--Sarah and Rebekah
and Rachel; but I think she is most like Rebekah."

"I daresay you are right there," replied Malcolm coolly--"I can
imagine myself that Leah Jacobi would be equally clever at
deception."

"For shame, Mr. Herrick!" in an indignant tone; "you know I did not
mean that. I was thinking of the young Rebekah at the well at
Damascus."

"It was too bad of me," he returned apologetically; "but of course I
understood what you meant. There is a strange fascination about Miss
Jacobi. It is not only her beauty, though that is undeniable."

"No, indeed," exclaimed Elizabeth eagerly; "but one can hardly say
where the charm lies; but the moment I saw her deep-set, melancholy
eyes, and heard her low, vibrating voice, I seemed to lose my heart
to her. Poor dear Cedric, how could he help loving her?--how could
any man resist her?" But Elizabeth checked herself as she became
aware of Malcolm's keen, penetrating glance.

"You surely do not wish him to marry her?" he asked in a low voice.
Then Elizabeth looked quite shocked.

"Mr. Herrick-our brother-Cedric; no, a thousand times no; neither
would she marry him now. But oh, how my heart aches for her!"

"You need not tell me that."

"We were up half the night talking," she went on, "and she told me
everything--everything," and here Elizabeth positively shuddered.
"Oh, why are such things allowed? What a mystery life is! Mrs.
Godfrey was with us at first, and then the Colonel carried her off;
but I heard the clock strike three before I left Leah's room, and
then I could not sleep a wink for thinking over some of the horrible
scenes she had described."

"I wish she had not told you," murmured Malcolm. Elizabeth smiled a
little sadly.

"It will not hurt me, and I shall be able to help her better. Mr.
Herrick, Dinah agrees with me that we must never lose sight of her.
I told Mrs. Godfrey so. Oh, that was a masterly stroke of policy,
taking the poor thing to the Manor House. Mrs. Godfrey is so clever-
-she has an idea already. Did you ever see Mrs. Richardson, who
lives in the red house on the road to Combe--Sandy Hollow, I think
they call it?"

"Do you mean that very eccentric old lady whom Mrs. Godfrey always
calls Mother Quixote, who is so rich, and always travels with a
white Persian cat? Of course I have seen her at church. She is
stout, rather addicted to gorgeous raiment, and wears a gold pince-
nez."

"That is the very person!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Oh yes, she is
excessively rich, has not a relative in the world, gives half her
income away, and, as dear Mrs. Godfrey expresses it, spends a good
deal of her time in trying to wash her black sheep white, and
weeping over her failures."

"And I am afraid does more harm than good in the long run," observed
Malcolm; but Elizabeth would not allow this.

"She is the drollest old dear in the world," she went on, "and is
quite a Mrs. Malaprop in some of her sayings, but she has the best
and kindest heart in the world. Mrs. Godfrey means to enlist her
sympathies on Leah's behalf, and we have no fear of the result."

"And you think this good lady will be able to help Miss Jacobi?"

"We are quite sure of it. Mrs. Richardson has a weak chest, and she
always winters abroad, and she has been in the habit of engaging
some young lady to accompany her as a travelling companion. Her maid
is rather a crotchety old person, and very uneducated; besides, the
cat gives her sufficient employment. I forgot to say he is blind,
and rejoices in the name of Sir Charles Grandison. Mrs. Richardson
is a descendant of the novelist, and always carries Clarissa Harlowe
and Sir Charles Grandison about with her. She is full of amusing
fads and fancies."

"And you mean Miss Jacobi to be her travelling companion?"

"Mrs. Godfrey means it--it is her idea. Anyhow, she promised to go
round to Sandy Hollow the next day and give the old lady a full
description of Leah, and if possible to arrange a meeting."

"I think it a very good idea," chimed in Dinah, her soft voice
breaking the silence for the first time--she was always willing to
leave the conversation in Elizabeth's hands. "Miss Jacobi seems very
willing to do anything, poor thing, that will make her independent
of her brother."

"Yes, indeed, she is terribly afraid of him," returned Elizabeth.
"She has reason to dread his violence, I can see that. Once or twice
he has treated her with absolute cruelty, but then she owned he had
been drinking. You see," appealing to Malcolm, "it would be such a
relief to us all to know she was abroad, and in such kind hands; and
then, as Mrs. Godfrey says, she is so exactly fitted for the post.
She is very accomplished, speaks French, German, and Italian
fluently, and is a good reader. Oh, must you go?" as Malcolm looked
at his watch with some significance.

"I am afraid I must not lose this train," he replied hastily, "but I
shall hope to run down again in a week or two. You will let me know
how things go on," addressing Dinah, "and if there be anything I can
do for you?" and then he shook hands with Elizabeth rather hurriedly
and went off to secure his luggage.

"I hope we did not keep him too long," observed Elizabeth anxiously,
"for he is running as though he were late." But Dinah did not hear
her; she had already taken up her position by the window, and was
looking out for Cedric.




CHAPTER XXXIV

TRAVELLING THROUGH SAHARA

The hope I dreamed of was a dream--
Was but a dream; and now I wake
Exceeding comfortless, and worn and sad
For a dream's sake.
--CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.


For the next few weeks Malcolm was much occupied with business, but
he contrived to pay a flying visit to Oxford, and to spend a few
hours with Dinah and Cedric. He had corresponded with Dinah
regularly, and her letters told him all he most wished to know. At
first they had been very sad. Cedric had broken down utterly on
seeing his sisters, and both she and Elizabeth had been very much
upset. The change in him was so great that they could hardly
recognise their bright-faced boy, and Dinah owned that they had been
shocked by the hard, reckless manner in which he had spoken. "I
think Mr. Jacobi's influence has done great harm," she wrote;
"Cedric says such extraordinary things sometimes, that I feel quite
frightened to hear him. He never used to talk so--surely Oxford
cannot have done this." Malcolm ground his teeth rather savagely
when he read this. "He has poisoned the wells," he said to himself a
second time. "There is no punishment too severe for one who tries to
contaminate the innocence of youth!"

Dinah's letters became more cheerful after a time. Cedric liked
having her near him, and she saw him for an hour or two every day.
Elizabeth had not come down again. David Carlyon was not well. He
had caught a fresh cold, and Elizabeth seemed worried about him, all
the more that his sister was with him, and Theo did not understand
nursing. "Theo Carlyon is rather an unsatisfactory person," wrote
Dinah.

By-and-by she gave him news of Leah Jacobi. Mrs. Godfrey's brilliant
idea was certainly likely to be verified. Mrs. Richardson had been
several times to the Manor House, she wrote, and had evidently taken
a fancy to Leah. A few days later there was still more satisfactory
news.

"It is all arranged," she wrote triumphantly. "Mrs. Richardson has
engaged Miss Jacobi as a travelling companion, and will pay her a
handsome salary. They are to leave England in about ten days' time.
Mrs. Godfrey says that she and the Colonel will be quite sorry to
lose their guest--Miss Jacobi is so gentle and affectionate that
they have both grown fond of her; and Mrs. Godfrey predicts that
Mrs. Richardson will never part with her."

Malcolm paid his second visit to Oxford soon after the receipt of
this letter. Dinah was delighted to see him, and to hear that he
intended to spend a quiet Sunday with them.

"I was just going to write to you," she said, when the first
greetings had passed between them. "Cedric was so upset last night.
He had a letter from that odious man Jacobi. Such a letter! written
on a dirty scrap of paper in pencil. But I will show it to you;
Cedric left it here;" and Dinah unlocked her writing-case.

Malcolm frowned as he read it.

"I am up Queer Street, my boy," wrote Jacobi; "12 Gresham Gardens is
in the hands of the bailiffs, and every stick of furniture is to be
sold; and as England is rather too hot for me just now, I am going
to make tracks for New York. If I could see that sister of mine, I
would give her a piece of my mind. What a cursed fool the girl has
been! But it is all that fellow Herrick's fault. He is a deep one,
and he has a game of his own on hand; I am as sure of that as that
my name is Saul Jacobi. Well, ta-ta, old fellow, I will let you know
my diggings later on. Hang that fellow! if it had not been for him
we should have pulled the job through, and you would have had the
handsomest wife in Europe. Well, that game's played out, and I was
never the one to cry over spilt milk. 'A short life and a merry
one,' that's my creed.--Yours up to date,"

"SAUL MELCHIOR JACOBI."

"So we are rid of the brute for the present," observed Malcolm. The
expression seemed to alarm Dinah.

"For the present?" she repeated anxiously.

"My dear lady," he returned gravely, "do you suppose that we have
seen the last of Saul Jacobi?"

"Indeed--indeed, I hope so," very earnestly.

"Then 'hope told a flattering tale,' and you must not believe her,"
replied Malcolm smiling. "The Jacobis of this life are not so easily
shaken off. Like the horse-leech's daughters, they cry 'Give, give.'
I should not be the least surprised if a series of begging letters
with the New York postmark reached Cedric at due intervals."

"Oh, Mr. Herrick, what shall we do?"

"Do--why, put them in the fire unread. That will be my advice to
Cedric. I know exactly the sort of letters that fellow will write.
The first one will be jocular and friendly, and the business part
will be in the postscript; the second will be pathetic and somewhat
reproachful, and the demands more urgent; finally, if money is not
forthcoming, he will bluster and threaten and make himself
exceedingly unpleasant. Cedric must simply have no dealings with
him; and above all things, he must take no notice of his letters."

"I hope you will tell Cedric this." And Malcolm promised that he
would speak to him very plainly.

But Cedric was not the docile pupil of old. The lad's sweet
disposition and milk of human kindness had soured under the sudden
shock of his trouble; the loss of his sweetheart and the
consciousness of his own misconduct filled him with bitterness, and
made him at times very irritable. Dinah's gentleness suited him
better than Malcolm's bracing counsels, and her exceeding patience
with him in his fits of despondency sometimes roused him to
penitence.

By Malcolm's advice she had told him in guarded terms that Leah was
well, and with friends who intended to take her abroad; but no
entreaties on Cedric's part could induce her to reveal the names of
Leah's protectors, or how she had received the information. Cedric
complained bitterly to Malcolm that they were all treating him like
a child.

"Not at all, my dear fellow," was Malcolm's answer; "it is by Miss
Jacobi's wish that we keep silence. The lady who has engaged her as
a companion is a stranger to all of us, but I believe she is a very
kind-hearted woman, and that Miss Jacobi will be very comfortable
with her."

"Comfortable--a companion--my beautiful Leah!"

But the pain was too great, and Cedric burst into tears. After all,
he was little more than a boy, and Malcolm remembered this and was
patient.

On Sunday afternoon, as they were coming out of chapel, Dinah said
suddenly, "I quite forgot to tell you that Mr. Rossiter has been at
the Manor House again, and has seen Leah, and quite approves of the
arrangement with Mrs. Richardson. He is going back to America, and
has promised to keep an eye on Saul Jacobi. He was quite
confidential with Leah."

"He is rather intimate with them," returned Malcolm; "indeed, I
believe he is in love with the fair Rebekah himself"--for he had
never forgotten Elizabeth's name for her. "Hugh Rossiter is a fine
fellow, and would suit her a hundred times better than poor old
Cedric. Oh well, he is too cunning a hunter to make a false shot,
but I have a notion that he will try again some day;" and then
Cedric came out and joined them, and they walked back to the
lodgings.

Malcolm was going back to town that evening, and when Cedric had
left them Dinah talked a little about her future plans.

"Cedric is so much better," she said, "that I think I can go home
next week. He will follow me in another fortnight, and I do not like
leaving Elizabeth so long alone."

"I think you told me that she was worried about Mr. Carlyon?"
returned Malcolm with manifest effort.

"Yes, indeed, and she may well be," replied Dinah with a sigh.
"Young men are so reckless and imprudent--at least David is. Just
think of his madness, Mr. Herrick. He is not strong, and he takes
cold more easily than other people. He got very wet taking a funeral
for a clergyman at Dinglefield, and when he reached home, instead of
changing his clothes, he went a mile farther to baptize a dying
child. He was soaking by the time he got back, and a bad feverish
cold set in. Elizabeth insisted that Dr. Randolph should see him;
and she wrote to Theo herself, but I fancy from her letters that she
rather repented of sending for her; but poultices were needed, and
Mrs. Pratt, his landlady, is simply an impossible woman. However,
things have worked so badly between them that Theo has gone back to
Stokeley, and Elizabeth declares that even her brother is thankful
to be rid of her. But he is better now."

"He is up and about again, but he doesn't lose his cough, and I can
see Elizabeth is anxious. You look surprised, but I assure you my
sister has some reason for her fears. David's mother was
consumptive, and two of his sisters died young of the same
complaint. Theo is the only robust one, and David knows well that he
ought to take care. Mr. Carlyon is always worrying about him."

Malcolm tried to express his sympathy properly, but he felt he
acquitted himself badly. Was this the reason, he wondered, why
Elizabeth had looked so grave? but he thought it wiser not to dwell
on the subject.

Malcolm was having a bad time just then. The excitement of the
Jacobi episode had roused him for a while, but now natural reaction
had set in, and the deadness and dulness of his daily routine
oppressed him intolerably. Nothing interested him--nothing gave him
pleasure. His literary work, the society of his friends, even his
nightly "smokes" with the faithful Goliath, were like the dust and
bitterness of the apples of Sodom. The present was like the desert
of Sahara to him, and the future a perfect cavern of gloom.

He was tired of himself and every one else, and, though he did not
know it, his nerves were unstrung, and he could not always control
his irritability.

But he did his best, and fought his "foul fiend" gallantly. "He is a
good divine that follows his own instructions," he would say grimly,
when he compelled himself to make fresh efforts. Anything was better
than brooding, he thought. And in the evenings he would resist the
temptation to yield to his weariness and to take possession of his
easy-chair.

For he knew too well that at such hours he was not master of his
thoughts, and that in fancy the empty chair opposite to him would
not long be unoccupied.

How often had he pictured Elizabeth there as the companion of his
solitude--how often had her bright face, with its changing
expression, come between him and his book! And in the gloaming her
pleasant voice, with its quick breaks and hesitation, its
characteristic abruptness, had sounded in his ears. Sometimes he
would walk to and fro in a perfect agony of impatience and
passionate rebellion against his fate. "I am possessed, but it is
with an angel in woman's shape," he would say to himself; "and yet
she is no angel either--she is far too human. And her faults--oh
well," with a dreary laugh, "her faults are Elizabethan too." But
once, when the bitterness of his pain was too great, he muttered to
himself a strange thing.

"It is I who ought to be in his place," he said. "She is bewitched--
David Carlyon's simplicity and goodness have bewitched her--but he
is not her rightful mate." And then he struck himself fiercely on
the breast and whispered, "He is here--he is here, Elizabeth!"

But in spite of his inward sadness he would not spare himself, and
every week he went as usual to Queen's Gate to dine with his mother.
But the long evenings tried him, and he found it difficult to hide
his ennui and weariness from his mother's sharp eyes. One evening,
just before Christmas, Anna made some remarks on his tired looks in
her gentle, affectionate way, and he had checked her with unwonted
irritability.

"I wish you would get out of that habit of commenting on people's
looks," he said quite angrily. "It is very objectionable to me. I
suppose every one is tired and out of sorts at times, but it does no
good to notice it."

"I am sorry, Malcolm--I will try to remember next time," faltered
Anna; but the tears were in her eyes, and a few minutes later she
left the room.

Mrs. Herrick ventured on a remonstrance. "I am afraid you have hurt
Anna," she said; "she is so sensitive, and you were quite rough with
her."

"I am afraid I was," returned Malcolm penitently; "but if you only
knew how it riles a man to be watched so closely."

"It was a very natural speech on Anna's part," replied his mother in
her sensible, matter-of-fact way. "The truth is, Malcolm, you have
not been like yourself for months--you are ill or worried, and you
do not wish us to take any notice. Well, you shall have your way,
but it is a little hard on us both."

"Mother, there is nothing that I can tell you. You know I have said
that before. One must have worries in this life--" But Malcolm
checked himself as Anna came back into the room. She was rather
quiet and subdued all dinner-time, though she tried to appear as
usual. And Malcolm's conscience pricked him unmercifully.

Later on he found himself alone with her. She was drawing at a
little round table, and he went and stood by her.

"Annachen," he said caressingly, as he put his hand under her chin
and made her look at him, "I was a brute to speak to you as I did.
Of course you meant it kindly, dear, but it seemed to rub me up the
wrong way. I think I am tired this evening; anyhow, my head aches."
And Malcolm might have added with truthfulness that his heart ached
too.