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

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Kathleen Hay - "The Quest of Happy Hearts"

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New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
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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: A Laodicean

T >> Thomas Hardy >> A Laodicean




'The time is--the time fixed for sending in the drawings is
the first of November, I believe,' she said confusedly; 'and
the decision will be come to by three gentlemen who are
prominent members of the Institute of Architects.'

Havill then accompanied her to the carriage, and she drove
away.

Havill went to the back window to tell Dare that he need not
stay in the garden; but the garden was empty. The architect
remained alone in his office for some time; at the end of a
quarter of an hour, when the scream of a railway whistle had
echoed down the still street, he beheld Somerset repassing the
window in a direction from the railway, with somewhat of a sad
gait. In another minute Dare entered, humming the latest air
of Offenbach.

''Tis a mere piece of duplicity!' said Havill.

'What is?'

'Her pretending indifference as to which of us comes out
successful in the competition, when she colours carmine the
moment Somerset passes by.' He described Paula's visit, and
the incident.

'It may not mean Cupid's Entire XXX after all,' said Dare
judicially. 'The mere suspicion that a certain man loves her
would make a girl blush at his unexpected appearance. Well,
she's gone from him for a time; the better for you.'

'He has been privileged to see her off at any rate.'

'Not privileged.'

'How do you know that?'

'I went out of your garden by the back gate, and followed her
carriage to the railway. He simply went to the first bridge
outside the station, and waited. When she was in the train,
it moved forward; he was all expectation, and drew out his
handkerchief ready to wave, while she looked out of the window
towards the bridge. The train backed before it reached the
bridge, to attach the box containing her horses, and the
carriage-truck. Then it started for good, and when it reached
the bridge she looked out again, he waving his handkerchief to
her.'

'And she waving hers back?'

'No, she didn't.'

'Ah!'

'She looked at him--nothing more. I wouldn't give much for
his chance.' After a while Dare added musingly: 'You are a
mathematician: did you ever investigate the doctrine of
expectations?'

'Never.'

Dare drew from his pocket his 'Book of Chances,' a volume as
well thumbed as the minister's Bible. 'This is a treatise on
the subject,' he said. 'I will teach it to you some day.'



The same evening Havill asked Dare to dine with him. He was
just at this time living en garcon, his wife and children
being away on a visit. After dinner they sat on till their
faces were rather flushed. The talk turned, as before, on the
castle-competition.

'To know his design is to win,' said Dare. 'And to win is to
send him back to London where he came from.'

Havill inquired if Dare had seen any sketch of the design
while with Somerset?

'Not a line. I was concerned only with the old building.'

'Not to know it is to lose, undoubtedly,' murmured Havill.

'Suppose we go for a walk that way, instead of consulting
here?'

They went down the town, and along the highway. When they
reached the entrance to the park a man driving a basket-
carriage came out from the gate and passed them by in the
gloom.

'That was he,' said Dare. 'He sometimes drives over from the
hotel, and sometimes walks. He has been working late this
evening.'

Strolling on under the trees they met three masculine figures,
laughing and talking loudly.

'Those are the three first-class London draughtsmen, Bowles,
Knowles, and Cockton, whom he has engaged to assist him,
regardless of expense,' continued Dare.

'O Lord!' groaned Havill. 'There's no chance for me.'

The castle now arose before them, endowed by the rayless shade
with a more massive majesty than either sunlight or moonlight
could impart; and Havill sighed again as he thought of what he
was losing by Somerset's rivalry. 'Well, what was the use of
coming here?' he asked.

'I thought it might suggest something--some way of seeing the
design. The servants would let us into his room, I dare say.'

'I don't care to ask. Let us walk through the wards, and then
homeward.'

They sauntered on smoking, Dare leading the way through the
gate-house into a corridor which was not inclosed, a lamp
hanging at the further end.

'We are getting into the inhabited part, I think,' said
Havill.

Dare, however, had gone on, and knowing the tortuous passages
from his few days' experience in measuring them with Somerset,
he came to the butler's pantry. Dare knocked, and nobody
answering he entered, took down a key which hung behind the
door, and rejoined Havill. 'It is all right,' he said. 'The
cat's away; and the mice are at play in consequence.'

Proceeding up a stone staircase he unlocked the door of a room
in the dark, struck a light inside, and returning to the door
called in a whisper to Havill, who had remained behind. 'This
is Mr. Somerset's studio,' he said.

'How did you get permission?' inquired Havill, not knowing
that Dare had seen no one.

'Anyhow,' said Dare carelessly. 'We can examine the plans at
leisure; for if the placid Mrs. Goodman, who is the only one
at home, sees the light, she will only think it is Somerset
still at work.'

Dare uncovered the drawings, and young Somerset's brain-work
for the last six weeks lay under their eyes. To Dare, who was
too cursory to trouble himself by entering into such details,
it had very little meaning; but the design shone into Havill's
head like a light into a dark place. It was original; and it
was fascinating. Its originality lay partly in the
circumstance that Somerset had not attempted to adapt an old
building to the wants of the new civilization. He had placed
his new erection beside it as a slightly attached structure,
harmonizing with the old; heightening and beautifying, rather
than subduing it. His work formed a palace, with a ruinous
castle annexed as a curiosity. To Havill the conception had
more charm than it could have to the most appreciative
outsider; for when a mediocre and jealous mind that has been
cudgelling itself over a problem capable of many solutions,
lights on the solution of a rival, all possibilities in that
kind seem to merge in the one beheld.

Dare was struck by the arrested expression of the architect's
face. 'Is it rather good?' he asked.

'Yes, rather,' said Havill, subduing himself.

'More than rather?'

'Yes, the clever devil!' exclaimed Havill, unable to
depreciate longer.

'How?'

'The riddle that has worried me three weeks he has solved in a
way which is simplicity itself. He has got it, and I am
undone!'

'Nonsense, don't give way. Let's make a tracing.'

'The ground-plan will be sufficient,' said Havill, his courage
reviving. 'The idea is so simple, that if once seen it is not
easily forgotten.'

A rough tracing of Somerset's design was quickly made, and
blowing out the candle with a wave of his hand, the younger
gentleman locked the door, and they went downstairs again.

'I should never have thought of it,' said Havill, as they
walked homeward.

'One man has need of another every ten years: Ogni dieci anni
un uomo ha bisogno dell' altro, as they say in Italy. You'll
help me for this turn if I have need of you?'

'I shall never have the power.'

'O yes, you will. A man who can contrive to get admitted to a
competition by writing a letter abusing another man, has any
amount of power. The stroke was a good one.'

Havill was silent till he said, 'I think these gusts mean that
we are to have a storm of rain.'

Dare looked up. The sky was overcast, the trees shivered, and
a drop or two began to strike into the walkers' coats from the
east. They were not far from the inn at Sleeping-Green, where
Dare had lodgings, occupying the rooms which had been used by
Somerset till he gave them up for more commodious chambers at
Markton; and they decided to turn in there till the rain
should be over.

Having possessed himself of Somerset's brains Havill was
inclined to be jovial, and ordered the best in wines that the
house afforded. Before starting from home they had drunk as
much as was good for them; so that their potations here soon
began to have a marked effect upon their tongues. The rain
beat upon the windows with a dull dogged pertinacity which
seemed to signify boundless reserves of the same and long
continuance. The wind rose, the sign creaked, and the candles
waved. The weather had, in truth, broken up for the season,
and this was the first night of the change.

'Well, here we are,' said Havill, as he poured out another
glass of the brandied liquor called old port at Sleeping-
Green; 'and it seems that here we are to remain for the
present.'

'I am at home anywhere!' cried the lad, whose brow was hot and
eye wild.

Havill, who had not drunk enough to affect his reasoning, held
up his glass to the light and said, 'I never can quite make
out what you are, or what your age is. Are you sixteen, one-
and-twenty, or twenty-seven? And are you an Englishman,
Frenchman, Indian, American, or what? You seem not to have
taken your degrees in these parts.'

'That's a secret, my friend,' said Dare. 'I am a citizen of
the world. I owe no country patriotism, and no king or queen
obedience. A man whose country has no boundary is your only
true gentleman.'

'Well, where were you born--somewhere, I suppose?'

'It would be a fact worth the telling. The secret of my birth
lies here.' And Dare slapped his breast with his right hand.

'Literally, just under your shirt-front; or figuratively, in
your heart?' asked Havill.

'Literally there. It is necessary that it should be recorded,
for one's own memory is a treacherous book of reference,
should verification be required at a time of delirium,
disease, or death.'

Havill asked no further what he meant, and went to the door.
Finding that the rain still continued he returned to Dare, who
was by this time sinking down in a one-sided attitude, as if
hung up by the shoulder. Informing his companion that he was
but little inclined to move far in such a tempestuous night,
he decided to remain in the inn till next morning. On calling
in the landlord, however, they learnt that the house was full
of farmers on their way home from a large sheep-fair in the
neighbourhood, and that several of these, having decided to
stay on account of the same tempestuous weather, had already
engaged the spare beds. If Mr. Dare would give up his room,
and share a double-bedded room with Mr. Havill, the thing
could be done, but not otherwise.

To this the two companions agreed, and presently went upstairs
with as gentlemanly a walk and vertical a candle as they could
exhibit under the circumstances.

The other inmates of the inn soon retired to rest, and the
storm raged on unheeded by all local humanity.



III.

At two o'clock the rain lessened its fury. At half-past two
the obscured moon shone forth; and at three Havill awoke. The
blind had not been pulled down overnight, and the moonlight
streamed into the room, across the bed whereon Dare was
sleeping. He lay on his back, his arms thrown out; and his
well-curved youthful form looked like an unpedestaled Dionysus
in the colourless lunar rays.

Sleep had cleared Havill's mind from the drowsing effects of
the last night's sitting, and he thought of Dare's mysterious
manner in speaking of himself. This lad resembled the
Etruscan youth Tages, in one respect, that of being a boy
with, seemingly, the wisdom of a sage; and the effect of his
presence was now heightened by all those sinister and mystic
attributes which are lent by nocturnal environment. He who in
broad daylight might be but a young chevalier d'industrie was
now an unlimited possibility in social phenomena. Havill
remembered how the lad had pointed to his breast, and said
that his secret was literally kept there. The architect was
too much of a provincial to have quenched the common curiosity
that was part of his nature by the acquired metropolitan
indifference to other people's lives which, in essence more
unworthy even than the former, causes less practical
inconvenience in its exercise.

Dare was breathing profoundly. Instigated as above mentioned,
Havill got out of bed and stood beside the sleeper. After a
moment's pause he gently pulled back the unfastened collar of
Dare's nightshirt and saw a word tattooed in distinct
characters on his breast. Before there was time for Havill to
decipher it Dare moved slightly, as if conscious of
disturbance, and Havill hastened back to bed. Dare bestirred
himself yet more, whereupon Havill breathed heavily, though
keeping an intent glance on the lad through his half-closed
eyes to learn if he had been aware of the investigation.

Dare was certainly conscious of something, for he sat up,
rubbed his eyes, and gazed around the room; then after a few
moments of reflection he drew some article from beneath his
pillow. A blue gleam shone from the object as Dare held it in
the moonlight, and Havill perceived that it was a small
revolver.

A clammy dew broke out upon the face and body of the architect
when, stepping out of bed with the weapon in his hand, Dare
looked under the bed, behind the curtains, out of the window,
and into a closet, as if convinced that something had
occurred, but in doubt as to what it was. He then came across
to where Havill was lying and still keeping up the appearance
of sleep. Watching him awhile and mistrusting the reality of
this semblance, Dare brought it to the test by holding the
revolver within a few inches of Havill's forehead.

Havill could stand no more. Crystallized with terror, he
said, without however moving more than his lips, in dread of
hasty action on the part of Dare: 'O, good Lord, Dare, Dare,
I have done nothing!'

The youth smiled and lowered the pistol. 'I was only finding
out whether it was you or some burglar who had been playing
tricks upon me. I find it was you.'

'Do put away that thing! It is too ghastly to produce in a
respectable bedroom. Why do you carry it?'

'Cosmopolites always do. Now answer my questions. What were
you up to?' and Dare as he spoke played with the pistol again.

Havill had recovered some coolness. 'You could not use it
upon me,' he said sardonically, watching Dare. 'It would be
risking your neck for too little an object.'

'I did not think you were shrewd enough to see that,' replied
Dare carelessly, as he returned the revolver to its place.
'Well, whether you have outwitted me or no, you will keep the
secret as long as I choose.'

'Why?' said Havill.

'Because I keep your secret of the letter abusing Miss P., and
of the pilfered tracing you carry in your pocket.'

'It is quite true,' said Havill.

They went to bed again. Dare was soon asleep; but Havill did
not attempt to disturb him again. The elder man slept but
fitfully. He was aroused in the morning by a heavy rumbling
and jingling along the highway overlooked by the window, the
front wall of the house being shaken by the reverberation.

'There is no rest for me here,' he said, rising and going to
the window, carefully avoiding the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare.
When Havill had glanced out he returned to dress himself.

'What's that noise?' said Dare, awakened by the same rumble.

'It is the Artillery going away.'

'From where?'

'Markton barracks.'

'Hurrah!' said Dare, jumping up in bed. 'I have been waiting
for that these six weeks.'

Havill did not ask questions as to the meaning of this
unexpected remark.

When they were downstairs Dare's first act was to ring the
bell and ask if his Army and Navy Gazette had arrived.

While the servant was gone Havill cleared his throat and said,
'I am an architect, and I take in the Architect; you are an
architect, and you take in the Army and Navy Gazette.'

'I am not an architect any more than I am a soldier; but I
have taken in the Army and Navy Gazette these many weeks.'

When they were at breakfast the paper came in. Dare hastily
tore it open and glanced at the pages.

'I am going to Markton after breakfast!' he said suddenly,
before looking up; 'we will walk together if you like?'

They walked together as planned, and entered Markton about ten
o'clock.

'I have just to make a call here,' said Dare, when they were
opposite the barrack-entrance on the outskirts of the town,
where wheel-tracks and a regular chain of hoof-marks left by
the departed batteries were imprinted in the gravel between
the open gates. 'I shall not be a moment.' Havill stood
still while his companion entered and asked the commissary in
charge, or somebody representing him, when the new batteries
would arrive to take the place of those which had gone away.
He was informed that it would be about noon.

'Now I am at your service,' said Dare, 'and will help you to
rearrange your design by the new intellectual light we have
acquired.'

They entered Havill's office and set to work. When contrasted
with the tracing from Somerset's plan, Havill's design, which
was not far advanced, revealed all its weaknesses to him.
After seeing Somerset's scheme the bands of Havill's
imagination were loosened: he laid his own previous efforts
aside, got fresh sheets of drawing-paper and drew with vigour.

'I may as well stay and help you,' said Dare. 'I have nothing
to do till twelve o'clock; and not much then.'

So there he remained. At a quarter to twelve children and
idlers began to gather against the railings of Havill's house.
A few minutes past twelve the noise of an arriving host was
heard at the entrance to the town. Thereupon Dare and Havill
went to the window.

The X and Y Batteries of the Z Brigade, Royal Horse Artillery,
were entering Markton, each headed by the major with his
bugler behind him. In a moment they came abreast and passed,
every man in his place; that is to say:

Six shining horses, in pairs, harnessed by rope-traces white
as milk, with a driver on each near horse: two gunners on the
lead-coloured stout-wheeled limber, their carcases jolted to a
jelly for lack of springs: two gunners on the lead-coloured
stout-wheeled gun-carriage, in the same personal condition:
the nine-pounder gun, dipping its heavy head to earth, as if
ashamed of its office in these enlightened times: the
complement of jingling and prancing troopers, riding at the
wheels and elsewhere: six shining horses with their drivers,
and traces white as milk, as before: two more gallant jolted
men, on another jolting limber, and more stout wheels and
lead-coloured paint: two more jolted men on another drooping
gun: more jingling troopers on horseback: again six shining
draught-horses, traces, drivers, gun, gunners, lead paint,
stout wheels and troopers as before.

So each detachment lumbered slowly by, all eyes martially
forward, except when wandering in quest of female beauty.

'He's a fine fellow, is he not?' said Dare, denoting by a nod
a mounted officer, with a sallow, yet handsome face, and black
moustache, who came up on a bay gelding with the men of his
battery.

'What is he?' said Havill.

'A captain who lacks advancement.'

'Do you know him?'

'I know him?'

'Yes; do you?'

Dare made no reply; and they watched the captain as he rode
past with his drawn sword in his hand, the sun making a little
sun upon its blade, and upon his brilliantly polished long
boots and bright spurs; also warming his gold cross-belt and
braidings, white gloves, busby with its red bag, and tall
white plume.

Havill seemed to be too indifferent to press his questioning;
and when all the soldiers had passed by, Dare observed to his
companion that he should leave him for a short time, but would
return in the afternoon or next day.

After this he walked up the street in the rear of the
artillery, following them to the barracks. On reaching the
gates he found a crowd of people gathered outside, looking
with admiration at the guns and gunners drawn up within the
enclosure. When the soldiers were dismissed to their quarters
the sightseers dispersed, and Dare went through the gates to
the barrack-yard.

The guns were standing on the green; the soldiers and horses
were scattered about, and the handsome captain whom Dare had
pointed out to Havill was inspecting the buildings in the
company of the quartermaster. Dare made a mental note of
these things, and, apparently changing a previous intention,
went out from the barracks and returned to the town.



IV.

To return for a while to George Somerset. The sun of his
later existence having vanished from that young man's horizon,
he confined himself closely to the studio, superintending the
exertions of his draughtsmen Bowles, Knowles, and Cockton, who
were now in the full swing of working out Somerset's creations
from the sketches he had previously prepared.

He had so far got the start of Havill in the competition that,
by the help of these three gentlemen, his design was soon
finished. But he gained no unfair advantage on this account,
an additional month being allowed to Havill to compensate for
his later information.

Before scaling up his drawings Somerset wished to spend a
short time in London, and dismissing his assistants till
further notice, he locked up the rooms which had been
appropriated as office and studio and prepared for the
journey.

It was afternoon. Somerset walked from the castle in the
direction of the wood to reach Markton by a detour. He had
not proceeded far when there approached his path a man riding
a bay horse with a square-cut tail. The equestrian wore a
grizzled beard, and looked at Somerset with a piercing eye as
he noiselessly ambled nearer over the soft sod of the park.
He proved to be Mr. Cunningham Haze, chief constable of the
district, who had become slightly known to Somerset during his
sojourn here.

'One word, Mr. Somerset,' said the Chief, after they had
exchanged nods of recognition, reining his horse as he spoke.

Somerset stopped.

'You have a studio at the castle in which you are preparing
drawings?'

'I have.'

'Have you a clerk?'

'I had three till yesterday, when I paid them off.'

'Would they have any right to enter the studio late at night?'

'There would have been nothing wrong in their doing so.
Either of them might have gone back at any time for something
forgotten. They lived quite near the castle.'

'Ah, then all is explained. I was riding past over the grass
on the night of last Thursday, and I saw two persons in your
studio with a light. It must have been about half-past nine
o'clock. One of them came forward and pulled down the blind
so that the light fell upon his face. But I only saw it for a
short time.'

'If it were Knowles or Cockton he would have had a beard.'

'He had no beard.'

'Then it must have been Bowles. A young man?'

'Quite young. His companion in the background seemed older.'

'They are all about the same age really. By the way--it
couldn't have been Dare--and Havill, surely! Would you
recognize them again?'

'The young one possibly. The other not at all, for he
remained in the shade.'

Somerset endeavoured to discern in a description by the chief
constable the features of Mr. Bowles: but it seemed to
approximate more closely to Dare in spite of himself. 'I'll
make a sketch of the only one who had no business there, and
show it to you,' he presently said. 'I should like this
cleared up.'

Mr. Cunningham Haze said he was going to Toneborough that
afternoon, but would return in the evening before Somerset's
departure. With this they parted. A possible motive for
Dare's presence in the rooms had instantly presented itself to
Somerset's mind, for he had seen Dare enter Havill's office
more than once, as if he were at work there.

He accordingly sat on the next stile, and taking out his
pocket-book began a pencil sketch of Dare's head, to show to
Mr. Haze in the evening; for if Dare had indeed found
admission with Havill, or as his agent, the design was lost.

But he could not make a drawing that was a satisfactory
likeness. Then he luckily remembered that Dare, in the
intense warmth of admiration he had affected for Somerset on
the first day or two of their acquaintance, had begged for his
photograph, and in return for it had left one of himself on
the mantelpiece, taken as he said by his own process.
Somerset resolved to show this production to Mr. Haze, as
being more to the purpose than a sketch, and instead of
finishing the latter, proceeded on his way.

He entered the old overgrown drive which wound indirectly
through the wood to Markton. The road, having been laid out
for idling rather than for progress, bent sharply hither and
thither among the fissured trunks and layers of horny leaves
which lay there all the year round, interspersed with cushions
of vivid green moss that formed oases in the rust-red expanse.

Reaching a point where the road made one of its bends between
two large beeches, a man and woman revealed themselves at a
few yards' distance, walking slowly towards him. In the short
and quaint lady he recognized Charlotte De Stancy, whom he
remembered not to have seen for several days.