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Christina

<h3> CHAPTER XXIII. </h3> <h4> "THE KING OF MY KINGDOM." </h4> The afternoon was very still. Overhead, the sky of October was mistily blue, the autumn sunshine flooded upland and valley with a golden glory; in the air was that quietness, that sense of waiting and brooding, which marks an autumn day. From the cottages in the valley, thin trails of blue smoke mounted straight into the veiled softness of the sky. The touch of autumn's hand was already visible upon the trees. In the copse over the brow of the hill, the hazels were yellowing; the beech-trees showed orange and gold amongst their leaves; the hawthorns wore a brave array of crimson and yellow leaves, and bright red berries. Long ago the heather had faded, a soft dun colour had taken the place of the royal purple, which earlier in the year had carpeted the uplands, and the bracken blazed golden and brown upon the moorland slopes. From the place where Christina sat, she could see the white road that wound away across the heather to Graystone, and to those far blue hills, about which the afternoon sun was weaving a veil of light. In the valley to her right, the trunks of the pine-trees were turning crimson in the sun's level beams, the birches' delicate branches outlined against the blue of the sky, the soft amber of the larches contrasting with the sombre green of the pines, and beneath the trees, the carpet of bright bracken touched to gold by the sunshine. From far away across the moor, came the sound of chiming bells, from the copse across the road a robin sang his wonderful song of spring, that will follow winter, of life that will come after death; and from somewhere amongst the trees of the valley, a thrush was fluting the first notes of his next year's song, that he had yet to learn. The world was a very peaceful world on that October afternoon; and Christina, sitting on a hummock of dry heather, rested her chin on her hands, and looked over the wide landscape, with a great sense of its abiding restfulness. The chiming bells, the robin's song, the occasional soft murmur of the little breeze in the pines, harmonised with the brooding peace of autumn, that seemed to be over all the land, and the girl smiled, as she let the sense of restful peace sink deep into her soul. She and Baba were spending a week with Mrs. Nairne at Graystone, and on this Sunday afternoon, leaving the child in Mrs. Nairne's charge, she had walked over the hill to the little churchyard, to visit Margaret's grave. In that sunny corner of the churchyard, close to the old grey wall, she had found violets in bloom, filling the air with their sweetness just as they had filled it on the April day, when Margaret had been laid to rest; and Christina held some of the purple, fragrant blossoms in her hand, whilst she sat looking out over the great sweep of country, to the golden sky behind the hills. Her thoughts were very full of the beautiful woman whose life had so strangely crossed her own, and from her thoughts of Margaret, by a natural transition, her mind wandered on to the remembrance of the man who had stood by her side, at Margaret's funeral. She recalled the look of heartbreak in Rupert Mernside's eyes, when they had met hers; she remembered that glimpse she had had into the man's tortured soul. How many times since that day, had Cicely speculated about Rupert's friendship with Margaret, wondering whether he had cared for her more deeply than as a friend, discussing the why and wherefore of his disappearance from the midst of his own circle, whilst all the time Christina knew in her heart, that she could if she would, have answered all these questions. She knew that Rupert's feeling for Margaret was not merely that of friendship, never had been friendship only; and she knew, intuitively, that his usual round of life had become intolerable to him, after Margaret's death. She felt an odd sense of triumph in her knowledge of him; of triumph, and of awe as well. For to Christina's simple and straightforward nature, there was something awe-inspiring, in this strange, intimate understanding of another human being's soul. Seated there upon the heather, she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not observe a figure moving slowly across the valley; and not until the figure had detached itself from amongst the trees, and was walking along the high-road in her direction, did she see that the object of her thoughts was coming towards her. That he should have come at that particular moment, struck her first as so extraordinary a coincidence, that she could hardly believe the evidence of her own eyes. But as the figure came a few paces nearer, she knew that she had made no mistake; it was Rupert's face into which she looked, as she sprang to her feet, Rupert's grey eyes that met hers with a smile, despite their expression of haunting sadness. "I never dreamt of seeing you here," were his first unconventional words of greeting; "and yet it seems natural to find you." Perhaps he was hardly aware himself why he spoke the last half of his sentence, and although Christina's heart leapt as she heard it, something within her seemed to respond to the spirit of his words. To her, too, it seemed "natural," that they should meet out here on the heather, in the sunlight, close to Margaret's grave. For the little churchyard lay only just over the brow of the hill, and Rupert's explanation of his presence on the moorland, was not needed by the girl, who knew without any words of his that he had come to visit that corner by the sunny wall, where the violets scented the air with their fragrance. After that brief greeting, he made Christina sit down again upon the heather, and flung himself beside her, his face turned, like hers, to the western horizon. "I am glad they put those words on the stone," he said abruptly; "whose thought were they?" "I think I thought of them first," Christina answered; "they seemed the fittest and most beautiful words for her." "Love—never faileth," he quoted slowly, his thoughts going back to the white cross, upon which the words were engraved, "Love never faileth; yes, you could not have chosen a better epitaph for her. Her soul was built up of love, and her love never failed, never for a single moment. It is a wonderful thing—the love of such a woman. Perhaps, in all the world, there is nothing more wonderful than a woman's love." He seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud, rather than addressing her directly, and she did not answer his speech, only sat very still, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes looking out towards the golden west, a little smile on her lips. "You know—I have been wandering over the earth—since—that day," Rupert went on, speaking with singular abruptness. "I felt like that man who went out, seeking rest—and finding none. I have found none." The ring of bitterness in his voice hurt the girl. She turned a little, and looked down into his face. "I am sorry," she said; "so very sorry." "Are you?" he answered. "It is not worth while being sorry for a man who has made a mess of things, as I have done." "Why do you say that," she said quickly. "You made the most of a beautiful friendship; you did Aunt Margaret no wrong in loving her. You were always her helpful friend. And now——" "Now?" he echoed when she paused. "Perhaps you will think me impertinent for saying what I was going to say," she answered, the colour creeping into her face; "but I was going to say, now you will not waste your life, in regretting what is past and over. You are not the sort of person to waste life in regrets. I should think you would take all the best of the love and friendship, and work them into your life, to make it better." The words were as simply spoken, as they were simple in themselves. Their very simplicity made an appeal to the man who heard them, for, like all the best men, Rupert, man of the world though he was, had a very simple nature. "Weave the past into the future," he answered thoughtfully. "Not sweep it away and try to forget it, but let it be woven into my life? Is that what you mean?" "Yes, that is what I mean, only you have put it into better words. I never think it is quite right to try and sweep away a past, even if it has hurt us. It always seems as if it must be so much better to use all that was good in the past, and let it help to make the future better. I don't think I believe in stamping things out, and burying them, and being ruthless over them. Isn't it better to take the good from them, and bury the rest?" Rupert's eyes were fixed on the girl's face, which had grown eager and intent over the thoughts she was trying to express, and as he watched her a smile broke up the ruggedness of his own features. She was quite unconscious of his gaze, but a soft colour had come into her cheeks as she spoke, her eyes were very deep and bright, and the man who looked at her realised that hers was more than mere girlish prettiness. She had taken off her hat, and the sunlight fell upon the dusky masses of her hair, showing golden gleams in its dark threads. Her eyes, green and deep and very soft, made Rupert think of a stream in Switzerland, beside which he had stood only a few weeks back, a stream whose waters shone in the sunbeams, showing dark and green and soft in the shade. The colour that had crept into the pure whiteness of her cheeks, tinted them as a white rose is sometimes tinted; and for the first time Rupert was aware of a faint, yet definite likeness, between the girl at his side and the woman he had loved. Perhaps it was in her expression more than in any actual resemblance between the two women's faces, that the likeness lay, for something of Margaret's nobility and serenity, seemed to be reflected on the younger countenance, and with that flashing thought, there flashed into his mind, too, the words Margaret had spoken to him, before she died. He had never remembered those words again until now, and they recurred to him with extraordinary force. "She would make a man who cared for her, a most tender and loving wife. She has a sweet, strong soul." "A sweet, strong soul." Those words rang in his brain with odd persistence, whilst his eyes watched Christina's profile, as she sat silently looking out again across the moorlands. A—sweet—strong soul. And there was such a strange restfulness, too, about the personality of the girl, young though she was; he remembered how conscious he had been of that restfulness on the day when he had sat and talked to her, in Mrs. Nairne's parlour. That same restfulness stole over him now, and some of the haunting misery within him died away. "So you don't believe in a ruthless chopping away of the past?" he asked, going back to her last words. "Oh! no," she exclaimed vehemently. "I am sure we are meant to use the past as a foundation stone for the future. Each thing in turn comes into our lives—joy, sorrow, pain, difficulty; and they all have to help together to build it up into perfection. But—I have no business to be sitting here preaching sermons," she added lightly. "I must go home, and relieve Mrs. Nairne of Baba, and write to Cicely, and——" "No; wait here a little longer," he interrupted imperiously, laying a hand on her arm, as she attempted to rise. "I am a returned traveller, and you are to tell me all the news before you go back to Baba, who, I am morally convinced, is supremely happy with Mrs. Nairne." "Supremely," Christina laughed. "She was going to help warm the scones for tea; perhaps you will come and help us eat them," she added shyly. "Baba would be so pleased if you came to have tea with us again." "And you? Would you be pleased?" "Of course," but she looked away from him as she spoke, and the soft rose tints on her face deepened ever so slightly, "Baba and I were very proud of giving you tea in the little parlour, last December." "I liked that parlour. I have pleasant recollections of it," he answered. "I liked the low ceiling, and the oak panelled walls, and the queer old-fashioned furniture. Yes, I will come and have tea with you and Baba to-day, but first tell me all about everybody." "You know Cicely has married Dr. Fergusson?" "I saw it in a chance paper. I have heard no details. I have simply drifted over Europe, where my fancy, or the demon of unrest led me, and I let nobody know where I was. I know practically nothing. Why did Cicely marry the doctor? He is a thorough good fellow, but——" "There isn't any 'but,'" Christina answered firmly. "Denis Fergusson is one of the very best men in the world, and Cicely has been radiant ever since—they were engaged. They were only married three weeks ago, and I wish you could have seen her face, when she walked down the church. You would not have said 'but' then!" "Were her people annoyed?" "A little, but only a little, and only at first. I think they recognised how completely the marriage was for Cicely's happiness. After all, Denis is a gentleman, an absolute and perfect gentleman, and a good man; and those two things are all that matter." "Yes, those things are all that matter. It is only sheer worldliness that demands more. And if Cicely is happy, why—let worldliness go hang. Poor little Cicely certainly needed a man to take care of her, and Baba, and that big property; but—is Fergusson willing to give up his work?" "Cicely won't hear of his giving it up. The surgery in South London is to go on as usual, and Cicely has insisted on having an assistant there, to do the work when Denis cannot go himself, so that, as she expresses it, she is not depriving a poor man of his living, in allowing a rich man to profit by the surgery and its practice." "I confess to being a little surprised that Fergusson ever got himself up to the scratch of asking a rich woman to marry him," Rupert said, with some hesitation. "It doesn't seem—quite like the man." "It wasn't in the least like the man," Christina answered demurely. "And—I'm afraid—I—made myself into a kind of—of matchmaker—or god in the machine, or something of that sort." Rupert laughed outright. "It was all your doing, was it?" he questioned, looking at her with smiling kindliness. "Did you——" "I don't think I can exactly tell you how I—I—worked the trick," she laughed a little confusedly. "But Cicely says it wouldn't ever have happened but for me. And I am glad." "So am I—very glad. Fergusson is a lucky man. A man who gets a woman like Cicely to take care of him, may consider a part of every day well spent, if he spends it in singing a Te Deum of his own. And Sir Arthur's lost pendant—was it ever found?" "Yes; eventually the police traced the woman who had been in the railway carriage with Lady Congreve's bag, and she confessed to having stolen the jewel." After these words, silence again fell between them, until Christina once more made an attempt to rise. "I ought to go back," she said, when Rupert's detaining hand again fell on her arm. "Baba——" "Why should you go back when I want you here," was the audacious response. "I want you much more than Baba does." The hand he had laid on her arm lingered there; over the latter half of his sentence, his voice had sunk almost to a whisper, and the rose tints on Christina's cheeks brightened. "I believe I have been wanting you for quite a long time," he went on, deliberately, his eyes watching how the colour came and went on her face, his hand still resting on her arm. "Would you like to know how often, when I was wandering about the byways of Europe, I thought of that evening in Mrs. Nairne's oak-panelled parlour, when I told you so many things about myself? Would you like to know how often you came into my mind?" Christina's dark head was a little bent, her eyes were fastened on a clump of bracken, blazing golden in the level sun-rays, her voice was very low and a little shaky. "I—shouldn't have thought you would remember me at all," she said, the touch of his hand upon her arm filling her with a sensation of strange gladness. "On that afternoon I told you, I am sure I told you, how restful you were," Rupert continued, speaking with an eagerness that gave him an oddly boyish manner; "something in your personality rested me then, and I have never forgotten it. You rest me now," he added suddenly, his hand slipping from her arm, and folding itself over her hand. "I came here to-day, feeling as if the world were a sorry enough place, and I a poor fool who had messed up my life, and was at the end of my tether. But when I saw you, sitting here in the sunshine, I felt as if—some day—the sunlight might come back to my life." "Could I—bring it back?" Her voice still shook, but she lifted her eyes bravely to look into his face, and he bent nearer to her, and gathered both her hands into his. "Little Christina," he said. "I don't know whether it is fair, even to think of asking you to spend your fresh young life in bringing sunshine back to mine, but—because I am a selfish brute—because—I—want you—I am going to ask you what I believe I have no right to ask you. And yet—it was Margaret's thought, too—Margaret's wish," he added, under his breath. "Aunt Margaret's wish!" the girl exclaimed. "That I—that you——" She broke off confusedly, trying instinctively to draw her hands from his, but feeling his clasp tighten over them. "Shall I tell you what she said to me about you the very last time I saw her?" he asked. "I think she knew I was going to be very lonely, and she spoke of you. I have not forgotten the actual words she used; they came back to me just now, as I sat here beside you; she said: 'She would make a man who cared for her, a most tender and loving wife. She has a sweet, strong soul.'" More and more vividly the colour deepened on Christina's face, and she did not answer, because speech at that moment was a physical impossibility. Only her hands lay passive in his grasp, she no longer tried to draw them away. "I think Margaret knew—how I should learn to need you," Rupert went on, his voice vibrating along the girl's nerves, and sending little thrills of happiness through her whole being. "She understood how much you could help me, if you would." "If I would?" she echoed, a tremulous gladness in her voice. "But—I—am so young, so ignorant, not a bit worthy of—of all you say," she ended incoherently. "Could you some day learn to care for me, if I tried to make you care?" was his answer. "Could you—some day—care for an old fellow like me, who hasn't even the best of his life and love to offer you? Could you do that, little girl?" "I don't call you an old fellow," she said indignantly; "and—I—don't think—I have got to learn to care. I—think—I have—learnt—already." Very gently, with a sort of tender reverence, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, then put her away from him again, and said quietly— "Is it fair to you, I wonder; is it fair to you to take all your best, and give you only the second best in return?" "But if I would rather have your second best, than the best from any other man in the world?" she said quickly. "What then? If it is a greater joy to me to think of being your rest and sunshine, than to be anything else in the world; what then?" She put her hands upon his shoulders, pushing him a little further from her, that she might look fully into his eyes. "I don't believe any man really ever understands a woman," she added, inconsequently, with a laugh. "Where have you learnt your knowledge of mankind?" he questioned; "and what makes you say we don't understand the other half of the world?" "Because, if you did, you would know that when a woman cares for a man, she would rather just be a servant in his house than go altogether out of his life. Perhaps we all prefer the best, but a woman who cares, would rather have the second best, than nothing at all." "And are you a woman—who cares?" he whispered, drawing her back into his arms, with a sudden sense of her sweetness, her desirableness; "would you rather be——" "You haven't asked me yet to be anything," she answered, with a touch of audacity, that sat charmingly upon her—"at least, you only mentioned rest, and sunshine, and—and intangible things of that sort." "And if I asked you to be my wife?" His lips were very near to hers, his voice in itself was a caress, and Christina's heart beats nearly choked her. "If—I want you for my wife, little girl?" Her answer was quite inarticulate, if indeed she answered him at all, but she allowed him to kiss her lips, and Rupert knew that her answer was given him with that kiss. "You would not let any man kiss your lips, unless you loved him well enough to marry him," he said, after a moment's pause, and Christina looked at him with happy, laughing eyes. "I would not let any man kiss me at all, unless I—wanted to marry him," she answered; "and——" "You want to marry me?" Rupert interrupted with a boyishly spontaneous laugh, such as she had never heard from him before. "Yes, I want to marry you," she said demurely, drawing herself away from him again, and looking mischievously into his face; "and, do you know, this—isn't the first time I—I have thought of marrying you?" "What do you mean?" Rupert's mystified expression brought a dimpling smile out upon her face. "Do you remember the girl who answered your advertisement in the matrimonial column of a certain Sunday paper? That girl——" "Was it you?" he exclaimed. "Were you the girl to whom I wrote? The girl I appointed to meet at Margaret's house? Could any coincidence be more strange?" "I was C.M. who answered that advertisement, because she was at the very end of her resources, her hope," Christina answered gravely. "I felt horrible when I did it. I felt you would think the very worst of me for writing to you at all, but I was nearly in despair that day; there seemed just a loophole of escape for me, if I found—you were—kind and good." "Poor little girl, my poor little girl." His arm drew her close. "You wrote the dearest, most simple little letter. I never thought the worse of you. I never thought badly of you at all. I made up my mind to help you get work; and I recommended you to Cicely; at least, I went so far as to tell Cicely I knew of someone who might do for Baba." "But she didn't take me on your recommendation?" "No, she said references were necessary, and——" "And in the end she took me practically with no references at all, and—the story has just worked itself out to this wonderful ending." "Is it such a wonderful ending?" He helped her to her feet, and they stood watching the golden sun drop slowly towards the golden hills. "Is it—the ending you would have chosen for yourself?" "When I told Baba fairy stories, the prince used to have a curious family resemblance to you," she answered. "I—liked to make my fairy prince like you—because——" "Because?" "Because—I think I knew you were the best prince in all the world," she whispered, "the king—of my kingdom." THE END. LONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. <hr> Ward, Lock & Co.'s POPULAR FICTION A. E. W. MASON LAWRENCE CLAVERING. 6s. STANLEY WEYMAN MY LADY ROTHA. 6s. A Romance of the Thirty Years' War; THE SATURDAY REVIEW.—"No one who begins will lay it down before the end, it is so extremely well carried on from adventure to adventure." SIR A. CONAN DOYLE A STUDY IN SCARLET. 3s. 6d. With a mite on Sherlock Holmes by Dr. Joseph Bell. Illustrations by George Hutchinson. ANTHONY HOPE COMEDIES OF COURTSHIP. 3s. 6d. THE SPEAKER.—"In this volume Mr. Hope is at his happiest in that particular department of fiction in which he reigns supreme." HALF A HERO. 3s. 6d. 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THE STANDARD.—"Those who read 'A Maker of History' will revel in the plot, and will enjoy all those numerous deft touches of actuality that have gone to make the story genuinely interesting and exciting." THE MASTER MUMMER. 6s. THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"It is a beautiful story that is here set within a story." THE BETRAYAL. 6s. THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"Mr. Oppenheim's skill has never been displayed to better advantage than here.... He has excelled himself, and to assert this is to declare the novel superior to nine out of ten of its contemporaries." ANNA, THE ADVENTURESS. 6s. THE DAILY NEWS.—"Mr. Oppenheim keeps his readers on the alert from cover to cover, and the story is a fascinating medley of romance and mystery." THE YELLOW CRAYON. 6s. THE DAILY EXPRESS.—"Mr. Oppenheim has a vivid imagination and much sympathy, fine powers of narrative, and can suggest a life history in a sentence." A PRINCE OF SINNERS. 6s. VANITY FAIR.—"A vivid and powerful story. Mr. Oppenheim knows the world and he can tell a tale, and the unusual nature of the setting in which his leading characters live and work out their love story gives this book distinction among the novels of the season." THE TRAITORS. 6s. THE ATHENAEUM.—"Its interest begins on the first page and ends on the last. The plot is ingenious and well managed, the movement of the story is admirably swift and smooth, and the characters are exceedingly vivacious. The reader's excitement is kept on the stretch to the very end." A LOST LEADER. 6s. THE DAILY GRAPHIC.—"Mr. Oppenheim almost treats us to a romance which is full of originality and interest from first to last." MR. WINGRAVE, MILLIONAIRE. 6s. THE BRITISH WEEKLY.—"Like good wine Mr. Oppenheim's novels need no bush. They attract by their own charm, and are unrivalled in popularity. No one will read this present story without relishing the rapid succession of thrilling scenes through which his characters move. There is a freshness and unconventionality about the story that lends it unusual attractiveness." AS A MAN LIVES. 6s. THE SKETCH.—"The interest of the book, always keen and absorbing, is due to some extent to a puzzle so admirably planned as to defy the penetration of the most experienced novel reader." A DAUGHTER OF THE MARIONIS. 6s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"Mr. Oppenheim's stories always display much melodramatic power and considerable originality and ingenuity of construction. These and other qualities of the successful writer of romance are manifest in 'A Daughter of the Marionis.' Full of passion, action, strongly contrasted scenery, motives, and situations." MR. BERNARD BROWN. 6s. THE ABERDEEN DAILY JOURNAL.—"The story is rich in sensational incident and dramatic situations. It is seldom, indeed, that we meet with a novel of such power and fascination." THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM. 6s. THE FREEMAN'S JOURNAL.—"The story is worthy of Merriman at his very best. It is a genuine treat for the ravenous and often disappointed novel reader." THE WORLD'S GREAT SNARE. 6s. THE WORLD.—"If engrossing interest, changing episode, deep insight into human character and bright diction are the sine qua non of a successful novel, then this book cannot but bound at once into popular favour. It is so full withal of so many dramatic incidents, thoroughly exciting and realistic. There is not one dull page from beginning to end." A MONK OF CRUTA. 6s. THE BOOKMAN.—"Intensely dramatic. The book is an achievement at which the author may well be gratified." MYSTERIOUS MR. SABIN. 6s. THE LITERARY WORLD.—"As a story of interest, with a deep-laid and exciting plot, this of the 'Mysterious Mr. Sabin' can hardly be surpassed." A MILLIONAIRE OF YESTERDAY. 6s. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.—"We cannot but welcome with enthusiasm a really well-told story like 'A Millionaire of Yesterday.'" THE SURVIVOR. 6s. THE NOTTINGHAM GUARDIAN.—"We must give a conspicuous place on its merits to this excellent story. It is only necessary to read a page or two In order to become deeply interested." THE GREAT AWAKENING. 6s. THE YORKSHIRE POST.—"A weird and fascinating story, which, for real beauty and originality, ranks far above the ordinary novel." FRED M. WHITE THE WHITE BRIDE. 6s. YORKSHIRE POST.—"A sensational but vivid and picturesque story, with a plot so full of mysterious complications and development that it would excite the envy and admiration of any past master of melodrama." A QUEEN OF THE STAGE. 6s. LIVERPOOL POST.—"A story full of mystery and of dramatic incident. It is wholesome, absorbing, and capably written." THE FOUR FINGERS. 6s. BLACKBURN TIMES.—"It is a live and bustling story, which once begun will not be dropped until the end." THE FIVE KNOTS. 6s. WESTERN DAILY PRESS.—"Mr. White has written several books, all of which have been enjoyed by a large number of readers, who will welcome his latest contribution, and probably agree that it is the best thing he has done." THE SUNDIAL. 6s. THE NORTHERN WHIG.—"In the already extensive list of Mr. White's novels it would be difficult to find one superior to the present story, which holds the reader's attention from start to finish." THE CORNER HOUSE. 6s. THE WESTERN MORNING NEWS.—"It is an excellent romance which will be eagerly read." THE SLAVE OF SILENCE. 6s. THE SHEFFIELD TELEGRAPH.—"Attention is arrested at the outset, and so adroitly is the mystery handled that readers will not skip a single page." A FATAL DOSE. 6s. THE STANDARD.—"This novel will rank amongst the brightest that Mr. White has given us." THE LAW OF THE LAND. 6s. DAILY TELEGRAPH.—"Mr. White's new novel may be strongly recommended. It contains enough surprises to whip the interest at every turn." A CRIME ON CANVAS. 6s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"The unravelling of the many tangled skeins is a process that firmly holds the attention of the reader." NETTA. 6s. DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"The author is an absolute master of sensation, and tells his powerful tale in a way which grips the reader at once." THE SCALES OF JUSTICE. 6s. THE MORNING POST.—"As exciting reading as anyone could want." LOUIS TRACY SYLVIA'S CHAUFFEUR. 6s. MORNING LEADER.—"'Sylvia's Chauffeur' is as pleasant a piece of light reading as any one could desire." THE STOWAWAY. 6s. THE READING STANDARD.—"This is a romantic story of adventure excellently told. The plot is worked out with great skill and ingenuity, the characters are convincing and consistent, for Mr. Tracy is a delightful story-teller and this is some of his best handiwork." A FATAL LEGACY. 6s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"In all the annals of fiction a more ingenious or startlingly original plot has not been recorded." RAINBOW ISLAND. 6s. THE LITERARY WORLD.—"Those who delight in tales of adventure should hail 'Rainbow Island' with joyous shouts of welcome. Rarely have we met with more satisfying fare of this description than in its pages." THE ALBERT GATE AFFAIR. 6s. THE BIRMINGHAM POST.—"Will worthily rank with 'The Fatal Legacy' and 'Rainbow Island,' both books full of wholesome excitement and told with great ability." THE PILLAR OF LIGHT. 6s. THE EVENING STANDARD.—"So admirable, so living, so breathlessly exciting a book. The magnificent realism of the lighthouse and its perils, the intense conviction of the author ... are worthy of praise from the most jaded reader." HEART'S DELIGHT. 6s. THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"'Heart's Delight' establishes more firmly than ever the reputation which he founded on 'The Final War'; like that notable book it has a strong martial flavour." THE WHEEL O' FORTUNE. 6s. THE PUBLISHER'S CIRCULAR.—"Conan Doyle's successor, Louis Tracy, has all the logical acuteness of the inventor of Sherlock Holmes without his occasional exaggeration." FENNELLS' TOWER. 6s. NORTH DEVON JOURNAL.—"An absorbing tale of love and crime from the clever pen of Louis Tracy. The secret of the crime which forms the basis of the plot is most skilfully covered, and the solution is a genuine surprise." THE SILENT BARRIER. 6s. "The Silent Barrier" is a breezy romance of love and adventure in Switzerland, comparable to an adventure story by the late Guy Boothby. THE MESSAGE. 6s. DUNDEE COURIER.—"Written In a clear and crisp style, abounds with thrilling situations, in which love, jealousy, intrigue, and mystery play an important part." HAROLD BINDLOSS THE PROTECTOR. 6s. MORNING POST.—"Mr. Bindloss is always a sure find for a good story, and in this one he has, if possible, excelled himself." THE LIBERATIONISM 6s. MORNING LEADER.—"This is the author's best novel, and is one which no lover of healthy excitement ought to miss." HAWTREY'S DEPUTY. 6s. THE WESTERN DAILY MERCURY.—"The whole story is told with the most spontaneous verve, and is tinged with a delightful element of romance which renders the book complete in its appeal from start to finish." THE IMPOSTOR. 6s. THE QUEEN.—"Mr. Bindloss writes books which are always good to read. His writing is uniformly good, and his books are always sane, intensely interesting, and dealing with subjects that cannot fail to concern a wide public. He has a real gift for telling stories, and the interest that he arouses in the reader's mind on the first page he sustains up to the last page in the volume." HEADON HILL A ROGUE IN AMBUSH. 6s. READING STANDARD.—"A most ingenious and interesting story is this latest creation of Mr. Headon Hill's nimble brain." THE HIDDEN VICTIM. 6s. THE ABERDEEN JOURNAL.—"To those who revel in sensational fiction, marked by literary skill as well as audacity and fertility of invention, this story can be confidently commended." HER SPLENDID SIN. 6s. PERTHSHIRE COURIER.—"Headon Hill has never told an intensely absorbing story with more dramatic directness than this one." A TRAITOR'S WOOING. 6s. DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"Its plot has the freeness and force of a single inspiration, and that a peculiarly happy one." J. C. SNAITH FIERCEHEART, THE SOLDIER. 6s. THE SPEAKER.—"There is real subtlety in this powerful study. The novel is crammed full of the finest romance and most heart-moving pathos." MISTRESS DOROTHY MARVIN. 6s. THE NOTTINGHAM GUARDIAN.—"Mr. Snaith stirs the blood, from the first page to the last, carrying the reader along in a delightful state of excitement, and all the characters live, move, and have their being." LADY BARBARITY. 6s. BLACK AND WHITE says:—"'Lady Barbarity' would cheer a pessimist in a November fog. It is so gay, so good humoured, so full of the influence of youth and beauty." GUY BOOTHBY THE RACE OF LIFE. 5s. THE ENGLISH REVIEW.—"Ahead even of Mr. Cutcliffe Hyne and Sir Conan Doyle, Mr. Boothby may be said to have topped popularity's pole." FOR LOVE OF HER. 5s. THE COURT JOURNAL.—"This book shows vivid imagination and dramatic power. Moreover, sketches of Australian life, from one who knows his subject, are always welcome." THE CRIME OF THE UNDER SEAS. 5s. THE SPEAKER.—"Is quite the equal in art, observation, and dramatic intensity to any of Mr. Guy Boothby's numerous other romances, and is in every respect most typical of his powers." A BID FOR FREEDOM. 5s. THE SHEFFIELD TELEGRAPH.—"As fascinating as any of its forerunners, and is as finely handled. A fully written romance, which bristles with thrilling passages, exciting adventures, and hairbreadth escapes." A TWO-FOLD INHERITANCE. 5s. PUNCH.—"Just the very book that a hard-working man should read for genuine relaxation. This novel is strongly recommended by the justly appreciating 'Baron de Bookworms.'" CONNIE HURT. 5s. THE BIRMINGHAM GAZETTE.—"One of the best stories we have seen of Mr. Boothby's." THE KIDNAPPED PRESIDENT. 5s. PUBLIC OPINION.—"Brighter, crisper, and more entertaining than any of its predecessors from the same pen." MY STRANGEST CASE. 5s. THE YORKSHIRE POST.—"No work of Mr. Boothby's seems to us to have approached in skill his new story. The reader's attention is from first to last riveted on the narrative." FAREWELL, NIKOLA. 5s. THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"Guy Boothby's famous creation of Dr. Nikola has become familiar to every reader of fiction." MY INDIAN QUEEN. 5s. THE SUNDAY SPECIAL.—"A vivid story of adventure and daring, bearing all the characteristics of careful workmanship." LONG LIVE THE KING. 5s. THE ABERDEEN FREE PRESS.—"It is marvellous that Mr. Boothby's novels should all be so uniformly good." A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS. 5s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"Of absorbing interest. The exploits are described in an enthralling vein." A MAKER OF NATIONS. 5s. THE SPECTATOR.—"'A Maker of Nations' enables us to understand Mr. Boothby's vogue. It has no lack of movement or incident." THE RED RAT'S DAUGHTER. 5s. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.—"Mr. Guy Boothby's name on the title-page of a novel carries with it the assurance of a good story to follow." LOVE MADE MANIFEST. 5s. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.—"A powerful and impressive romance. One of those tales of exciting adventure in the confection of which Mr. Boothby is not excelled by any novelist of the day." PHAROS THE EGYPTIAN. 5s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"This powerful novel is weird, wonderful, and soul-thrilling. There never was in this world so strange and wonderful a love story." ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE. 5s. THE BRITISH WEEKLY.—"This stirring tale ranks next to 'Dr. Nikola' in the list of Mr. Boothby's novels. It is an excellent piece of workmanship, and we can heartily recommend it." THE LUST OF HATE. 5s. THE DAILY GRAPHIC.—"Mr. Boothby gives place to no one in what might be called dramatic interest, so whoever wants dramatic interest let him read 'The Lust of Hate.'" THE FASCINATION OF THE KING. 5s. THE BRISTOL MERCURY.—"Unquestionably the best work we have yet seen from the pen of Mr. Guy Boothby.... 'The Fascination of the King' is one of the books of the season." DR. NIKOLA. 5s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"One hairbreadth escape succeeds another with rapidity that scarce leaves the reader breathing space.... A story ingeniously invented and skilfully told." THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL. 5s. THE YORKSHIRE POST.—"A more exciting romance no man could reasonably ask for." A BID FOR FORTUNE. 5s. THE MANCHESTER COURIER.—"It is impossible to give any idea of the verve and brightness with which the story is told. The most original novel of the year." IN STRANGE COMPANY. 5s. THE WORLD.—"A capital novel. It has the quality of life and stir, and will carry the reader with curiosity unabated to the end." THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER. 5s. THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.—"A story full of action, life, and dramatic interest. There is a vigour and a power of illusion about it that raises it quite above the level of the ordinary novel of adventure." BUSHIGRAMS. 5s. THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.—"Intensely interesting. Forces from us, by its powerful artistic realism, those choky sensations which it should be the aim of the human writer to elicit, whether in comedy or tragedy." SHEILAH McLEOD. 5s. MR. W. L. ALDEN in THE NEW YORK TIMES.—"Mr. Boothby can crowd more adventure into a square foot of canvas than any other novelist." DR. NIKOLA'S EXPERIMENT. 5s. Illustrated by Sidney Cowell. THE MAN OF THE CRAG. 5s. ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT IN THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE. 6s. NORTH DEVON JOURNAL.—"A novel of absorbing interest. The plot is developed very cleverly, and there is a delightful love theme." WHEN I WAS CZAR. 6s. THE FREEMAN'S JOURNAL.—"A very brilliant work; every page in it displays the dramatic talent of the author and his capacity for writing smart dialogue." BY SNARE OF LOVE. 6s. THE OUTLOOK.—"As a writer of political intrigue, Mr. Marchmont has scarcely a rival to-day, and his latest novel upholds his reputation." THE QUEEN'S ADVOCATE. 6s. THE LIVERPOOL COURIER.—"Mr. Marchmont is at his best in this tale. His resource seems inexhaustible, and his spirits never flag." A COURIER OF FORTUNE. 6s. THE DUNDEE COURIER.—"A most thrilling and romantic tale of France, which has the advantage of being exciting and fascinating without being too improbable." BY WIT OF WOMAN. 6s. THE LEICESTER POST.—"The novel rivets the deep interest of the reader, and holds it spellbound to the end." IN THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM. 6s. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.—"A well-sustained and thrilling narrative." THE LITTLE ANARCHIST. 6s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"A romance brimful of incident and arousing in the reader a healthy interest that carries him along with never a pause." AN IMPERIAL MARRIAGE. 6s. SCOTSMAN.—"The action never flags, the romantic element is always paramount, so that the production is bound to appeal successfully to all lovers of spirited fiction." JOSEPH HOCKING THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD. 3s. 6d. THE FINANCIAL TIMES.—"A strong knowledge of human nature, for which Mr. Hocking is famous, is well portrayed in the pages of this novel, and this, in conjunction with the interesting nature of the plot, renders it particularly successful. The book will be appreciated by novel readers." ROGER TREWINION. 3s. 6d. T. P.'s WEEKLY.—"It is a foregone conclusion that Mr. Hocking will always have a good story to tell. 'Roger Trewinion' can stand forth with the best, a strong love interest, plenty of adventure, an atmosphere of superstition, and Cornwall as the scene." THE COMING OF THE KING. 3s. 6d. THE GLASGOW HERALD.—"Mr. Hocking's imagination is fertile, and his skill in the arrangement of incident far above the average, and there is an air of reality in all his writing which is peculiarly charming." ESAU. 3s. 6d. THE OUTLOOK.—"Remarkable for the dramatic power with which the scenes are drawn and the intense human interest which Mr. Hocking has woven about his characters. 'Esau' is sure to be one of the novels of the season." GREATER LOVE. 3s. 6d. THE NEWCASTLE CHRONICLE.—"Though of a totally different character from 'Lest We Forget,' Mr. Hocking's latest story is entitled to take rank along with that fine romance." LEST WE FORGET. 3s. 6d. PUBLIC OPINION.—"His story is quite as good as any we have read of the Stanley Weyman's school, and presents an excellent picture of the exciting times of Gardiner and Bonner." AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? 3s. 6d. THE WEEKLY SUN.—"An engaging and fascinating romance. The reader puts the story down with a sigh, and wishes there were more of these breezy Cornish uplands, for Mr. Joseph Hocking's easy style of narrative does not soon tire." JABEZ EASTERBROOK. 3s. 6d. THE ROCK.—"Real strength is shown in the sketches, of which that of Brother Bowman is most prominent. In its way it is delightful." THE WEAPONS OF MYSTERY. 3s. 6d. "Weapons of Mystery" is a singularly powerful story of occult influences and of their exertion for evil purposes. ZILLAH: A ROMANCE. 3s. 6d. THE SPECTATOR.—"The drawing of some of the characters indicates the possession by Mr. Hocking of a considerable gift of humour. The contents of his book indicate that he takes a genuine interest in the deeper problems of the day." THE MONK OF MAR-SABA. 3s. 6d. THE STAR.—"Great power and thrilling interest.... The scenery of the Holy Land has rarely been so vividly described as in this charming book of Mr. Hocking's." THE PURPLE ROBE. 3s. 6d. THE QUEEN.—"Mr. Hocking's most interesting romance. It is exceedingly clever, and excites the reader's interest and brings out the powerful nature of the clever young minister. This most engrossing book challenges comparison with the brilliance of Lothair." THE SCARLET WOMAN. 3s. 6d. THE METHODIST RECORDER.—"This is Mr. Hocking's strongest and best book. We advise every one to read it. The plot is simple, compact and strenuous; the writing powerful. It brings out sharply the real character of the typical Jesuit, his training, motives, limitations, aims." ALL MEN ARE LIARS. 3s. 6d. THE CHRISTIAN WORLD.—"This is a notable book. Thoughtful people will be fascinated by its actuality, its fearlessness, and the insight it gives into the influence of modern thought and literature upon the minds and morals of our most promising manhood." ISHMAEL PENGELLY: AN OUTCAST. 3s. 6d. THE ATHENAEUM.—"The book is to be recommended for the dramatic effectiveness of some of the scenes. The wild, half-mad woman is always picturesque wherever she appears, and the rare self-repression of her son is admirably done." THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX. 3s. 6d. THE MANCHESTER EXAMINER.—"Rustic scenes and characters are drawn with free, broad touches, without Mr. Buchanan's artificiality, and, if we may venture to say it, with more realism than Mr. Hardy's country pictures." THE BIRTHRIGHT. 3s. 6d. THE SPECTATOR.—"This volume proves beyond all doubt that Mr. Hocking has mastered the art of the historical romancist. 'The Birthright' is, in its way, quite as well constructed, as well written, and as full of incident as any story that has come from the pen of Sir Conan Doyle or Mr. Stanley Weyman." MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH. 3s. 6d. THE SCOTSMAN.—"'Mistress Nancy Molesworth' is as charming a story of the kind as could be wished, and it excels in literary workmanship as well as in imaginative vigour and daring invention." FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN. 3s. 6d. THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"Mr. Hocking has produced a work which his readers of all classes will appreciate.... There are exhibited some of the most beautiful aspects of disposition." MARIE CONNOR LEIGHTON GREED. 6s. WESTERN DAILY PRESS.—"The story is teeming with graphic incident, in which the descriptive powers of Mrs. Leighton are splendidly revealed." THE BRIDE OF DUTTON MARKET. 6s. CORK EXAMINER.—"Mrs. Leighton is the author of many sensational novels, but the latest production of her pen surpasses any of her previous works." CONVICT 413L. 6s. THE BIRMINGHAM NEWS.—"This her latest essay sustains in a marked degree the authoress's proved gift of rich and fertile imagination." JOAN MAR, DETECTIVE. 6s. THE GLOBE.—"Readers in want of excitement will be quite happy with this book, which will keep them in a delightful atmosphere of mystery." JUSTICE. 6s. An excellent story, well constructed, and the interest is kept going till the last page. PUT YOURSELF IN HER PLACE. 6s. THE SHEFFIELD DAILY TELEGRAPH.—"A novel equal to anything her pen has written." MONEY. 6s. THE BOOKMAN.—"'Money' unfolds a striking and vividly imagined story. It is crowded with incident and excitement." AN EYE FOR AN EYE. 6s. THE FINCHLEY PRESS.—"We predict a great success for 'An Eye for an Eye.' It certainly deserves it." DEEP WATERS. 6s. THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—"A story that admits of no breathing space from start to finish." CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS NATURE BOOKS "Picturesque, full of character, instructive, entertaining, often thrilling—the stories are sure to be received with the same pleasure as their predecessors have been by both the naturalist and the lover of good literature."—ILLUSTRATED SPORTING AND DRAMATIC NEWS. "Under the guidance of Mr. Roberts we have often adventured among the wild beasts of the land and sea, and we hope to do so many times in the future. It is an education not to be missed by those who have the chance, and the chance is every one's."—The Athenaeum. THE HOUSE IN THE WATER. 6s. MORE KINDRED OF THE WILD. 6s. THE BACKWOODSMEN. 6s. KINGS IN EXILE. 6s. NEIGHBOURS UNKNOWN. 6s. L. G. MOBERLY FORTUNE'S FOUNDLING. 6s. MORNING LEADER.—"Miss L. G. Moberly is, as our readers are aware, an extremely skilful weaver of mysteries, and remarkably successful in keeping up interest in them." A WAIF OF DESTINY. 6s. IRISH INDEPENDENT.—"A work which bids fair to eclipse even the most successful of the many deservedly popular works of fiction she has written." PHYLLIS. 6s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"The book, clearly constructed and agreeably written, is always interesting as a story and in its drawing of womanly character." HEART OF GOLD. 6s. DURHAM CHRONICLE.—"The book has been written with great cleverness and charm, and we willingly place our full store of compliments on Miss Moberly's splendid and successful book." A WAIF OF DESTINY. 6s. SUNDAY TIMES.—"A singularly interesting book, absorbingly thrilling, the mystery being well kept up until the very end." IN THE BALANCE. 6s. THE LADIES' FIELD.—"One of the most interesting of all her homely stories." HOPE, MY WIFE. 6s. THE GENTLEWOMAN.—"Miss Moberly interests us so much in heroine, and in her hero, that we follow the two with pleasure through adventures of the most improbable order." DAN—AND ANOTHER. 6s. THE DAILY NEWS.—"Must be considered one of the best pieces of work that Miss Moberly has yet produced." A TANGLED WEB. 6s. THE DAILY MAIL.—"A 'tangled web,' indeed, is this story, and the author's ingenuity and intrepidity in developing and working out the mystery calls for recognition at the outset." ANGELA'S MARRIAGE. 6s. IRISH INDEPENDENT.—"That Miss Moberly has a delightful and graceful style is not only evident from a perusal of some of her former works, but from the fascinatingly told story now under review." THE SIN OF ALISON DERING. 6s. THE FINANCIAL TIMES.—"Miss Moberly writes with great charm and skill, and the reader is not likely to put down the book until the tangle is finally cleared up." A VERY DOUBTFUL EXPERIMENT. 6s. IRISH INDEPENDENT.—"Miss Moberly's former works have well established her ability to write fascinating fiction and create interest in her actors, but we doubt if she has ever introduced a character whose career would be followed with more absorbing interest than that of Rachael Boyd." A WOMAN AGAINST THE WORLD. 6s. THE SCOTSMAN.—"The whole tale is a powerful and enthralling one, and cannot fail to enhance the growing reputation of the authoress." BY THE SAME AUTHOR. A FEW PRESS OPINIONS. JOY. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH:—"Miss L. G. Moberly has a remarkable talent for making a simple story thoroughly interesting and satisfying. It needs much skill and a good deal of charm in writing to achieve, this, and her latest novel is a fine example of her power." THE WESTERN MAIL:—"A thoroughly interesting and pleasant story. 'Joy' contains really excellent work, and there is not a dull page in the book or a pause in the story. The story throughout is absorbingly bright." HOPE, MY WIFE. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH:—"A tale which may be praised for the pretty and simple manner of its telling and the distinct charm of its character." ABERDEEN JOURNAL:—"Miss Moberly tells her tale so graphically, and yet so sincerely that the attention of the reader does not flag for an instant." A VERY DOUBTFUL EXPERIMENT. IRISH INDEPENDENT:—"A charming, attractive tale, ably conceived and convincingly presented. Miss Moberly's former works have well established her ability to write fascinating fiction and create interest in her actors, but we doubt if she has ever introduced a character whose career would be followed with more absorbing interest than that of Rachel Boyd." DIANA. THE SCOTSMAN:—"The story is so cleverly handled as to keep its interest always lively and stimulating; and the book cannot fail to be enjoyed." BRISTOL MERCURY:—"The story possesses a freshness doubly welcome on account of the charm and skill with which it is unfolded. Diana is a novel well worth reading." A TANGLED WEB. DAILY MAIL:—"An ingenious and most unusual plot. The reader will wonder and be amazed. A 'tangled web' indeed is this story, and the author's ingenuity and intrepidity in developing and working out the mystery calls for recognition at the outset." FINANCIAL TIMES:—"This is an extremely well written and interesting story, and ranks well with Miss Moberly's other popular works. The plot is ingeniously carried through, and the interest thus aroused is well sustained." THAT PREPOSTEROUS WILL. THE GLOBE:—"Molly is a bright, clever, affectionate damsel; and the author has succeeded in making her as fascinating to the reader as to her hero, Alan Dayrell." THE NOTTINGHAM GUARDIAN:—"The story of Miranda's transformation from grub to butterfly is one of very great interest, the character of Mrs. Gray, the lady under whom she is trained for her new position in society, being portrayed with a delicate but sure hand." THE SIN OF ALISON DERING. THE FINANCIAL TIMES:—"The plot of this story is cleverly conceived and well carried out. Miss Moberly writes with great charm and skill, and the reader is not likely to put down the book until the tangle is finally cleared up. As a character-study, the figure of Alison Dering is drawn with considerable insight." DAN—AND ANOTHER. THE MORNING LEADER:—"A clever and carefully wrought book. The characterization is natural and satisfying, and the various situations are handled with strength and humour." THE DUNDEE COURIER:—"The plot is a strong one, and it is unfolded in a most convincing manner, showing the inner workings of a woman's mind and the birth of a hopeless passion." ANGELA'S MARRIAGE. THE IRISH INDEPENDENT:—"That Miss Moberly has a delightful style is not only evident from a perusal of some of her former works, but from the fascinatingly told story now under review. Her characterization is charming and the style simple and delicate, with the result that the book will be found most interesting and entertaining." THE DAILY GRAPHIC:—"This capital story by L. G. Moberly is one of those in which to a thoroughly well framed plot are added very considerable skill in narration, and the results of her observation of human nature." A WOMAN AGAINST THE WORLD. THE SCOTSMAN:—"The whole tale is a powerful and enthralling one, and cannot fail to enhance the growing reputation of the authoress." SHEFFIELD TELEGRAPH:—"Whilst full of dramatic interest it is told quietly and gracefully." THE NORTHERN WHIG:—"The plot is cleverly constructed, and is developed with a skill and a fascinating narrative power possessed only by a true master of the art of novel-writing. The characters, too, are carefully and well drawn and finely contrasted." LONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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