MRS GABRIEL'S SECRET
Mrs Jeal was not pleased. She was a woman who liked to make mischief,
and preferred to leave sorrow rather than joy behind her. In her time
she had caused a good deal of misery, and she had always rejoiced over
it. But now that she had been forced to undo the evil she had committed,
her heart ached. Bad as Pratt was, his wife was worse, and if he had
indeed killed her, as he had threatened, he would have been doing a
service to mankind. Mrs Jeal was a noxious snake who should have been
killed without pity.
On leaving the Vicarage she went home at once and found the cottage
empty, as Pearl had not yet returned. Mrs Jeal brought out the letter
and again read it. Then she turned white and shivered; finally she put
it into the fire, and watched it burn to black ashes. Afterwards she
filled herself a glass of brandy and drank it neat. Yet she was an
abstemious woman as a rule. There must have been something very terrible
in that letter to make her take to strong drink. And what was in it no
one in Colester ever found out. Having burned it, Mrs Jeal put it out of
her mind as well as she was able. Yet often afterwards she shivered to
think of what would have happened had it been opened in the Vicarage
library. "A narrow shave that," muttered Mrs Jeal.
Shortly, when she had recovered herself in some measure, Pearl danced
into the room. She was now quite her old happy self. The restoration of
the cup made her believe that God had forgiven her, and that the Master
believed her worthy to be the guardian of the Holy Grail. Raston had
arranged the matter in order to save her from further misery. Early on
Sunday morning he had taken the cup across the moor and had placed it on
the turf altar, knowing that there Pearl, as was her custom, would come
and seek it. He had not anticipated such a dramatic scene as had taken
place in the chapel. Pearl believed in her own weak mind that the Master
had brought the cup down again from Heaven. She was therefore glad and
merry, and her singing and dancing annoyed Mrs Jeal.
"Keep quiet, you minx!" she cried savagely, "or I'll have you shut up.
Where have you been after making an exhibition of yourself?"
"I have been looking at the cup," said Pearl, gaily. "It is on the
altar. I am pleased the Master has given it again into my charge. He has
forgiven me, and some day I shall be with Him in Paradise."
It was in Mrs Jeal's wicked mind to tell the truth to the girl. But she
knew that Pearl would not accept the explanation. Besides, strange as it
may seem, even Mrs Jeal had some compunction in making the girl
miserable. The woman was evil to the core, but she must have had some
good in her. Therefore she held her tongue on the subject of the cup.
"Where were you so early this morning?" she asked. "I found your bed
empty at six o'clock."
"I went to the altar to find the cup brought down by the dear Master,"
replied Pearl, "and I was watching Sir Frank Hale and his sister going
away. They drove with two horses and many boxes. I did not--"
Mrs Jeal jumped up and seized Pearl's arm. "What do you mean?" she
asked. "Has Sir Frank Hale gone?"
"And his sister," said Pearl, twisting away with a frightened face.
"They have left Colester and gone away--away, oh, far away! Oh! Oh! what
are--"
"Hold your tongue," said Mrs Jeal, thrusting her into a chair, "and sit
you there till I come back." She hurriedly put on her bonnet and shawl.
"If you stir I'll kill you," and she hurried out of the house.
Pearl's news was true. There was no one in the Hale's house save an old
woman who was to act as caretaker. She explained that Sir Frank and his
sister had left early that morning, and by this time were on their way
to London, whence they departed in a few days for the Continent.
"Did they leave no message for me?" asked Mrs Jeal, her face growing
black as she clenched her hand.
"No; why should they?" asked the crone, contemptuously. "What have fine
folks like them to do with a woman like you?"
"I'll slap your face if you talk to me like that," raged Mrs Jeal, her
worst nature coming uppermost.
"I have influence with your master. I can have you turned away."
"No, you can't," replied the other hag. "Why I heard Sir Frank say how
glad he was to get away without seeing you. He called you a witch. He!
He!"
"He did, did he?" muttered Mrs Jeal, furiously. "Now just you--" She
was going on to threaten the caretaker when she found the door banged in
her face and heard the mocking laughter of the old woman behind it.
Treated thus scornfully, Mrs Jeal stamped and raged like one possessed.
"Not a penny," she muttered, "and he promised--ugh, the miser--the
beast! I'll be even with him. There's the money for the cup. I can
follow. I can--but I want more. Now that I have given up my secret"--her
face grew dark as she thought of the burnt letter--"I shall be poor.
Ha!" She stopped, and biting her finger looked towards the castle. "I
can make her pay. This evening, then. It will be worth more than the
cup. One secret is of no use. But I have another--another."
She shook her fist at the house of Sir Frank, said something about him
that was not exactly a blessing, then returned home with her mind made
up. She wished to leave Colester, which was now too hot for her. As
Sybil would look after Pearl, there would be no difficulty in that
quarter. She had saved money, and with what she had got from pawning the
cup she was fairly well off for her station in life. But Mrs Jeal was
greedy and wanted more. Mrs Gabriel was to be the milch cow this time.
Thus it came about that Mrs Gabriel was informed that evening that Mrs
Jeal wished to see her at once on important business.
The underlying insolence of the message annoyed Mrs Gabriel, who always
prided herself on keeping the lower orders in what she called their
proper place, which was under her heel. And Mrs Gabriel was in no mood
to be merciful to insolence. Some kind friend had informed her of the
discovery of Leo's true position. She was savagely angry. On account of
Pratt she had hated the young man, and later on, when he came to defy
her, she had disliked him on his own account. That he should have a
title, and that he should marry Sybil Tempest! These things were all
gall and bitterness to the haughty woman. She wanted Leo to be her
slave, to punish him for Pratt's misdemeanours. But her slave had
escaped, and she could do nothing save sit in the empty room, eating out
her heart in the bitterness of impotent anger. She could do nothing. Leo
was gone; Pratt was gone, and she was left a lonely woman. She had not
even the comfort of feeling that she could revenge herself.
Feeling in this mood, she was not unwilling to see Mrs Jeal. Here, at
least, was someone on whom she could vent her rage. With an imperious
gesture she ordered the woman to be admitted, and received her with a
stormy brow. Mrs Jeal smiled. She knew that she had the upper hand, and
was not to be intimidated by stormy looks. Waiting till the servant had
departed and the door was closed, she introduced herself.
"I have to speak to you on important business, my lady," she said, with
assumed meekness, and addressing Mrs Gabriel by a title to which she
laid no claim. This was done to accentuate the later part of the
interview. Mrs Jeal was quite as well prepared as was Mrs Gabriel to
make herself disagreeable. She also was out of tune.
"What business can a woman like you have with me?" demanded Mrs Gabriel,
with scorn, and put up a _lorgnette_ to freeze Mrs Jeal with a look.
But Mrs Jeal had borne the looks of even greater ladies than Mrs
Gabriel. "It is strange, is it not, my lady?" she sniggered; "but I have
something to talk about which will interest your ladyship very much."
"Indeed!" Mrs Gabriel looked more scornful than ever. "And I believe you
have to do with this precious discovery?"
"I have, my lady. Mr Haverleigh is now Lord Morven. I proved his right
to the title. You see, my lady, I was a nurse at Kilspindie Castle, and
I stole his lordship when a child."
"How dare you speak to me like this?" cried Mrs Gabriel. "Do you not
know that I can have you arrested for such an admission?"
"Oh, no; you cannot, my lady," retorted Mrs Jeal, coolly; "only Lord
Kilspindie can do that, and he has let me go free."
"Then you leave this place," said Mrs Gabriel, haughtily. "I'll have no
one in Colester likely to corrupt the morals of the people."
"Ah, you have great power here, my lady--great power," mocked Mrs Jeal.
Mrs Gabriel's blood grew cold as she saw the look in the woman's eye. "I
don't understand you. Leave the room and the place," she said.
"All in good time, my lady," replied Mrs Jeal, calmly, and took a seat.
As this was more than Mrs Gabriel could bear, she rose.
"You infamous creature!" she cried furiously. "Out of my house, or I'll
have you thrown out by my servants."
"_My_ house, _my_ servants, _my_ estates!" sneered Mrs Jeal, keeping an
eye on her victim. "Are you sure you can talk like that, my lady?"
"I repeat I don't understand you," stammered Mrs Gabriel, sitting down.
She was beginning to be afraid. Mrs Jeal would not dare to speak so
unless she possessed some information dangerous to the lady of the
castle.
"I shall leave the parish to-morrow," went on Mrs Jeal, coolly. "I have
no wish to remain. Miss Tempest will take charge of Pearl, and--"
"What have I to do with all this?" said Mrs Gabriel, sitting up.
"This much: I want your ladyship to give me a thousand pounds."
"Ah! I thought so. Your mission here is one of blackmail?"
Mrs Jeal shrugged her plump shoulders. "Some people would call it that,"
she said, dropping the courtesy title; "and as you have paid blackmail
to Pratt all these years, I don't see why you should not give me a
thousand pounds to get rid of me."
"Pratt!" Mrs Gabriel could hardly speak. "What do you know?--"
"I know that Pratt was married to you in Switzerland when you were Miss
Haverleigh, and that you afterwards married Mr Gabriel. The property was
left by Mr Gabriel to--'_my wife_.' Those were the words used in the
will. And you, Miss Haverleigh, were never Mr Gabriel's wife."
"It is not true," muttered Mrs Gabriel, her lips quivering.
"It is true; you know it is!" said the other woman. "A word from Pratt,
and you would have been turned out of possession here. He held his
tongue so long as you took the child and brought him up. I have held my
tongue also, because I was afraid of Pratt. But now he has told my
secret about Lord Morven, I want money on my own account, so as to get
away from him across the seas."
Mrs Gabriel drummed on the table. She saw that this woman was too much
for her. "What you say is perfectly true," she said. "I met Pratt in
Switzerland when I was a young girl. We were married in Geneva, and I
afterwards found out what a brute he was. We parted. Afterwards I heard
that he was dead, and regarded myself as free to marry Gabriel."
"Oh, that was one of Pratt's jokes," said Mrs Jeal, easily. "He was
always a merry sort of brute. But, you see, I can turn you out."
"Not without Pratt's aid," said Mrs Gabriel, fiercely. "I won't give up
the property to go to the Crown! I love power, and I intend to keep what
I have. Pratt made me take that child, and lie about him. He made me
introduce him to Colester society, and for years he has taken money from
me. After doing all this, do you think I'll give it up? No; I'll fight!"
Mrs Jeal laughed unpleasantly. "I can put a weapon into your hand to
fight with," she said; "that is, if you give me a thousand pounds."
"What do you mean" panted Mrs Gabriel, throwing herself forward and
seizing Mrs Jeal by the shoulders. "Can you?--will you?--"
"If you give me a thousand pounds," replied the other woman, quite
unmoved, and looking up with her wicked eyes into Mrs Gabriel's agitated
face.
"What do you know? Quick--tell me!" Mrs Gabriel shook her.
"Don't shake me," said Mrs Jeal, tartly, twisting herself free. "If you
want to know my secret, I'll tell it to you--I am Pratt's lawful wife."
Mrs Gabriel put her hand to her forehead, and reeled to the end of the
room. "Wife--wife!" she muttered. "Then I am not--"
"You are _not_ his wife," finished Mrs Jeal, coolly. "You never were his
wife, seeing he was married to me before he met you. You are Mrs
Gabriel, the widow of John Gabriel, and the possessor of this property."
"Can you--can you prove this?" asked the other woman, gasping.
"I'll give you my marriage certificate for a thousand pounds," said Mrs
Jeal. "I don't want it. I've had enough of Pratt. Then you can see the
church where we were married, and search the register. Oh, it's all
right."
"Give me the certificate," Mrs Gabriel stretched out her hand eagerly.
"Not without the thousand pounds," said Mrs Jeal, resolutely.
"I'll give you a cheque," said Mrs Gabriel, hurrying to a writing-desk.
Mrs Jeal shook her head. "Won't do!" she remarked. "I've had to do with
ladies before. You might stop that cheque when I had given you what you
wanted. No. Come to the bank; give me the money in notes, and I'll place
the certificate in your hands."
"We can't go to the bank to-night," said Mrs Gabriel, frowning.
"Oh! I can wait till to-morrow," replied Mrs Jeal, coolly.
Mrs Gabriel lost her temper and stamped her foot. "Give me that
certificate, or I'll have you arrested."
"Oh! So you want me to tell my story in court, my lady."
"You dare to!"
"Then give me the thousand pounds." Mrs Jeal was beginning to lose her
temper. "Here's a coil about a trifle," she said angrily; "instead of
asking you for blackmail, as I could have done, I offer to give you
freedom. And you won't pay for it."
"I will. Here's a cheque. Come with me to the bank at Portfront
to-morrow, and you can cash it in my presence. The certificate--"
"Will be given to you when the notes are in my hand. You can take me to
Portfront with my boxes, as I then can catch the afternoon steamer to
London. I have given up my cottage, and sold my furniture, and packed my
things. To-morrow I'll take Pearl to Miss Tempest, and then we can drive
to the bank."
"You insolent woman!" raged Mrs Gabriel, but she was obliged to yield.
For once in her life she had met a person of her own sex who had as bad
a temper as herself. The two women had a royal battle, but in the end
victory declared itself on the side of Mrs Jeal, and she departed in
triumph.
The next morning Sybil was informed that Mrs Jeal and Pearl were waiting
to see her. Guessing the woman's errand, Miss Tempest descended. Mrs
Jeal, perfectly respectful, dropped a curtsey.
"I've brought you Pearl, my lady," she said.
"I am not 'my lady,'" said Sybil, coldly.
"You soon will be," smirked Mrs Jeal, "Lady Morven. Well, I don't grudge
it to you. You're not so bad as some. Here's Pearl."
Sybil took the hand of the poor creature, who was shedding tears at the
thought of losing Mrs Jeal. "Don't cry, Pearl, you will be quite happy
with me. Remember you have to look after the cup." Whereat Pearl clapped
her hands and was joyful again.
"I shan't want you any more," said Pearl to Mrs Jeal; "the Master has
given me the cup to look after, and you are too wicked to come near
me."
Mrs Jeal winced, and looked down. "Here's gratitude," she sighed. "I've
loved but one thing in my life, and it turns against me. Well, Pearl, I
hope you will be happy. Good-bye." She paused, and then went on. "And,
my lady, I would like to tell you the reason I told that lie about Lord
Morven having pawned the cup. It was Sir Frank Hale made me do it."
"Sir Frank!" echoed Sybil in amazement. "Why should he?"
"It was partly your fault, miss," said Mrs Jeal, coolly; "he loved you,
and he loved his sister. If Lord Morven had married Miss Edith, and you
had married Sir Frank, all would have been well. But on that night I
brought back the cup he saw me, and got the truth out of me. There he
used me for his own ends, so as to get the blame laid on Mr Haverleigh."
"How wicked of him!" said Sybil, angrily.
Mrs Jeal laughed. "It was his way, my lady. But he has gone away, and
will not trouble you again. Neither shall I. Good-bye, my lady. Pearl?"
But Pearl turned away like a cross child. Mrs Jeal had to go without a
farewell kiss, and her wicked nature felt the slight. However, she
controlled her emotion, and went off to Portfront with Mrs Gabriel.
There the cheque was cashed, and Mrs Jeal became possessed of a thousand
pounds in Bank of England notes--she would take no other.
"And there's the certificate," she said to Mrs Gabriel.
"Thank God!" cried that lady, seizing it, "now I'm free of that man. If
he comes to Colester again I'll put him in gaol. And you, hussey, I'll
have you ducked."
"I said you would talk like that," jeered Mrs Jeal. "A lucky thing I
have the notes. Good-day, Miss Haverleigh!" And with this last insulting
speech, which she knew was untrue, Mrs Jeal went away. What became of
her no one ever heard. But creatures like Mrs Jeal always fall on their
feet like cats, perhaps because they have so much of the cat nature in
them. Mrs Gabriel, rejoicing in her freedom, returned to Colester, and
became more domineering than ever. Whether Pratt guessed that his wife
would tell her the truth, it is impossible to say. But he never came
near Mrs Gabriel again, nor did he write to her. If he had, she would
have set to work to trace him out and have him arrested. With the
certificate of marriage it was easy for Mrs Gabriel to prove that she
had been deceived by a villain, and she would have had no hesitation in
making the affair public. Pratt knew this, and knew her savage nature.
He therefore kept away, and Mrs Gabriel, unrestrained by any fear,
became more of a tyrant than ever.
She refused to come to Leo's wedding, or even to see him, intimating to
Sybil, who called upon her to entreat her to be reconciled to the new
Lord Morven, that she hated both of them. Mrs Gabriel went away to
London for six months, and amused herself by hunting for Pratt. In the
meantime, Lord Morven and Sybil were married. Also Raston was united to
his Peggy on the same day--Mrs Bathurst bore up heroically. Only she
regretted that she had not known of Leo's true parentage. He might have
married Peggy. "She would grace a title," said Mrs Bathurst.
"And now," said Lord Kilspindie, when the wedding was at an end, "we
will go to our own place and take the cup with us."
So it came about that the Pagan Cup, which was the luck of the Grants,
was replaced in Kilspindie Castle. There was a brave home-coming for the
long-lost son and his bride. And there Lord and Lady Morven lived
beloved by all. It was a happy ending to Leo's troubles.
After a time Mr Tempest found that he could not live without his
daughter, so he took up his residence in Kilspindie Castle as a kind of
chaplain. Pearl was already established at the castle, and constituted
herself the guardian of the cup, which in her mad fancy she still called
the Holy Grail. No one tried to undeceive her. But there is no danger of
the cup being lost again while Pearl looks after it. And that is a good
thing for the Grants, since their luck is wound up in its possession.
"And who would doubt the truth of the tradition!" said Kilspindie,
"seeing that three times the legend has come true."
Raston succeeded Mr Tempest as vicar of Colester, as Mrs Gabriel rather
approved of him. Thus it was that Mrs Bathurst came to think herself
entitled to interfere in parish affairs as the mother-in-law of the
vicar. She and Mrs Gabriel fought bitterly, and still fight over the
affairs of the kingdom. Raston and Peggy take no notice. They are
perfectly happy.
Pratt wrote one letter to Lord Morven telling him that he was going to
lead a new and decent life in South America, and asking the young man
not to think too badly of him. As he gave no address, Leo could not
answer the letter, so he burnt it and said nothing about it save to his
father. "There was some good in Pratt," said Lord Morven.
"Well, yes," assented Kilspindie; "he was a thief, a liar, and a rogue
in grain. Nevertheless, I believe he had a sincere affection for you, my
dear boy. He certainly did a kind act when he restored to me my son and
my cup--"
"And a daughter," said Sybil, who entered at the moment.
"Who is the light of my eyes," said Morven, kissing her. "We are happy
now, father. After the storm comes the calm."
"Therefore, remember to give thanks," said Mr Tempest, pointing to the
cup. "I think we can make use of the line on that goblet," and he read
out in English the inscription, "'To the great God who maketh the heart
joyful.' The God of Israel," said Mr Tempest, solemnly. "Amen, and
Amen."
THE END.
ECCENTRICITIES OF GENIUS
By Major J. B. Pond.
READ WHAT IS SAID OF IT.
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the capital prize."--_N. Y. Journal._
"All who have laughed over 'Billy Baxter' will heartily enjoy this
book."--_The Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer._
Cloth bound. $0.75
THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, (45th Thousand.)
By MAURICE THOMPSON, author of "Alice of Old Vincennes," etc. "'The
King of Honey Island' bears quite as many marks of the genius of
the author as does 'Alice of Old Vincennes,' with the additional
charm, perhaps of more buoyancy and beauty of thought and
expression. In 'Alice' Mr. Thompson plumed himself as a master
word painter. In 'The King of Honey Island' he developed into a
veritable American Ouida, for his descriptive powers are
marvelous. Like the true artist that he was, he paints Nature as
it looks, not as it is, so that the reader, in glimpsing the
battle of New Orleans, hears, almost, the cannon's roar."--_The
Topeka Capital._ Illustrated, cloth bound. $1.50
JOHN WINSLOW.
By HENRY D. NORTHROP. "'John Winslow' is one of those inviting
books of country life of which the best part of 'Eben Holden' has
come to be the accepted type. Plenty of shrewd common sense in the
chief character, a dash of love on the side, an incidental and
inevitable bit of human wickedness--but everything in the picture
and the framing attractive. This is a book for a wide reach among
readers."--_N. Y. World._
"Properly ranks with 'Eben Holden,' 'David Harum,' and 'Quincy
Adams Sawyer.' The four may be put in a class by themselves as
distinctive types of homespun Americans."--_The North American._
"Worthy to live with 'David Harum' and 'Eben
Holden.'"--_Publishers' Weekly._
12mo, illustrated, cloth bound. $1.50
UNDER A LUCKY STAR, a New Book on Astrology.
By CHARLOTTE ABELL WALKER. Tells what occupation to adopt, and what
line of life to follow, what associates and partners to choose,
how to recognize the possibilities and limitations of our friends
and ourselves, and of other important matters to human life,
including suggestions on marriage, being mainly culled from the
minds of ancient and modern philosophers.
Illustrated, cloth bound. $1.50
THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID.
By FRANCES GORDEN FANE. A clever, well-written story, full of love
and pathos, and thrilling with dramatic crises. Each step of the
domestic tragedy is skilfully portrayed, until the final climax is
reached.
"Its author has made it a powerful, telling story to read."--_N. Y.
World._ Cloth bound. $1.50
THE CROSSROADS OF DESTINY, a Story of Chivalry in the Fifteenth Century.
By JOHN P. RITTER. Author of "The Man Who Dared." This is a
wonderfully interesting story, and will find a welcome with all
who love to read of deeds of chivalry.
"It is a clean, clear and clever story of chivalry at its best, and
will find a great many well-pleased readers."--_New York World._
Cloth bound, illustrated. $1.25
A CHEQUE FOR THREE THOUSAND.
By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. (Tenth edition.) It's a jolly good story,
bright and clear. Dramatic, full of life and action and a
brilliant farce from end to end. You cannot put it down until
you finish it, and you will mention it many a time when you
want to relate something novel and odd among your friends.
Attractively bound in cloth. $1.00
A PEDIGREE IN PAWN.
By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. Author of "A Cheque for Three Thousand,"
which has run into its _seventh edition_. Original, bright,
sparkling fun runs all through "A Pedigree in Pawn." It will be
talked about and laughed over more than any other book of the
year. Illustrated with 14 character drawings. Cloth bound. $1.25
HATS OFF.
By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. Author of "A Cheque for Three Thousand,"
etc. A splendid story for summer reading. Are you tired, blue?
Read HATS OFF! Do you want a story for the hammock? Read HATS OFF!
Do you want a story with "go," with an original plot? Read HATS
OFF! Do you want to laugh? Read HATS OFF! Cloth bound. $1.25
Paper covers. 50
THE STATEROOM OPPOSITE.
By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. Author of "A Cheque for Three Thousand,"
etc. Is a well balanced detective story. It is not overdrawn as
such books usually are, but full of mysterious and vital interest.
It is a departure from Mr. Veysey's previous humorous style in "A
Cheque for Three Thousand," and "A Pedigree in Pawn," proving him
to be a remarkably versatile writer. Most of the events take place
on shipboard. It is a powerful story, with a most dramatic climax,
and inimitably original characters. Cloth bound. $1.25
Paper covers. 50
CLEO THE MAGNIFICENT; or, The Muse of the Real.
By LOUIS ZANGWILL. _The Boston Times_ says: "The story is drawn
with a master hand and the characters stand forth in clear relief.
It is in every way worthy of Mr. Zangwill's reputation." One of
the best novels of the year. Cloth bound. $1.50
THE MAID OF BOCASSE.
By MAY HALSEY MILLER. Author of "Raoul and Iron Hand." This is a
delightful fourteenth-century romance. The Maid of Bocasse was
the orphan daughter of a rich count, who dwelt in the Kingdom
of Navarre. A Gascon knight made a daring attempt to win the
fair chatelaine and her estates, and the entire story is one of
struggle, heroism, love, and passion. It is a romance of strength
and power. Cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50
WIDOW MAGOOGIN.
By JOHN J. JENNINGS. The inimitable widow's philosophy on the
topics of the day, spoken in her own dialect, is wonderfully
funny. As a critic, the "Irish widow" touches upon the foibles of
fads and fashions with masterly sarcasm, and Mr. Jennings, in his
art, has characterized her with skilful touches true to Nature.
Cloth bound, $1.25
THE SONG OF THE SWORD, A Romance of 1796.
By LEO DITRICHSTEIN. This author needs no introduction to the
public. In this thrilling story he displays a perfect wealth of
plots and critical situations. It is an excellent work, fine and
subtle, with many exciting scenes. A spirit of chivalrous romance
exudes from each chapter. There is, in fact, an odor of romance
all about it. The work spent on the central figures is splendid,
and the entire book satisfies the demand for combined
entertainment and interest in a historical novel.
Cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50
FATHER ANTHONY.
By ROBERT BUCHANAN. "One of the most touching and dramatic stories
ever written in connection with Irish life. It is a heart-stirring
story; and it is the more attractive because Mr. Buchanan writes
of Irish life from personal knowledge, and describes places and
people with which, and with whom, he has had a long familiarity.
Father John is a typical Irish character. Mr. Buchanan has
never conceived a more finely-drawn character than Father
Anthony. The book can be heartily commended to all classes of
readers."--_London Weekly Sun._ Ten editions have been sold in
London. Cloth bound, $1.50
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
1. Printer's errors were silently corrected.
2. The author's punctuation style as well as archaic and variable
spelling has been preserved.