carelessly, "that Lynn's mother was also mine; and Lynn, as a child,
contracted some crazy affection for me which seems to have got her into
general trouble. In the first place, she swore an insane oath to my
mother--you see the latter was dying and sent for her secretly--it's
hard to explain! but Mr. and Mrs. Thayer, knowing what a bad lot my
father was and judging rightly that I would be likely to take after
him--which I certainly did!--made it part of the bargain when they
adopted Lynn that she was to have nothing to do with the lot of us.
Lynn, however, had always remembered me, it seems, and so, when my
mother sent for her and explained that my father would see me starve to
death before he would spend a penny on me, Lynn undertook to provide for
my upbringing out of her earnings as a teacher. That was all very well;
but what does my mother do but get excited and make her swear that she
will never tell anyone that I am her brother, in case it may get to the
ears of the Thayers and make them throw her over. Lynn tries to get out
of it but finally swears and--and then--I'm not over strong, and I fancy
I'll sit down if you'll allow me. For God's sake, Lynn, don't look like
that! what on earth's the matter with you?"
No one spoke and Ricossia leaned back wearily in the chair which he had
taken, his beautiful face haggard, his great eyes hollow and emptied of
expression. Lynn stood like a statue; since her first exclamation she
had remained silent but her face had changed. Something resembling hope
had crept into her eyes and mingled with the fierce love that illumined
them whenever they rested on her brother. As he lay back, breathing
faintly, she moved toward him and stood, looking down.
"God is not all cruel," she said, as though to herself. "He has taken
all the rest--but He has given me this, at least, before you die--the
knowledge that you do care a little, Liol. Else, why should you have
done this?"
Her tired face softened with a beautiful peace.
"I don't know what on earth you are muttering to yourself about," said
the consumptive, shrugging his shoulders, whimsically, "but, if you
imagine, my dear girl, that I dragged myself up this infernal hill to
save you from the consequences of your own folly, you're mistaken. Why
shouldn't you break the fool oath? However, you'll be glad to hear that
you'll be able to keep your own earnings in the future. I've made a
haul that"----
"Mr. Ricossia," broke in the metallic voice of Mrs. Waite, "refused at
first to explain the object of Miss Thayer's visits. I therefore"--
"She therefore paid me well to do it--as I surmised she would," said
Ricossia, composedly. "What _are_ you looking like that for, Lynn?
Thank goodness, I'm dependent on your vagaries no longer; the doctor
tells me that, if I reach California alive, I may live a month or so
longer--he doesn't promise that I _will_ reach it,--but if I do!"-- He
sprang to his feet, irradiated and glorious--"_if I do_--by God, I'll
see Life before I die!"
"You infernal young scoundrel!" broke in Amherst, unable to contain
himself longer, "you d----d ungrateful young blackguard! is this your
return to your sister for all she has done and suffered? Have you no
shame?"
"Not a particle!" answered the other, laughing. "No shame and no love
in my composition! I never cared for any living thing but myself--not
even my mother. As for Lynn, I'm going to do her one kindness before I
die; and that is to tell her the truth. Lynn, you have never been
anything to me at any time but a necessary evil; I had to have money to
live, and from you, only, was I able to obtain it; therefore I tried to
feign a little affection for you which I never felt in the most remote
degree. I've allowed you to sacrifice time, money, and finally
reputation to me; and now that I'm going off alone to die--riotously and
wickedly and happily as I've always wanted to--I leave you this piece of
advice. Marry Amherst and forget all about me. I'll forget you as soon
as I'm out of your sight, which will be very soon, I promise you."
Something approaching horror showed in the faces of his hearers; they
looked uncertainly at one another, doubtful whether to still the cruel
voice or no. Lynn, only, remained motionless; her face was grey and her
hands twitched a little. Gerald, who stood nearest, alone heard her
whisper:
"Not this! Oh, God, not this!"
"Lynn," he burst forth, "what can I say? Come with me, forgive me; I'll
spend my life in making amends. Don't mind him; he doesn't know what
he's saying; he's sick, crazy, mad! they all get like that when they
take drugs. Lynn!"
She turned very slowly and looked at him.
"You--want me?" she asked, dully. "Think!--the best of me is dead;
you've helped to kill it, all of you. I'm an old woman now; I'll never
be young, again, never be young or light-hearted or gay again, while
this life lasts. Are you sure you want me?"
"Come!"
Lynn looked at him ... then slowly, very slowly, put her hand in his.
"The little boy I loved is dead, too," she said, rather lifelessly.
"That--that is a ghoul that has taken his beautiful form. Oh, my baby,
my baby! my little dark-eyed angel that I loved so! to think that you
should die and I not know it. Or perhaps you never lived, really....
Let us go, Gerald! let us go away from it, all! I'm tired. You--you'll
not fail me?"
"Before God, I will not."
They moved toward the door. On its threshold Lynn paused and turned.
The red evening sunlight was streaming through the window and its
scarlet flame lay strangely on the deathless beauty of her brother's
face. She surveyed it in silence ... the face that had held all heaven
and all hell for her since the moment when she, a lonely, loveless
child, had seen and worshipped it first.
"Good-bye, Liol!" she said at last, very softly. "You've been my idol
all my life, and I'm never going to see you again in time or in
eternity, and I thank God for it.... Good-bye."
Gerald drew her gently away and the door closed behind them.
THE END.
* * * * * * * *
*The Potter and the Clay*
*A Romance of To-day*
By MAUD HOWARD PETERSON. Bound in blue cloth, decorative cover, rough
edges, gilt top. Four drawings by Charlotte Harding. Size, 5 x 7-3/4.
Price $1.50
One of the strongest and most forceful of recent novels, now attracting
marked attention, and already one of the most successful books of the
present year. The characters are unique, the plot is puzzling, and the
action is remarkably vivid. Readers and critics alike pronounce it a
romance of rare strength and beauty. The scenes are laid in America,
Scotland, and India; and one of the most thrilling and pathetic chapters
in recent fiction is found in Trevelyan's heroic self-sacrifice during
the heart-rending epidemic of cholera in the latter country. The story
throughout is one of great strength.
Margaret E. Sangster: "From the opening chapter, which tugs at the
heart, to the close, when we read through tears, the charm of the book
never flags. It is not for one season, but of abiding human interest."
Minot J. Savage: "I predict for the book a very large sale, and for the
authoress brilliant work in the future."
Boston Journal: "One of the most remarkable books of the year.
Brilliant, but better than that, tender."
* * * * *
*THE LITTLE GREEN DOOR*
_By MARY E. STONE BASSETT_
Eight illustrations by _Louise Clarke_ and twenty-five decorative
half-title pages by _Ethel Pearce Clements_
12mo Cloth $1.50
A charming romance of the time of Louis XIII. The door which gives the
title to the book leads to a beautiful retired garden belonging to the
King. In this garden is developed one of the sweetest and tenderest
romances ever told. The tone of the book is singularly pure and
elevated, although its power is intense.
"This is a tale of limpid purity and sweetness, which, although its
action is developed amid the intrigues and deceptions of a corrupt
French court, remains fine and delicate to the end. There is power as
well as poetry in the little romance, so delicate in
conception."--_Chicago Daily News_.
"Tender, sweet, passionate, pure; a lily from the garden of
loves."--_Baltimore Herald_.
"The story is exquisitely pure and tender, possessing a finished
daintiness that will charm all clean-minded persons."--_Louisville
Courier-Journal_.
"This book carries with it all the exhilaration of a beautiful nature,
of flowers, birds, and living things, and the beauty of a winsome
personality of a pure, beautiful girl. It is a romance entirely of the
fancy, but a refreshing one."--_Chicago Tribune_.
"The little romance is charmingly wrought, and will be sure to find its
way to the heart of the reader."--_Boston Transcript_.
* * * * *
*MISS BILLY*
*A NEIGHBORHOOD STORY*
By EDITH K. STOKELY and MARIAN K. HURD
Illustrated by CHARLES COPELAND
12mo Cloth 1.50
"MISS BILLY" deserves more than passing notice in these days of civic
improvement. It is a story of what an irrepressible young woman
accomplished in the neighborhood into which her family felt obliged to
move for financial reasons. The street was almost as unpromising as the
celebrated "Cabbage Patch," and its characters equally interesting and
original. The happy common-sense of Miss Billy and the quaint sayings
and doings of her new neighbors form a capital story.
"The story abounds in humor with a hint of tears and an overflowing
kindness of heart bubbling over in infectious gayety."--_Boston Herald_.
"The book is sure to have an immense number of readers."--_St. Louis
Star_.
"The plan of the tale is original, the conversation very bright and
witty, the style smooth, and the characters true to life."--_Boston
Transcript_.
"It is a human interest story which appeals to the heart, and at one
juncture to the eyes of the sympathetic readers."--_Pittsburg Chronicle
Telegraph_.
"'Miss Billy' is a charmingly bright, clever little story, full of
spontaneous humor and frankly inspirational."--_Chicago Daily News_.
"This is an ideal story."--_N. Y. Times_.
* * * * *
*The Lions of the Lord*
By HARRY LEON WILSON
Author of "The Spenders." Six illustrations by Rose Cecil O'Neill,
bound in dark green cloth, illustrated cover, 12mo. $1.50, postpaid.
In his romance of the old West, "The Lions of the Lord," Mr. Wilson,
whose "The Spenders" is one of the successes of the present year, shows
an advance in strength and grasp both in art and life. It is a
thrilling tale of the Mormon settlement of Salt Lake City, with all its
grotesque comedy, grim tragedy, and import to American civilization.
The author's feeling for the Western scenery affords him an opportunity
for many graphic pen pictures, and he is equally strong in character and
in description. For the first time in a novel is the tragi-comedy of
the Mormon development adequately set forth. Nothing fresher or more
vital has been produced by a native novelist.
* * * * *
*The Spenders*
By HARRY LEON WILSON
70th Thousand
Author of "The Lions of the Lord." Red silk cloth, rough edges, picture
cover. Six illustrations by Rose Cecil O'Neill. 12mo. $1.50,
postpaid.
Mark Twain writes to the author: "It cost me my day yesterday. You owe
me $400. But never mind, I forgive you for the book's sake."
Louisville Courier-Journal says: "If there is such a thing as the
American novel of a new method, this is one. Absolutely to be enjoyed is
it from the first page to the last."
Harry Thurston Peck, in the New York American, says: "The very best two
books written by Americans during the past year have been 'The
Spenders,' by Harry Leon Wilson, and 'The Pit,' by Frank Norris."
Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., Boston