Barrington Hope could hardly realise the fact, till he found himself
actually on board of a mail steamer, that he would have no business
cares for the next two years—a whole elysium of rest and recreation.
For this respite from the “figure and fact” mill, Laura was deeply
grateful, sensible as she had been for some months past that the
calculating machine was working under occasional effort.
When the Hubert Stamfords and Hopes bestowed themselves on board the
_Lahore_—the last triumph of the Peninsular and Oriental Company—one
would have thought all Sydney was coming to say farewell—such was
the congregation on the deck and in the magnificent saloon of that
noble vessel. Of course the Colonel and Willoughby, Mr. and Mrs.
Stamford, and all their Sydney friends turned out on purpose to “see
them off” as the phrase is, according to British etiquette on such
occasions. Other people—friends and relatives—had come to say
farewell to their wives and daughters, sons and sweethearts. Thus
many a saddened countenance and tearful eye were to be noted as the
great steamer moved slowly astern, and then glided at half-speed
down the harbour.
* * * * *
Of their safe and pleasant voyage—of fast friends, and congenial
acquaintances made on board and parted from with regret—what need to
speak? Of the entrance to fairyland which the first few months’
sojourn in the dear old island so closely resembles for
home-returning Australians. Of the stores of information acquired.
Of the intoxicating luxury of mere existence under such conditions.
Of the transcending of all anticipation and belief.
Barrington Hope and Laura remained in Europe for the full term of
their holiday—two years. But six months ere that period closed
Hubert and his wife became impatient to return to their life-task in
the south land, too satiated with mere sensuous enjoyment to remain
longer.
“We are young and strong, thank God,” said Hubert; “it’s not as
though we did not see our way to be back here again within a
reasonable time. But my work lies in Australia, and I can’t settle
to this kind of easy-going life just yet. When Windāhgil Downs is in
thorough working order and fully stocked, we can treat ourselves to
a run home every five years or so without feeling uneasy about the
seasons or anything else. So we’ll just take our passage by the next
boat and wake them up at Mooramah once more.”
“I’m ready, dearest,” said his wife. “With you, I think our work is
only half-done, and the sooner we commence life in earnest the
better. We’ve seen picture galleries enough to last us for the next
few years, and I begin to pine for a sight of my dear old father,
and Willoughby, poor boy! I wonder how they are getting on at
Wantabalree?”
* * * * *
Once more the family circles were replenished, irradiated by the old
love and tenderness in the persons of the wanderers—once more
grateful hearts were full to overflowing, and humble thanks were
offered up to the Supreme Power which had permitted their happy
reunion, in spite of perils by land and sea—the thousand chances of
danger and death which had irrevocably marred less fortunate
households. All had gone well in their absence—Linda and her sailor
love had been made mutually happy, and through the exercise of
judicious local interest Captain Fitzurse, as he was now proudly
styled by mankind and his adoring bride, had secured a colonial
appointment involving naval duty, but not forbidding the occupation
of one of those delightful marine residences of which Sydney boasts
so many perfect specimens.
Donald Greenhaugh had amply justified the confidence bestowed on
him. The stations were growing and flourishing to the fullest extent
of sanguine expectation. Willoughby had developed into a stalwart
bushman, properly bronzed and duly experienced in all pastoral lore.
The seasons “out back” had been good. Nothing was wanting of all the
conditions of permanent prosperity.
Of all the members of the two families so happily united and
thankfully enjoying their unwonted success, universally admired and
envied, Mr. Stamford alone seemed to be laden with care. At times
abstracted and preoccupied, silent and grave amidst the family
hilarity; at whist, striking out confusing lines of play, for which
no precedent could be found. Such was his departure in general
behaviour from the ordinary cheerful and equable habit that his wife
and children commenced seriously to fear that the unwonted
prosperity had turned his head, or that old anxieties had induced
morbid action of the brain. The Colonel shook his head as he
delicately alluded to the melancholy fact in a walk with Rosalind.
It would grieve him to the heart. He didn’t think really he could
stay on at Wantabalree; that a man who could lead from a weak suit
and play the Queen of Hearts when the King was still _in petto_,
_must_ be suffering from incipient softening of the brain, was
patent to him.
The fact was that Mr. Stamford had come to the conclusion that the
time had arrived when it was necessary to make a clean breast of his
secret. And he did not like the idea at all. When the matter was
buried in his own breast and in that of Mr. Worthington, than whom
his own iron safe was not more reticent of office secrets, it did
not, like other hidden deeds, appear so frightful. But now, after
all these years, to be compelled to tell his wife and children, who
believed that they shared every thought of his heart, that he had
carefully, wilfully, artfully concealed from them the knowledge of
their true position! He could hardly stand up and face the idea.
“What if his children should resent this want of all confidence?
Would his wife think that all her love and trust deserved a
different return?”
Mr. Stamford wiped his heated brow and thought the position
unendurable. Still, the motive was a good one, a pure one, even
practical. And how had it worked? The result might not have directly
proceeded from the means employed; but still everything had followed
for which he had hoped and prayed.
His children had not shrunk from any test of self-denial, of
fortitude, of continuous industry rendered necessary by the apparent
narrowness of their fortunes. True, they were at the same time
actuated by filial reverence and family love, swayed by the tenets
of that religious teaching which from their infancy had been
unwaveringly inculcated. But could these influences have been
sufficiently strong to counteract the strong currents of ease and
pleasure, the soft zephyrs of flattery, the clinging weight of
indolence, all urging towards the wreck-strewn shore of
self-indulgence, when once the fatal knowledge should be acquired
that all care for the morrow was superfluous?
Who shall say? Had not the fate of his friend’s family, the
melancholy failure of even his modest aspirations for social
distinction, been as a beacon light and a warning?
As it was, every noble feeling, every desire to spare no effort
either of mind or body which could tend to raise the fortunes and to
lighten the hearts of those so dear to him, had been stimulated and
intensified in his son and heir by the sharp urgency and weight of
the Alternative. His daughters had emulated their mother’s virtues
and with uncomplaining patience had endured isolation, monotony,
plain living, and sparing apparel. For this they had had their
reward—doubtless. But would all these fragrant flowers of the soul
have thriven and bloomed in the ungenial soil of luxury, and the
indolence born of unwonted, uncounted wealth?
Whatever had been his sin of omission or commission, could he fairly
be chargeable with apathy as to the welfare of his children?
For them, and in their interest, he had striven in every conscious
hour from that of their birth until now. For them he had toiled and
endured hardness—had hoped and prayed. For their welfare in this
world and the next was his every waking thought engaged. Other than
these had he no pleasures worthy of the name in the latter years of
a life now approaching—slowly, but still approaching—the inevitable
close. He had, it was true, chosen an unusual mode, but withal an
intelligible course of action.
Looking at the question in all its points, and pushing the reasoning
on either side to its conclusion, Mr. Stamford began to find his
position more tenable than he had expected. After all, he had only
done in life what most people did in death—reserved the distribution
of his fortune until a later period, for the eventual benefit of his
children.
Thus fortified, Mr. Stamford, having made up his mind, as the phrase
runs, resolved to communicate the terrible secret fully and finally
to his assembled family that very evening, being averse to spoiling
another night’s rest with a burden of thought the weight of which
had become so oppressive. It happened that the Colonel and
Willoughby were at Windāhgil, so Mr. Stamford rightly judged that it
would save all after trouble of explanation if he made his Budget
speech when nearly all concerned were present.
Partly in deference to the Colonel’s habitudes and those of the
European travellers, the fashion of a late dinner had been revived
at Windāhgil. Everybody had been unusually cheerful. The
never-failing fund of Continental or English experiences had been
drawn upon over the “walnuts and the wine,” or rather, when grapes
and peaches were receiving attention—Hubert had been laughingly
threatening Rosalind with a dozen more years of Queensland life—when
Mr. Stamford stood up and remarked that “the time had arrived when
he felt it his duty to make a statement which had been, for reasons
of his own, postponed—perhaps unnecessarily so. However, it deeply
concerned the interests of all present, directly or indirectly, and
as he said before, the time had come for him to explain, he might
say disclose, the a—a—affair.”
Here Mr. Stamford, who was not a fluent speaker, became aware that
though he had not furnished a particularly accurate termination to
his last sentence, he had at all events sufficiently puzzled, not to
say alarmed, his audience. He therefore filled his glass and sipped
it slowly, while Mrs. Stamford looked wistfully at him. Laura gazed
with fully opened eyes, in which might be observed a slight glimmer
of dread; Hubert waited calmly for the next words, and Mr. Hope and
the Colonel politely preserved a studied indifference. Rosalind took
the cue from her husband, and betrayed no uneasiness by word or
gesture.
“My dearest wife, my children, my friends,” the speaker proceeded,
“what I have to tell you is rather of a pleasing than of an alarming
nature. The only awkwardness of my position arises from uncertainty
as to whether I ought to have said what I do now several years ago.
I can truly assert that it is the only secret I ever kept from my
dear wife, or even from my children since they arrived at years of
discretion.”
Here everybody’s face expressed different degrees of amazement.
The orator continued. “The leading fact is that I am a much richer
man than is generally supposed.” (“Hear, hear,” from the Colonel.)
“In a year we all remember well, as you will see by the date of this
letter, I was left £170,000 or thereabouts by a relative. You do not
forget the dry year in which we were so nearly ruined? We recovered
our position chiefly through the well-considered, safe, yet liberal
action of my dear son-in-law, Barrington Hope. The gratitude I felt
for the way in which he then acted, strictly consonant as it was
with proper business principles, is still warm and fresh in my
recollection.”
Here Laura’s eyes sparkled.
“Immediately after this comparative good fortune I received this
letter, which told me of a bequest beyond all hope or expectation.
It rendered me a rich, a very rich man, as fortunes go in Australia.
Circumstances which then came under my observation caused me to
doubt whether a sudden accession of wealth would act beneficially
upon the as yet unformed characters of my darling children. Up to
that period their dispositions, their principles, had been all the
fondest parent could have wished. Why, then, run the risk of an
alteration, necessarily for the worse? Would they so continue under
a total change of conditions and prospects? I felt doubtful, judging
from analogy. So deeply was the danger to them at such a critical
period of their lives borne in upon me, that I took time to consider
my course of action. Finally, after deep thought and earnest prayer,
I resolved to withhold the important intelligence—to permit them to
remain in ignorance of aught but a gradual relief from threatened
ruin. In short, I elected to live our old life, gradually modified
and developed, until, in course of time, their characters had
acquired maturity, with that strength to resist all ordinary
temptation which I hoped and trusted the coming years would bring.
My secret was known to but one man, our trusted legal adviser and
friend, Mr. Worthington. Meanwhile, I proposed judiciously to
improve our mode of living, and to provide, by degrees, such
indulgences as befitted our apparent position. You can judge whether
I have kept the promise which I then made to myself, whether our
cherished ideal of ‘plain living and high thinking’ has been
reached.”
Here Mrs. Stamford approached her husband, and placed her hand in
his, amid the silent astonishment which pervaded the company.
“I have only now to say that all things shaped themselves in every
respect as I could have wished. I am the happiest and proudest
father this day in Australia. I can trust my beloved children, in
ripened manhood and womanhood, with the full knowledge of their
altered position, and I ask their forgiveness, and that of my
dearest wife, for the apparent want of confidence involved in this
my first and last secret, as far as they are concerned.”
Here Mr. Stamford resumed his seat, and looked round vainly for any
sign of dissent. Before other comment was possible, his wife turned
towards him with a countenance expressive of the purest tenderness,
the most loving and perfect confidence.
“My darling husband,” she said, “you lay too much stress upon the
reserve necessary for your purpose. As the head of the family, you
had a perfect right to give or withhold the information. Have you
not always considered the best interests of us all? You _might_ have
taken me into your confidence, perhaps, but no child of ours would
dream of questioning your action in this or any other matter. Could
we have been happier with all the money in the world?”
“And so say all of us, my dear old governor,” said Hubert, walking
round to his father’s chair and shaking his hand warmly, a
proceeding which was quickly followed by Barrington Hope,
Willoughby, and Colonel Dacre. “I should never have stuck to my
collar or been half the fellow, if I had thought, years ago, that
work or play was optional with us—would never have tackled the
things that now I feel proud and happy to have carried through;
never had such a little wife, most likely, either. In her name, in
all our names, I thank you from my heart for what you did.”
Laura’s arms had been for some moments round her father’s neck; her
feelings were too deep for words; her tears were those of relief and
gratitude. The Colonel made an opportune diversion by expressing a
hope that his esteemed friend’s whist would now undergo a beneficial
change. His sudden deterioration of form had, he confessed, caused
him, the Colonel, great uneasiness, even alarm. Now that the murder
was out, and his breast unburdened of its dreadful secret, he felt
confident they would return to their former most enjoyable social
relations. As a friend, a father, and an antagonist in the king of
games, he begged to be permitted to congratulate him most warmly and
sincerely.
THE END
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNGAY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
THE
QUEEN OF THE MOOR
A TALE OF DARTMOOR IN THE DAYS
OF WATERLOO
BY FREDERIC ADYE
_CONTENTS._
CHAP.
I. TOR ROYAL.
II. MORNING ON THE MOOR.
III. THE WAR PRISON.
IV. _PARCERE SUBJECTIS._
V. THE DARTMOOR HUNT.
VI. A FOX CHASE ON DARTMOOR.
VII. SOUTH HESSARY.
VIII. A KISS IN TIME.
IX. OKERY COTTAGE.
X. THE SHERBURTON BULL.
XI. MADAME GALMADY DE TOR ROYAL.
XII. BY THE CORNISH SEA.
XIII. THE FORSTERS AT HOME.
XIV. FAMILY TALK.
XV. FATHER SEGUIER.
XVI. MISS CALMADY ENTERTAINS.
XVII. A DINNER PARTY AT TOR ROYAL.
XVIII. “DO TAKE HIM, HE’S
THOROUGH-BRED.”
XIX. THE FISHERMAN’S DAUGHTER.
XX. A PERILOUS SAIL.
XXI. NAUGHTY GUNHILDA.
XXII. THE HONOURABLE JACK.
XXIII. “THERE SHOULD BE A GENTLEMAN.”
XXIV. SNOWBALLING.
XXV. THE TAME HERON.
XXVI. A SCENE ON THE ICE.
XXVII. THE FRENCH SERGEANT.
XXVIII. DANGER AHEAD.
XXIX. A DISCIPLE OF LAVATER.
XXX. THE REVEREND ROUNDER.
XXXI. FRANK IN TROUBLE.
XXXII. DRIVING THE DRIFT.
XXXIII. POVERA PICCIOLA.
XXXIV. THE KING’S SHILLING.
XXXV. THE MARSEILLAISE.
XXXVI. _VAE VICTIS._
XXXVII. WISTMAN’S WOOD.
XXXVIII. BROTHER AND SISTER.
XXXIX. CECIL VISITS THE BARBICAN.
XL. THE SEARCH WARRANT.
XLI. THE DOCTOR’S KITCHEN.
XLII. GOOD-BYE TO THE MOOR.
XLIII. WAR’S ALARUMS.
XLIV. THE EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE.
XLV. AMONG THE PROVENCE ROSES.
XLVI. THE BELLS OF BATTREAUX.
XLVII. CONCLUSION.
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“His chapters in praise of the stout hill foxes,
and the brilliant runs they give over miles of grass and fern,
remind us in their freshness and abundance of life of Whyte Melville
at his best.... The novel is an excellent one.”
_GRAPHIC_—“It is long since we have read a novel with so much
unbroken pleasure.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“A very pretty little plot of adventure and love
is woven out of this material. Interspersed, but not too frequently,
are some hunting scenes drawn with great spirit.”
_MANCHESTER EXAMINER_—“Reminds us very forcibly of some of the most
characteristic romances of Charles Kingsley and Mr. Blackmore. The
_Queen of the Moor_ is like _Westward Ho!_ and _Lorna Doone_, full
of nature and of human nature.”
_MORNING POST_—“Since _Lorna Doone_ the natural features of an
English district have not been described with such a vigorous touch
as is Dartmoor and the country that surrounds it in Mr. Adye’s novel
... his delightful romance which has the freshness of the wild moors
it so vividly paints.”
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“Lovers of the picturesque in nature will render
grateful thanks to Mr. Adye for the admirable sketches he gives of
romantic Dartmoor.... There is a charm about these descriptions
which reminds us of those of Mr. R.D. Blackmore. We never tire of
them, for they are never twice the same. Each time we get a new
glimpse, and each time we feel more strongly drawn to this land of
heath and tor.”
_OBSERVER_—“A work that will rank high among the historical romances
of the present day.”
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
_ROLF BOLDREWOOD’S NEW NOVEL_
PLAIN LIVING
=A Bush Idyll=
BY ROLF BOLDREWOOD
BY THE SAME
MY RUN HOME
=_Crown 8vo. 6s._=
_ATHENÆUM_—“Rolf Boldrewood’s last story is a racy volume. It has
many of the best qualities of Whyte Melville, the breezy freshness
and vigour of Frank Smedley, with the dash and something of the
abandon of Lever... His last volume is one of his best.”
_GLASGOW HERALD_—“There is a fresh breeziness about the book which
makes it pleasant reading.”
_DAILY MAIL_—“A sprightly book, this is, as much English as
Australian, with a style distinguished by a rattling freedom which
rarely degenerates into slipshodness. The interest is mainly horsey,
yet the men and women live and the whole story goes with a swing and
a rush.”
_OBSERVER_—“Lacks neither incident nor interest, and will,
doubtless, find many readers.”
_MANCHESTER GUARDIAN_—“There is always life and movement in what Mr.
Rolf Boldrewood writes.”
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
THE
SECRET OF ST. FLOREL
BY JOHN BERWICK
_SPEAKER_—“A book to be unreservedly recommended.”
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“The thrilling interest of the narrative is
continuously sustained by the malefactions of no fewer than three
several and distinct villains, whom the author utilizes with
consummate ability as instruments of romantic complication.... Teems
with novel incident, and bristles with exciting adventures.”
_OBSERVER_—“A capital romance, and well worth reading.”
_STANDARD_—“Clever and well written.”
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“The story is interesting.... The end is dramatic
and original.”
_GLASGOW HERALD_—“The descriptions of foreign life and travel are
delightful, and this novel is in every way a well-written one.”
_SCOTSMAN_—“A thoroughly healthy and well-told story, with plenty of
stirring incident and variety of scene and situation, and it is not
wanting in study of character and knowledge of life, savage,
semi-savage, and civilized.”
_Globe 8vo. 12s._
_F. MARION CRAWFORD’S NEW NOVEL_
=CORLEONE=
_In Two Volumes._
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“These Sicilian scenes are admirably rendered, for
Mr. Crawford is an artist, and an artist of strongly dramatic
instincts.... All who love Mr. Crawford’s work (roughly speaking,
all who know it, that is) know well enough that the oldest story
would be improved by his telling of it.”
_ACADEMY_—“The story is told in Mr. Crawford’s best manner, and
after the preliminary chapters are well out of the way, you can
hardly lay it aside.”
_PUNCH_—“The reader’s interest in the story, roused at the
commencement, grows in intensity as the plot is artistically
developed to its climax. Mr. Crawford’s pictures of Italian scenery
are perfect, and his characters, belonging to the Roman Society,
with which he has familiarized us in so many of his books, are
living beings before our eyes.”
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“A good story ... full of vigorous touches,
interesting, and even absorbing from beginning to end.”
_SPECTATOR_—“The glories of the Sicilian landscape are admirably
painted, and the book is enriched by a good deal of illuminative
commentary on the peculiarities of the Italian and Sicilian
temperament.... A brilliant and engrossing story.”
_LITERATURE_—“We have not often met with a more satisfactory novel
than Corleone, and have little doubt that it will be regarded as one
of Mr. Crawford’s best works.... An exciting and dramatic story.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“Mr. Marion Crawford at his best, with his
inventive faculties at their boldest, his constructive skill at its
fullest, and with his grace of manner always before us, gives such
joy as the fabulist may rarely hope to afford. In _Corleone_ we find
to our huge delight that it is once again Mr. Crawford at his
best.... A splendid romance of much originality, and always
captivating and impressive.”
_SPEAKER_—“This is almost, if not quite, the strongest and most
striking of the brilliant series of romances to which it belongs.”
NOVELS BY F. MARION CRAWFORD
_Crown 8vo. 6s. each._
=A ROSE OF YESTERDAY.=
_WORLD_—“A charming story.”
=TAQUISARA.=
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“Cannot fail to be read with interest and
pleasure by all to whom clever characterization and delicate drawing
make appeal.”
_Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each._
=Mr. Isaacs=: A Tale of Modern India.
_Athenæum_—“A work of unusual ability.”
=Doctor Claudius=: A True Story.
_Athenæum_—“Mr. Crawford has achieved another
success.”
=A Roman Singer.=
_Times_—“A masterpiece of narrative.... Unlike any
other romance in English literature.”
=Zoroaster.=
_Guardian_—“An instance of the highest and noblest
form of novel.”
=Marzio’s Crucifix.=
_Times_—“A subtle compound of artistic feeling,
avarice, malice, and criminal frenzy is this
carver of silver chalices and crucifixes.”
=A Tale of a Lonely Parish.=
_Saturday Review_—“Unlike most novels ‘A Tale of a
Lonely Parish’ goes on improving up to the end.”
=Paul Patoff.=
_St. James’s Gazette_—“Those who neglect to read
‘Paul Patoff’ will throw away a very pleasurable
opportunity.”
=With the Immortals.=
_Spectator_—“Cannot fail to please a reader who
enjoys crisp, clear, vigorous writing, and
thoughts that are alike original and suggestive.”
=Greifenstein.=
_Guardian_—“The book, we doubt not, will rank very
high among Mr. Crawford’s novels.”
=Sant’ Ilario.=
_Athenæum_—“The plot is skilfully concocted, and
the interest is sustained to the end.... A very
clever piece of work.”
=A Cigarette-Maker’s
Romance.=
_Globe_—“We are inclined to think this is the best
of Mr. M. Crawford’s stories.”
=Khaled=: A Tale of Arabia.
_Anti-Jacobin_—“Mr. Crawford has written some
stories more powerful, but none more attractive
than this.”
=The Three Fates.=
_National Observer_—“A brilliant variation from
Mr. F. Marion Crawford’s wonted style.”
=The Witch of Prague.=
_Academy_—“It is a romance of singular daring and
power.”
=Marion Darche=: A Story without
Comment.
_Athenæum_—“The characters are thoroughly
interesting, the dialogue easy, and the situations
effective....”
=Katherine Lauderdale.=
_Punch_—“Admirable in its simple pathos, its
unforced humour, and, above all, in its truth to
human nature.”
=The Children of the King.=
_Daily Chronicle_—“Mr. Crawford has not done
better work than ‘The Children of the King’ for a
long time.”
=Pietro Ghisleri.=
_Speaker_—“Mr. Crawford is an artist, and a great
one, and he has been brilliantly successful in a
task in which ninety-nine out of every hundred
writers would have failed.”
=Don Orsino.=
_Athenæum_—“‘Don Orsino’ is a story with many
strong points.”
=Casa Braccio.=
_Daily Telegraph_—“The reader will not easily lay
it down until he has reached the concluding page.”
=Adam Johnstone’s Son.=
_Daily News_—“Mr. Crawford has written stories
richer in incident and more powerful in intention,
but we do not think that he has handled more
deftly or shown a more delicate insight into
tendencies that go towards making some of the more
spiritual tragedies of life.”
=The Ralstons.=
_Academy_—“A book to be read, and read more than
once.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
BY THE AUTHOR OF
“THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER”
=PHILANDERERS=
BY
A.E.W. MASON
_GLOBE_—“His work is virile; it is individual; it is, in certain
fine qualities, distinguished.”
_WORLD_—“One of the most interesting novels we have met for a long
time.”
_ACADEMY_—“_The Philanderers_ should add to Mr. Mason’s reputation—a
reputation which, I am convinced, will continue to grow.”
_DAILY MAIL_—“There is no weakness here, no shallowness, no
compromise. Built up with strength and sincerity, and finely
written, the story braces the mind as much as it captivates the
taste.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“The charm of the story lies in the clear, sharp
outlines and delicate shading with which the chief characters are
limned, and the grace and ease of the style and of the dialogues....
All Mr. Mason’s _Philanderers_ are convincing—‘neither children nor
gods,’ but men and women in a world of afternoon teas—and thoroughly
convincing.”
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“It is light, sparkling, and very well told.”
_ATHENÆUM_—“Mr. Mason is to be much congratulated on a fine book.”
_BRITISH REVIEW AND NATIONAL OBSERVER_—“A book to read.”
_GUARDIAN_—“It is cleverly and well written, with both humour and
brilliance.”
_WESTMINSTER GAZETTE_—“A clever and original story, told with much
freshness and vivacity.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=THE COURTSHIP=
=OF=
=MORRICE BUCKLER=
BY A.E.W. MASON
_TIMES_—“It is a pleasure to meet a romance of historical times,
rather than a romance of history (for actual events are scarcely
introduced), so vigorous, brilliant, rapid, and exciting as _The
Courtship of Morrice Buckler_.... If his work be not widely read, if
many do not breathlessly follow Morrice Buckler from Leyden to
London, to Bristol, to Lukstein, and in all his wanderings, the loss
will be that of novel-readers.”
_ATHENÆUM_—“Mr. Mason’s manner is alert and engaging, and his matter
fresh and stirring. No one who takes up his novel is likely to lay
it down unfinished.”
_PUNCH_—“If this my hint will increase the number of readers, they
will, unless gratitude be extinct, thank me for my strong
recommendation as to the excellent entertainment provided for them
in _The Courtship of Morrice Buckler_.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“A right gallant romance of the seventeenth
century, which is attractive from one end to the other.”
_SPECTATOR_—“A thrilling romance, with a most ingenious and
mysterious plot. The story is excellently told.”
_BLACK AND WHITE_—“Admirable in every respect.”
_SPEAKER_—“A fine dramatic tale.”
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“Without a doubt the name of Mr. A.E. W. Mason
must be added to that small but distinguished band who have given so
brilliant a revival to the old-fashioned bustling romance of fair
and haughty ladies, brave gallants, duels, ruffles and brocades, and
all the varied and charming ingredients of those tales of bygone
days which are such welcome refreshment in these prosaic times.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=STORIES OF NAPLES=
=AND THEM=
=CAMORRA=
BY CHARLES GRANT
_GUARDIAN_—“These stories are written from personal knowledge of the
Neapolitan peasant class, and in consequence they are most
remarkable. To gain this knowledge, Mr. Grant gathered his material
‘by personal intercourse with the lower classes in their narrow
homes, or in by-ways and lanes still narrower.’... Such material
gained in so intimate a fashion Mr. Grant has worked up into stories
thrilling in their realistic interest.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“We cordially recommend the book, especially to
the lovers of Italy and her picturesque people.”
_NATIONAL OBSERVER_—“As a picture of the way in which the South
Italians live and act, and think and feel, these sketches, drawn
mostly from life, are of historical as well as literary value.”
Mr. GLADSTONE writes to the publishers: “In all the tales I think it
most interesting and instructive—in the two first delightful, and
extremely skilful also.... Mr. Grant must have been a delightful
man.”
_TIMES_—“Mr. Grant’s collection of Neapolitan sketches, or studies
in fiction, founded on his peculiar and extensive knowledge of the
populace, is a work of poignant interest.... Full of incident and
colour.... The book is one of permanent value.”
_MORNING POST_—“Within its limits leaves nothing to be desired for
fidelity of characterization and colouring, and induces regret that
a writer of such varied gifts should have died at a comparatively
early age.... The entire volume is vividly descriptive and full of
Southern colour.”
_DAILY NEWS_—“The book is well worth reading and even studying. The
street scenes are handled with artistic effectiveness, and the
people seem to live before us.”
_SCOTSMAN_—“It is not a bare, Zolaesque, photographic picture of low
life that is revealed. The hand of the artist in words, and the
touch of the genial sympathizer with human nature in all its aspects
invest it with infinite charm, and few who take up this book will
lay it down without feeling that Mr. Grant has conveyed in these
pages some notion of the fascination which held him so long in
Naples.”
_GLASGOW HERALD_—“If Mr. Grant has left any other studies of the
city he loved so well, we hope that they too may be published, for
this book makes us long for more.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=A=
CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS
BY
MRS. HUGH FRASER
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
=PALLADIA=
_SATURDAY REVIEW_—“It has a capital plot, fascinating characters,
and much dramatic interest.... A good piece of work, full of
interest and humour.”
_SPEAKER_—“There are very few who, having begun the perusal of
Palladia, will care to lay it down until the last page is reached.”
_MORNING POST_—“Romantic, picturesque, and interesting.”
_NATIONAL OBSERVER_—“A romance of thrilling interest.”
_SPECTATOR_—“A most engrossing and ingenious story.”
_ACADEMY_—“It cannot be said there is a dull page in _Palladia_ from
beginning to end.”
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“It is even better than _The Brown Ambassador_,
good as that delightfully humorous book was in its way, and higher
praise than this it is unnecessary to bestow.”
_GLASGOW HERALD_—“This is in every respect a capital romance.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“A satisfactory romance is _Palladia_.”
_SCOTSMAN_—“Full of stirring and exciting scenes. Many of the
characters are drawn with great skill, and the novel deserves to
find many readers.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=A SON OF THE PLAINS=
BY ARTHUR PATERSON
_TIMES_—“As a book for a railway journey, or to pass a pleasant,
indeed a thrilling, hour with, Mr. Arthur Paterson’s _A Son of the
Plains_ may be thoroughly recommended.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“A book of great interest.... He has written a
most thrilling and effective story in the simplest and most
unaffected manner.”
_WORLD_—“The interest is never allowed to flag.”
_BRITISH WEEKLY_—“The book is written in a masterly style.”
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“If boys are what they were and what they ought to
be, and parents and guardians know how to select books for presents
at Christmas time, Mr. Paterson will receive a big cheque from his
publishers; and most thoroughly will he have deserved it.”
_DAILY TELEGRAPH_—“A bright, exhilarating story of thrilling
adventures and hairbreadth ’scapes in Western America.... As a
sensational romance Mr. Paterson’s latest fiction may safely be
pronounced ‘bad to beat.’”
_ST. JAMES’S BUDGET_—“It would be difficult to find a more exciting
story of adventure than that provided by Mr. Arthur Paterson in _A
Son of the Plains_.... The interest never flags for a single
instant.”
_GLASGOW HERALD_—“There is a fine spirit of adventure about this
story.... Mr. Paterson is, as it were, a Fenimore Cooper born out of
due time, and his story is distinctly clever and exciting.”
_SCOTSMAN_—“A better story of love and adventure, specially
adventure, neither boy nor man has any need to desire.”
_ADMIRALTY GAZETTE_—“A graphic and extremely readable tale of
western frontier life.”
_WHITEHALL REVIEW_—“The author has succeeded in producing a work
that will rank among high-class fiction, and as a wholesome book for
boys nothing will be more eagerly welcomed.”
_SPEAKER_—“His new story is as thrilling, as brimful of adventure
and incident, and as graphic in narration as anything he has yet
written.... To say that there is not a dull page in the story is to
understate the case.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=FOR PRINCE & PEOPLE=
=A Tale of Old Genoa=
BY
E.K. SANDERS
_MANCHESTER GUARDIAN_—“A spirited story of political strife in Genoa
in the sixteenth century. The conclusion does not land us in
fairyland, but if the sober colouring of a work-a-day world would be
not an absolute bar to the enjoyment of youthful readers the book
can be heartily recommended to them, both for its sustained interest
and for the high tone pervading it.”
_SCOTSMAN_—“The plot is well conceived and well handled.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=RED ROWANS=
BY MRS. F.A. STEEL
AUTHOR OF “ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS”
_STANDARD_—“Mrs. Steel’s book is healthy and well written, full of
rational optimism and sympathetic understanding of poor human
nature.”
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“Judge it by what canons of criticism you will,
the book is a work of art.... The story is simple enough, but it is
as life-like as anything in modern fiction. The people speak and act
as people do act and speak. There is not a false note throughout.
Mrs. Steel draws children as none but a master hand can draw.”
_BLACK AND WHITE_—“It reveals keen sympathy with nature, and clever
portraiture, and it possesses many passages both humorous and
pathetic.”
_NATIONAL OBSERVER_—“Her cleverness reveals itself in many a
felicitous phrase expressive of just judgment and earnest thought.”
_ST. JAMES’S GAZETTE_—“It is such as goes far towards the making of
a solid and enduring reputation.”
_GLASGOW HERALD_—“Her book is a notable one.”
_SCOTSMAN_—“It is not every day that one lights on a story so
entertaining, clever, and at times even brilliant.”
_PUBLISHERS’ CIRCULAR_—“The story is thoroughly interesting
throughout, being clever alike in its style, plot, and character
drawing.”
_WESTMINSTER GAZETTE_—“_Red Rowans_ is far and away above the
average of novels, and, without doubt, one of those books which no
reader of current fiction should miss.”
_DAILY NEWS_—“The book is written with distinction. It is moving,
picturesque, the character drawing is sensitive and strong.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
_Crown 8vo. 6s._
=THE FALL OF A STAR=
=A Novel=
BY
SIR WM. MAGNAY, BART.
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“Its interest is breathless and cumulative from
the first page to the last.”
---------------------
WORKS BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
_Crown 8vo. 6s. each._
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED.
SOLDIERS THREE.
WEE WILLIE WINKIE.
LIFE’S HANDICAP.
MANY INVENTIONS.
PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS.
SOLDIER TALES.
THE FIRST JUNGLE BOOK.
THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK.
CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
80,000 copies of this work have been sold.
_Fcap. 8vo. 6s._
=THE CHOIR INVISIBLE=
BY
JAMES LANE ALLEN
AUTHOR OF “SUMMER IN ARCADY,” “A KENTUCKY CARDINAL,” ETC.
_ACADEMY_—“A book to read, and a book to keep after reading. Mr.
Allen’s gifts are many—a style pellucid and picturesque, a vivid and
disciplined power of characterization, and an intimate knowledge of
a striking epoch and an alluring country.... So magical is the
wilderness environment, so fresh the characters, so buoyant the life
they lead, so companionable, so well balanced, and so touched with
humanity, the author’s personality, that I hereby send him greeting
and thanks for a brave book.... _The Choir Invisible_ is a fine
achievement.”
_PALL MALL GAZETTE_—“Mr. Allen’s power of character drawing invests
the old, old story with renewed and absorbing interest.... The
fascination of the story lies in great part in Mr. Allen’s graceful
and vivid style.“
_DAILY MAIL_—”_The Choir Invisible_ is one of those very few books
which help one to live. And hereby it is beautiful even more than by
reason of its absolute purity of style, its splendid descriptions of
nature, and the level grandeur of its severe, yet warm and
passionate atmosphere.”
_BRITISH WEEKLY_—“Certainly this is no commonplace book, and I have
failed to do justice to its beauty, its picturesqueness, its style,
its frequent nobility of feeling, and its large, patient charity.”
_SPEAKER_—“We trust that there are few who read it who will fail to
regard its perusal as one of the new pleasures of their lives....
One of those rare stories which make a direct appeal alike to the
taste and feeling of most men and women, and which afford a
gratification that is far greater than that of mere critical
approval. It is, in plain English, a beautiful book—beautiful in
language and in sentiments, in design and in execution. Its chief
merit lies in the fact that Mr. Allen has grasped the true spirit of
historical romance, and has shown how fully he understands both the
links which unite, and the time-spaces which divide, the different
generations of man.”
_SATURDAY REVIEW_—“Mr. James Lane Allen is a writer who cannot well
put pen to paper without revealing how finely sensitive he is to
beauty.”
_BOOKMAN_—“The main interest is not the revival of old times, but a
love-story which might be of to-day, or any day, a story which
reminds one very pleasantly of Harry Esmond and Lady Castlewood.”
_ATLANTIC MONTHLY_—“We think he will be a novelist, perhaps even a
great novelist—one of the few who hold large powers of divers sort
in solution to be precipitated in some new unexpected form.”
_GUARDIAN_—“One of those rare books that will bear reading many
times.”
_DAILY NEWS_—“Mr. J.L. Allen shows himself a delicate observer, and
a fine literary artist in _The Choir Invisible_.”
_ST. JAMES’ GAZETTE_—“A book that should be read by all those who
ask for something beside sensationalism in their fiction.”
_SPECTATOR_—“Marked by beauty of conception, reticence of treatment,
and it has an atmosphere all its own.”
_DAILY CHRONICLE_—“It is written with singular delicacy and has an
old-world fragrance which seems to come from the classics we keep in
lavender.... There are few who can approach his delicate execution
in the painting of ideal tenderness and fleeting moods.”
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note
The following issues should be noted. In general obvious errors were
corrected and noted below. The use of the ‘ā’ in Windāhgal, a place
name, is almost universal, and has been corrected where the printer
occasionally neglected to employ it. Where the author’s intent is
unclear, the text is retained.
Errors of punctuation in the advertisement section at the end of the
text were corrected, silently, in the interest of consistency.
p. 9 Reisling _Sic._
p. 40 [“]but Mrs. Grandison Removed.
p. 107 —he[—]added— Spurious dash
removed.
[‘]We colonists Added.
p. 286 [“]as the energetic proprietors Removed.
p. 315 so say all of us,[”] my dear Removed.