In front of the finest mansion on Beacon Hill, though the chill of
autumn was in the air and a northeast wind came cold from over the bay,
an arch of hot-house flowers was erected, covering the entrance to
the walk, which led up through a yard ornamented with choice works in
marble, to the carved door of the house.
On this arch, in crimson flowers, the word “welcome” was visible.
Inside, servants well--even richly--dressed seemed to flit to and fro,
and a lady, young and beautiful, robed for that day as richly as a
royal queen, moved to and fro, seeing in person that everything was
ready to receive the guests for whom the welcome was meant.
The minister, who had been in that house on a sad, sad day, now stood
by this young lady’s side, looking dignified but happy.
The old lawyer and many other friends were there, and more came along,
as the day wore on, in grand carriages, the elite of the aristocratic
old city.
And now the hour--four o’clock--was close at hand. Her carriages had
gone to the train to meet the guests who had been invited to come from
New York--carriages for all.
And she, who had been all this time flushed and excited, now stood pale
and nervous near the door. For a roll and rattle of wheels was heard,
and a moment later a whole column of coaches dashed up in front of the
house.
From the first stepped two men, and, arm in arm, they came under the
arch, and never knight of crimson cross looked so happy as did the
younger, paler of the two, when he looked up and saw those words.
But they could not pause--others were hurrying on behind and in front.
He saw her at the door, and with a wild, glad cry, he was in her arms.
“Georgiana--mine at last!”
“Yes, yes, my Harry, thine forever!”
A moment’s sobs of joy broke on the air, but then, arm in arm, they
went on, while an unseen orchestra played a brilliant march of joy and
triumph.
And then, in the great parlor, darkened outside, but blazing with
light within, without waiting for more than a few words and whispered
greetings, before the friends of bright days and the true friends of
darker hours, Georgiana Lonsdale was married to the returned exile--to
the man for whom she had dared her parents’ anger, whom she had so
nearly lost--by his own fault, and who had come back to her redeemed.
Edward W---- stood at his right hand, Lizzie Legare stood by her dear
friend, and the ceremony, brief but impressive, was performed. When it
was over, all moved out to the banquet hall, and though no wine colored
the cloth or tempted man to fall, a more delicious repast was never
served.
After it was over, at Georgiana’s request, her husband, noble and proud
in his true reformation, told the listening guests the strange, strange
story. He, that old attorney’s poor clerk, had met and loved Georgiana,
the only child and heir of those rich parents. They had scorned him,
for they had higher views for her--drove him from their door. She, in
her love and pride, had vowed to be his, and together they fled to
New York, there to be united in wedlock. He, in his too exuberant joy,
forgot his manhood, and when they should have been ready to stand up
before the minister was too intoxicated to stand.
Crushed and indignant, she waited until he was sober enough to realize
what he had done, and then she told him to go forth and never, never to
return until his manhood was redeemed, and he could stand a free man
before his God, sworn and proven true in the full fruits of temperance.
He went. She would not go back to the home she had left, but at once
sought employment in the humblest line.
There, dear reader, we found her. You have had the story. It is a
strange one, but to a very great extent it is true. And, as a young
writer, I can only hope it will do the good I wish it should do. That
it will give courage to the weak, hope to the hopeless, for no one is
so lost or fallen but that a higher, better life may be reached.
I suppose I may as well tell you, Mr. Edward W---- is now trying to
forget his first disappointment in the smiles of sweet Lizzie Legare,
and Frank has “gone West.”
THE END.
* * * * *
_THE SOUTHWORTH NOVELS in the_
Southworth Library
If there is anyone that says we Americans have no literature of our
own, let him read the books of Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. This author
may be said to have written truly great American novels. The scenes of
all of her stories are laid in America, are about American people and
deal with the mode of living peculiar to the American.
Most of Mrs. Southworth’s books are pen pictures of the hopes and
fears, the joys and sorrows of good old-fashioned folk, but do not
think on that account that they are old-fashioned.
Her works have always been considered standard romances and will be of
just the same intense interest twenty years hence as they were upon the
day when they were first written.
We would like to send you a complete catalogue of Mrs. Southworth’s
books, but if you want to see just what this author has done, buy
copies of “Em,” and “Em’s Husband,” published as SOUTHWORTH LIBRARY,
Nos. 142 and 143. These books are very good examples of what this
author can do.
_PRICE, TEN CENTS PER COPY_
“The Right Books at the Right Price”
NOTICE--If these books are sent by mail, four cents must be added to
the price of each copy to cover postage.
_STREET & SMITH, Publishers, New York_
* * * * *
EAGLE LIBRARY
A weekly publication devoted to good literature. April 19, 1897
NO. 8
S. & S. Novels
“_THE RIGHT BOOKS AT THE RIGHT PRICE_”
¶ Have you ever stopped to consider what a wealth of good reading is
contained in our S. & S. lines? We were pioneers of the paper book
industry. Being first in the field and having unlimited capital, we
were enabled to secure the works of the very best authors and offer
them to the reading public in the most attractive form.
¶ We have the exclusive right to publish all of the late copyrighted
works of Charles Garvice, Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, Bertha M. Clay
and Horatio Alger, Jr. We control exclusively the works of Mrs. Georgie
Sheldon, Nicholas Carter, Burt L. Standish, Effie Adelaide Rowlands,
Gertrude Warden and dozens of other authors of established reputations.
¶ When you purchase an S. & S. Novel, you may rest assured that you
are getting the full value for your money and a little more. There are
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* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.
The following change was made:
p. 209: was changed to were (friends were there,)