

### About the Book

Miss Orabel Jancy is indeed clever, and she knows it. The oldest of widowed Squire Jancy's six children, all living at home, Orabel is the author of several scientific books, and has many letters after her name. To Orabel, education and intellectual pursuits are everything that matter in life. She is secretary of a women's intellectual club that teaches that women are superior to men, and the members have all agreed to remain single because men would hold them back in their academic goals. However, when Orabel was born, a deathbed promise was made with a friend that Orabel and the friend's son, Harold Kingdon, should be given the opportunity to marry. Nobody thinks to mention this to Orabel, and she only learns of the arrangement when she is grown up and Harold Kingdon is already on his way from India -- to propose to her! Even before Harold arrives, Orabel decides she cannot possibly marry a lowly military doctor, when she is so intelligent. As soon as they meet, the feeling of dislike is mutual. But Orabel's younger sister, Annis, who never did well in academic subjects, is also of marriageable age, and would dearly love to settle down with the right man. Their younger brother and small sisters view the developing situation with interest.

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The Squire had never found courage to broach the fact of the offer to Orabel, who looks as though her blue eyes would wither the sheet of foreign notepaper in front of her.

"You know, Orabel," puts in Annis, "we did hear something long ago about papa and mamma promising somebody or other out in India should have a chance to court you."

"Oh, do say 'yes,' Orabel," pleads a chorus of little sisters. "It will be so lovely to have a wedding, and Phil can be a page and wear a fancy dress."

"Can he?" growls Philip. "I'd like to catch myself in lace and velvet like those kids at the Hemmings' last week. Orabel, I think you ought to send him your portrait. Let him know, at least, what he's wooing."

With these words Philip beats a prudent retreat, and Orabel gives utterance to such tones that Annis, trembling at her side, is almost in tears.

"Has it come to this," Orabel asks, "that I, the secretary of the Mount Athene Club, should be affronted, insulted by a letter like this? Am I not Orabel Jancy? Am I not the pioneer of a new and emancipating system? And who is this Harold Kingdon that he dares to cross my path with his jests concerning infantile betrothal?"

### The Clever Miss Jancy

### Margaret S. Haycraft

1855-1936

Abridged Edition

Original book first published 1891

This abridged edition ©Chris Wright 2017

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-9-7

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

The Clever Miss Jancy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

### Contents

Cover

About the Book

Author Biography

Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

More Books from White Tree Publishing

About White Tree Publishing

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

### Author Biography

Margaret Scott Haycraft was born Margaret Scott MacRitchie at Newport Pagnell, England in 1855. She married William Parnell Haycraft in 1883 and wrote mostly under her married name. In 1891 she was living in Brighton, on the south coast of England, and died in Bournemouth, also on the south coast, in 1936. She also wrote under her maiden name of Margaret MacRitchie. Margaret Haycraft is by far our most popular author of fiction.

Margaret was a contemporary of the much better-known Christian writer Mrs. O. F. Walton. Both ladies wrote Christian stories for children that were very much for the time in which they lived, with little children often preparing for an early death. Mrs. Walton wrote three romances for adults (with no suffering children, and now published by White Tree in abridged versions). Margaret Haycraft concentrated mainly on books for children. However, she later wrote several romances for older readers. Unusually for Victorian writers, the majority of Margaret Haycraft's stories are told in the present tense.

Both Mrs. Walton's and Margaret Haycraft's books for all ages can be over-sentimental, referring throughout, for example, to a mother as the dear, sweet mother, and a child as the darling little child. In our abridged editions overindulgent descriptions of people have been shortened to make a more robust story, but the characters and storyline are always unchanged. Eliza Kerr is another Victorian writer whose stories deserve to be republished, and White Tree Publishing is releasing several of her books in abridged form.

A problem of Victorian writers is the tendency to insert intrusive comments concerning what is going to happen later in the story. Today we call them spoilers. They are usually along the lines of: "Little did he/she know that...." I have removed these when appropriate.

£100 in 1891 may not sound much, but in income value it is worth £12,000 pounds today (about US$15,000). I mention this in case the sums of money in this book sound insignificant!

Chris Wright

Editor

NOTE

There are 15 chapters in this book. At the end of the book are many advertisements for our other books, so the story may end earlier than expected! The last chapter is marked as such. We aim to make our eBooks free or for a nominal cost, and cannot invest in other forms of advertising. However, word of mouth by satisfied readers will also help get our books more widely known. Also good books reviews are always helpful.

### Chapter 1

### "Betrothed from Our Cradles"

"It's a letter with the Indian postmark Simla. We know nobody at Simla. Really you are becoming quite a public character, Orabel. I suppose somebody has been struck by your treatise on the differential calculus."

Orabel Jancy stretches out her hand complacently for the communication from her unknown correspondent. She has passed with gleaming laurels through her university course, and lacking at present fresh fields to conquer has betaken herself of late to authorship, and is regarded with the deepest reverence by the outside public, especially by the villagers of Hollybourne.

"Perhaps somebody has offered Orabel an appointment in India," remarks fifteen-year-old Philip. Philip is the only son and heir of the Jancys, and as such not infrequently snubbed by his intellectual sister who cherishes an extremely low estimate of his sex.

"I will not go," says Orabel firmly, her blue-black eyes gazing pitifully around upon the throng of younger sisters at the breakfast table. "My work is amid my countrywomen. My sphere is to redeem such as these..." with a sweep of her hand she indicates Laura, Etta, Nan, the twins, and Poppy "...from woman's habitual bondage, to emancipate the feminine brain from oppressive restrictions which too long have vainly endeavoured to curtail a woman's thoughts and limit her arena. Then, when my countrywomen are set free, I will turn to foreign fields."

Philip looks disappointed, and the sisters look impressed. They are not as clever as Orabel. The second one, Annis, never got beyond fractions at school, and sometimes brings her fingers into requisition over the tradesmen's books, and they are secretly conscious of falling short of their sister's theories of brain development, but personal deficiencies only make them prouder of the genius of the family.

"Had you not better open your letter, my dear?" suggests Squire Jancy, a sunny-faced, bright-eyed man between fifty and sixty, a leading power on bench and in field, but a little timid of the oracle of the Hall.

Orabel proceeds to do so with a quiet smile, expectant of grateful admiration from a stranger of one or more of her works. But as she reads, her face changes, and horror, amazement, indignation take the place of the smile.

"What is this?" she asks in an awful tone. Then, too filled with wrath to remember the listening ears of the juveniles, she casts the letter down on the table and reads aloud:

"Dear Miss Jancy,

I suppose you are aware that we have been betrothed from our cradles. I believe the arrangement was made when you were three weeks old. I communicated with your father about a year ago, but he has not favoured me with a reply. I am about to seek leave in England, and shall be returning in the autumn of next year. I am coming with an offer of marriage. Trusting this will suit your arrangements, and that we shall be fairly happy together, I remain, sincerely yours,

Harold Kingdon."

"Goodness!" cries Philip excitedly, "if that isn't fortunate. Now I've got Nixon's knife. I bet Nixon Major my stamps to his knife that Orabel would get married one of these days, and Nixon said who'd have such a stuck-up----"

"Hush," says the Squire, sternly, "let me hear no more of betting, and stop teasing your sister. Can you not see she is much distressed? Orabel, my dear, why look so disturbed? After all, an offer of marriage is a compliment, and Kingdon is very well spoken of. He is a surgeon-major in the army, you know, and bears a high character. I ought to have told you about his letter, but ... but ... I had the draining to see to just then, and you were going in for the degree."

The Squire had never found courage to broach the fact of the offer to Orabel, who looks as though her blue eyes would wither the sheet of foreign notepaper in front of her.

"You know, Orabel," puts in Annis, "we did hear something long ago about papa and mamma promising somebody or other out in India should have a chance to court you."

"Oh, do say 'yes,' Orabel," pleads a chorus of little sisters. "It will be so lovely to have a wedding, and Phil can be a page and wear a fancy dress."

"Can he?" growls Philip. "I'd like to catch myself in lace and velvet like those kids at the Hemmings' last week. Orabel, I think you ought to send him your portrait. Let him know, at least, what he's wooing."

With these words Philip beats a prudent retreat, and Orabel gives utterance to such tones that Annis, trembling at her side, is almost in tears.

"Has it come to this," she asks, "that I, the secretary of the Mount Athene Club, should be affronted, insulted, by a letter like this? Am I not Orabel Jancy? Am I not the pioneer of a new and emancipating system? And who is this Harold Kingdon that he dares to cross my path with his jests concerning infantile betrothal?"

"Early betrothals are common in the East," says Laura. "He lives in India, and they don't understand our ways."

The Squire turns his bewildered head towards his daughters, and appears relieved to hear a servant announce just then that Miss Maberley has arrived. Miss Maberley is the daily governess, and there is an exit from the breakfast table, but Annis remains with Orabel.

"Now, father," says Orabel, seating herself judicially in the elbow chair by the fire, "tell me the truth of this matter. Let me know the worst. I can bear it. I suppose no legal marriage ceremony was gone through in my infancy between this ... this ... extremely presumptuous person and myself? The world is surely not mistaken, father, in presuming my name to be Orabel Jancy?"

Annis gives the Squire an encouraging little pat, and murmurs, "Even if you did marry him, Orabel, you can keep your name. Authors often do, and singers, and actresses."

Orabel gives her a dignified look at the association of her treatise on the differential calculus with performers on the stage.

The Squire clears his throat and looks ruefully at his dogs that are whining, moaning, and scratching outside the window, in resolute endeavours to reach his side. "Well, my dear, what is the use of raking up the past? It cannot but be a little painful to me to speak of your dear mother, lost seven years since."

Annis takes his hand and strokes it, and Orabel's stateliness would falter but for that open letter on the table, for she was passionately fond of her lost mother.

"Kingdon's father ... a doctor, too ... was a friend of mine. He was your mother's guardian, and greatly her senior. She scarcely knew her own mind, and had entered into an engagement with him. Well, the fact is she and I learnt to love each other, and Kingdon found it out and set her free. But I believe he never loved again, as he had cared only for her. Years after, he came to the Hall a widower, with a little chap, in mourning, and he kissed you, Orabel, in your cradle, and said, 'This is my son. My dearest wish will be fulfilled when this infant is his wife.'

"We laughed at the notion, but he persisted in declaring that the children were betrothed, and taught Harold to call you, in your unconsciousness, his 'little wife.' Well, we lost sight of the Kingdons, but about a year ago I heard from young Dr. Kingdon, saying his father was dead, and on his deathbed had made him promise he would seek out Orabel Jancy and marry her if possible. 'Time has gone by,' said young Kingdon in his letter to me, 'and I am no more disposed for matrimony than when my father died. I am drifting into a confirmed bachelor, but the memory of my promise haunts me. I am willing to abide by it, with your permission. I have no doubt Miss Jancy is all that is sweet and lovable, and if she agrees to marry me we shall get on as well together as most couples do. I may state that the study of nerves is my speciality, and my researches in this direction have rendered me indisposed for society. So Miss Jancy may be assured that I am perfectly heart-whole. I hope to call upon her when I get my leave.'"

"Nerves!" exclaims Orabel, disdainfully. "What are nerves, pray? This Harold Kingdon is one of those who pander to the hysterical fancies of the unintellectual, who coin their guineas from the so-called nerves of patients. I regret, father, that you forgot to make me aware of this communication. My answer should long since have been despatched. There is a committee meeting of the Mount Athene Club at 10.30, but I shall have time to catch the early post."

"The Indian mail does not go till Friday," says the Squire. "Do not be precipitate, my dear. Second thoughts are best. Why not let the young man come and see you? Of course, dear, I do not want to lose you -- it is very nice to have you with us at home -- but India is really only a stone's throw nowadays. You could often run home to see us; and the married state, my child, is a very happy one."

"Is it?" says Orabel, with a smile of superiority. "My dear father, could you know and understand the joys of the intellect ever spread as a feast before us at Mount Athene, you would realise that the Don, the secretary, and the members have already attained to life's highest."

The cat and her kittens on the rug get up as Orabel passes, and steal to the skirts of Annis. Orabel holds her head so high that occasionally she has forgotten the furry group at her feet, and casualty and tribulation have been the lot of the feline heart. The Squire is already out among his dogs, and Annis, after an interview with the cook, goes to Orabel's study to inquire if her sister intends to take lunch at the club.

"No, no, I shall be in between twelve and three some time. Anything will do for me. A hot cutlet, or some of those croquettes I liked the other day," says Orabel, impatiently. "I may bring in the Don and perhaps the Miss Uffs, so see there is something going. Look here, Annis, let this be a lifelong lesson to you. When your time comes, end the matter as promptly as I have done, for of courses no sister of mine will ever stoop to marry. My sisters will help me to inaugurate the golden cycle, wherein woman at last will understand her own importance. Here is my reply to Kingdon."

"Yes, Orabel," says Annis meekly, and listens with awe as her sister reads the letter aloud.

"Sir,

In addressing to me the extraordinary communication which today has reached my hands, I can only suppose you penned your letter at a time of mental aberration. Perhaps you are not aware that your correspondent is the pioneer of a new and advanced era for her downtrodden sex, in which the Brain of Woman -- a power little realised hitherto -- will be the lever of the State. With marriage, sir, I have absolutely nothing to do. Nor do you in the slightest degree realise my ideal of what the present-day woman has a right to expect -- one whose mind in some degree will be possessed of capacity conformable to her own. Let me hear no more of a proposition beneath any future notice of mine.

Orabel Jancy,

Author of 'A Treatise on the Differential Calculus,'

'Common-sense Geometry,'

'Recreations with Euclid,' etc. etc.

"Splendidly composed," says Annis, "but are you sure you won't be sorry? People who come from India do have such lovely things: Madras work, and tussores, and bangles----"

"Bangles?" says Orabel, sorrowfully. "Oh, Annis, Annis, you are yet very young. You have not arisen into the pastures of light and knowledge. You do not yet understand, my child, the only life that is worth living."

"I answered Dr. Kingdon's letter," Orabel announces at lunch, "and you need not fear, father, that I shall ever leave you. I shall ever be at your side, and you will share the reflection of all my triumphs. The Don was saying today I should make an admirable deputation to our London branch. My name is now such a household word. Yes, father, I have answered his letter, and we shall hear no more of Dr. Harold Kingdon at Hollyberry Hall."

For once in her life, however, Orabel Jancy is mistaken over her belief that Dr. Kingdom will receive her letter in time. Dr. Kingdon's period of leave commences before her letter arrives in India, and one afternoon while Orabel is teaching her tearful sister, Poppy, multiplication on a newly-invented system of her own, the Squire comes into the room and hands her a telegram he has just received.

LANDED THIS MORNING. HOPE TO CALL THIS AFTERNOON. AM PUTTING UP AT THE HOLLYBOURNE HOTEL

"Let him come, father," says Orabel, indifferently. "What is his presence to me? What would the attentions of a legion of such matter to one who lives but for the laurels of Fame?"

### Chapter 2

### First Impressions

"He's here. He's here, Orabel, and father has asked him to stay to dinner!"

Laura pursues her eldest sister excitedly into the sanctum which is given up to Orabel's studies. Orabel is not in the best of humours. She has spent the afternoon at Mount Athene reading a paper on "Hypothetical Syllogisms," but the eldest Miss Uff took exception to her theories, and the result has been an argument which has ruffled Orabel's placidity. Criticism has a tendency to render Orabel irritable. She has reigned as sovereign absolute in Hollyberry Hall, and the wholesome bitters of opposition are not at all to her taste.

"And, oh, Orabel, he's so handsome!"

"And, oh, Orabel, his hair is so curly!"

Orabel turns with dignity upon the twins of twelve, Carrie and Kitty. Etta and Nan, aged respectively ten and nine, who are about to offer enraptured criticisms upon the visitor, prudently close their mouths.

"I must speak to Miss Maberley," says Orabel, "about the sentimental bent and direction of your minds, Carrie and Kitty. Handsome \-- curly \-- and a member of the other sex! Your lack of mental ballast, of balance, is shocking! I see plainly that you children are learning too much poetry."

"I've only learnt the 'Psalm of Life' this year, Orabel," says Kitty in self defence, "and I don't even remember that. And I thought you'd like to know he is nice looking. Philip says he'll most likely be our brother."

"And, oh, Orabel, his arm is in a sling," says Annis, pitifully averting the indignation about to pour forth on Kitty's golden head. "And with whom do you suppose he came over from India? With Nigel Rutherglen! And Nigel has gone on to Devonshire to see his uncle there, but when he returns to Heron Chase, Dr. Kingdon is to stay with him there. So we are sure to see plenty of him. He has asked us a great deal about you, and we told him how clever you are, and all you have done at college. Do wear your black silk at dinner, Orabel. Do look your best."

The dressing bell rings just then, and Orabel rises and sweeps contemptuously past the excited little group. She cannot understand all their commotion about a guest, though strangers are rare in Hollybourne, and one fresh from India possesses natural interest for the children.

If he had written a book now, or had lectured to admiring crowds, or were an erudite professor, Orabel thought she might feel some slight interest in his company. But a young man coming to woo her! Nothing could be less to her taste!

Orabel has rather attractive hair, but this evening she dresses it in what she knows to be its most unbecoming style -- brushed straight and broad on either side of her head, and then taken up in a braided coronet, which, if intellectual looking, does not at all add to her attractions. But it is better that he should understand her character at once, that he should know she does not lay herself out to please the other sex, but lives up to her vocation of liberating woman from the bondage of generations.

Rejecting the suggestion of the black silk, she puts on a brown alpaca, which Philip asserts always makes him feel ill. Her only ornament is a cameo brooch, and her mirror assures her that she will meet this presumptuous doctor as a fitting type of woman at her highest, which, in Orabel's opinion, means superior to ideas of apparel and appearance.

Meanwhile, Harold Kingdon is pacing the conservatory that leads from the drawing room a little impatiently. He was deeply, fondly attached to his father, and none but himself can realise the solemnity of the promise by which he bound himself to fulfil, if possible, that father's dearest wish. He has devoted himself to his profession, and has never mingled much in society. The single ladies of the station have given him up as hopeless, but for some months now his thoughts have been wandering to Orabel Jancy as a possible companion for his life. He is now a little nervous and anxious as to his first interview with the girl whom he has promised to ask in marriage.

The Squire has already told him of Orabel's positive "No," but he was quite prepared for such an answer at first, and he feels it remains with him to render their acquaintance satisfactory and pleasant to the lady. He is inclined just now to congratulate himself on his position. The hearty, good-natured Squire is quite an ideal father-in-law, and the children here are bonnie and active enough to cheer the vision of one who has long been used to paler cheeks and more delicate looking juveniles.

Dr. Kingdon caused Annis, the second Miss Jancy, much humiliation of spirit by mistaking her for her gifted sister at first. He now feels he will be quite content if the lady he has crossed the seas to win resembles Annis in gentle movements, pleasant voice, and sweetness of expression.

Nigel Rutherglen, a near neighbour and old playmate of the Jancys, came of age about two years since, and has been travelling about for some time. His widowed mother thinks that travel is necessary to enlarge the mind, but she has been sorely lonely, and has of late almost counted the days till her son's return. At present she is with her brother near Ilfracombe in Devon, and Nigel has proceeded there.

The fellow-passengers grew very confidential on the journey home, and Nigel was made aware of his companion's hopes concerning the eldest Miss Jancy. Nigel has been in love and out again ever since boyhood, and he considers himself competent to advise the Doctor, albeit his senior, on the best mode of procedure. A balcony in the moonlight Nigel considers indispensable to success. Practising duets is also advisable, and the study of flowers in the conservatory.

Nigel has found offerings of chocolate also propitious, and White Rose is usually a favourite perfume for women. And of course none will overlook tennis \-- but here Nigel remembers that Orabel never played tennis, and as the distinguishing points of her character rise to his recollection, he begins to wonder at the Doctor's taste. "But then, of course," says Nigel to himself, "Kingdon has never seen Orabel. Now anybody might take to Annis, if she were not such a quiet little thing, and if she knew anything at all about flirtation. I don't know but what I might have fallen in love with Annis myself before now."

Dr. Kingdon looks dubiously at himself in the tall mirror opposite the conservatory. He sees a tall, strongly-built figure, a quiet face, thoughtful and grave, and unfortunately his left arm fastened in a sling, a fact that to his active nature is a considerable trial of patience. He contrasts himself with the brilliant young officers whom the ladies of his station in India appeared to favour, with such as Nigel Rutherglen. His chances of success suddenly seem to him exceedingly small. He was never meant, he tells himself, for the drawing room, for association with the fair and gentle sex. Nevertheless, for the sake of his promise to his father, he has paid this visit to Hollyberry Hall, to stand his chance among the many admirers who doubtless offer homage to the fair Orabel

Philip and Laura are the first to appear. Laura, on the request of Annis, has been permitted by her father to join the late dinner, and she is full of eager questionings as to Dr. Kingdon's Indian servant, Bhagat, who is at present being regaled with curry and rice below.

"Here's Orabel," says Philip, hailing with a grin the advent of his aversion, the brown alpaca, "but she's all up in the skies today about a new book she's writing. She wants to show that everybody else's ideas about the motions of the moon are wrong, so we shan't get much out of her, I'm afraid."

The Squire appears just at this moment from the greenhouse, and hastily introduces the two. "My dear, this is Dr. Kingdon. This is my eldest child, Orabel."

The Doctor has prepared a complimentary speech about this long-looked-for occasion, but the words die on his lips as he stares at Orabel in such blank astonishment that Philip is in ecstasies, and Laura is a little indignant on her sister's account. Orabel seems to have made herself look twenty years older than she really is, and Laura is sorry to notice the presence of a pair of coloured spectacles which Orabel is wont to assume when desirous of being specially impressive, though her eyesight is remarkably good.

As for Dr. Kingdon, it takes him fully a minute to recover from the shock. He certainly supposed the lady who just then entered the room to be a maiden aunt of the Miss Jancys. And now he is told it is Orabel herself, whose age he has hitherto understood to be twenty-two years! And what a voice! The others are aware that Orabel is surpassing herself this evening, assuming an imperiousness even greater than her usual manner.

Kingdon does not know that Miss Jancy is a little overdoing her part for his benefit, and he sits positively aghast at the position in which he has placed himself. Has he not addressed to this lady a proposal of marriage? Has he not come here with the understood purpose of improving her acquaintance? But what would life be worth if shared with one so dictatorial, so unsympathetic, so ... so conceited? He cannot conceal from himself that he hears the ring of conceit in Miss Jancy's voice.

It has been his lot to know many a highly educated woman, and very agreeable, charming, and womanly they have proved themselves again and again. Even against women doctors he has no inward prejudice, for he has the greatest esteem and reverence for many such. He is sensible enough to know it by no means follows that a gifted brain implies excess of vanity. But in the present instance it is all too evident that the two things go together.

He is honoured by taking Miss Jancy in to dinner, and floored by her asking him, as soon as they are seated, how far he has advanced in the study of the calculus of finite differences.

"There is nothing like showing a man his ignorance," Orabel inwardly decides. "It puts, him then upon his proper footing, and convinces him we are no longer intellectual slaves."

"I am not much of a mathematician," says Kingdon with a faint smile, not caring to exhibit such knowledge as he possesses for the benefit of the listening group.

"Oh, Orabel knows all about that kind of thing," says the Squire proudly. "Optics, and mechanics, and astronomy, and magnetism."

"And hydrostatics," says Philip, "and acoustics and electricity and hydrodynamics and trigonometry and analytical geometry, and all the rest of it. They're only so much A B C to Orabel."

"When the mind of woman," says Orabel, after a preliminary cough, "escaped from the social leading-strings of habit, cuts the knot of intellectual difficulty, and soars into hitherto unvisioned space, then, from the glorious seed thus scattered abroad...."

"Aren't you getting mixed in your metaphors?" says Philip, suggestively.

His father reproves him for interruption, and Annis and Laura gaze reverently at their eloquent sister. Dr. Kingdon sees it is expected of him to render homage at the same shrine, but he sinks into silence, aghast at the predicament in which he is placed.

Orabel, meanwhile, has soared conversationally to the skies. Finding the visitor can claim little acquaintance with the planetoids she discourses concerning these heavenly bodies till even Philip is driven, abashed, from the field, and the course is open to her.

Bhagat, the Doctor's servant, is behind his chair, his admiring eyes fixed upon Orabel during her flow of speech. But Bhagat afterwards remarks to his master that the "Mem Sahib has the neck of a wrestler," which appears to be the Indian's impression of Orabel, alluding, probably, to a way she has in speaking of throwing her head slightly up and her shoulders backward, and displaying the proportions of the healthy neck and throat which support the erudite head.

After dinner, Orabel goes off to her observatory, a little bower crowded with telescopes, too far up for her to see Nan crying in the schoolroom over a sum that will not come right, and Etta over a long tear in a dress that has caught the door handle. But Annis, having tucked Poppy into bed, wades through the refractory sum and puts Etta on the track of mending the dress, and then goes down to sing her father to sleep with the old ballads he loves, while Dr. Kingdon, playing chess with Philip, finds his one thought of consolation in the fact that the Squire has told him Orabel has written her "No " to India.

"I will not act discourteously," is his decision. "I will wait here till Nigel Rutherglen's return, and then stay with him awhile as promised. But that visit over, I will leave the neighbourhood of Hollybourne at once and for ever, for, dear as is the memory of my poor father, it would be too terrible to redeem my promise by calling aught so unwomanly, so self-centred, as poor Orabel Jancy, by the name of wife!"

### Chapter 3

### A Private Conversation

Dr. Kingdon finds himself in somewhat of a dilemma. He is aware he is regarded by the Squire, by his own assurance on arrival, as Orabel's persevering suitor. Devoutly now does he wish he had waited to interview the lady before declaring to Mr. Jancy that he was anxious to fulfil his father's wishes. Doubtless Orabel herself supposes he is still in the same willing frame of mind. What an awkward, delicate position is his. How is he to explain to a lady that, on nearer acquaintance, all he seeks is her friendship?

Harold Kingdon is a blunt, straightforward man, and he decides to cut the knot of difficulty by a candid explanation. He promised the children yesterday to bring them some carved figures of Indian servants and artisans. Bearing these offerings, he goes over to the Hall next morning about twelve o'clock, mentally composing a speech which shall in future place him wholly at his ease in the company of Orabel.

The French windows of the music room are open, and occasional strains of "The Blue Bells of Scotland" are varied by Miss Jancy's argumentative tones and a tearful voice that sounds like Nan's. Orabel is instructing her sister in the principles of harmony by a sort of board with rods and running wooden notes, which the village carpenter has executed to her orders. It is Orabel's own invention, and meant to simplify musical instruction to the juveniles, but there are evidently a few slips in her own conception or in the carpenter's execution, for Nan's mystification is in the Doctor's opinion abundantly justified.

"You have no intelligence, Nan," says her sister, with a sigh. "The clearest and most objective explanations seem somehow lost upon you. Still, there is an improved system formulating itself in my mind -- a sort of chromatic kaleidoscope, calculated to be very helpful to you children. When Smithers can bring round his tools and get it made under my direction, you may perhaps make some progress. Now, get your 'All is lost now,' and let me see what you remember of the construction of the minor variations. Oh, Dr. Kingdon, I did not perceive you. I believe my father is out. This room is devoted in the morning to the theoretical study----"

But the parcel of toys is slipping from the Doctor's one available arm, and Nan, springing forward to help him, catches sight of the attractive native figures dropping out of the brown paper. The Doctor mutters something apologetic about having been attracted by the music, and Orabel, grieved to note how evidently her young sister abandons science in favour of dolls, is forced to conclude the morning's instruction, and to remark that she will call Annis, as it is her hour for solitary investigations in the study of the nature of volcanoes.

"Excuse me, Miss Jancy," says the Doctor, flushing a little, "but may I request the favour of a few minutes' private conversation? Will you take these figures to your sisters, my dear, and divide them as you please. I hope you will accept them from me. My visit this morning is to Miss Jancy, if she will favour me with her company for a space."

Nan scarcely heeds his last words. She hugs the figures to her heart, and departs enchanted to the upper regions, while Orabel seats herself resignedly, resolved to nip the wooing of this most audacious visitor in the bud.

Dr. Kingdon takes a swift survey of her. This morning, in a simple print and with her auburn hair neatly braided and curling a little on her brow in pretty, natural waves, she looks considerably more attractive than last night. The Doctor begins to perceive that there is a certain beauty about the long-lashed eyes and clever, intelligent features.

If only with all her attainments she had learnt to be sweet and womanly! If only, in addition to her brain, she had cultivated her heart a little more! Upon her face his eyes linger well satisfied, but a woman's face alone would never content the Doctor. She whom he calls his wife must possess a living soul.

"Miss Jancy," he begins, a little hesitatingly, "our position just now is unfortunately a little constrained, and I should be very sorry if my presence in the neighbourhood rendered you at all uncomfortable. I have promised to pay a visit at Heron Chase, and it is possible that you and I may meet frequently during the summer. Now, to put away all discomfort, all awkwardness, all constraint----"

"I assure you," interrupts Orabel, with dignity, "it has never occurred to me to feel constrained. Perhaps you are not aware, Dr. Kingdon, that my time and thoughts are occupied by a multiplicity of acquirements which really leave no leisure for such matters as apparently enter into your own consideration. It is well, perhaps, that you have given me the opportunity of plainly and verbally expressing my sentiments once for all. I believe my father told you yesterday that I sent an emphatic negative reply to your very astonishing communication. I cannot acknowledge my responsibility as to infantile arrangements. Arrived now at years of intelligence, and drinking daily at the fountain of knowledge, I have formed the deliberate resolve to live a life of celibacy, that I may the better devote myself to the amelioration of my down-trodden sex.

"In this determination I am joined by the ladies of the Mount Athene Association, and by my sisters. I trust that time will add very many, aflame with emancipatory zeal, to the ranks we have thus inaugurated. And I will not conceal from you, Dr. Kingdon, that apart from this resolve you could not in any case have been my ideal. Mine is a nature that must look up, not down -- that ever reaches out to the higher and better and nobler. I would not disparage your attainments, but I am myself somewhat of an author. Annis has several of my books, which you may like to look over. Well, I will say no more, but you will now perceive the utter impossibility of your hopes contracted in my days of infantile unconsciousness. I shall always be pleased to meet you as a friend, Dr. Kingdon, but here your aspirations must finally stop."

The Doctor has sat silent beneath the flow of Orabel's discourse, marvelling at her fluency of speech, a gift in which Miss Jancy has never been deficient. To be "friends and no more" is the wish of his own heart, but finding that Orabel imagines otherwise, and that she has taken the initiative in putting sentiment aside, he politely accepts the situation, content that it leaves him in the position of other ordinary acquaintances as concerns Orabel.

He now gives it as his opinion that woman's position is already far better than in bygone times, but still it is capable of very great improvement, and he expresses his sympathy with any movement that has for its aim the aid and elevation of the "weaker sex."

This is an unfortunate expression, which arouses Miss Jancy's indignation at once. "And pray, Dr. Kingdon, how are we the 'weaker sex?' Do you mean physically or intellectually? If physically, let me remind you of the Amazon race, braving all dangers, undergoing all fatigues, going forth victorious to the conflict, and demonstrating immortally woman's superiority in field and fight. And if intellectually, I need only mention the names of----"

"I assure you," says the Doctor hastily, "no one can hold your sex in more reverence than myself. I have no doubt that as their knowledge increases, women as a race will improve in health and physique, discarding the tight boots, heavy drapery, extremes of heat and cold which are so trying and injurious. And I do not deny that some of earth's greatest geniuses have been women. Of course, in all respects I, as a man, hold woman our superior. It would be most ungallant in me not to do so. At the same time, my professional experience and common sense alike convince me that ladies in general are the weaker sex. All the more need, therefore, for them to lean upon the stronger arm of man," he adds, a little mischievously, relieved from apprehension that Orabel will think he is continuing his addresses -- and disposed in his ease of mind for a little teasing.

"Lean on the arm of man!" exclaims Orabel contemptuously. "In the name of my sex, I should despise myself if I were capable of such weakness. Woman needs no masculine prop, Dr. Kingdon. Let her stand or fall alone."

"At present she appears to be falling," says the Doctor, good-humouredly, glancing out of the window at the youngest Miss Jancy, who has come in sudden contact with the lawn.

"Oh, Poppy is always falling about," says Orabel. "She needs more self-reliance. Oh, you need not trouble yourself about her. Annis is there."

Annis, seated in the summerhouse with a basket of mending at her side, hurries across the grass to Poppy, and kisses the knee on which the child vainly endeavours to discover a graze.

"Poor Annis!" says Orabel, with pity in her voice. "I set her some problems to do just now, but I see she has begun her sewing and given them up in despair. I do not know how it happened, but Annis never could get on at school. She is sadly backward for her age, and I know her deficiencies are very painful to her. I must just go and encourage her to wrestle with those problems till she is victorious."

"Oh, let her alone, Miss Jancy," says the Doctor, somewhat abruptly. "What are problems compared to the wiping away of the tears of a little child? Hers is a noble sphere, a glorious realm. She is evidently the joy and comfort of her home. I know very well that the all-wise Heaven denies to some women this realm of home. It is impossible to some to wield the beautiful domestic sceptre. Doubtless they are, or will be, abundantly compensated for the glory they have seemed to miss. But where a woman is set by Heaven in the midst of a home, I say she is at her highest in blessing, aiding, and guiding that home as your sister does. Woman never seems to me so much a queen as when enthroned upon family love."

Orabel stares at him for a while in mute surprise. Is he implying in herself a lack of the qualities which he rates so highly. Is Annis actually exalted by this stranger at the expense of "the clever Miss Jancy?" Orabel can scarcely believe her ears. It is the first time anyone in her presence, save Philip whose remarks are beneath notice, has ventured to hint that woman's kingdom is not always bounded by mathematical and scientific lines.

"I perceive," she remarks, with a smile of superiority, "you are one of those who would like to see women always making pies and dusting rooms, and hemming handkerchiefs, and all that sort of thing! Ah, well, it is not everyone who can prize the advantages of education. I cannot expect you, doubtless trained in the primitive seminaries of the East, to appreciate woman's new and spreading regions of culture and learning."

"I hope I underrate neither," says the Doctor, rather warmly. "And permit me to say I was educated first at Harrow and then at the London University. I was not trained in the native schools, as you appear to suppose -- though, indeed, the progress those schools are making now might be a little surprise to you. Excuse me a moment. I do not think Miss Annis ought to lift that heavy child."

For Poppy, taking advantage of her misfortune, has seized the opportunity to request to be carried to the orchard and regaled with cherries. At sight of Dr. Kingdon she forgets her tribulation, and slides down to the ground to inquire coaxingly if he has any more of those "pretty little dollies" at his hotel. Annis tells Dr. Kingdon, with a smile, of the children's delight over his Indian figures, and as the two are walking among the flowers they are joined by the Squire who takes the Doctor off to see his model dairy.

"An insufferable man," thinks Orabel, indignantly, watching the tall, strong figure out of sight. "So brusque and opinionated, so ... so ... wanting in all the qualities that make up the mind. I wonder how he managed to slip through his medical examination. Perhaps, at the time he passed, they were not so particular about the exams as they are now. Dear me, how impossible it would be for Orabel Jancy to look up to a nature like that! No, in the foolish days of my bygone girlhood, when I dreamed of a possible suitor, I always yearned for a man of intellect, of mental force, of consummate learning -- not a mere carpet-knight like this, concerned about domestic details like Poppy's falls or the little family duties which are all poor Annis feels capable of accomplishing. Well, I must get to my volcanoes, or the morning will be wasted and nothing added to my mental stores."

"Oh, what do you think, Orabel?" says Laura, meeting her in the hall with a glowing face, "I have just heard how Dr. Kingdon hurt his arm. Bhagat told cook yesterday. It has been hurt very badly, and for a long time he has not been able to use it. But now they think he can soon leave off the sling. Bhagat used to be the servant of a neighbour of the Doctor's -- a military officer. One day this officer was in a dreadful temper, kicking Bhagat and knocking him about. Some other Englishmen present only laughed, but Dr. Kingdon was very indignant, and stepped between, and a shower of blows fell on his left arm and shoulder, causing serious bruises and injuries. People wanted him to go to law against the officer who had hurt him, but he would not do that. He only said, as a Christian he could not stand tamely by and see the weak oppressed. Bhagat is devoted to him. Cook thinks he would die for the Doctor. Oh, Orabel, isn't Dr. Kingdon splendid!" Laura heaves a big sigh of regret. "Oh, dear, I wish you could have liked him. What a splendid brother he would have been! What a hero!"

"A hero because he interfered in a fight?" says Orabel, whose cheeks, nevertheless, have kindled a little to hear the story. "If he had written a treatise or discovered a planet you might call him a hero. As it is, Laura, I never came in contact with a more commonplace, undereducated person than this Dr. Kingdon."

### Chapter 4

### An intellectual festival

Mount Athene Club has been founded one year, and is about to celebrate its first anniversary. Members are invited to bring their friends, and Orabel, to whom the programme has been entrusted, is busy from morning till night arranging and rearranging the items. She has spent a long time drilling the good woman of the cottage in which the room for the club meetings is hired, as to the arrangements for the reserved seats and those which are free and for the benefit of the villagers.

Annis suggests sending up a few flowers from the Hall, but her sister has a horror of anything resembling a bazaar, and replies that the flowers of learning are adornment enough for the club. The younger girls and the governess are all to go. Laura is a little out of temper, having been invited to tennis elsewhere, but Orabel insists on all her sisters being present, and generously sends a reserved seat card to Dr. Kingdon, resolved to display to his astonished eyes woman at her highest possibilities.

Great excitement is caused among the members at the last moment by the rumour that Professor Dolibo -- the great Professor Dolibo, the author of Higher Walks in Astronomy and Intellectual Altitudes \-- the Professor Dolibo of whom the German scientists made such admiring mention in last year's science Congress -- is staying for a while at the Rectory, and will probably be one of the audience.

Simultaneously with this announcement, causing pride and delight to each of the fair members of Mount Athene, comes the disappointment that the "Don," -- Miss Brierley of Minerva Cottage, a middle-aged, active-brained lady whom Orabel does regard with a little wholesome reverence -- is called to the metropolis on particular business, but she deputises Orabel to be her representative, and despite a few heart-burnings among sundry other kindred spirits, Miss Jancy feels herself quite in the proper place as occupying the chair.

The first part of the printed programme is richly adorned with sphinxes and various other learned-looking designs:

Report of the Mount Athene Club for the

Development of the Feminine Mind:

Read by Miss Jancy.

Memories of Sophocles. Original Poem:

by Miss Adelina Uff.

Cube-root on a New System:

Essay, composed and read by Miss Danders.

Mental Association,

Specimen Class in Memory:

conducted by Miss Uff.

Disquisition on Byzantine Commerce:

Miss Sylvia Figgins.

Exemplifications of Indeterminate Equations:

Blackboard demonstrations by Miss Uff.

Eulogy on Woman:

Lecture by Miss Orabel Jancy,

Hon. Sec. of the Mount Athene Club.

Following these items, a collation is to be served of tea and seed cake and mixed biscuits. Mrs. Soy, the woman of the cottage and caretaker of the club, has laid in quite a stock of these articles, and her children have been involved for some hours over intimate association with biscuits of interesting shape and appearance which are awaiting other lips than their own.

The Squire has been invited to lead the vote of thanks to the ladies for their entertainment and hospitality, but he has an engagement at an agricultural meeting elsewhere, so is compelled to forego this privilege. A well-filled carriage however sets out from Hollyberry Hall. Philip has escaped at the last moment by the remembrance that the Rector has set him an imposition which must be speedily commenced. Poppy is on the outside, and inside are Orabel, Annis, Etta, Miss Maberley, Laura, and Nan. The twins are walking, as Orabel has set them lessons in geology, and they are hunting for specimens of strata to submit to their instructress on the morrow.

Orabel and Miss Maberley do not get on very well together. Orabel mentally looks down on Miss Maberley as a mere "nursery governess," forgetting that the teacher has never had money or opportunity for the studies that the Squire's daughter can so easily pursue. Miss Maberley manages, however, to keep a widowed mother by her earnings as daily governess at the Hall, and she is happy in her situation, save for the somewhat frequent interference of "the clever Miss Jancy," who often summons her to a private interview, and sends her tearful away, convinced that Nan should long since have been in fractions, or Laura innocent of any danger of slipping in her dealings with analysis.

Miss Maberley knows the sort of thing that will go on during the drive, and she is not mistaken, for Orabel believes in teaching other people to be humble.

"Laura, give me the date of the commencement of the National Debt."

Laura is at fault, and Miss Maberley's cheeks crimson in sympathy with her pupil.

"Nan, what do you know of the laws of refraction? I presume you do study such subjects occasionally. Do they not, Miss Maberley?"

The governess bows assent, and tries to stimulate Nan to an answer, but Nan is removing a daddy-longlegs from the back of Poppy's dress, and declines to offer any opinion as to refraction just then.

"What do you know, Laura, of the foreign policy of Rome during the early Republic?" continues Orabel, as they drive swiftly onward under the lime trees and branching chestnuts. But Laura is sulking in memory of the lost tennis, and answers only with silent tears.

Under these circumstances, Orabel turns displeased from her sisters to bestow her undivided attention on Miss Maberley, who for the rest of the drive answers questions, with burning cheeks, as to "how far she has gone" in various ologies of which the lady stammeringly owns a knowledge dismissed by her interrogator as "next to nothing."

Annis tries now and then to direct attention to the wild flowers, the trees, and the sky, but back comes Miss Jancy to the charge, convinced that she is benefiting the governess by showing her there are spheres of thought to which some of her sex have already gloriously reached. All Annis can do is to slip her arm through Miss Maberley's and whisper that very few people are so clever as Orabel, and that she herself gets dreadfully nervous when questioned too closely on points like these.

For the purposes of the club, two rooms of the cottage have been made into one, and Mrs. Soy and her family occupy the rest of the little tenement. Mr. Soy is signalman at Hollybourne Station, and is rarely at home -- a fact pleasing to the Mount Athene ladies, who as a rule have an objection to the sex that has enslaved their misguided sisters. Of course to this rule there are exceptions -- notably in such a case as Professor Dolibo.

Miss Adelina Uff, the poetess of the club, has cleverly described the great scientist and author in an original ode -- which, she tells everyone, she would not have him see for the world -- as "a sun of knowledge rising on these dales, Illumining with science all the vales."

Orabel is pleasurably excited at the notion of presenting the great man with copies of her books. Perhaps he will accept the dedication of the work on which she is busy at present, Luna and her Revolutions; or, The Motions of the Moon.

The reserved seats are fairly well filled. It is a busy time just now, however, with farm workers, and the villagers are represented in the free seats by the old ladies from the almshouses, and Benny Soy, a youth of twelve, supposed for some time to be taking notes of the discourses, but afterwards found to be engaged upon various original designs in a piece of putty.

The rose flush rushes to the face of Annis as she walks up the room by Miss Maberley's side. Two gentlemen are seated in the second row: Dr. Kingdon, free for the first time in their acquaintance from the sling, and Nigel Rutherglen, her old playmate, brown-faced, merry-eyed, more manly looking than of yore. Orabel, too, is conscious of their vicinity, and feels elated at the chance of figuratively annihilating the man who has dared to underrate the value of her intellectual strides.

Bhagat stands still and observant behind his master's chair. It is his favourite position, and Orabel has generously extended the invitation to the Indian, thinking that in some way what he hears at Mount Athene will do him good.

She is about to open the proceedings, when an admiring murmur is heard among the members. The Rector, a tall, scholarly-looking, very quiet man, of whose attainments Orabel herself is slightly in awe, has just entered the room. He is accompanied by a gentleman who can be none other than the great Dolibo himself. Of Italian birth, the Professor is dark, slim, keen-eyed, and lofty-browed. He wears slightly tinted glasses, and it is a little disappointment to the ladies that he is short, but they console themselves by remarking "What eyes!" and reflecting on the towering stature of the great man's intellect.

Orabel makes a dignified inclination in the direction of the Professor. It is a gesture that escapes his notice, as he is occupied in trying to place himself so that he may avoid Poppy's somewhat unsettling stare. She then unrolls a lengthy manuscript, and proceeds in an impressive voice to read aloud the report. During this, Nigel Rutherglen, in an audible whisper, is heard coaxing Annis to slip out and have some tennis in the Danders' court, which is invitingly near. Two of the old ladies from the almshouses, hard of hearing, exchange glances of enjoyment and admiration as the report proceeds, and directly Orabel takes her seat there is loud and unanimous applause.

The "Memories of Sophocles" is not so successful a poem as could be wished, owing to the fact that the second Miss Uff has copied it out on various sheets of paper, some of which she has omitted to fasten together, and others are in their wrong places. In some natural annoyance, Miss Adelina unfastens the sheets and lays them before her on the desk, whence a breeze through the side window blows them down to the reserved seats at intervals.

Miss Adelina's only consolation for the confusion of delivery thus occasioned, is found in the fact that each time the sheets escape, Professor Dolibo returns them with a very courteous bow. It is something after all to be the recipient of such unmistakable homage from one whose name in the circles of knowledge is as a household word.

Miss Danders is well primed as to cube root, but her theories are interrupted in a provoking manner by the voice occasionally of Mrs. Soy's youngest in an adjacent room, singing complacently over his supper milk a ditty about "Pretty cow, pray tell me why?" and various other inquiries addressed to objects of nature.

Baby Soy, aged two, is considered by Orabel to be insufferably spoilt. She can hear his mother, busy over the seed cake and mixed biscuits, encouraging his vocal efforts and praising him as an "Ipsy-dicksey little roguey-poguey, the dear."

Orabel sighs for the weakness of Mrs. Soy's nature. How much better had the poor woman sent her baby into a neighbour's and sat at the feet of the Mount Athene ladies, learning from them how to be sensible, strong-minded, and useful to the world.

After some time the cow is no longer mentioned, and the little fellow is rightly supposed by the audience to have dropped asleep. Mrs. Soy is obliged to take her husband his tea, but she promises to hurry back from the station after seeing him, and bids Anna Soy, aged thirteen, guard her "precious little Jacob."

Orabel is thinking of the proud moment when the event of the evening -- her own lecture -- will arrive. She pays little heed to Miss Danders, but mentally repeats the discourse which has been constructed so as to cause Dr. Kingdon to admit with confusion of face that his opinions as to the Home-Realm being the highest are once and for ever vanquished.

The younger Jancys awake to some interest when ten juveniles, selected by Miss Uff from the village school, are seated by that lady on a form in front of her, to exemplify her lecture upon mental associations. Rapidly and brilliantly, to the admiration of all the members, Miss Uff leads on the juveniles up a long train of mental connections commencing at Bee and ranging past Sage, Pork, St. Patrick, Poplins, Queen, Jubilee, Buns, Corn, Barley, Oatmeal, to the ultimate goal of Robert Bruce, and thence back to Bee by stages of Spider, Fly, Earwig, Hornet and Wasp.

Miss Uff runs up and down the extent of these associations, indignantly correcting the juvenile who would put St. Patrick next to buns, or associate sage with jubilee. Unfortunately, the children are more intent on the ladies and gentlemen around them and the smell of seed cake than on the demonstration of Miss Uff's philosophy. Anna Soy, however, succeeds in twice successfully weaving the chain of memory and is curtseying to the audience in acknowledgment of their admiring recognition, when a shriek is heard from the garden, followed by Anna's exclamation, "It's Jacob! It's our little Jacob. He's been and hurted himself! I forgot as mother told me to bide with Jacob till she came home."

The heroine of the memory-class rushes into the garden followed by several of the audience, while Orabel vainly admonishes them to keep their seats, assuring them that her own lecture is coming very soon.

"Oh, dear, what a harrowing sight!"

"Is he killed?"

"How dreadful!"

Such are the exclamations that strike dismay into poor little Anna's heart as she penitently leans over her brother. It seems that little Jacob and his pet cat have both a marvellous yearning for climbing trees. During Anna's absence, the two went up a lime tree together, but whereas the cat is washing her face in safety by the backdoor, little Jacob sustained a severe fall and lies unconscious and white-faced upon the grass.

"He has broken his collar-bone," says Dr. Kingdon. "If one of you ladies will help me, we can soon set matters right."

Somehow the room is dwindling fast. The Miss Uffs have a nervous horror of a "scene," and several others cannot stand the sight of the blood on the little fellow's brow. It is Annis who comes forward, pale but calm, to render the needful assistance. Miss Maberley quietly glides up to her side to hold bandages, keep her hand where the Doctor bids her, bathe the child's brow, and do whatever she is told.

Orabel has asked the Rector for an introduction to the Professor. The two geniuses engage in animated converse as to the Milky Way, while the Rector goes to seek Mrs. Soy, and prepare her for the shock of the little fellow's accident.

When Orabel, a good deal put out by the non-delivery of her lecture, sweeps out to the Hollyberry Hall conveyance, she catches a glimpse of ignorant Mrs. Soy established beside Jacob's cot, her face like a white rose, but moving deftly, skilfully, silently in obedience to Dr. Kingdon's orders, while sparing a glance now and then to comfort Anna who is weeping by the door.

"A brick of a woman, that," says Dr. Kingdon, coming out to bid the Jancys goodbye. "I know that at this moment her nerves are at their highest tension, but she has no thought for herself. A good and capable woman that. An honour to her sex. Thank you, ladies, for your help at the time most needed. I never met with nurses more deft and quiet."

Annis and Miss Maberley express their gladness to find the child is now conscious and doing well, and Orabel turns a haughty back upon the Doctor, till she is startled by a sudden exclamation from Professor Dolibo.

"Surely it is Kingdon! My dear sir, how glad I am to renew an acquaintance commenced in a Burmese jungle!"

Dr. Kingdon shakes hands cordially, and the two exchange reminiscences of the East. As the Doctor returns to his patient, the Professor turns to Orabel with the words, "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure. Hollybourne is, I perceive, quite a haunt of talent. I had no notion young Kingdon was here. I consider him the greatest living authority on the cerebrospinal and the sympathetic nerves, and indeed on all subjects pertaining to physiological anatomy. Of course you have read Kingdon on the Brain? You have not, Miss Jancy? Then you have missed a wonderful work -- wonderful. I shall make a point of forwarding my copy of Dr. Kingdon's work tomorrow for your perusal. He is a very modest young man. Most unassuming; but his science is sound, and he possesses brilliant talents."

### Chapter 5

### Kingdon on the Brain

Orabel drives home in silence, digesting on the way the Professor's information. It comes upon her like a thunderclap that Dr. Kingdon knows something about the "fount of knowledge" as well as herself. She has the grace to feel ashamed of the open contempt with which she has treated him, and she awaits with curiosity the perusal of his book. How has it come to pass that he has let them remain in ignorance of his authorship? Orabel cannot understand anybody writing a book, and then not courting mention and converse concerning the subject.

Orabel Jancy at this era of her life wants to be great, renowned, and famous, and pointed out by people as "the clever Miss Jancy." This is her ideal of happiness.

She wishes now her manner had been a little more polite to the Doctor. It would have been interesting to discuss with him the metaphysical points on which of late she has dauntlessly launched out. Altogether she is somewhat out of temper by the time they reach home, especially when she finds her father has brought home a neighbouring Squire to dinner, and they both enquire with reverent admiration as to how her lecture went off.

Squire Parminter is one of Orabel's aversions. He is about thirty-five years old, and a bachelor, and Orabel thinks it her duty to let him see his hopes in her direction, if such he possesses, are in vain. He is a tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed, broadly made man, great at farming, market gardening, ensilage, and so on, and an immense favourite with the Squire. Orabel need not trouble to respond to his hearty laughs with dignified frowns, for Mr. Parminter's thoughts are all with his cattle, fruit, and fields, and he is accustomed to think of the Miss Jancys as "nice little girls," and to court far more the company of their father, likeminded with himself.

"Who do you think is coming to visit us, girls?" asks the Squire, well pleased. "You know how often we have asked your Cousin Elizabeth, but her duties in Bath have prevented her coming before. Now she is advised to have a little change, and writes that she will be very pleased to come for two or three weeks. So now, my dear Orabel, you will have a companion after your own heart."

"Cousin Elizabeth coming!" exclaims Orabel, clasping her hands in rapture. "How many letters is Cousin Elizabeth entitled to write after her name? I made a note of them once. I must get my reference book and see. What spiritual union we shall hold together. I have longed to know her so long. Well may Professor Dolibo remark, 'Hollybourne is becoming quite a centre of genius!'"

"Perhaps Professor Dolibo will fall in love with Elizabeth," suggests Laura meditatively.

"Not if he's in his right mind," says Philip. "What's the good of a wife who would be squaring the circle when a chap wants a button sewn on? No sensible fellow would marry a blue-stocking, but perhaps these two may make a match of it, for the Professor looks as if he isn't quite all there."

Squire Parminter bids him, with a laugh and a slap on his shoulder, to wait till his whiskers come before he discusses matrimonial questions, but his father and Orabel have also something to say on the matter.

"You must not think, lad," says Squire Jancy, gravely, "that education can ever really get in the way of usefulness. It is a most mistaken opinion that learning prevents people using their hands. I say hands work all the better for a smart head to guide them, and those who excel at their studies are likely to excel in other undertakings -- if they are willing to try. Why, Philip," he adds, in softer tones, "your mother was ten times as clever as I am. Dear me, what a reader she was. But none of you will ever taste better jellies or jams or pasties than your dear mother used to make."

"And as to Cousin Elizabeth ever dreaming of such a thing as marriage at all," says Orabel, indignantly, "the very idea is nonsensical. As if she would fling away her education, her career, her achievements like that! I do hope, girls, you will all try to get some good from Cousin Elizabeth's visit. Remember, she is second mistress in a most important college, and accustomed to form the female character. I hope you all, and poor Miss Maberley too, may derive benefit from our cousin's stay. She is a woman of profound information, and you must endeavour to draw daily upon her mental stores."

"But she isn't very well, Orabel," ventures Annis, timidly. "If she is coming here to rest, she will like to be quiet, I think."

"Rest?" exclaims Orabel. "What rest is there like change of occupation? Cousin Elizabeth has been teaching for many years. She will find agreeable recreation in pointing out to the younger ones their deficiencies, and showing Miss Maberley where her system is wrong, and in taking part in the debates and researches of our club at Mount Athene."

Miss Maberley has already been deposited at her mother's cottage, or she might tremble at the advent of the visitor. The juveniles look a little disconcerted, and Philip goes off to adorn himself for dinner, with the muttered exclamation, "Oh, good gracious, there'll be two of them now!"

Next day, Professor Dolibo forwards a copy of Kingdon on the Brain to Orabel as promised, and the girl, with glowing cheeks -- for what an interesting, congenial subject is this! -- wanders away for a walk to her favourite nook, a grassy seat wreathed at present with wild flowers on the banks of the little River Dimple which flows between verdant banks about a mile from the Hall. Here Orabel has botanised many a day, while Nigel Rutherglen in past days has been teaching Annis to row, and Philip has put himself on a little canoe, to the admiration of all his young sisters.

In this fair spot Orabel this morning plunges into the first chapter of "The Brain", and becomes so absorbed in Dr. Kingdon's treatment of the subject, that amid the clear, resounding voices of the birds she stays there, turning page after page, heedless of the flight of time, and deaf to firm steps approaching her nook at last.

"Miss Jancy, I beg your pardon. I fear I startled you. I did not see you till I passed the trees. I was going up to the Hall, knowing Miss Annis would be anxious as to little Jacob Soy. Perhaps you will kindly tell her from me that he is in a very satisfactory state."

"Oh, I think Annis has gone down to Mrs. Soy's with some jelly and things," says Orabel indifferently. "Oh, Dr. Kingdon, how lucidly, how brilliantly you have expressed yourself here -- as well as I could have treated the subject myself. The Brain, in all its phases, has been my special study for many years. Why did you never tell us how great a thinker you really are? How you have hidden your intellect under a bushel!"

Dr. Kingdon stares, amazed at the new cordiality of her tones, and wondering, as he expresses it to himself, "What on earth is she driving at now?"

"You see, I have here your dear, sweet book," says Orabel, holding up Kingdon on the Brain. "The Professor kindly introduced me to its attractions, and I am making notes for the benefit of our club."

"I am afraid it is not a very charming subject for such a perfect day," says Dr. Kingdon, colouring. "I will not deny that I attach the deepest interest myself to the study of the nervous system, but, on a morning like this, study seems to be out of place. Do you not think so? Personally, I feel like the child whose appeal I learnt as a youngster:

"Mother, mother,

The winds are at play;

Prithee, let me be idle today."

He lifts his hat before she has time to reply, and disappears beneath the overhanging gold of the laburnum trees. Orabel is a little annoyed that he did not sit down beside her and enjoy her rhapsodies concerning his work. His understanding of the brain has lifted him already out of the dust, and set him on a pedestal along with Professor Dolibo, and one or two others of Orabel's bright, particular stars.

The next few days, Miss Jancy spends in preparing her younger sisters to surprise and delight the erudite Cousin Elizabeth Prevost who is shortly to arrive from Bath. The learned lady shall see there is one, at least, in Hollyberry Hall who understands the art of teaching, and flings herself as a bridge between the younger Jancys and Ignorance. Laura learns, somewhat reluctantly, to tell her bones. Carrie and Kitty are drilled in a special course of ancient history dates. Nan learns up the names and particulars of the equinoctial signs, and Etta commits to memory a long piece of poetry explaining the Latin genders.

Poppy is striving hard to learn the British county towns before the great one's arrival, and repeats them nightly with varying success. Armed at various points in this manner, the Jancys assemble one evening in the library to welcome their cousin, whom the Squire has driven over to meet at the station. Nigel Rutherglen is there, remarking that there is safety in numbers, and he will assist them to confront the celebrated one. Philip is moodily pulling the ears of his collie, and Orabel waits, coronet over brow, in the most stiff-backed of the chairs.

Annis has not had time to get herself up in any particular subject, but she has tempting cakes and fruit resting amid green leaves in pretty glass dishes for the traveller's welcoming cup of tea, and the guest room is full of fresh, lavender scented draperies and smiling flowers.

At last the rumble of wheels is heard. Orabel goes out in the hall to greet the learned Miss Prevost with a suitable Latin quotation, and her sisters nervously go over their bones and the chronological tables and the equinoctial signs. Nigel and Philip take a peep out of the window, and the latter draws back with wide-open eyes.

"I say, Annis, that can't be Cousin Elizabeth. How old is Cousin Elizabeth, Annis?"

"Don't you know," laughs Annis, "that you must not enquire a lady's age, you presumptuous boy? Besides, our cousin is very, very clever, so that may have made her prematurely grey-haired."

"Grey-haired? I know Father said she was thirty, but she looks a deal younger than Orabel. Does she look thirty, Nigel?"

Young Rutherglen laughs at his earnestness, and is just reminding him softly that a woman is only as old as she looks, when they hear Orabel's Latin quotation, and presently a little figure with a flush just now of shyness, a quiet face, and a pair of bright, beautiful, hazel eyes, is led forward by the Squire. In the charm of her gentle looks and neat dainty dress -- so different to all their imaginings -- Laura mentally gets the number of bones in her foot quite wrong, and Carrie vainly struggles for the date of the Hegira.

### Chapter 6

### At Heron Chase

Orabel follows Miss Prevost into the library, aghast at her appearance. Where is the "superior" aspect she has pictured? Where are the argumentative tones, the looks calculated to keep less gifted ones at a respectful distance?

Cousin Elizabeth's shyness soon melts beneath the kindly welcome of Annis. She is delighted with the country, and admires the fruit and flowers, and nestles in the rocking chair which Philip gallantly drags forward for her benefit, as though she thoroughly enjoys the holiday rest and change.

Presently Orabel hears her laughing with the children over some of the collie's tricks. In the hall she has found that a volume of Mrs. Browning has been her cousin's travelling companion. Does this lady of science then read poetry? Orabel is confused and puzzled, and begins to fancy that the juveniles may be mentally contrasting her own stately ways and manners with the simplicity of this foremost leader in the ranks of higher education.

"Are you clever?" asks bewildered Poppy at last, lifting her innocent face to that of Miss Prevost, bent lovingly over a bunch of rosebuds Annis has drawn for her out of the bowl.

Cousin Elizabeth laughs, and kisses the flowerlike face. "What makes you think I am, Poppy? Do I look very terrible? Are you afraid I shall set you some dreadful lessons?"

"Then you are a teacher?" says Poppy, "but never mind. I shouldn't mind lessons with you." She glances, a little aggrieved, at Orabel, who has commenced a course of instruction of her youngest sister upon Pestalozzian principles.

Orabel sees the little group round Cousin Elizabeth, the Squire talking softly of her lost parents (she is his sister's child), the children stroking her pretty grey travelling dress and playing with her rings. Annis, well pleased and relieved to feel quite at her ease instead of being shown her ignorance, as she has feared, is plying her cousin with strawberries and cream, and Nigel and Philip are listening with evident satisfaction to the pleasant laugh, and gentle, musical voice.

Orabel quits the room with a pang of jealousy at her heart. How is it that this stranger seems to have secured the favour of all, and she \-- she, who toils and plans and strives for the uplifting of her sisters, seems to be admired by the family rather than loved? She asks herself this question as she paces the cool, shadowed corridors.

Orabel wonders if her efforts for her sisters have been scarcely so much for their own benefit as for the glory of "the clever Miss Jancy." She returns impatiently to the library to question Cousin Elizabeth about the zoology lecture she is delivering in Bath, but her cousin has gone out among the flowers, followed by the collie and the train of girls.

As the days go on, Orabel herself admits the charm of Miss Prevost's manner. The two together in Miss Jancy's sanctum hold converse which shows Orabel how deeply her cousin has studied and thought, and she is gratified at her evident interest in the new book. Elizabeth Prevost does not lay herself out to be entertaining or to win popularity, but she is a true, sweet, Christian woman, the brightness of whose faith shines in her face and seems to draw all hearts to her.

Nigel is at Hollyberry Hall nearly every day, but it has always been a favourite haunt of his. From boyhood he has been fond of coming over and initiating Philip into all kinds of sports and athletic endeavours, and confiding to Annis the various directions in which he has time after time been losing his heart. Cousin Elizabeth is several years older than Nigel, and Orabel is certain she would never think of one who openly declares he always goes to sleep over a book. Of course Elizabeth Prevost -- if she would condescend to matrimony at all, which Orabel, noting her thorough womanliness, begins to fear -- would seek union with one like-minded with herself, one of cultivated intellect, highly read and scientific.

She sees with a little discomfort that her cousin often has long talks with Dr. Kingdon, who is now staying with the Rutherglens at Heron Chase. The fact is that some relatives of the Doctor, living in Bath, are in the college where Miss Prevost teaches, and Dr. Kingdon is delighted with her interest in the girls, and with her evident study of their individualities. On these and many subjects they have plenty to say, but Orabel is mistaken in supposing the conversation takes a sentimental turn. Miss Prevost is not at all imaginative as to exciting admiration, and Dr. Kingdon is timid just now of having anything more to do with the tender flame.

Once or twice he asks Orabel if she is not well. She seems quieter and more subdued than of old. "Oh, yes, I am well," she answers, impatiently. "The heat always tries me, and I have sat up a good deal of late over my book. I shall take a stimulating pack -- I advocate hydropathy, you know -- and I shall be all right then. There is nothing whatever amiss with me."

She scarcely acknowledges, even to herself, the reverence and admiration with which Dr. Kingdon's attainments have inspired her, and how deeply she seeks and would value the good opinion she so lightly underrated a while ago. She begins to look out for his visits, and to inwardly fret if his attentions seem monopolised by the others. She is happy, yet miserable in his presence, and in her heart is awaking a great regret that to this clever, capable man she uttered so decisive a "No."

What a brilliant pair they might have made, each increasing by reflection the other's genius! Orabel is beginning to feel it would be just as satisfactory -- perhaps even a little more so -- to be pointed out as "the great Dr. Kingdon's world-renowned wife", as to be called "the clever Miss Jancy".

Thinking of these things hour by hour, and observing the Doctor's pleasure in his conversations with Miss Prevost, and dreading the issue of such, Orabel Jancy resolves to take a decided step and to secure what has gradually become her heart's ambition and desire.

Did not Doctor Kingdon cross the seas to seek her out? Is it not her own decision that has set them apart? She will revoke that decision, and henceforth their garland of laurel shall be mutual.

Fate is kind enough to give her the opportunity for such a change of heart. There is a garden party in progress at Heron Chase. Miss Prevost, in a cool, white dress is at tennis, seeming to enjoy the exercise all the more for her customary sedentary pursuits. Annis is playing also, in pale blue apparel -- refreshing to the eye -- and from their vicinity ripples of laughter, mingled with the honest outburst of Squire Parminter echo across to Orabel, who is sitting with Mrs. Rutherglen and Dr. Kingdon.

Presently their hostess rises, remarking that Professor Dolibo looks a little lonely, and he shall take care of her. She moves across to the Professor, and the Doctor quietly inquires if Miss Jancy would like an ice.

"Thanks, but no," says Orabel. "I consider ices injurious to the digestive organs. I never eat them. What a pleasant seat this is, so agreeably removed from the bustle and chatter of the less thoughtful of the company. Dr. Kingdon, I have long wished to open my heart to you, and the opportunity has come."

The Doctor stares at her. She looks very pretty today in a white embroidered dress that Annis bought and made for her as a birthday present, and which she has donned not to disappoint her sister. But there is a self-complacency about her tones and expression which spoil, to his eyes, the beauty of her face. What is she going to say? Is it her wish to enter the medical profession, and is she going to ask his counsel as to the preliminary steps?

"I am at your service, Miss Jancy," he says, resignedly, abandoning his intention of escaping at the first possible opportunity.

"Even the wisest of us," says Orabel gently, "are liable to make mistakes. The proverb truly tells us that to err is human. When I received your letter from India, Dr. Kingdon, I answered by a summary negative."

"Your reply has since been forwarded to me in England," he answers quietly, "Why renew this subject, Miss Jancy? It was very presumptuous of me to address you thus. My poor father's wishes must be my excuse."

"I do not think," she says with a smile, "that it was any presumption on the part of the author of Kingdon on the Brain to aspire to my hand. When I wrote that negative reply, Dr. Kingdon, and when at our own house I afterwards discouraged your hopes, I held a mistaken view of your intellect. I must do you the justice to say that I underrated you mentally. Professor Dolibo has removed the film from my eyes. I know you now as a student and a thinker, and one to whom it may not, as I deemed, be impossible for me to look up to intellectually."

"I am obliged by your compliments," says Dr. Kingdon, rather nervously, "but now let me persuade you, Miss Jancy, to try a little fruit or lemonade. The afternoon is very warm. Allow me to get you something."

"No, stay," she says, with a touch of her old imperiousness. "I have not finished. I was about to remark that my opinion of you having proved to be a mistaken one, I have now changed my mind, and there is no longer any barrier to prevent your father's wishes being fulfilled. Congenial minds cannot fail to be happy together."

Despite her egotism and complacency, Orabel is woman enough to feel some trembling now as she lifts her eyes to his. The doctor is hot with nervousness. His hands shake, his tones falter, but he feels that if he does not speak openly now there will be no escape.

"Pardon me, Miss Jancy, this is a very serious matter. At the risk of your displeasure I must prevent misunderstanding. When, at my poor father's wish I came here to propose to you, I had not the honour of your acquaintance. It would have been more prudent and wise for me to have sought that honour first. We now, I think, know each other, and I trust you will forgive my expressing to you my humble sense of my unworthiness to be united with one so superior. I do not suppose I shall ever marry now, but my ideal wife is very gentle, tender, all womanly. It may be a romantic dream, but I have pictured one whose lively intelligence is joined to a womanly heart. I know I am speaking bluntly, abruptly, rudely perhaps, but in such matters as this, candour is the only safe course, and I must throw myself on your forgiveness. By-and-by, out in India, I shall no doubt hear of your union with some learned University magnate; and I promise you, Miss Jancy, a wedding present of an Indian shawl, or anything else in the Oriental way that you may like to bespeak."

He tries to conceal his agitation by an easy manner and a friendly smile, but avoids her eyes that interrogatively search his face.

"I do not quite understand your meaning, Dr. Kingdon. Will you please express yourself more plainly? Are your words equivalent to a decision that you will carry out your father's desire, or otherwise? I certainly supposed such an idea to be near and dear to your heart, or I should not have spoken as I have done. As it is, I must request plain speaking. Are we to be engaged or not?"

"I am of opinion, Miss Jancy, that such an arrangement would be a very great mistake. I could not hope to make you happy, and----"

But Orabel has now risen:. The fact of her beauty strikes him as never before, now that her woman's pride has been stung into life at last, and she looks down upon him with cheeks like a crimson rose, and the fires of indignation in her eyes. It is the first time he has seen her blush, and the rose-hue is vastly becoming to her.

"Thank you, Dr. Kingdon, for the plainness of your words. It is my misfortune, doubtless, that I do not find favour in your sight, but I agree with you that such an idea would have been a total and grievous mistake. Indeed, I only spoke of such a possibility because of the wishes you expressed to my father on your arrival. I changed my decision entirely for your sake. Personally, of course, I am quite of the same mind as when I wrote to you out in India. Orabel Jancy scarcely needs to sue for anybody's favour. Most people, on the contrary, are accustomed to seek for hers. I wish you good afternoon, Dr. Kingdon. I am going home, the heat is insufferable," she says, with a little choke in her voice. "No, the Professor is yonder. He will see about the carriage for me. I am glad you spoke so plainly, Dr. Kingdon, and I would never become engaged to you now -- never, never, never \-- if all the wealth and honour of nations were the price of the sacrifice, and if you implored me upon your bended knees."

"Which I am never likely to do, Miss Jancy," thinks the Doctor, a good deal disconcerted, however, by the interview, and considerably more by the quivering of the girlish lips.

### Chapter 7

### The Art of Teaching

"Now, Poppy, if you do not come here and do as I tell you directly, you will stay in the schoolroom after lesson-time and write out the whole of Longfellow's 'Excelsior.'"

"Don't care," mutters Poppy, whose determined disposition in many respects resembles that of her eldest sister.

Orabel, having a spare morning, and being, after yesterday's interview with Dr. Kingdon in a state of nervous irritability, has resolved to occupy her mind in training one of the juveniles, and has called Poppy away from Miss Maberley to exercise her in the faculty of observation.

For this purpose she has blindfolded the child and sent her into an adjacent room to secure a certain object -- Orabel's box of compasses -- by her sense of touch. Poppy had been engaged with a puzzle-map with Miss Maberley, and had been reluctant to abandon its construction. However, she came obediently to Orabel, and found the box in triumph. Unfortunately, in returning, Poppy's habitual fate overtook her, and contact with a hassock has resulted in overthrow, tears, and refusal to again cultivate her observant powers.

"Go directly," says Orabel, indignantly, the more resolutely because Miss Prevost has entered the room, and she is anxious to display her educational powers to her cousin. It will never do for Poppy, in the presence of Cousin Elizabeth, to defy her openly after all the long talks and arguments on education which the two ladies have held together.

"I want to go back to Miss Maberley. I won't find things in the dark for you, Orabel."

"You impertinent child! Do you know to whom you are speaking? Is it not for your own benefit I take all this trouble with you? How would you like to grow up without any sense of observation -- any faculty of perception?"

"Don't care," says Poppy, stubbornly again, and makes a dart towards the door, whereupon she is seized by Orabel and vigorously shaken, and condemned as punishment to copy out not only "Excelsior," but a couple of hymns as well.

As Poppy can only write slowly and laboriously in round hand, the task seems to the child interminable. She declares she will not do it, and Orabel leads her off to her bedroom, till prepared to perform the imposition.

Cousin Elizabeth looks with a mind inwardly much perturbed at the round little face smeared with tears, the heaving chest, the pouting lips, the air of temper and defiance, as Poppy is led off struggling. She turns to the window with a sigh. She has been a teacher long enough to hold that a little more or less of instruction is of small consequence compared with the sunshine of a little heart, or its injury by too thoughtless dealing. Orabel returns to the room in as much anger as her little prisoner.

"That child is unaccountably obstinate," she says, "but my method with her must be firm and resolute till she is rendered docile. Nobody is fit to be a teacher who cannot make her pupils obey."

"Nobody is fit to be a teacher who cannot control herself," thinks her cousin, remembering the shake and triumphant capture of the fugitive; but she says aloud, rather timidly, "I think it is a pity, Orabel dear, to let two strong wills like yours and Poppy's come into determined collision like this. There are many ways of teaching a child obedience without what I should call an educational tug-of-war."

"She does not often disobey me," says Orabel, with a flush. "I take a good deal of interest in Poppy, for she is a good child naturally. Only sometimes these obstinate fits get hold of her, and I am resolved to nip them in the bud."

"Well, it is very hot and close today. She may not feel quite well," suggests Miss Prevost. "I have often found a fit of naughtiness is in reality a little indisposition in a child, and I can remember that is how my own dear mother used to treat my sulks. Poor little Poppy! It is a sorrowful thing for a child to be motherless."

Orabel glances at her, and looks ill at ease. The remembrance comes to her of wee Poppy lying beside their dying mother, and the tender looks directed towards the child. Her conscience smites her a little that she has but poorly filled that lost mother's place, and doubts of her educational system begin slowly to stir within her mind.

"I am only acting for the child's good," she remarks. "Perhaps you do not know of these new objective ways of educating the young? It is a good thing for Poppy's sense of touch to be developed. I have also ways of exercising her sense of smell by handing her various flowers while her eyes are bandaged. The Don told us in a lecture that most children enjoy these exercises of the senses."

"Oh, yes, Orabel, dear," says Miss Prevost with a smile, "I know of these methods. Indeed, something very similar is in vogue in our own kindergarten section. But the basis of all real teaching is, I think, found in the pleasurable goodwill of the scholar. Now, with our wee kindergarten children they find such instruction as good as a game of blind man's buff, the teachers in each department being as bright, merry, and outwardly as little like educationists as possible. A child of Poppy's age enjoys a game, but it is apt to lose its zest when she is informed her perceptions are in process of development. Do you see what I mean, Orabel, dear? You might sometimes say to Poppy, 'We will have a change from books this morning. We'll pretend it is dark, and you shall play that you are going to answer me a number of questions, and find out what a number of things are like without looking. Go and get me some things out of the next room, just as if it were really night-time!' And then for a change, let the child sing -- she is as full of song, I know, as a bird; and let her do some modelling and thread-work, and many other things that will prevent any one branch of training becoming wearisome. Really, I thought Miss Maberley had a famous way with her when ----"

"Miss Maberley? Why, she is no teacher at all, Elizabeth. I doubt if she ever got further than decimals in her life. Mother knew the family, or I do not think we should have kept Miss Maberley here so long."

"She may not be exceedingly far advanced in certain branches," says Miss Prevost, "but she is well ahead of her scholars. And, besides, she goes on studying every evening, which must give her sympathy with their difficulties. But what I mean, dear, is this: I can see Laura is a little trying now and then, but Miss Maberley has a gentle way of yielding, say, in nineteen unimportant points, whereby Laura is quite prepared to surrender the twentieth essential one. Pardon my saying, Orabel, that I think you would be inclined, as a matter of discipline, to hold out for all the twenty. A great deal of tact, judgment, and even self-sacrifice is required in training the young. I see this more clearly year by year, but no work is greater or more glorious."

Elizabeth Prevost flushes in all the pride of her dearly-loved vocation, and Orabel answers, after a short silence, "Perhaps I did choose an unfortunate time for the exercise. I remember Poppy had a headache this morning. I suppose she was feeling very interested, too, in her puzzle. But having arranged her punishment, you would not have me now go back from my word? Is it not fatal to authority to promise anything, reward or punishment, and to break one's word?"

"Circumstances alter cases," says Elizabeth. "There are exceptions to every rule. The best of teachers may see good reason now and then for a change of mind, though decision can scarcely, of course, be over-estimated. I remember once discovering that a listless pupil, to whom I had awarded bad marks, was really the victim of neuralgia. Would you have let the bad marks stand? And another time I found that a wild, rebellious child, condemned to be kept in, was thoroughly excited because it was her birthday and she was to have a picnic. On hearing this I revoked the punishment, making her understand I should not again pass over inattention. She had given up all hopes of the picnic, and I shall never forget her gratitude and delight. She knew she had merited to be kept in, and she seemed to feel the revocation all the more. Never again did that child give me trouble by her rebellion. Ah, Orabel, we who teach have a great deal yet to learn -- a great deal that can only be taught us by our Lord who conquers, subdues, and controls us by His all-forgiving, everlasting love."

Elizabeth Prevost speaks with earnest reverence. She is a little afraid of Orabel, who has a way of inspiring most people with awe, but she ventures to take the shapely hand in hers and stroke it during the pause that ensues.

"Another thing, Cousin Orabel -- may I speak plainly? You will not be offended?"

"No, no," says Orabel, half wistfully, "speak as you feel. People seem half afraid to tell me their candid opinions somehow. If you have any more faults to find, do speak out, Elizabeth. I suppose the best of us make mistakes now and then."

"Of course we do, Orabel. I have made and make so many that it would be out of place in me to attempt to sermonise to anyone. But I have had many years drill in teaching, you know, and when I get on my favourite subject I am apt to prose. Why do you choose poetry for impositions, Orabel? I remember a boy expressing in later life his deep disgust with Cowper and Longfellow because he was so familiar with their poetry in the way of impositions at school. Connecting poetry with punishment is hurtful, I feel sure, to a child's poetic taste. Rather would I connect the sweet melodies of the bard with enjoyment and reward! And then to tell her to write hymns as punishment...."

"I thought that was a kindly idea," says Orabel, "for Poppy knows the two hymns, "Gentle Jesus,' and 'There is a green land' by heart, and so the task would be easier."

"Yes; but, Cousin Orabel," says Miss Prevost, earnestly, "it seems so sad a thought to associate those sweet hymns, or anything else relating to the Christian faith, with punishment. My mother used to tell me she was punished as a child by wearing a Bible hung round her neck. What a horrible idea. Enough to make young eyes dislike the sight of God's holy word! Will it be a pleasant memory for little Poppy, when those beautiful hymns occur to her mind, that she wrote them out as an educational penance?"

"I see what you mean," says Orabel, and she adds, bluntly, "I suppose the fact is I do not really think about my scholars' welfare as you seem to do, but about my own position and commands and authority. It is late in life to begin to learn to be humble."

"I think you are foremost at Hollyberry Hall, my dear," says her cousin, smiling. "But as you are strong, be merciful. We teachers do not want to be lifted up into authority by standing upon children's hearts."

"Oh, deal with Poppy as you like," says Orabel, impatiently. "Tell her, if you choose, that she can run and play. Of course I do not want my own sister to hate me. I suppose I am a failure as to teaching. Perhaps in a good many other things as well. All the children seem to care for Annis best. Well, I am sure I want nobody's love and caresses. Here is the key of the room, Elizabeth. You can let her out if you wish."

Miss Prevost makes no answer beyond a kiss, but glides away to the chamber where Poppy is still weeping and kicking in solitude. She looks a little astonished at sight of Miss Prevost, but continues to mutter, "Shan't do it. Shan't learn perception. Shan't copy the poetry. So there!"

Her cousin takes no notice of the words, but pours out some water, and soaps a flannel. "Why, Poppy, child, how untidy you look. Come and let me wash your face and brush your hair, and straighten you up a bit. The bell will soon ring for lunch."

Poppy sulkily advances to the basin, and the soapy flannel and cold water so freshen her up that when her waving hair is neatly brushed she feels somehow quite a reformed character, and lifts trembling lips to Miss Prevost's to be kissed. Cousin Elizabeth believes in a good wash for unruly children, and bestows the kiss as she draws the child on to her lap.

"Poppy, dear," says she, "I was grieved to see my dear little cousin so rude and unkind to her big sister. I am afraid you have worried Orabel very much this morning. She loves you dearly -- more than you think or understand -- and she is anxious for you to grow up bright and clever. And you have acted to her very, very ungratefully today. I am sure you have hurt her feelings. I believe I saw tears in her eyes when I left her just now. And, Poppy, there is One who longs for you to grow up gentle and loving and good. Have you forgotten how you grieve the Lord Jesus when you are so passionate?"

"I didn't mean to be," falters Poppy, burying her face on her cousin's shoulder; "but my head ached so, and I did hurt my elbow when I fell over the hassock."

Her cousin finds the scratch, and puts a little ointment thereon, the kindness comforting Poppy as much as the application.

"Did Orabel really cry?" she says, presently, in a tone of wonder. "I don't want Orabel to cry, cousin. Please tell her I will be good."

"Tell her yourself, Poppy," says Miss Prevost.

Poppy steals away, and presently creeps into the morning room and looks furtively at Orabel who is reading with a discomfited aspect and eyes distinctly red.

"Sister, I will be good," cries Poppy vehemently, throwing her arms round Orabel. "I'll write out 'Excelsior' and the two hymns, and I'll be blindfolded and fetch you all the things you want. I will be good, Orabel. Please don't cry anymore."

But Orabel does cry, so much that Poppy is half-frightened. On seeing this, her sister resolutely wipes the tears and tells her she has been out of temper too, and they will forgive one another and forget for once about the punishment ordained.

Dr. Harold Kingdon, passing the window to bring the Squire a book in his possession on equine rheumatism, is profoundly astonished and rendered exceedingly thoughtful by the spectacle of "the clever Miss Jancy," with a sort of rainbow smile upon her face, and of contrite little Poppy exchanging tender kisses while locked in each other's arms.

### Chapter 8

### The Sequel to the Lecture

For the rest of the day Harold Kingdon is haunted by the memory of the first love-look he has seen upon Orabel Jancy's face. In that glimpse of the maiden he has so resolutely declined with thanks, his comprehension is awakened to the possibilities of a more tender nature dormant beneath the vanity which in this case has been fostered by intellectual triumph and success.

Dr. Kingdon has heard that Orabel was constantly praised at school, the pet of teachers and the envied of students, and has gone on her victorious way, aiming to be first whatever else in the way of duty was neglected and ignored. He has also learnt that Annis, on the contrary, was despised at school as last, and has simply done day by day what she could, finding time amid her many household duties for the reading whereby she often says she thinks she has learnt more since leaving school than amid the busy competitive ranks of the college where Orabel reigned as queen.

While musing on that embrace between the sisters, Dr. Kingdon can see that Orabel Jancy is not, as he imagined, altogether callous, altogether stony. He wonders how Orabel will greet him at their next meeting. "Will she speak to me," he thinks, "or are we henceforth to avoid each other? I shall treat her in all respects as though our conversation at Heron Chase had never been. After all, it was kind of her to agree to facilitate my poor father's wishes, and it was most painful for me to have to explain to her that I could not aspire to such as herself."

Dr. Kingdon thinks about Orabel so much, however, that he has some secret qualms of self-reproach for the pain his words must have given her. He is prepared to be very amiable, friendly and conversational when next they meet. As it happens, however, his next sight of her is in public, holding forth to an admiring audience upon her favourite theme.

Jacob Soy, being now well on the way to recovery, and Miss Brierley, the Don, being expected to return about this time from town to Minerva Cottage, the ladies of the Mount Athene Club have proposed to give her a welcoming soiree, at which Orabel has been asked to deliver the eulogy on Woman, which was to have come off at the previous meeting.

Professor Dolibo has left the Rectory, so she cannot count him this time among her audience. Mr. Mayne, the Rector, is there, however, and various neighbouring magnates, most of whom, for the Squire's sake, applaud Orabel vigorously as she rises up by Miss Brierley's side.

Orabel commences with a few graceful words about the happiness of the members in once more sharing the intellectual banquet with their renowned and gifted President. She glances now and then at the seats reserved for the Heron Chase party, none of whom have yet arrived. Nigel promised to escort his mother -- of course Dr. Kingdon could not be expected, thinks Orabel scornfully, to honour her oration with his presence! By-and-by he does come in, however, marshalling Mrs. Rutherglen, Nigel at the last moment not being forthcoming.

The Doctor intended taking a country ride, and looks rather bored as he listens to Orabel's eloquence, which waxes more vehement as he grows more fidgety beneath its torrent.

"And as to the bondage of matrimony," exclaims the fair speaker, "how should she, the emancipated, cultured, uplifted one \-- the long fettered spirit, freed at last -- the Woman of the golden future -- voluntarily come again beneath the yoke of the oppressor, the chain of bondage? Fellow-women," and here Orabel's voice is uplifted in apostrophising crescendo, "be warned by the fate of generations! Elect to be free; be worthy of your liberty; be strong; be firm, be unyielding; be massive in spirit and in intellect. Who shall say, in the present age, that woman's strength is not as man's? I need not refer to the classical, the historical ages. As an example of power, of triumph, of the victory of nerve and will and brain, I have only to point to the intellectual achievements of Miss Brierley, the president of this club -- one of the noblest living examples of the steadfast, gigantic, unyielding, ever-conquering force of intellectual womanhood!"

As Orabel glances round her triumphantly she no longer sees the stately figure of the Don at her side. Is it possible -- can it be -- is this Miss Brierley, whom concerned arms are bearing from the room? It is neither hot, nor has the meeting been long. Miss Brierley seemed in perfect health at its commencement. How has it come to pass that the ever-conquering Don has quietly fainted away, and is presently driven home, amid much regret and sympathy, to the learned solitude of Minerva Cottage?

Orabel is a little disturbed by this collapse, but finds some compensation in the fact that, quite unexpectedly, Professor Dolibo is here, and has seated himself beside his friend, the Rector. His journey from the city where he has been lecturing at a congress of late would appear to have tried the Professor. He looks pale and ill, but listens with an absorbed expression of thoughtfulness to Orabel, who, much flattered by his attention, surpasses herself in her rhetoric, resolved to show Dr. Kingdon there is one mind at least, and that a massive one, that does not grow restless beneath the truths she labours to expound.

At the close, the members of the club press round her to congratulate her. Annis speaks a few admiring words, and Orabel is struck by her sister's earnest face, flushed, and evidently extremely moved.

"I am glad you were there, Annis," she says. "I hope you will take my appeals to heart. I shall not have lived in vain if I uplift my poor, down-trodden sex. I did not see you earlier. Did you come in late?"

"Yes, Orabel, I stayed to walk over with father, but he had some business to attend to, and Nigel called in, and walked here with me. We just came in at the end."

"It's jolly walking. We'll go back by the river, Annis." says Nigel. "Are you going to dine at Hollyberry Hall, mother? All right, I shall see you and Kingdon again, then."

The Squire has invited the Heron Chase party to dinner, but Dr. Kingdon, unwilling to discomfort Orabel by his presence, has declined. He says he will look in later to escort Mrs. Rutherglen home if desired, Nigel being notoriously erratic and apt to be missing when required.

Orabel smiles impressively upon the Professor, while Dr. Kingdon takes a polite farewell of her. She knows the Doctor thinks very highly of Professor Dolibo -- well, he shall see this learned man can esteem, admire, perhaps even love her. Kingdon shall see she is not such a failure as his manner towards her somehow always seems to imply.

Dr. Kingdon casts a backward look at her, and sees her bending down from the carriage to pour most amiable discourse into the Professor's ear. "I wonder if she'll make a conquest of that old fellow," he thinks, observing the Professor's quiet gravity. "There is great disparity of years, but more unlikely things have come to pass. And I remember he told me once he doubted if it were good for man to be alone, and his life has been a very lonely one. Doubtless poor Dolibo finds her charming, and a learned husband like that would be to her heart. But somehow, I should not care for the match -- they do not seem to me exactly a suitable pair."

He goes on thoughtfully through the woods, and Orabel drives home in triumph. Having recounted the magnitude of the audience and the applause earned by her lecture to her father and sisters, she goes up to her observatory and sits in deep, quiet reverie beside the window, apparently forgetting that dinner will soon be ready, and they have company.

By-and-by Annis steals in to her in a soft white dress, with roses at her breast.

"Why! Annis, how nice you look, what has come to you? Is that dress new?"

"No," says Annis, softly, "but, Orabel, -- oh, Orabel, forgive me -- but oh, I am so happy," and then she begins to cry, and there is heard a whisper of "Nigel."

"Annis!" exclaims her sister, in astounded accents, "Annis, you poor, misguided child, what folly is this? You do not mean to tell me -- you have not the face to tell me, Annis, that after all my efforts, my teachings, my doctrines, my demonstrations, you have feebly sunk to the common fate of our sex, that you have accepted an offer of marriage?"

Orabel speaks the word as though its very mention were a subject of the most utter personal contempt and aversion. Annis blushes and droops her head, and is heard to falter, "We always liked each other."

"Do not be sentimental, child," says Orabel in tones of superiority. "I implore you to put romance aside. Dash down these rose-coloured spectacles and face the matter in a spirit of reasoning and common sense. Marriage is a yoke, Annis. A life-long bondage. Would you voluntarily be fettered for life?"

Again is heard the one word "Nigel," and somehow it falls from the young girl's lips like music.

"Would you be willing, Annis, at the altar to promise to obey a man -- to put yourself in the position of his inferior -- to own your husband as your head?"

"The Bible says he is," says Annis, softly, "and I love Nigel so dearly, Orabel. I never dreamed he could care for me. I am not bright and brilliant like so many girls he knows. But he does care for me, Orabel, and his mother and papa and all are so good and kind. And, oh, I am so happy. But I don't like leaving you and the children. Oh, Orabel, don't be angry with me today. Wish me happiness, dear. Are we not sisters, Orabel?"

She clings to Orabel as if the newly-opened fount of love were overflowing into all other channels of her heart.

"Of course I wish you happiness, Annis, though I could never, never stoop to fetters like these myself. May you be very, very happy, and may you never repent this decision!"

There is an earnest ring of true affection in these last words that comforts Annis. The Squire is rather timid to know how Orabel will take the news, and he is relieved to find that, beyond a few brief words to Nigel that Annis has been the comfort of their home, his eldest daughter makes no allusion to the subject that is exciting all the family.

When Dr. Kingdon calls in during the evening, he finds Nigel is in the same house as his mother, and he is called upon to congratulate his triumphant, bright-faced friend. Mrs. Rutherglen is well pleased, indeed, with the final choice of her only son, who has often alarmed her by fancies most unsuitable in her eyes. The Jancys, however, loudly, deeply, bewail the thought of losing Annis. Everyone has some special reason why Annis will be bitterly, sorely missed, and as her praises are chimed regretfully around,

Dr. Kingdon glances at Orabel, wondering of what the silent elder sister may be thinking. Orabel's eyes are following the two softly pacing the balcony in the moonlight. She sees them pause side by side among the flowers, and then her wistful eyes catch the Doctor's quiet glance, and much to her own annoyance her heart begins to throb and beat, and a sudden, vivid, crimson flush overspreads her face, and causes Mrs. Rutherglen to believe that she must have caught a feverish cold.

Chapter 9

### After Twenty Years

Dr. Kingdon rides over to Hollyberry Hall one afternoon to bid farewell to the Jancys. He has promised to visit friends and relations in other parts of England during his leave, which seems to him to be speeding by. He rather hopes today that Orabel may be out. After their interview in the grounds of Heron Chase, he cannot flatter himself that his appearance is likely to occasion anything but annoyance and constraint to the lady. Yet he would like to bid her goodbye. He would like just to see her once more before he turns his back upon these pleasant country lanes and dells.

As it chances, the Squire is out when Dr. Kingdon calls. He is told that the young ladies are out, and having left his card, he is returning through the shrubbery when he catches sight of Orabel. She is seated reading beneath a spreading lilac tree. At least, she holds a book in her lap, but her eyes are full of a far-away look, a look suddenly changed by the appearance of the Doctor, to whom she vouchsafes a distant bow.

"I came to take my farewell," says Dr. Kingdon, pausing beside her. "I leave Hollybourne tomorrow for the North."

Orabel makes no answer. She is nervously turning the pages of the book she holds.

"I see you have Professor Dolibo's Optical Treatise, Miss Jancy. Very ably written, is it not?"

"Yes." she says, coming to herself with a vivid carmine blush that convinces him the topic of the Professor must be agreeable. "Yes, he is a remarkable man. He called here today. He has just left."

Orabel is quite willing that he, whose ideal she is not, should imagine her as sought by the great Professor. She is trembling a little, and Dr. Kingdon sees it and thinks that this fancy for Dolibo is as the union of spring and winter.

"I highly esteem the Professor," he says, in a tone of some constraint. "Well, Miss Jancy, I will not disturb your studies. Please remember me to all your family, and ... and ... you have always my best and most sincere wishes for your future. I am unfortunate enough, I fear, to have caused you some little annoyance. If I have done so verbally or by correspondence, I ask you, in parting, to forgive me."

He holds out his hand, which Orabel does not seem to see. She bends over her book murmuring something about, "The optical nerve ... the range of the far-reaching human eye ... beautifully put by Professor Dolibo ... eloquent indeed!"

Finding her thus absorbed, Dr. Kingdon raises his hat and withdraws, and the lady whose company he coveted once in his Indian home, and of whom he dreamed on the homeward voyage, turns her back upon him and begins to copy attentively into her notebook one of the Professor's diagrams.

Dr. Kingdon meets Miss Brierley, the "Don" of Mount Athene, on her way to the Hall, and is so full of his inward thoughts that during their conversation he somewhat unguardedly remarks he expects, if ever he should visit Hollybourne again, the club will have lost one of its celibates.

"What do you mean, Doctor?" asks Miss Brierley, paling, and drawing herself up as if indignant at the notion,. "Do you suppose at my age----"

"My dear madam, I was not presuming to suggest such an honour for my humble sex," he answers, surprised at her agitation. "To tell the truth -- but I am ashamed of myself for my tendency to gossip -- I was thinking of your secretary, Miss Jancy, and Professor Dolibo. I fancy there is a mutual and increasing regard."

The Doctor has led the conversation in this direction to obtain the opinion of Orabel's friend as to the state of the case, but Miss Brierley is silent, and presently makes some irrelevant remark about the harvest.

"I hope she is not over-studying. I did not like that fainting-fit the other day, and she seems to be growing nervous in her manner," thinks Dr. Kingdon, looking with some concern after the dignified figure of the Don. But, presently, all other thoughts are put to flight by the sight of Nigel and Annis resting among the forget-me-nots by the river. How happy they look, how restful, how thankful. The Doctor feels a little lonely as he strolls along, and a vague regret stirs within him that such sweet gladness and peace is a secret he may never hope to share.

"I shall never marry," he decides, "till I find my ideal of true womanhood, and even then I scarcely think I should be satisfied now, unless she had eyes and lips and hair like Orabel's."

And with this name, like a note of sadness upon his lips, and with the fair, clever, beautiful face with all its varying expressions before his eyes, the Doctor summons Bhagat and bids him get on with the packing, for tomorrow they must leave the little village on the River Dimple behind them, and start away for "fresh woods and pastures new."

Miss Brierley goes slowly on beneath the whispering leaves, and draws near to Orabel, her keen eyes noting the name upon the book that has dropped to the grass.

"I came to ask you," she says, "about the visit to the Feminine Philosophers in London. Are you still willing, Orabel, to be our deputation? You could board with the president. I suppose your father would raise no objection?"

"Father lets me do as I like," is the reply, "but I do not think he wishes me to speak in London. And to tell the truth, Miss Brierley, I scarcely feel up to the visit. I think I have worked too hard at my book, for I do not feel quite myself. I do not think I could stand on a London platform just now. You would represent us gloriously."

"I do not feel up to it, either," says Miss Brierley. "I have had neuralgia of late. Orabel, I have just met Dr. Kingdon. What do you think he hinted?" She turns her bright, searching eyes upon the girl's face. "He hinted one of our celibates would possibly soon be a renegade. He seemed to think you and Professor Dolibo----"

Miss Brierley breaks off for a moment to remove a caterpillar from her dress, and then adds briskly, "Well, my dear, you two would be well matched as to intellect. Am I to congratulate you?"

It pleases Orabel's pride that Dr. Kingdon should see someone else may be willing to woo where he has withdrawn. Her conscience tells her to be truthful and honest, but pride whispers she must not correct the rumour too soon. Let Dr. Kingdon leave Hollybourne with the conviction that she has at least one admirer, and that a gifted and remarkable one!

"There is nothing really definite or settled," she falters.

"But you have received attentions?" says Miss Brierley, quickly. "Well, dear, I cannot wonder at it. You are young, bright, and attractive. You have not left life's spring behind you, and your future is yet to come. I will respect your confidence, Orabel. I am glad to know."

"Oh, Miss Brierley, you quite misunderstand me. Indeed we are not engaged, and we never shall be. Professor Dolibo is kind enough to lend me books, and to take an interest in The Motions of the Moon, but do you suppose, dear President, I should ever forget the status of the club so far as to outrage all its traditions by being the first to surrender Woman's glorious freedom?"

"Glorious, indeed," says Miss Brierley, with a sigh. "Ah, well, Orabel, none of us can read the days to come. Believe me, I congratulate you from my heart. He is a good man, good in heart as grand in intellect. I think I will go to London, Orabel, after all. Hollybourne seems too relaxing just now, and I think I need a change."

"Yes, you do not look well," says Orabel, affectionately. "The club cannot afford for you to get ill. What medical system are you adopting for your neuralgia? Are you an allopath or homoeopath?"

"I have not been taking anything medicinal. It is change I need -- change and rest. Well, goodbye, Orabel. May all happiness be yours," and before Miss Jancy can reply, the Don is slowly retreating, planning within her a quiet meditative stroll beside the river.

Here she almost comes into collision with a pedestrian as thoughtful-minded as herself, who starts back as though he had seen a ghost, and then holds out his hand, saying the one word, "Alice!"

"Oh, good afternoon, Professor Dolibo," she says quickly. "What delightful weather we are having for the time of the year. I cannot stay -- excuse me -- I take tea at five o'clock."

"But this is not the way to Minerva Cottage, Alice."

"Yes, it is, if you cut across the Seven Fields and go round by the hill and Mr. Parminter's park," she answers, a little nervously. "Besides, I may stay here and collect some ferns for specimens, but I cannot spare any more time just now, Professor. Good afternoon."

"Is this all you have to say to me, Alice, after twenty years?"

"Twenty years bring many changes," she says. "Fancies and preferences undergo a change after twenty years. Dear me, one's youth seems to have been dead and buried long ago. Let us leave the past in its grave," and she shivers a little, looking out to the rippling waters.

"I suppose that means," says he, "that a withered life like mine has startled from your heart all tender memories. Alice, I scarcely hoped or dreamed ever to meet you again, or meeting you to find you yet unmarried. I have been very lonely, very faithful...."

"Hush, you must not dare to speak to me like this. Where is your respect for yourself, for me?" she says, with flushing cheeks, recalling his attentions to Orabel. "Let the dead past lie. May your future be a bright one. I shall be away from Hollybourne. I shall not pain you by my vicinity. Believe me, no one wishes you more happiness than myself. Ah, here is Annis Jancy. How do you do, Mr. Rutherglen? What a cold, dreary day, is it not? I think we shall have rain," and Miss Brierley, very much to Nigel's annoyance, walks on by the side of Annis, entering into animated conversation with her, while the Professor steals a quiet, sorrowful look at her face, and goes on his way bewildered, constrained to surrender the dim, vague hopes that have been detaining him here in Hollybourne.

Next day, at breakfast, Squire Jancy receives a letter that seems to afford him much satisfaction. He glances at Orabel, as if wondering what will be her comments upon it, and she nervously fingers a piece of dry toast, wishing that from her seat at the other end of the table she could perceive the writing. Can it be from Dr. Kingdon, and, if so, does it concern herself?

"I don't see," says the Squire, presently, "why, when Nigel takes you away, Annis my child, there should not be a double wedding at Hollyberry Hall."

Orabel feels her cheeks burn so painfully that she wishes she could rush from the table. Laura glances up at her wonderingly, and Philip asks, "Why, father, are we going to lose Orabel as well as Annis? Mount Athene would go all to smash without you, wouldn't it, Orabel?"

"I am not speaking of Orabel. What made you think so?" says Mr. Jancy. "This letter is from your cousin, Elizabeth Prevost. She tells me that almost as soon as she returned to Bath the post brought her a proposal of marriage. I suppose he was too shy to ask her while she was here. She has said 'Yes,' and I am heartily glad. Once or twice while she was here I suspected they liked each other. My sister's child must be married, of course, from my house. She tells me the managers of the college have accepted her resignation three months hence. You had better get your things forward, Annis, and let the two events come off together."

"Dear Cousin Elizabeth," murmurs Annis sympathetically, blushing like a rose.

"But, papa, who is Cousin Elizabeth going to marry?" asks Etta, and the cry is taken up by the rest.

"I know," says Philip. "It's Kingdon, isn't it, father?" And the next minute he jumps up to fetch an orphanage box for Orabel's penny, she having overturned her tea-cup and sent a stream across the cloth. The young Jancys mutually fine each other and their relatives for such mishaps, the proceeds going to an orphanage. Orabel submits and drops in her penny, and remarks that Dr. Kingdon and Cousin Elizabeth are admirably suited to one another.

"Ah, but Kingdon is not the happy man," says the Squire, smiling. "Guess again. It is somebody you know very well."

There is a cry of "Professor Dolibo," and then "the Rector." Both of which are wrong, and the children in desperation try the most unlikely names, such as the village doctor's apprentice, the aged National schoolmaster, and several other unlikely candidates. It is becoming as exciting as a game when somebody passes the French windows, and directly after Squire Parminter is in the breakfast room and goes up to Mr. Jancy and wrings his hand, and tells the young people with a beaming face that henceforth he is their cousin.

There is a burst of delight, for the Squire is a general favourite, and they are charmed at the thought of having Cousin Elizabeth so near.

Orabel is a little surprised at the choice of her intellectual, active-brained cousin. This burly, hearty, sunburnt agriculturist is so different to the little white-faced, hazel-eyed teacher, and their tastes too must surely be so very dissimilar. But she knows her cousin well enough to feel certain she would never have said "Yes" did she not truly care for him. And as for Squire Parminter, his every feature is aglow with the light of happiness.

"Poor, deluded mortals!" thinks Orabel, compassionately. "What is love but a fantasy, a mirage, a will-o'-the-wisp? How thankful I feel that I at least have the strength of mind to prefer to walk through life 'in maiden meditation, fancy free.'"

### Chapter 10

The Knot There's No Untying

Luna and Her Revolutions does not make so much progress as the author could desire. She attributes this fact to the visits of dressmakers and other interrupting personages to Hollyberry Hall, in connection with the important event that draws so near. As she disapproves of the matrimonial yoke for her fettered sex, Orabel has declined on principle to be bridesmaid; but there are plenty of sisters and cousins to furnish Annis and Elizabeth with a bright and fairylike train.

To each of the brides Orabel presents a copy of her earliest work, bound specially in white and gold: Mathematical Meanderings, being Discourses by a Seeker after Science, in Six Volumes. She sighs as she glances again through the familiar pages. Will she ever sit down with equal zest and facility to the writing of Motions of the Moon? What is it that comes between her thoughts and Luna, that occasions such long, meditative pauses, such lingering glances to tree tops and sky, such a sense of loneliness, of yearning, of something lost and wanting to the completion of her life?

Orabel resolutely rejects ideas a bitter-sweet love-dream being the reason, and complains that it is impossible to concentrate one's thoughts whilst the domestic atmosphere is full of bridal favours and honeymoon resorts and wedding cards and cake.

At last Miss Prevost is free to return to her uncle's house, and the day which to the two brides has seemed so far away and almost like a vision, dawns out fair and bright, and the children move from festive room to room in irrepressible excitement.

By-and-by Annis comes down in bridal white, with a little pink flush on her agitated, fair young face, and Cousin Elizabeth stands beside her in heliotrope silk, a white veil gleaming across the delicate hue of the folds.

"There will be one more for the breakfast," says the Squire, turning to Orabel, into whose unwilling hands the household reins are falling. "Mr. Mayne has a visitor at the Rectory -- no other than Dr. Kingdon. I have asked him to join us after church. Who chose that gown, Orabel? It is really very becoming."

The Squire is struck by the radiant look of his eldest daughter, who is simply attired in apparel chosen by the bride -- a silvery gleaming plush, trimmed with a little of the family lace, and a few falling white lilies. Just now the children were saying Orabel looked so pale, but something has brought the rose-flush to her face, and there is a smile about her lips as she starts off in a carriage containing some of the bridesmaids.

Miss Maberley was to have been one of the guests, but she cannot leave her sick mother today. The Rector has been visiting the old lady, and is standing in the porch with Miss Maberley as the carriage rolls by. Orabel wonders what topic between the erudite Rector and shy, timid Miss Maberley can be mutual. The latter starts a little, and waves what seems to be a half-tearful salute to the Jancys, and the Rector hurries off to the church, which is close to the Maberleys' cottage.

"God bless my dear girls," says the Squire in a broken voice, stepping forward for the first kiss after the bridegrooms have bestowed the post-nuptial salute.

"God bless Miss Annis," is the cry all along the church pathway, but Nigel proudly reminds the villagers that she is Mrs. Rutherglen now, and the cheers that hailed Mr. and Mrs. Parminter break out again from young and old.

Orabel was escorted up the aisle by a young cousin, but Dr. Kingdon has been chosen by the Squire to take charge of her going home. He says they are more of a height. The Doctor says he is sorry, for Orabel's sake, to be thus thrust upon her, and she remarks once or twice that the coachman is a long time driving home. She would not have him know for worlds the joy, the zest of this sudden and unexpected reunion.

"I am very glad to be here again at this time," says Dr. Kingdon. "How happy both the brides look today. All Hollybourne seems to rejoice. It is, indeed, a glad occasion."

"I hope it may prove so," says Orabel, "but to my mind the matrimonial bond seems an error. Cousin Elizabeth had started out on a magnificent career, and Annis might have done far more in the way of study had she applied herself assiduously for the next twenty years. But neither of them is at all strong-minded. Well, we cannot all be alike."

"You would never perpetrate such a mistake as this, of course?" says the Doctor. And then, remembering the garden party at Heron Chase, he regrets his words and turns his gaze upon Poppy, and a juvenile page seated opposite.

"Never!" says Orabel decisively. "I hope I know too well my duty to the educational career it has been my fortune to pursue. It is not my intention to throw away the benefit of all my studies by promising to obey some tyrant in masculine form."

"Why should education be thrown away because a woman gets married, Miss Jancy?" he asks.

"Oh, it always is, Dr. Kingdon. I have friends who excelled in music, and now they are married they never touch a piano. And I know a girl who painted beautifully, and she never uses a brush now; and many others who used to be great students have made no progress at all since they got married."

"Are you sure of that?" he asks; "Life education is not only confined to books, you know. There is teaching to be obtained -- so some of your sex have told me -- from life's daily round and common task. And I should think that love must be itself the grandest of educators -- only, of course, you and I have not had experience in such matters, have we?"

He speaks lightly, and she tries to answer in the same strain. "No, I know nothing of the theme of poets and novelists. I have something better, I hope, to think of. It seems to me a sin to let anything else interfere with the grand end and aim of a woman's mental development. Cousin Elizabeth might have been so great, poor girl!"

"I don't think she looks very miserable, Miss Jancy. I do not think either of the brides seem to need our pity. And, after all, I cannot see why marriage should stop all former pursuits and studies as you say. Every wife, in my opinion, is bound to keep up her health and spirits by some recreative occupation -- such as her favourite art \-- as well as by air and exercise. I know very well that many married women say, 'I have no time to read,' and again, 'I never have any time to go out of doors!' I always tell them, as a doctor, this is a pity. Let them read, let them draw, let them fill their homes with music. Let them reign over their household work, instead of wearing it like a chain. What freedom from weariness of hand and heart the housekeeper often finds in a book! I would have every wife a reader, Miss Jancy, so as to be lifted out of self, and petty, tiring worries which would otherwise wear her out. And I am glad to say I am acquainted with many married women who are still mentally alive and intellectually active, and their families and homes are the better for the brain power."

"Still," says Orabel, "they might have been educational pioneers -- heads of colleges perhaps -- had they not married."

"We cannot all be heads of colleges, Miss Jancy. Is that your ideal of happiness?"

"Yes, it is," she answers quickly. "I always thought, as a child, I should like to control a school or college. As soon as Laura is old enough to keep house, in three or four years, I hope with my father's consent to enter upon such a destiny."

He is silent. He gives one searching look into her eyes, and she blushes so hotly, so painfully beneath his gaze that for once he is lost as to the next subject of conversation, and begins to touch the flowers in her bouquet with admiring fingers, till Orabel suddenly says she is tired of holding them, and surrenders them, with a proud drawing away from Dr. Kingdon, to the care of the little page.

"Cold, proud, and heartless as ever!" he inwardly decides, and resigns himself, a little offended, to the study of the scenery. He feels relieved, yet somewhat regretful, when their carriage passes beneath the arch of flowers in the avenue, and they join the brilliant company assembled now to be photographed together, and know that their conversation has come to an end.

Yet, when the portraits come home, Orabel is not a little astonished to find the Doctor's tall, strong form immediately to her right. She had no notion he was so near, and feels at first inclined to consign her copy of the group to the flames, but on second thoughts she places it within the handwritten pages of Luna and Her Revolutions, where it generally happens to catch her eye the first thing daily when she withdraws herself to her sanctum for work.

The wedding breakfast commences very merrily. Annis keeps her eyes down to conceal the dews lest the spirits of others should be damped, and Elizabeth, who has no home to leave save the solitude of apartments, is going to the shelter of a true and manly love, and is quietly, calmly happy, though the memory will come amid her joy of her lost mother, and a longing that she could be conscious of the happiness of her child. Perhaps, she thinks, she is nearer than mortal heart can know. At any rate, the heart of the bride is overflowing with a sense of passing now into a new and blessed life, where thorns and flowers are to be shared alike, and the years of solitude are ended.

Dr. Kingdon sees a shadow on the brow of the Squire who is beginning to feel he is losing his right hand. The Doctor launches into jovial anecdote, and is well sustained by Mr. Parminter and even by quiet Mr. Mayne. It is evident that Annis is too precious to be resigned in a spirit of cloudless sunshine.

As the meal proceeds, there seems but a step between smiles and tears, and unfortunately Philip takes this step while returning thanks for a complimentary speech made concerning the bridesmaids. To the surprise of all, Philip breaks down, turns red, and disappears from the table, but not before it is apparent that the boy is crying.

Annis hurries after him, regardless of her position as heroine of the day, and Poppy carries on the lament with a howl, which is the signal for the Squire's voice to become broken and husky, and for Laura, Etta, Nan, Carry and Kitty to have immediate recourse to their pocket handkerchiefs.

"I feel a guilty wretch," says Nigel, "but I can't pretend to be sorry. And you can all come over in a batch, you know, and see her when you choose, and stay at Heron Chase as long as you like."

"Oh, but she always dressed me," sobs Poppy, looking about for a comforter, and stealing to Orabel's side. Dr. Kingdon notes the action, and sees the little brown head buried deep upon the silvery plush.

Orabel is about to whisper something loving to her father, when she sees Dr. Kingdon's observant eyes upon her. Somehow, beneath his gaze she is always at her worst. She shrinks from the thought that he may imagine she is trying to act up to his ideal of womanhood: gentle, tender, and self-forgetful. Against the impulse of her better nature she tells Poppy not to stain her dress, and remarks it is time Annis and Elizabeth got ready, if they mean to catch the express.

Never, surely was a damper atmosphere surrounding any bride than that amid which Annis takes her departure. Even the servants have by this time broken down, and Annis seems utterly astonished to find what a gap the departure of her unassuming little self seems to be making at the Hall.

Orabel gets out of range of Dr. Kingdon's vision and clings to her sister, answering meekly, "Yes, Annis," to various charges as to Poppy's headaches and Philip's school lunch, and Nan's whitlows, and the Squire's early cup of coffee, and various household details. For the time being Orabel and Annis seem almost to have changed characters. The latter issues brisk directions, and the former looks anxious and submissive.

"And I don't think Philip is well," whispers Annis. "I know how busy you are, dear, over your book, but if you could make time to look after Philip a bit ... I am sure he is not himself. I can't help being anxious about him."

"He will never confide in me as he has done in you," says Orabel, a little bitterly. "Philip and I have never got on together. He would resent any interference from me."

"Oh, no, indeed," cries Annis, "he is a dear, loving boy. Yes, Nigel, dear, I am ready. Goodbye everybody, goodbye, goodbye," and with a chorus of farewells the carriages drive off to meet the express, the Parminters en route for Snowdonia, the Rutherglens for Devonshire.

Dr. Kingdon finds it no easy task to cheer the Jancy household, but he does his best. He persuades the Squire to show some of the visitors his prize cattle; he lends Philip a wonderful knife which that youth proceeds to try upon the summerhouse chairs; he makes the hearts of the girls glad by the production of confectionery he has brought over from Paris; and finally he hunts out Orabel, seated pensively among the remains of the wedding breakfast, and asks how he can restore her spirits.

"Shall we talk about a certain erudite professor?" he asks, a little mischievously. "I met him last week in town."

"Professor Dolibo?" says Orabel, becoming animated with an effort. "Oh, yes, let us talk of him. He is such a very, very remarkable man."

### Chapter 11

### A Tale of the Long Ago

Dr. Kingdon settles himself near Orabel, just opposite the residue of the silver-garlanded wedding cake. The servants are coming and going, restoring the dining room to its usual tidiness. The general melancholy that so often follows an early wedding seems to have reached to the servants' hall, and men and maids move about softly, almost as if they were assisting to clear a funeral banquet.

"We shall all miss Annis so," says Orabel, excusing her own depression. "I do not know what any of us will do without her."

"Yes, she seems to have been of considerable value to her family, even though, as she told me, she never crossed the Bridge of Learning."

"Oh, I daresay, as to that, everybody here would much rather I had been the one to take my departure. I cannot hope to fill the place that Annis held at home. My role in life is a ... totally different one." She was going to say a nobler one but stops hesitatingly.

"Your life is not accomplished yet," says the Doctor gently. "By the way, Professor Dolibo seemed anxious for any news I could give him of Hollybourne. He seems to consider it a delightful spot, and talks of spending Christmas here with Mr. Mayne. But I thought he looked ill and melancholy, as if he had some secret trouble upon his mind."

Orabel vainly endeavours to conjure up a blush. "I shall be glad to see him back in this neighbourhood," she says. "He is such a help in any knotty point of science. There is a wonderful charm in his society. I think he is really the very cleverest person I know, and so polite and agreeable."

"He is fortunate to possess your good opinion," says Dr. Kingdon, flushing a little, "but I quite agree with all you say. Dolibo is an excellent fellow, and I think it is a thousand pities that he should have elected to walk through life alone. The bachelor state is a lonely one at best, but perhaps it is not yet too late in the day for him to change his mind."

"Certainly not," says Orabel, blushing deeply. She cannot explain why, except that the Doctor's searching eyes are fixed upon her. "He is only just in the prime of life."

The Doctor gets up and paces the room, and quietly assists a servant to pick up the remains of some lobster salad which has been overturned in removal. Then he comes back to Orabel's side and says in a voice, cordial, composed, and steady, "I am sure you will believe me when I tell you nothing will please me more than to hear of your happiness."

"Thank you," says Orabel. "I am very happy. Do you think it is too cold for tennis? Some of our cousins would like to play. They have been resting upstairs, but I think they are now in the garden."

"I will try to make up a set," says the Doctor, moving obediently away; but he looks back a little doubtfully, wistfully, at the graceful figure alone in the dining room, like some spirit of melancholy surveying the departing remnants of the feast.

In the evening, charades and tableaux are improvised by the young people. Dr. Kingdon is busy helping them, and finds no further opportunity of conversation with Orabel, who seems to avoid his society as much as possible.

As he bids her goodnight he remarks in a low voice, "Perhaps, before I return to India, I may have the honour of assisting upon a similar occasion, when two lights of learning are united in one flame."

Orabel, determined at all costs to conceal from him the secret of her heart, replies, "I shall be pleased to see you there," which remark sends him home grave and thoughtful, and inclined to be a little impatient of the good Rector's wayside discourse concerning the lighting of the parish.

Whether it is Dr. Kingdon or Miss Brierley or some other neighbour who starts the rumour, Orabel knows not. But there can be no doubt that Hollybourne begins to associate her name with that of Professor Dolibo, and she is often asked for news concerning him, and congratulated when some success of the Professor's is noted in the newspapers. Her conscience warns her that she is responsible in the first instance for this idea, concocted for Dr. Kingdon's benefit. She finds it is a good deal easier to suggest a notion than to put an end to it.

Even her sisters begin to whisper among themselves as to the Professor's probable age, and whether Orabel will live in England or abroad. And the two Miss Uffs, who had some notion that the Professor's visits to Hollybourne held a personal interest for one of them, grow cold towards Orabel, and are heard to express their satisfaction that they never entrapped one of the other sex, or displayed the many accomplishments latent within them for the purpose of making a conquest.

Orabel is holding a class among her sisters in Carthaginian history one day, and thinking uncomfortably meanwhile how best to quench the smoke she once encouraged, when Miss Adelina Uff is announced. As soon as the juveniles have done with Hannibal and departed, this lady opens fire with a friendly smile.

"Whom do you think I met at Dimple Priory last evening, Orabel? A Mr. and Mrs. Perry, old friends of Professor Dolibo's. Yes. I knew you would be interested."

"Did you, indeed?" says Orabel, casually. "By the way, what day is our club committee meeting to be held?"

"Ah, bashful one," says Miss Adelina, "I see how we are trying to change the subject. But seriously, Orabel dear, you know, as your friend I have your welfare at heart, and it is always best to know of such things before marriage, else it may cause unpleasantness after."

"Whatever do you mean?" asks Orabel, in some annoyance. "I wish you would believe, Adelina, that no secret of the Professor's can hold any concern for me."

"Ah, my dear, but this is a tender secret -- one that might cause after marriage perhaps some little 'rift within the lute' as Tennyson puts it. Did you ever know, Orabel, that Professor Dolibo was engaged long ago to our Don \-- Miss Brierley?"

Miss Uff brings the words out sharply, triumphantly, and they do not fail of their effect. Orabel pales, and repeats the words in blank amazement, "Engaged to Miss Brierley!"

"Yes, so the Perrys told me. They were engaged for some time in early youth, but you know our dear Don is of a firm disposition, and they differed as to the rendering of a line in Sophocles. Miss Brierley is a classics scholar, and thought he should be content with mathematical excellence, and yield her the palm as to Greek. She resented his opinions and resolved upon a single life. They parted, and imagined that each other had married long ago. Now I see why our Don went to town when she first heard he was coming here, and why she fainted when he suddenly entered our club room during your speech. Mrs. Perry asked if Miss Brierley did not live in this neighbourhood. She said she believed his heart is faithful to her still, and perhaps they will mutually waive the classical point at last. But, of course, poor Miss Brierley is getting on in years, and, as we know, he has now other hopes and aspirations."

To the surprise and consternation of Miss Adelina, the learned secretary of the Mount Athene Association bursts into tears, and exclaims bitterly, "Oh, what have I done? I have wrecked two lives."

"Unconsciously, my dear friend, unconsciously," says her visitor. "Be calm, I implore you. It is not your fault that the Professor has found you so attractive."

"But he has not," exclaims Orabel. "He does not care for me at all. Not in the least."

"Well, then, my dear, all your crying will not alter the position. For my own part, I do not think a single gentleman of my acquaintance is worth crying about; but I am really very sorry for your disappointment, dear."

Orabel jumps up impatiently. Poppy, peeping in at the door, is the first to catch sight of her tears, and a bevy of young sisters is soon on the scene armed with smelling salts, eau de cologne, smelling salts, chocolate almonds, and a cup of tea.

It is a new experience for Miss Uff to see her friend thus tended by anxious sisters. Some change in Orabel's domestic behaviour is visibly shadowed forth to her by these sisterly ministrations.

But neither tea nor smelling salts can comfort Orabel today. It is a very large morsel of humble pie that she has to consume, and she is fond enough of Miss Brierley to feel a pang of repentance and shame for the pain she must have caused her. Is it misunderstanding on her account that is keeping these long estranged ones still apart? If so, the mist must and shall be cleared, and Orabel takes up her pen with a decided but shaking hand.

My Dear Miss Brierley,

When I last saw you I fear my manner left you under a mistaken impression. My vanity flattered itself once or twice that Professor Dolibo admired me, and this notion I am ashamed to say I have permitted to grow, and perhaps tacitly encouraged. Today I have heard of your former acquaintance with the Professor, and it is due to you and to the Professor and to my own conscience that I should tell you he has never once by word, look, or sign paid me any attention beyond ordinary civility, or led me in the slightest degree to suppose his fancy had strayed in my direction.

I am ashamed to have to write this letter. I have been vain, thoughtless, and culpable, and guilty even of deceit in allowing such an idea to take root in the neighbourhood. But I ask you to believe what I now tell you from my heart: Professor Dolibo's admiration of me has existed only in my own conceit and imagination.

Hoping my letter may not be too late to disperse misunderstanding, I remain, yours in shame and sorrow,

Orabel.

The Don gets this letter in London, where she moves amid an erudite circle to which Professor Dolibo also belongs, and in which he has been hovering around her of late so persistently that only the most dignified coldness on her own part has held him at bay, and preserved the president of the association of celibates from embarrassing surrender. But some little bird must have whispered to the Professor, about this time, that Miss Brierley's manner has undergone a sudden thaw. He pays a visit to her host and hostess, and they are out. Miss Brierley entertains him in their absence, and they review the disquisition concerning Sophocles, and find that twenty years of loneliness have taught them they can find a mutual ground of agreement even here.

One day Squire Jancy has been showing Dr. Kingdon some improvements about the farm, and the Doctor is going home to the Rectory by a short cut through the park, when he catches sight of Orabel standing perplexed beneath an overhanging tree.

"Good morning, Miss Jancy. Can I assist you in any way? Is your cat up there, or a favourite bird?"

"No, it is Philip," says Orabel, in a low voice.

"Philip? And will not the young rascal come down?"

"He thinks I want to lecture him," she says, sadly. "I know he misses Annis dreadfully. He thinks I only want to sermonise. I know Philip is worried about something. He scarcely ate any breakfast, though I ordered his favourite pie for him. Yet he will not give me a chance of questioning him. I came after him just now, and he ran up into that tree."

Orabel looks tired and troubled, as though she needs someone to help and sympathise. The Doctor bends down towards her with a look of kind compassion, and they walk away together side by side, her appealing glances into the tree failing to bring down the brother with whom she knows too well she has never been a favourite.

"And how does Luna and her Revolutions get on, Miss Jancy? Did you not mean to publish it this season?"

"Yes, I hope to still," she answers. "I think it will be my most important work. I have spent so much study upon it. But lately I have been quite at a standstill, for I have been so concerned about Philip."

"I am glad," says Dr. Kingdon, "that books are less to you -- book-lover as you are -- than a human heart. But you must not make yourself ill about your brother, Orabel."

It is the first time he has used her Christian name. He does so almost unconsciously now, but she notices it with a sudden, half-frightened throb and tremble at her heart.

"I will try to speak to Philip, if I may," continues the Doctor. "We have always been good friends, and perhaps he will confide in me. You would not think me intrusive and interfering?"

"Oh, no," says Orabel, "I should be so grateful. I am so afraid he may have got into some scrape which would make father angry. Father is sterner with Philip than with the girls."

They pause at the gate leading out to the high road. The Doctor looks a little confused. He is reluctant to add to her troubles, but he says quietly, "By the way, I think I have a piece of news for you. Some London friends of mine have told me that Miss Brierley, your president, is about to change her name. Can you guess who is the happy man?"

"Is it Professor Dolibo? Oh, say that it is! Oh, I am so glad, so thankful!" and Orabel flushes up into excitement. She smiles and rushes off to tell her sisters, leaving Doctor Kingdon considerably perplexed, but inwardly relieved and gratified.

### Chapter 12

### Brother and Sister

Dr. Kingdon's visit to the Rectory has come to an end. Mr. Mayne is now away for his yearly holiday, but the Doctor has returned to his old rooms at the Hollybourne Hotel. He says this is the most charming to him of all English villages, combining pastoral and river scenery, good fishing, and bracing air. Besides, he finds it so convenient for getting about to other places, that he decides to make it his headquarters now till his departure.

All awkwardness has vanished for good between himself and Orabel, and a pleasant, quiet friendship has taken its place. They are getting to understand and appreciate each other, and so, though the wishes of the Doctor's father are alluded to no longer, both feel there is no occasion for mutual constraint and avoidance.

"I know what keeps Dr. Kingdon in Hollybourne," announces Laura, confidentially, one day, while walking down to the village arm in arm with Orabel.

Laura does not notice the quick, burning flush across her elder sister's face, nor the tremble in Orabel's voice as she replies, "He says the air suits him here."

"Why, of course it does!" laughs Laura. "Especially as Hollybourne contains a certain person whom he finds very attractive. The fact is, Orabel, Dr. Kingdon is in love."

Laura has reached the sentimental stage of girlhood, and is quick to discern any dawning romance among her friends. Orabel reproves her for such conversation, but waits with impatient curiosity for her next words.

"Yes, of course he is in love. I expect he was dreadfully disappointed when you would not have anything to do with him, but now he has found a comforter. Why, Orabel, one day we were out with Miss Maberley, and we met Doctor Kingdon walking with Mr. Mayne. Our governess went as red as a peony all at once, and did not seem to know a bit what she was talking about. That opened my eyes, I can tell you. And after that, I noticed that she always tried to get out of going with us when we had any errands to do at the Rectory. She used to colour up, and looked so shy and half-frightened. And you know Dr. Kingdon was staying there at the time. Oh, I am sure he will not go back to India alone, and I don't wonder he is in love with Miss Maberley. She is so nice, and we all think she is so graceful and pretty. But I wonder what will become of old Mrs. Maberley, and who will be our next governess."

"Yes, Miss Maberley has a very sweet face. I dare say you are right, Laura," says Orabel, a little abruptly. She is glad her young sister has opened her eyes. She feels she has been very obtuse and blind. Now she understands what has sometimes puzzled her a little -- why Dr. Kingdon should prefer Hollybourne to the vicinity of his other friends and acquaintances.

"Talk of an angel," says Laura, "and you see his wings. At least, it isn't the Doctor coming, but Bhagat with a note. And look, he is making his salaam. What has Dr. Kingdon written about? Oh, Orabel, is it to tell us he is taking away Miss Maberley? Whatever shall we give her for a wedding present? I wish I could get my mantelpiece border done. I began it for you, Orabel, when the Doctor first wrote from India, but of course you will never want it. Perhaps I can get it finished before they sail."

Laura chatters on, while Orabel opens the note which the Indian servant hands her, and reads the few words Dr. Kingdon has written.

Dear Miss Jancy,

I have both walked and driven with Philip since our last conversation, and I have had several opportunities of trying to win his confidence, but any such attempt has only made him the more resolutely reserved. I agree with you that the boy seems somehow changed, yet all Mr. Mayne's pupils are boys of high character, and I scarcely think any of these lads are such as would lead him astray. I think Philip would be inclined to resent any further interference from myself, as I can claim no rights with him beyond those of a friend interested in his welfare. But surely if you, his sister, make a loving effort for his confidence it will not be in vain. He speaks in a year or two of proceeding to college. It is a most important matter that his character and principles should be established before he takes this step. He may be drifting into perils, but it cannot be too late yet to arrest such a course. If you take my advice, you will persuade him to trust you fully and utterly. This matter may hinder your studies, but the time will not be wasted if you secure a brother's trust and love.

Very sincerely yours,

Harold Kingdon.

Slowly and thoughtfully Orabel destroys the letter, and goes gravely on her way. Her mind is full of Philip, yet a while ago she might have kept that letter as a hidden prize. Laura's words have unconsciously been the cause of her changed feelings. Even amid her concern for Philip, she feels she does not desire to preserve as a treasure the calligraphy of him who has chosen Miss Maberley to fill the place she rejected once with such decision.

Well, it is no use thinking about the past. This matter of poor Philip is of vital concern to all the family. How Orabel longs now for Annis to be here, or for the gentle mother, so wise, so clever, and yet so tender and meek, who seemed to understand the dispositions of all her children, and how to deal with those who were out of health in body or in mind.

As she walks on through the woods, the remembrance comes to Orabel of the source of her lost mother's strength and helpfulness, and of the comforting words the dying lips whispered to her eldest daughter as she knelt, almost heart-broken, beside her bed: "My child, you will lose my voice, my guidance for a season, but the ever-living God will be your help, your guide, if you will ask Him. Walk humbly with Him, Orabel, and commit your way to Him. I have tried and proved His promise -- none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate."

And before Orabel goes down to lunch today she kneels alone upstairs by the open window, and sees the arch of heaven look down between the trees, and she casts the feebleness, of which day by day she seems to be learning more, into the arms of her Heavenly Father's Omnipotent Power.

Philip is having a holiday just now, and directly after lunch he takes his cap and is off to the river where the Jancys have a boat-house of their own. Orabel asks him if he will take her on the water. He looks surprised, but answers gruffly, "I don't care. Girls arc dreadfully in the way, but you can come if you like."

They stroll down to the river together. Philip is studying for the senior Cambridge local examination, and the conversation turns into this channel. The boy grows more amiable and interested in spite of himself, and Orabel wonders it has never dawned upon her to offer help in his home studies -- he has perhaps been too proud to ask -- but they both perceive there are many points in which her assistance would be invaluable, and he begins to tell her some of his difficulties as they walk on towards the river.

"I say, Orabel," he bursts out bluntly, as they drift along upon the quiet river, "what makes you so different from what you used to be? You used to be as stiff as a poker, but now all the girls say you're getting a jolly old brick. It's ages since you've read me a lecture, and father says you look after him like Annis used to. Whatever has come to you, I wonder."

He flushes as he speaks, and looks at her curiously, but with a glimmer of affection which is new to her from those mischievous eyes.

"Am I different?" asks Orabel, trying to speak lightly. "Well, I found out that for a good many years I have been idolizing Ego. I found out that nobody loved me half so well as they loved Annis."

"Dear old Annis," says Philip, regretfully. "I hope she'll soon be back. If Nigel isn't good to her, he'll have to answer to me."

"You need not be afraid of that," smiles Orabel. "He knows he has found a prize. She will be back at Heron Chase in a fortnight now, Philip. Yes, I know you miss her sorely. I wish you would let me try to take her place in some measure. I wish you would give me some of the confidence you used to give Annis."

"Oh, you!" says Philip, reddening. "You are always so busy with your writing."

"Philip, Philip, dear," cries Orabel, earnestly, "you make me ashamed of myself when you say that. Is it possible that anybody in my home thinks I count my writing beyond the needs of those I love? Indeed, indeed I do not, Philip. If I have seemed to do so, I am sadly to blame, but every line of my new book might perish sooner than I would see one of you in trouble. I mean it, Philip."

He glances at her furtively, but makes no answer beyond a whistle that does not sound so lively as usual.

"And, Philip, I know you are in some trouble now. Why are you bearing it all alone? Tell me what you have done, Philip. Who should help you if not your sister? Let me see if there is a way out from your trouble. Have you been doing something to displease Mr. Mayne? Is there some mischief going on among the boys?"

"Oh, no, it is worse than that," says Philip, brokenly. "It is worse than you can think, Orabel. I'll tell you all if you will keep it from everybody \-- but I know you'll tell father."

"You must trust me as to that," says Orabel, firmly. "If I think it will be for your good for father to know, I may tell him, but not unless it is really necessary. Mother is not here now to share his worries."

"Mother?" repeats Philip, turning his face away to hide the pain of the sudden memory. Orabel lays her hand on his arm, and the whole story of weakness and trouble and fear comes out. Her face pales as she listens, but the hand that touches him is not withdrawn. It seems that a London betting-agent addressed a tempting circular to the boys studying at Mr. Mayne's. How he knew their names is not known, but one day several of these circulars were delivered to them, and some of the boys took them to Mr. Mayne, who wrote indignantly to the agent and also published the facts in the county paper, warning schoolmasters against such circulars.

Philip, however, was in temporary need of money, having used his allowance to pay the expenses of a galvanic machine, which he was anxious to improve when he could afford some more wire for a coil. The Squire said he would advance no more money, and Annis had already cleared her pockets in support of the machine. Philip here saw an easy way of turning two shillings into a sovereign. He opened dealings with the agent by post, and was successful three times in succession. He won money, and then his luck turned. The agent allowed his debts to remain, to be redeemed by some future bet, but the amount has now swollen. As Philip cannot even send a single instalment of payment, the agent has lately threatened to apply to his father.

"I don't know what to do, Orabel," he cries, in accents that reveal how he has been suffering, and what a relief it is to open his heart at last to somebody. "I tried to sell my machine, but I couldn't find anybody to buy it. And my silver watch is all out of order -- it wouldn't bring two pounds, and I owe fifteen."

"Fifteen pounds! Why, Philip, however can you owe so much? But I suppose betting debts run up almost beyond one's calculation," and Orabel sighs as she thinks of an uncle, of whom her father sometimes speaks with grief, as dragged down by betting. He has passed away, but it is a sad memory. She shudders at the thought of a similar career before her fresh-faced, bright-eyed brother.

"You will not tell father, Orabel? He would be so terribly angry."

"No, dear, I will not tell him, but I entreat you to tell him, Philip. This money must be paid, and only father can pay it. And, besides, he will know how to deal with the case. I have not fifteen shillings, Philip, for I spent my last sovereign on the twins' birthday presents, and my quarterly allowance will not come for three weeks. Besides, I think it is right father should know. I am leaving it to you. I will not tell him myself, but if he will pay it for you I will tell him he can use my allowance till he is repaid. I have plenty of clothes, and my needs are few."

Philip colours with shame, and exclaims in a low voice, "Kingdon would have paid it for me, perhaps, but I could not ask him."

"I am glad you could not, dear. He is nearly a stranger...." But here Orabel's own voice breaks down, and there is silence between them.

No more is said on the subject till they get home, and then they catch sight of the Squire in his gunroom. Orabel whispers, "Come and tell him now, Philip. Delay will make it harder. I will go with you. Come and tell him all the truth."

The boy looks up at the strength of his sister's face. He retreats towards the schoolroom, but presently returns, and follows her into his father's presence.

"Father," says Orabel, and the Squire turns in surprise at the falter in her voice. "Father, Philip is in great trouble. He has acted very foolishly. Please forgive him, for I am sure this will never happen again."

"Philip," says the Squire, in a tone of affright, "what is all this? Tell me the worst, boy. Have you been lying ... stealing?"

Philip stammers out the tale. He expects to be dealt with sternly, and he is beginning to relapse into the moody sullenness which has characterised him of late. At first he is the most composed of the three, but he breaks down into tears when his father writes down the agent's address and says he will deal with this matter and effect a settlement.

"Whatever I pay him, Philip," he says, "I shall deduct from your allowance. I shall deduct a third each month till all is paid. And the gold watch I promised you next birthday for your progress at Mr. Mayne's must wait now for another year. But, oh, my boy, it is not a question of punishment and penalties. It is a question of deadening your moral sense, of ruining your career, of breaking my heart. Philip, for your mother's sake, boy, you must not grow up a gambler. Remember, you are my only son."

The Squire's emotion goes sharply, deeply down into Philip's heart. He clings to his father. He tries to thank him, to promise to keep from such troubles again, but his voice seems choked and he can find no words.

"Father, we can trust him," says Orabel. "I know we can. We shall be proud of Philip yet. He will be no gambler. He will never forget this day. I know he will grow up to be everything our mother wished and prayed for."

"I will, Orabel \-- Heaven help me," cries the boy, and then he squeezes her so tightly as to crumple all the lace of her cape, and darts from the room.

"Why, Orabel, my daughter," says the Squire fondly, "you are your mother over again. You are getting to be our guardian angel."

Although Orabel has tasted the sweets of compliments many and various, no praise has ever stirred her heart like this which falls from her father's lips.

### Chapter 13

### A Dread Visitant

Philip and the juveniles are not the only ones who discern that a softer, milder spirit has come to Orabel. Even the servants agree among themselves that "things ain't near as bad as expected, and she's a deal nicer than what she did use to be." And Miss Maberley, who has many important matters occupying her thoughts just now, is grateful for the immunity she enjoys from examination as to her mental progress and instruction in the art of education.

Orabel realizes that it is quite possible that she, too, may make mistakes at times as well as other people, and discerning with what gentle tact Miss Maberley guides the varying dispositions of her scholars, Orabel has begun to think it is almost as well to leave her alone and let her pursue the system her heart dictates, unhindered by disquisitions as to the methods and theories of others.

Orabel has therefore kept out of the schoolroom of late, much more than in former days when she was wont to interrupt a lesson with a patronizing, "Don't you think, Miss Maberley, that your style of instruction may be just a little out of date?" Or by a summons to the scholar to come over to her side and receive her own opinions on the subject in question. Perhaps Miss Maberley has noticed her absence, and may feel a little offended. "She may feel I am neglecting her," thinks Orabel. "Annis was so often in and out of the schoolroom. She may think I have heard about the Doctor's attentions, and that I am resenting them. I would not have anyone suppose such a thing for the world. It may be Laura's mistake. Perhaps they are not really going to be engaged. I hope he will be very, very happy. She is very sweet-tempered, just his ideal sort of wife, I know -- but I should like to know if it is really to come to pass."

She takes her account books one day into the schoolroom, just as Miss Maberley's time is up, and she is putting on her hat for departure.

"You will have a wet walk," says Orabel kindly. "I hope you will not catch cold."

"Oh, I do not mind rain, Miss Jancy. I am used to that. I have been a daily teacher too long to dread the weather."

"It is a trying life at best," remarks Orabel, "but of course one does not expect it to last for ever. You will not have to face the elements like this, perhaps, much longer."

"Why not?" asks Miss Maberley, crimsoning, and looking ready to take flight.

"Oh, a little bird whispered something to me -- that is all," says Orabel, seeing the happy blushes with an unaccountable sinking at her heart.

"Miss Jancy," says the governess, in a half frightened whisper, "I do not know who has told you. I have not even told Annis, though I meant to do so on her return. But nothing is decided yet; else, of course, I should have spoken to you and Mr. Jancy. I know, of course, I should have to give my proper notice."

"I think father would waive that under the circumstances. I congratulate you from my heart," says Orabel, trying to smile.

"But, Miss Jancy, I haven't said 'Yes' yet. Indeed, he has given me time to think about it, and I do not know what to say. We two are so different. I fear he is mistaken in thinking I could make him happy."

"I have heard it said people often choose their opposites," says Orabel, consolingly. "If he wants you, you may be sure he is the best judge as to your fitness to make him happy. But how do you think your mother could stand the change? Would she be well enough to go with you? You would not leave her behind?"

"He says she is to live with us," says the girl, brokenly. "He proposes such comforts for her. Of course it would be for mother's benefit, but I am not good enough for him."

"Yes, you are, dear. Say 'Yes', and make him happy," and to Miss Maberley's extreme surprise, Orabel stoops down and kisses her, and glides away, leaving the recipient of the kiss, amid all her agitation, a good deal reassured by the thought that the clever Miss Jancy deems it possible she might be able "to make him happy."

"Next time I see Dr. Kingdon," thinks Orabel, "I will be careful to congratulate him. He must not suppose I care. Of course it is all for the best. We are both too strong-minded. We never should have suited each other. And she is a better, sweeter, far truer woman than I am. I cannot wonder he has chosen her instead."

Despite all Orabel's philosophy, she is in very low spirits just now. Fortunately for her, there are the girls' winter wardrobes to be thought of, and wedding gifts for the future Mrs. Dolibo. A grand welcome home is planned for Annis and the Parminters, when the young Jancys are to erect evergreen arches in the avenue, and devise mottoes and bunting and everything that can bespeak affection and joy.

On the day before the first couple, the Rutherglens, are expected, Orabel is sitting alone in her observatory trying to concentrate her ideas upon the manuscript of Luna. But the depression that seizes sometimes upon active minds has marked her for its own. She knows she ought to be at work, yet she sits, leaning back in her chair, her hands clasped at the back of her head, a listless, do-nothing feeling upon her that is foreign to her nature. She feels as if nothing could rouse her again -- as if, somehow, she were wrecked on a sort of immaterial Land's End, where the lights of hope are not.

She sees the leafy arches gleaming to welcome the bride; she hears her young sisters laughing in a noisy game of shuttlecock about the corridors. What part has she in life's hope and joy, she who is tired of study, tired of herself, a self-confessed and palpable failure?

"Lord, many times I am aweary quite,

Of mine own self, my sins, my vanity --

Yet be not Thou, or I am lost outright,

Weary of me."

Orabel wonders where she has heard these words that seem so appropriate now to her case? Yes, they were in an album of extracts copied by her mother; and these verses of Trench's impressed her once so deeply that she committed them to memory.

"And hate against myself I often bear,

And enter with myself in fierce debate;

Take Thou my part against myself, nor share

In that just hate."

She repeats the words softly now, repeats them till some glimmer of daybreak steals in upon her depression. Is she altogether a failure \-- hopeless, useless, irretrievable, if God is not wearied of her yet outright? What matters it that she seems to hate herself, if only He does not hate her?

A while ago Orabel was, in her own eyes, of the utmost value and consequence. Now that she is growing to be the heart of her home, it occurs to her that she is of no use in the world, and nobody wants her, and she might as well have never been born.

Amid such reflections as these, Carry and Kitty come rushing together upstairs to say, "Papa has come in early from the court, and he has gone to lie down. He seems very unwell. Will Orabel please come?"

Orabel leaves Luna and her reflections upon her own wasted existence, and hurries to her father's bedroom where she finds the old village apothecary, Dr. Dill, who met the Squire on his way to the Hall, and accompanied him home at his request.

Mr. Jancy is on the magisterial bench, and is inclined to think he has caught some infection from some Romani gypsies whom he discharged with a caution as to trespassing, and who followed him somewhat persistently into the courtyard to shower blessings upon his head.

Dr. Dill has had a case of smallpox some months since in a gypsy encampment, and he purses up his lips and shakes his head as the Squire complains of chills, nausea, and backache. Orabel is frightened at the doctor's expression, and in private begs him to tell her the truth.

"Well, my dear young lady, I do not wish to frighten you, but I have my suspicions, though I cannot speak positively for a day or two."

"Do you think father is only sickening for something minor? I remember he complained of a chill yesterday. Do you not think it may be only a bad cold?"

"Let us hope so," says Dr. Dill, "but it is always best to look on the worst side of things. This is the safest course in the end, and it is my duty to tell you I suspect smallpox."

Orabel suppresses the cry of dismay which rises to her lips. She listens with ears attentive to the doctor's rules as to the patient's isolation and all necessary details.

"I will send a nurse," he says, "but I may not be able to get one immediately. Who will take charge of the Squire meanwhile?"

"Why, Doctor, I shall," says Orabel. "I will remember your instructions, and give father plenty of milk and beef tea and that sort of thing."

"But, my dear, the risk of infection----"

"Oh, I have been vaccinated. I was done again last year," says Orabel, "and I have no beauty to be afraid of losing."

She speaks seriously, as if stating what she knows to be a fact. Old Dr. Dill glances at her resolute face, tells her she is quite a heroine, and goes downstairs shaking his head regretfully, yet feeling a little added importance in taking charge of so serious a case at the Hall, the Jancys being as a rule so remarkably healthy.

In the space of a few hours Orabel's vigorous talent for organisation has asserted itself. A note to Heron Chase has brought a reply from old Mrs. Rutherglen, inviting all the younger members of the family who are divided between grief for their father and Orabel, and delight in sharing the home of Annis. Finally, Philip is located with Mr. Mayne, who has recommenced his teaching again at the close of his holiday tour. Laura and Etta are taken in by Miss Maberley, and the rest go to Heron Chase.

The servants are warned that only those recently re-vaccinated must have anything to do with helping Orabel, and even they she insists are not to come beyond the top of the landing. Disinfectants make their presence apparent everywhere. Dr. Dill is lost in admiration of Miss Jancy's thoughtfulness and courage; and the Squire, though full of nervousness and masculine despair as to his condition, evidently believes his one hope is in his daughter, and can scarcely bear her out of his sight.

Three days later, Dr. Kingdon, who has been absent for a while from Hollybourne, comes across young Mrs. Annis Rutherglen standing with red eyes, talking to the gardener's wife at the lodge.

"Oh, Dr. Kingdon, if you would only speak to Nigel. He will not let me go nearer than this. Oh, do tell him it is safe for me to go and help. Papa is so ill, and Orabel is wearing herself out."

"It is no use, Annis," says Nigel, taking her hand fondly, but revealing to her now that he means to exercise his prerogative of command. "Orabel undertook the charge before anyone could prevent her, and no one has a right to try. But you are my wife, and I shall not let you run into smallpox."

"Smallpox!" echoes Dr. Kingdon. "I heard the Squire was ill, but I did not know of this. I was just going there. My dear Mrs. Rutherglen, your husband is really in the right. You must not run into danger. Surely there is a nurse. She ... Orabel is not alone?"

"The nurse as were expected haven't come yet, sir," says the gardener's wife. "But don't take on so, Miss Annis, dear. Miss Orabel's as good as ten nurses, they say, and she don't know what fear is."

"But she cannot sit up night and day," says Dr. Kingdon, abruptly. "Ah, here comes Dr. Dill. I should like to know how the case goes on."

"I wish you would see the Squire," says Nigel, in a low voice, "Dill is so opinionated, and a trifle obstinate. He is a good old fellow, but behind the times. There ought to be a second opinion."

Just then Dr. Dill hails him, and asks him if he is willing to brave the sickroom. "It is rather a puzzling case," says he. "The symptoms are not so marked as I expected they would prove. I should like the benefit of your opinion. I mentioned it to Squire Jancy yesterday. He is dreadfully nervous, and if I sent to town for a physician he would think he is dying. But he seemed pleased at my proposal to consult you."

"Oh, I am so glad you are going in, Dr. Kingdon," says Annis, tearfully. "Give Orabel my dearest love, and tell papa it is only this cruel tyrant of a husband who keeps me away from him!" She looks up at Nigel's tender, resolute face with a smile of wifely comprehension amid her tears.

### Chapter 14

### "Saved"

Orabel meets the doctors in the corridor leading to her father's room. She looks pale and tired, but at the sight of Dr. Kingdon she flushes with surprise and evident pleasure. She, too, has been anxious for a second opinion, and the warm pressure of Dr. Kingdon's hand seems sufficient to calm her nerves and reassure her fears. Of course all foolish thoughts about him must be over. He belongs to Miss Maberley, but Orabel knows him to be a clever doctor, and he seems to understand that her own head is aching and her limbs are weary now.

"Dr. Dill," she says, "I really think father seems just a little better. He had a quiet night, and the backache has left him."

"And there is no rash out yet?"

Orabel shakes her head, bewildered. This must surely be a new kind of smallpox and perhaps a more virulent one. "Do you think the rash has struck inwardly instead of coming out?" she asks, faintly, but the two doctors have already proceeded to the Squire's room.

Afterwards, they engage for some little time in converse together. "Yes, I think we may safely arrive at such a decision now," Orabel hears Dr. Dill remark as he goes downstairs. "Well, anything is better than suspense. I dare say Mrs. Rutherglen is waiting at the Lodge. I will tell her our opinion."

Orabel goes forward to entreat him to tell her the worst, and Dr. Kingdon approaches her with a smile, and takes her hands to steady her as she rests feebly against the wall.

"Orabel, you will be Dr. Dill's next patient, I fancy. You ought to go to bed and sleep for a couple of days."

"My head does feel dizzy. Do you think I have caught it? Oh, Dr. Kingdon, you ought not to stand so near me. Think of the danger."

"Miss Jancy, I have a bit of news for you -- good news and true. There is not a trace of smallpox about your father. All he needed was to be well nursed and cosseted, and that you have done for him. The damp weather has caused a rheumatic cold, and nervous fears have weakened his system. It is a pity Dr. Dill told him of that smallpox case last year among the gypsies -- but even nervousness cannot bring on the disease with him, I assured him. So it is no use for him to lie waiting for its arrival. Miss Annis ... Mrs. Rutherglen, I mean ... can come in and see her father as soon as she likes. Dr. Dill is equally convinced with myself that this is only a cold."

"Oh, Dr. Kingdon!" This is all Orabel can say in the excess of relief. She feels that if she uttered much more the tears would flow forth, and she would break down utterly. Why does he still hold her hands? She knows she ought to congratulate him. According to her resolve, she makes one brave attempt, "May you be very happy with her. You have won a prize," and then the words end in a sob, and she says the Squire will want her, and draws her cold, trembling hands from his.

Within a few hours of Dr. Dill's reassuring announcement of the state of the case, the nurse that gentleman sent for arrives at the Hall. She finds her position almost unnecessary, as Annis and Laura are in attendance on the Squire, and he is sitting up in an easy chair, rebelling against beef tea, and is impatient to revisit his cattle.

The girls would make of Orabel a general pet and heroine, but her system seems prostrated by fatigue. Dr. Dill is treating her with quinine and iron for want of tone, and she is glad to be ordered to lie on the sofa. She despises herself for the feeling that the greatest happiness life can hold is to remain on that couch and do nothing for ever and ever.

"I wish you would tell us what is really wrong with Orabel," says Annis one day, anxiously, to Dr. Kingdon. "She seems to have grown so languid, and we all think she is getting thinner. She still works hard at her book, but does not seem so absorbed in it. Even the medal they sent her from the Logical Association the other day did not excite her as once it would have done."

"I think she is going in a decline," says Laura, "like the heroine of my new library book, The White Rose of the Valley. Orabel has grown so kind, and she never scolds us now. I am sure she is not long for this world."

"She is under Dr. Dill," says Annis, "but I am not sure if quinine is the best thing for her. It always made my head ache."

"Miss Jancy," says Dr. Kingdon, going straight to the couch where Orabel is dressing twin dolls for the admiring Poppy who is standing by; "do you know you are making your family very anxious? How many bottles of quinine have you taken? Two? You ought to be much more vigorous by this time."

"I am getting very strong," says Orabel, letting the dolls suddenly down to the floor to Poppy's consternation. "I am only lazy. Wintry weather is the time to enjoy the comforts of home. Do you not find an English winter very trying? But perhaps you will leave before the extreme cold sets in?"

"My leave is not up till the spring," he replies; "and then, do you know, Miss Jancy, I have some idea of leaving the army. During my visit to England I have been fortunate enough to come into a small inheritance. I think I shall buy a little house somewhere near Hollybourne, where perhaps I could practise a little occasionally still. So my return to India will only be for a few months at most. I do not think I shall ever like any place as well as Hollybourne now. I wish to settle down in England, and enjoy more leisure for study and research." He fixes his eyes on Poppy who is comforting the dolls from their fall.

"Yes," says Orabel, after a pause, "that will be a pleasant arrangement. It will be nice to have her near us still. India would be a long journey for her poor mother, too."

Dr. Kingdon turns and looks at her. Orabel feels the hot, tell-tale blushes creeping up to her face and brow. Just then Miss Maberley looks in, seeking Poppy, and Orabel murmurs something about "getting on with Luna," and hurries from the room, abandoning her couch with the benevolent design of leaving the two together.

It would have been easier to bear her sorrow had Dr. Kingdon not spoken of settling in England. How will she be able, as the months go on, to see them side by side, and feel that to Dr. Kingdon she is still the same hard, loveless, unwomanly creature that he justly ranked so far below Annis and every true, unselfish heart? Orabel feels she would be willing that the waves rolled between Harold Kingdon and herself.

The idea comes to her that she, herself, might obtain some appointment abroad -- if only Laura were old enough to be left in charge. Well, she will be soon. Orabel longs feverishly for the time to arrive when she will be beyond sound of the Doctor's voice, and out of the sight of the mutual happiness that yet she would not interfere with even if she could.

Miss Brierley is no longer president of the Mount Athene Club. She has resigned, as her home after marriage will be in London. But part of the honeymoon is spent in pretty little Minerva Cottage which belongs to her, and the Hollybourne folks say both the Professor and Mrs. Dolibo are looking twenty years younger than in the past. The Squire gives a dinner party in their honour, at which the other two recently wedded couples are present, and the young folks resolve to carry out the grand doings in the way of welcome which were frustrated by Mr. Jancy's illness.

Fireworks and illuminations and torchlight performances in the garden are the order of the day. The fireworks are not so successful as Philip, the manager in general, expected, owing to scarcity of funds and a drizzling rain. The children sing a bridal chorus by torchlight, but Orabel is obliged to prevent the march round the grounds, as a heavy shower is setting in.

The illuminations in the schoolroom, however, are on a grand scale, and Annis hugs Philip gratefully for the honour he is doing them. Nightlights in glasses are suspended in long, glimmering rows, and every pane is lighted up by candles, generously contributed from the household stores. Philip has fixed a banner on the window itself in luminous paint, "A long life and a good wife," and each of the bridegrooms mentally receives the compliment as specially personal.

The young folks sit up till the candles have burnt out, and then seek repose. Orabel lies sleepless for a long time, wondering why Dr. Kingdon did not avail himself of the many opportunities she, as hostess, contrived for him to linger at Miss Maberley's side. Can she possibly have refused him? Yet he did not look like one rejected and unhappy.

At last such thoughts change to dreams, and she is gathering flowers for their marriage morn and crowning the bride, as the vocal chorus sung last evening ordained, when she is suddenly awakened by a scream and becomes conscious of trampling feet about the house, hysterical cries of maids, the voices of her sisters calling on her name, and a general smell of smoke and burning.

"Orabel, wake \-- the house is on fire!" screams Laura. "Fly for your life!"

Orabel draws on a few things hurriedly, wraps her dressing gown round her, and rushes to the landing which seems silent now, and where the smoke is almost suffocating. Wild ideas cross her mind of what is to be saved. She catches up a bronze bust from the hall and lets it drop, remembering her manuscript -- her Luna \-- which represents so much toil, so much earnest study, so much fame.

"I must save my book," she inwardly cries out, and feels her way to the observatory, but is presently seized by two strong arms, and she knows, before she hears his voice, that she is held by Dr. Kingdon.

"Orabel, thank Heaven I have found you. Come down now, before the staircase is unsafe. I will carry you quickly through the smoke."

"No, no, I must save my book! I know just where it is. I cannot lose my book!"

"Let us go together, then," he says, hurriedly. "Be quick, or it will be too late. We do not know yet the extent of the fire."

Just then there comes from outside a wild cry of "Poppy!" It is evident to them both that the child is missing.

"Oh, let me go!" cries Orabel. "The fire is worst in the schoolroom. The child must be somewhere there. She has gone to try and save her dolls."

"I will come back," says Dr. Kingdon. "I shall take you out first."

"No, let me go," cries Orabel, and she finds strength in that moment of agony to wrest herself from his grasp. "Oh, Dr. Kingdon, do help me. Help me save Poppy, my darling little sister. Oh, never mind my book -- save Poppy!"

A little faint, moaning sound reaches them then, and Orabel bends down suddenly to the floor. The child is insensible through the smoke, lying there in the darkness, her little arms full of her dolls.

Poppy is no light burden, but Orabel lifts her up and holds her passionately to her heart, trembling with thankfulness and relief.

"Dr. Kingdon, where are the stairs? I cannot see. Come quickly. Get Poppy into the air."

"But is your manuscript to be lost, Orabel? The fire may spread to your study, and all will be lost."

"Yes, yes, I know, but think of Poppy. Let my book go. Save Poppy."

She will not surrender the child, and he half leads her, half supports her down the broad staircase, lifting the two of them at last over the threshold.

"Oh, Dr. Kingdon," a chorus of voices cries out, "the firemen are up in the schoolroom. Little Poppy is missing. Oh, what has become of Poppy?"

"She is here," says the Doctor. "Mr. Jancy, where are you? Be comforted, sir, all your dear ones are safe. Here is your little Poppy. Orabel has saved her."

Loving, eager hands lift the child up and carry her to the Lodge, and a glad shout of thanksgiving goes up from every lip, "Saved, saved!"

The Squire kneels down beside Orabel and takes her head upon his knee, and an anxious throng gathers around her. But Dr. Kingdon begs them to give her air, for she has fainted, and she knows no more after that cry of "Saved!"

### Chapter 15

### (Last Chapter)

### Christmas Music

Five weeks have passed away, bringing near the peaceful time of Yule. The Squire's labourers have been hard at work upon such parts of the Hall as were damaged by smoke and fire, for all the young Jancys are clamorous to have everything in order for Christmas Day when a great gathering of the clans is to be held, and a good old-fashioned Christmas, such as Squire Jancy delights to keep, is to be the order of the day.

Thanks to the vigour of the menservants, the farmhands, and the firemen, the damage proves to be far less than what was feared at first. The walls are much blackened by smoke, but these are soon set right, and the schoolroom, which suffered the most, is being rapidly restored. The Jancys thankfully acknowledge that things might have been far worse. It is supposed that a nightlight must have fallen amid some woodwork, and that a smouldering flame burst into power at last.

It turns out that little Poppy was the first to give the alarm. She remembered that her baby doll was on the schoolroom windowsill, and the child rose in the dark to endeavour to fetch it in. Then she saw the glare of fire and screamed out to the household. The doll's body was found among the debris, and Poppy gives it reverent burial, considering it a martyr to the safety of the Hall, and remarking that but for her poor Angelina May, the house might have been burnt to the ground.

"Yes, darling," says Orabel tenderly, "you shall have a rose bush by-and-by to mark Angelina's grave. It will remind us all of Heaven's mercy to us in that night of peril."

Luna and her Revolutions proved to be intact. Orabel has returned to it now, resolved to forget all foolish dreams by genuine hard work, but she was ill for a fortnight in the little white chamber at the Lodge -- the best bedroom in the gardener's house -- and the attack has not served to improve her former weakness and depression.

Dr. Kingdon is a good deal at the Hall just now -- too much for Orabel's peace of mind. She accepts a pressing invitation from the Parminters, and Cousin Elizabeth, anxious to rest her nerves, makes no allusion to the fire. Orabel is intensely grateful to her, as a horror has seized her lately of posing as heroine or celebrity, and her rescue of Poppy has been the theme of the county papers.

"How good it is to be here, Elizabeth," she says one day to the mistress of the old country house, who seems to have fallen very naturally into her new position. "There seems such a restful atmosphere about this place -- a sort of stained glass, rose-leaf state of things, if you understand what I mean. I know I fail to express myself when I attempt to poetise, but even at this dreary time of the year your house seems charming to me. What is the secret, Elizabeth? You hold the household reins with far less fuss than I do. I find it harder to keep house than to solve a problem. There seem so many things to think about, trivial yet necessary, that I get quite fidgeted sometimes. And you, who have been a teacher all your life, can make the household work so smoothly. I wish you would tell me how you manage."

"My rule is the same, dear Orabel, as when I taught," says cousin Elizabeth Parminter, with a smile. "It took me years to learn its value, but I have learnt to practise it at last. My rule is this, I Live a day at a time."

"But how can you manage that, Elizabeth? I know I am addicted to over-worrying and excessive care, but one must take some thought for the morrow."

"Yes, Orabel, and I often have my memoranda two or three days ahead; for I never believed in my teaching days in burdening my memory with everything. At a time of leisure I used to make notes of coming requirements, and I do so still. You will laugh, perhaps, when I tell you I have the meals arranged, or rather sketched out roughly, for two weeks in advance. But I had plenty of spare time yesterday, so I amused myself in that way. What I mean, dear, is this -- pardon my saying it, but do you not distress yourself by wondering sometimes how you are going to get through tomorrow and the next day, and the weeks ahead, and so on? Dispositions differ, but I think that is your nature. I know it is mine. I used always to be brooding over future crosses and clouds, and wondering as to my coming life, and if my health would hold out, and so on. There are bound to be problems and upsets at times. Servants are ill, the cooking is bad, breakages occur, we ourselves feel out of sorts and irritable perhaps. Still, I refuse to anticipate such troubles, or to let the prospect worry me. I have learnt to thank God from my heart for today, and leave tomorrow to Him. If my home seems to you one of calm and peace, that is my secret, Orabel."

"And yet," says Orabel, wistfully, "one would like to read the future, Elizabeth; to know what is in store, and feel that all suspense is at an end. Sometimes I think that to pay me out for all my selfishness and conceit the days before me are full of darkness and humbling."

"Cousin Orabel," is the earnest answer, "do not speak of paying out. Remember that every step of the road before you will be chosen by the God of love. Here are some lines I wrote once concerning this subject. I would not show my poor verses, only I do so long for you to leave off worrying yourself, and trust each step of the way to Him who never will fail you."

Orabel holds up her face to kiss the earnest one bent down to her, and reads her cousin's lines. These run as follows:

Fret not thyself to understand

What coming days may bring;

Thy fate is in thy Father's hand,

Thy life is with thy King:

Why should thy secret plaints be poured

For sorrow far away?

For each tomorrow trust thy Lord,

And rest in Him today.

Put thou these dark forebodings by,

He knows thy feeble frame --

Lift thou thy trembling hands on high,

Thy help is in His Name!

Within, without, though clouds be dim,

In Christ is dawn of day;

The Light is near thee, look to Him,

And be at rest for aye.

And if thy cares be all in vain,

Yet thou art conscious still

Of needless fears and doubts and pain

Thy troubled thoughts that fill,

Yet cast whate'er is weight to thee

On Him, thy strength, thy stay;

Because He loves eternally,

Oh, take thy rest alway.

"I did not know you wrote verses, Elizabeth," says Orabel, after a pause. "That is something I never could manage."

"Never mind about my versifying, Orabel," says her cousin, colouring and smiling. "I am obliged to write things down sometimes. They come into my head and heart. But about the meaning of my lines -- will you try to worry less, and leave life's tomorrows with Him who errs not?"

"I wish I could," says Orabel, brokenly. "Elizabeth, I will pray for more faith, for I know everything will be for the best. Only I get into these fits of depression."

"Yes, pray," whispers her cousin. "That is the first step out of gloom."

At that moment Squire Parminter comes in and draws his wife to him with such hearty satisfaction in her company that she feels in her heart she has indeed good reason to thank her Saviour daily for the love that encompasses her lot.

Soon after Orabel returns home, she receives a letter that causes her a good deal of thought and perplexity. She carries it to her father, and he reads it in silence, and after a long pause he tells her this is a matter she must decide for herself.

"It seems to be the sort of post you have often craved, my child," he says, and then he adds wistfully, "But how can we spare you across the ocean?"

Orabel remembers the time when he spoke resignedly of losing her for India, and is thankful her father cannot trust his voice to discuss a distant journey for her now. An answer is requested within three weeks. Orabel reads the letter again and again -- she prays over it, too -- but it seems impossible to arrive at a decision. She is offered a lucrative and most honourable post in a newly-founded college for women in Australia. The duties would be just to her liking, and were there only herself to consider she would decide at once in the affirmative, for out there she would be far away from the sight of the happiness of Dr. Kingdon and his wife, which she knows must inevitably hold some thorns for her heart at first.

Yes, she craves to leave England, never again to see his face, or be reminded of her vain and hopeless love. But her sister Laura could scarcely look after things at the Hall just now, and even if she could, how can the Squire and Philip and Annis and all the dear ones be left so far behind? Orabel knows and feels that Mr. Jancy depends much upon her decision and strength of character, and his face plainly begged her not to assent to the Australian project.

As yet, she does not tell the others, but the days go on, and she inwardly argues the pros and cons, and seems no nearer coming to any decision. Yet the letter must be answered soon, for if she declines they have others in view for the post.

On Christmas Eve, Dr. Kingdon, who has been in London purchasing seasonable offerings for various friends and young cousins, returns to Hollybourne,. He turns his steps to the Hall with a view to the stocking which Poppy has announced she intends to hang up. She is not yet eight years old -- surely she is not too big to anticipate a visit from Santa Claus.

The Doctor feels an unexpected glow at his heart as he catches sight of the lights gleaming across the shining holly bushes that give their name to the Hall. Even in town his thoughts have been with this home. How is it that the rambling old house among the trees has become so precious to him? How is it that he suspects his hand of shaking a little as he plies the brass knocker?

He meets Laura in the hall, and entrusts her with a cherubic-looking baby doll for Poppy, and with various other packages of a delightfully mysterious aspect.

"We are hanging the holly," says Laura. "Won't you come and help us? I think papa is in the library. He was there a little while ago."

Dr. Kingdon taps at the door. He has brought some books from town on agricultural chemistry that the Squire was anxious to see. Orabel is with her father, and even the good Squire notices how the blood leaps to her fair young face at the sudden entrance of the visitor.

Kingdon, too, seems less self-possessed than usual, and holds Orabel's hand longer than seems quite necessary. Noting these signs, Squire Jancy begins to think the settlement of the Australian plan may not be so difficult as has appeared. He smiles at Orabel in rather an embarrassing manner, and leaves the room saying the youngsters will want him, and begging the Doctor to take a seat.

"It is seasonable weather," remarks Orabel, turning to the fire, and wondering how soon she can leave him without discourtesy. "You have had a cold journey."

"Yes," answers Dr. Kingdon, approaching to warm his hands. "But I could not stop long from Hollybourne. You do not look quite strong yet, Orabel. When are you going to get back your roses?"

"How is Miss Maberley?" says Orabel, pleasantly. "We have not seen her since the children broke up. I assure you I am well, Dr. Kingdon. Ah, I think I heard Poppy calling me."

"No, she did not call," he answers. "Come, Orabel, do not grudge me these few minutes. You never let me see you alone."

She looks at him reproachfully. How can he speak to her in tones like these when he has sought and chosen another? Her resolve is taken. She cannot stop where she is likely to see him, to tremble like this in his presence.

"I am going to Australia," she says. "I have been offered the post of mathematical teacher in the Somerville University there. It is somewhere near Melbourne. I believe it is a charming climate. I am going to write tonight to accept it."

"Are you?" he answers, looking down into her eyes.

"Yes, of course I am," but her voice grows faint, and she edges further away from the fire.

"Then I have heard two pieces of news today. I heard the other coming down in the train. Do you know little Miss Maberley is to become a bride this spring?"

"Yes ... at least ... I expected it," says Orabel, bravely. "Dr. Kingdon, I hope you will both enjoy every happiness. She is all that you said you wanted----"

"Ah, but she has not said 'Yes' to me, and to tell the truth I never asked her. I guessed long ago that Mayne wanted her, and he told me in the train today that this morning they settled it all between them. She is to go to the Rectory in the spring, and her mother will live with them."

"Mr. Mayne?" repeats Orabel in astonishment, a sudden light breaking upon her startled vision. "I ... I thought ... it was you!" And she murmurs something about cook wanting some sweet almonds, and makes a dart towards the door. But halfway she is arrested and brought back prisoner, and then the tears flow fast, and in Dr. Kingdon's arms she tells him she is not his ideal, and he must not think about her only out of pity.

He lets her talk on thus for a time, and then bends down and closes her lips with a kiss, and her eloquence is at an end.

"Orabel," says he, in a voice that even to her doubting heart holds the ring of tenderest truth, "Orabel, I know not when I began to love you, my noble, true-hearted little woman; but, as to being my ideal, I can only tell you that life holds but one love for me, and she is here in my arms. If you will not be my wife, I shall tread the onward journey alone. But do not take me out of compassion, nor because of my poor father's wishes, Orabel. Only take me if you love me. See what I dared to bring you for a Christmas gift -- this little Mizpah ring of pearls. I shall only be in India for a few brief months, and then I shall return and claim you, and our home will be near all your dear ones. Will you give me this hope, my darling? Will you wear my betrothal ring? Or is it too disagreeable a fetter for Orabel Jancy to take?"

He takes her face into his two strong, loving hands, and turns it so that he reads her eyes, shy and drooping with the blessed light of love.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Kingdon! ... Why ... why, Orabel!" cry the voices of numerous sisters, trooping into the study together.

"Why, Orabel, dear me, what is this?" says the Squire, bustling merrily in behind them.

"She is not going to Australia, sir," says Dr. Kingdon. "She is my own," And he holds up the hand on which the ring is shining, and kisses her crimson face before them all.

Then Orabel creeps away, amid the first notes of the sweet chimes pealing now from the church their Christmas hymn of praise, steals away to her own starlit room where she kneels down alone, and in an almost overwhelming sense of utter happiness and rest, she names the all-merciful Name of Jesus, and sobs out thanksgiving which rises as music heavenward.

THE END

### More Books

More Christian books from White Tree Publishing are on the next pages, some of which are available as both eBooks and paperbacks. More books than those shown here are available in non-fiction and fiction, for adults and younger readers. The full list of published and forthcoming books is on our website www.whitetreepublishing.com. Please visit there regularly for updates.

**White Tree Publishing** publishes mainstream evangelical Christian literature for people of all ages. We aim to make our eBooks available free for all eBook devices, but some distributors will only list our books free at their discretion, and may make a small charge for some titles -- but they are still great value!

We rely on our readers to tell their families, friends and churches about our books. Social media is a great way of doing this. Take a look at our range of fiction and non-fiction books and pass the word on. You can even contact your Christian TV or radio station to let them know about these books. Also, please write a positive review if you are able.

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

Return to Table of Contents

## Christian Non-fiction

Four short books of help in the Christian life:

_So, What Is a Christian?_ An introduction to a personal faith. Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-2-7, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-2-6

_Starting Out_ \-- help for new Christians of all ages. Paperback ISBN 978-1-4839-622-0-7, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-0-2

_Help!_ \-- Explores some problems we can encounter with our faith. Paperback ISBN 978-0-9927642-2-7, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-1-9

_Running Through the Bible_ _\--_ a simple understanding of what's in the Bible _\--_ Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-6-5, eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-3-3

### Be Still

Bible Words of Peace and Comfort

There may come a time in our lives when we want to concentrate on God's many promises of peace and comfort. The Bible readings in this book are for people who need to know what it means to be held securely in the Lord's loving arms.

Rather than selecting single verses here and there, each reading in this book is a run of several verses. This gives a much better picture of the whole passage in which a favourite verse may be found.

As well as being for personal use, these readings are intended for sharing with anyone in special need, to help them draw comfort from the reading and prayer for that date. Bible reading and prayer are the two most important ways of getting to know and trust Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour.

The reference to the verses for the day are given, for you to look up and read in your preferred Bible translation.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-4-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

116 pages 5x7.8 inches

A Previously Unpublished Book

### The Simplicity of the Incarnation

J Stafford Wright

Foreword by J I Packer

_"I believe in ... Jesus Christ ... born of the Virgin Mary."_ A beautiful stained glass image, or a medical reality? This is the choice facing Christians today. Can we truly believe that two thousand years ago a young woman, a virgin named Mary, gave birth to the Son of God? The answer is simple: we can.

The author says, _"In these days many Christians want some sensible assurance that their faith makes sense, and in this book I want to show that it does."_

In this uplifting book from a previously unpublished and recently discovered manuscript, J Stafford Wright investigates the reality of the incarnation, looks at the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, and helps the reader understand more of the Trinity and the certainty of eternal life in heaven.

This book was written shortly before the author's death in 1985. _The Simplicity of the Incarnation_ is published for the first time, unedited, from his final draft.

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-5-7

Paperback ISBN: 9-780-9525-9563-2

160 pages 5.25 x 8 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Bible People Real People

An Unforgettable A-Z of Who is Who in the Bible

In a fascinating look at real people, J Stafford Wright shows his love and scholarly knowledge of the Bible as he brings the characters from its pages to life in a memorable way.

Read this book through from A to Z, like any other title

Dip in and discover who was who in personal Bible study

Check the names when preparing a talk or sermon

The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly – no one is spared. This is a book for everyone who wants to get to grips with the reality that is in the pages of the Bible, the Word of God.

With the names arranged in alphabetical order, the Old and New Testament characters are clearly identified so that the reader is able to explore either the Old or New Testament people on the first reading, and the other Testament on the second.

Those wanting to become more familiar with the Bible will find this is a great introduction to the people inhabiting the best selling book in the world, and those who can quote chapter and verse will find everyone suddenly becomes much more real – because these people are real. This is a book to keep handy and refer to frequently while reading the Bible.

"For students of my generation the name Stafford Wright was associated with the spiritual giants of his generation. Scholarship and integrity were the hallmarks of his biblical teaching. He taught us the faith and inspired our discipleship of Christ. To God be the Glory." The Rt. Rev. James Jones, Bishop of Liverpool

_This is a lively, well-informed study of some great Bible characters._ Professor Gordon Wenham MA PhD. Tutor in Old Testament at Trinity College Bristol and Emeritus Professor of Old Testament at the University of Gloucestershire.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-5-6

314 pages 6x9 inches

Note: This book is not available in all eBook formats

### Christians and the Supernatural

J Stafford Wright

There is an increasing interest and fascination in the paranormal today. To counteract this, it is important for Christians to have a good understanding of how God sometimes acts in mysterious ways, and be able to recognize how he can use our untapped gifts and abilities in his service. We also need to understand how the enemy can tempt us to misuse these gifts and abilities, just as Jesus was tempted in the wilderness.

In this single volume of his two previously published books on the occult and the supernatural ( _Understanding the Supernatural_ and _Our Mysterious God_ ) J Stafford Wright examines some of the mysterious events we find in the Bible and in our own lives. Far from dismissing the recorded biblical miracles as folk tales, he is convinced that they happened in the way described, and explains why we can accept them as credible.

The writer says: _When God the Holy Spirit dwells within the human spirit, he uses the mental and physical abilities which make up a total human being . . . The whole purpose of this book is to show that the Bible does make sense_.

And this warning: _The Bible, claiming to speak as the revelation of God, and knowing man's weakness for substitute religious experiences, bans those avenues into the occult that at the very least are blind alleys that obscure the way to God, and at worst are roads to destruction._

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-4-0

Paperback ISBN 13: 9-780-9525-9564-9

222 pages 5.25 x 8 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Howell Harris

### His Own Story

Foreword by J. Stafford Wright

Howell Harris was brought up to regard the Nonconformists as "a perverted and dangerously erroneous set of people." Hardly a promising start for a man who was to play a major role in the Welsh Revival. Yet in these extracts from his writings and diaries we can read the thoughts of Howell Harris before, during and after his own conversion.

We can see God breaking through the barriers separating "church and chapel", and discover Christians of different denominations preparing the country for revival. Wesley, Whitefield, Harris. These great 18th century preachers worked both independently and together to preach the Living Gospel. This book is a vivid first-hand account of the joys, hardships and struggles of one of these men -- Howell Harris (1714-1773).

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-9-5

From the Streets of London

to the Streets of Gold

The Life Story of

Brother Clifford Edwards

A True Story of Love

by

Brother Clifford Edwards

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

A printed copy is available directly from Brother Clifford -- thejesusbus@hotmail.co.uk

This is the personal story of Clifford Edwards, affectionately known as Brother Clifford by his many friends. Going from fame to poverty, he was sleeping on the streets of London with the homeless for twenty years, until Jesus rescued him and gave him an amazing mission in life. Brother Clifford tells his true story here in the third person, giving the glory to Jesus.

### Seven Steps to

### Walking in Victory

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-3-5

Also available as a booklet

www.lenandlin.com

How is your Christian life going? Finding it hard and not sure why? Wherever you might be, _Seven Steps to Walking in Victory_ is a very short book to help you see where you are in the Christian life, and help you keep on the right path to the victory that comes through walking closely with Jesus -- _to live the Christian life you always wanted to live!_

### Seven Keys to

### Unlock Your Calling

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-2-3

Also available as a booklet

www.lenandlin.com

God has a special plan for each and every one of us -- that includes YOU! He has given all of us unique gifts. Not sure what that might mean for you? _Seven Keys to Unlock Your Calling_ is a very short book that will help you discover how to explore those gifts and encourage you to go deeper into all that God has for you.

English Hexapla

The Gospel of John

(Paperback only)

Published to coincide with the 400th anniversary of the Authorized King James Version of the Bible, this book contains the full text of Bagster's assembled work for the Gospel of John. On each page in parallel columns are the words of the six most important translations of the New Testament into English, made between 1380 and 1611. Below the English is the original Greek text after Scholz.

To enhance the reading experience, there is an introduction telling how we got our English Bibles, with significant pages from early Bibles shown at the end of the book.

Here is an opportunity to read English that once split the Church by giving ordinary people the power to discover God's word for themselves. Now you can step back in time and discover those words and spellings for yourself, as they first appeared hundreds of years ago.

Wyclif 1380, Tyndale 1534, Cranmer 1539, Geneva 1557,

Douay Rheims 1582, Authorized (KJV) 1611.

English Hexapla -- The Gospel of John

Published by White Tree Publishing

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-1-8

Size 7.5 x 9.7 inches paperback

Not available as an eBook

### Roddy Goes to Church

Church Life and Church People

Derek Osborne

**No, not a children's book!** An affectionate, optimistic look at church life involving, as it happens, Roddy and his friends who live in a small town. Problems and opportunities related to change and outreach are not, of course, unique to their church!

Maybe you know Miss Prickly-Cat who pointedly sits in the same pew occupied by generations of her forebears, and perhaps know many of the characters in this look at church life today. A wordy Archdeacon comes on the scene, and Roddy is taken aback by the events following his first visit to church. Roddy's best friend Bushy-Beard says wise things, and he hears an enlightened Bishop . . .

Bishop David Pytches writes: _A unique spoof on church life. Will you recognise yourself and your church here? ... Derek Osborne's mind here is insightful, his characters graphic and typical and the style acutely comical, but there is a serious message in his madness. Buy this, read it and enjoy!_

David Pytches, Chorleywood

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-0-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-09927642-0-3

46 pages 5.5 x 8.5 inches paperback UK

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Heaven Our Home

William Branks

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

"I go to prepare a place for you." This well-known promise from Jesus must cause us to think about the reality of heaven. Heaven is to be our home for ever. Where is heaven? What is it like? Will I recognize people there? All who are Christians must surely want to hear about the place where they are to spend eternity. In this abridged edition of William Branks classic work of 1861, we discover what the Bible has to say about heaven. There may be a few surprises, and there are certainly some challenges as we explore a subject on which there seems to be little teaching and awareness today.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

### I See Men as Trees, Walking

Roger and Janet Niblett

Roger and Janet Niblett were just an ordinary English couple, but then they met the Lord and

their lives were totally transformed. Like the Bethlehem shepherds of old, they had a compulsion to share the same good news that Jesus Christ had come into the world to save sinners. Empowered by the Holy Spirit they proclaimed the gospel in the market place, streets, prisons, hospitals and churches with a vibrancy that only comes from being in direct touch with the Almighty and being readily available to serve Him as a channel of His grace and love. God was with them and blessed their ministry abundantly. Praise God! (Pastor Mervyn Douglas, Clevedon Family Church)

The story of Roger Niblett is an inspiration to all who serve the Lord. He was a prolific street evangelist, whose impact on the gospel scene was a wonder to behold. It was my privilege to witness his conversion, when he went forward to receive Christ at the Elim Church, Keynsham. The preacher was fiery Scottish evangelist Rev'd Alex Tee. It was not long before Roger too caught that same soul winner's fire which propelled him far and wide, winning multitudes for Christ. Together with his wife Janet, they proceeded to "Tell the World of Jesus". (Des Morton, Founder Minister of Keynsham Elim Church)

I know of no couple who have been more committed to sharing their faith from the earliest days of their journey with the Lord Jesus Christ. Along the way, at home and abroad, and with a tender heart for the marginalised, Rog and Jan have introduced multitudes to the Saviour and have inspired successive generations of believers to do the same. It was our joy and privilege to have them as part of the family at Trinity where Janet continues to serve in worship and witness. Loved by young and old alike, they will always have a special place in our hearts. (Andy Paget, Trinity Tabernacle, Bristol. Vice President, International Gospel Outreach)

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-1-0

Also available as a paperback

(published by Gozo Publishing Bristol)

paperback ISBN: 978-1508674979

### Leaves from

### My Notebook

New Abridged Edition

William Haslam

(1818-1905)

You may have heard of the clergyman who was converted while preaching his own sermon! Well, this is man -- William Haslam. It happened in Cornwall one Sunday in 1851. He later wrote his autobiography in two books: _From Death into Life_ and _Yet not I_. Here, in _Leaves from my NoteBook_ , William Haslam writes about events and people not present in his autobiography. They make fascinating and challenging reading as we watch him sharing his faith one to one or in small groups, with dramatic results. Haslam was a man who mixed easily with titled gentry and the poorest of the poor, bringing the message of salvation in a way that people were ready to accept. This book has been lightly edited and abridged to make reading easier today by using modern punctuation and avoiding over-long sentences. William Haslam's amazing message is unchanged.

Original book first published 1889

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-2-7

### Blunt's Scriptural Coincidences

Gospels and Acts

J. J. Blunt

New Edition

This book will confirm (or restore) your faith in the Gospel records. Clearly the Gospels were not invented. There is too much unintentional agreement between them for this to be so. Undesigned coincidences are where writers tell the same account, but from a different viewpoint. Without conspiring together to get their accounts in agreement, they include unexpected (and often unnoticed) details that corroborate their records. Not only are these unexpected coincidences found within the Gospels, but sometimes a historical writer unknowingly and unintentionally confirms the Bible record.

Within these pages you will see just how accurate were the memories of the Gospel writers -- even of the smallest details which on casual reading can seem of little importance, yet clearly point to eyewitness accounts. J.J. Blunt spent many years investigating these coincidences. And here they are, as found in the four Gospels and Acts.

First published in instalments between 1833 and 1847

The edition used here published in 1876

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-5-8

### Fullness of Power

### in Christian Life and Service

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

R. A. Torrey

Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

This is a White Tree Publishing _Home and Group Questions for Today_ Edition. At the end of each chapter are questions for use either in your personal study, or for sharing in a church or home group. Why? Because: "From many earnest hearts there is rising a cry for more power: more power in our personal conflict with the world, the flesh, and the devil; more power in our work for others. The Bible makes the way to obtain this longed-for power very plain. There is no presumption in undertaking to tell _how to obtain Fullness of Power in Christian life and service_ ; for the Bible itself tells, and the Bible was intended to be understood. R. A. Torrey (1856-1928) was an American evangelist, pastor, educator, and writer whose name is attached to several organisations, and whose work is still well known today.

"The Bible statement of the way is not mystical or mysterious. It is very plain and straightforward. If we will only make personal trial of _The Power of the Word of God_ ; _The Power of the Blood of Christ_ ; _The Power of the Holy Spirit_ ; _The Power of Prayer_ ; _The Power of a Surrendered Life_ ; we will then know _the Fullness of Power in Christian life and service._ We will try to make this plain in the following chapters. There are many who do not even know that there is a life of abiding rest, joy, satisfaction, and power; and many others who, while they think there must be something beyond the life they know, are in ignorance as to how to obtain it. This book is also written to help them." ( _Torrey's Introduction._ )

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-8-9

Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends

Musings on Life, Scripture

and the Hymns

by

Marty Magee

Samuel, Mephibosheth, and a woman on death row -- people telling of our Savior's love. A chicken, a dinosaur, and a tarantula -- just a few props to show how we can serve God and our neighbors. Peanut butter, pinto beans and grandmother's chow-chow -- merely tools to help share the Bread of Life. These are just a few of the characters in Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends.

It is Marty's desire to bring the hymns out of their sometimes formal, Sunday best stuffy setting and into our Monday through Friday lives. At the same time, she presents a light object lesson and appropriate Scripture passage. This is done with the format of a devotion book, yet it has a light tone and style. From Ebenezer to Willie, Marty's characters can scarcely be contained within the pages of this whimsical yet insightful volume.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-1-1

Also in paperback

from Rickety Bridge Publishing

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

ALSO BY MARTY MAGEE

### Twenty-five Days Around the Manger

# A Light Family Advent Devotional

Marty Magee

Will a purple bedroom help Marty's misgivings about Christmas?

As a kid, Martha Evans didn't like Christmas. Sixty years later, she still gets a little uneasy when this holiday on steroids rolls around. But she knows, when all the tinsel is pulled away, Whose Day it is. Now Marty Magee, she is blessed with five grandchildren who help her not take herself too seriously.

Do you know the angel named Herald? Will young Marty survive the embarrassment of her Charley Brown Christmas tree? And by the way, where's the line to see Jesus?

Twenty-Five Days Around the Manger goes from Marty's mother as a little girl awaiting her brother's arrival, to O Holy Night when our souls finally were able to feel their full worth.

This and much more. Join Marty around the manger this Advent season.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Also in full colour paperback

from Rickety Bridge Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-4923248-0-5

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

The Gospels and Acts

In Simple Paraphrase

with Helpful Explanations

together with

Running Through the Bible

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing presents a paraphrase in today's English of passages from the four Gospels -- Matthew, Mark, Luke and John -- relating Jesus' birth, life, death and resurrection in one continuous narrative with helpful explanations, plus a paraphrase of events from the book of Acts. Also in this book is a brief summary of the Epistles and Revelation. For readers unfamiliar with the New Testament, this book makes a valuable introduction, and it will surely help those familiar with the New Testament to gain some extra knowledge and understanding as they read it. Please note that this is _not_ a translation of the Bible. It is a careful and sensitive _paraphrase_ of parts of the New Testament, and is not intended to be quoted as Scripture. Part 2 is a short introduction to the whole Bible -- _Running Through the Bible_ \-- which is available from White Tree Publishing as a separate eBook and paperback.

**Translators and others involved in foreign mission work, please note:** If you believe that this copyright book, or part of this book, would be useful if translated into another language, please contact White Tree Publishing (wtpbristol@gmail.com). Permission will be free, and assistance in formatting and publishing your new translation as an eBook and/or a paperback may be available, also without charge.

_Superb! I have never read anything like it. It is colloquially worded in a succinct, clear style with a brilliant (and very helpful) running commentary interspersed. I have found it a compelling read -- and indeed spiritually engaging and moving._ Canon Derek Osborne, Norfolk, England.

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-9-6

### Faith that Prevails

The Early Pentecostal Movement

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

Smith Wigglesworth

Study Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

This is a White Tree Publishing Home and Group Questions for Today Edition. At the end of each of the seven chapters are questions by Chuck Antone, Jr. for use either in your personal study, or for sharing in a church or home group. Why? Because _Smith Wigglesworth, often referred to as the Apostle of Faith, putting the emphasis on the work of the Holy Spirit, writes, "_ God is making people hungry and thirsty after His best. And everywhere He is filling the hungry and giving them that which the disciples received at the very beginning. Are you hungry? If you are, God promises that you shall be filled."

_Smith Wigglesworth was one of the pioneers of the early Pentecostal revival. Born in 1859 he gave himself to Jesus at the age of eight and immediately led his mother to the Lord._ His ministry took him to Europe, the US, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, the Pacific Islands, India and what was then Ceylon. _Smith Wigglesworth's faith was unquestioning._

_In this book, he says, "_ There is nothing impossible with God. All the impossibility is with us, when we measure God by the limitations of our unbelief."

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-4-1

### The Authority and

###  Interpretation

### of the Bible

J Stafford Wright

When we start to think about God, we soon come to a point where we say, "I can discover nothing more about God by myself. I must see whether He has revealed anything about Himself, about His character, and about the way to find Him and to please Him." From the beginning, the Christian church has believed that certain writings were the Word of God in a unique sense. Before the New Testament was compiled, Christians accepted the Old Testament as their sacred Book. Here they were following the example of Christ Himself. During His ministry Jesus Christ made great use of the Old Testament, and after His resurrection He spent some time in teaching His disciples that every section of the Old Testament had teachings in it concerning Himself. Any discussion of the inspiration of the Bible gives place sooner or later to a discussion of its interpretation. To say that the Bible is true, or infallible, is not sufficient: for it is one thing to have an infallible Book, and quite another to use it. J Stafford Wright was a greatly respected evangelical theologian and author, and former Principal of Tyndale Hall Theological College, Bristol.

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-9-6

### Psalms,

### A Guide Psalm By Psalm

J Stafford Wright

The Bible Psalms. Do you see them as a source of comfort? A help in daily living? A challenge? Or perhaps something to study in depth? _Psalms, a Guide Psalm by Psalm_ will meet all these requirements, and more. It is an individual study guide that can be used for daily reading in conjunction with your own Bible. It is also a resource for group study, with brief questions for study and discussion. And it's a Bible commentary, dealing with the text of each Psalm section by section.

eBook only

eBook ISBN **978-0-9957594-2-8**

### The Christian's Secret

### of a Happy Life

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

Christian _and_ happy? Do these two words fit comfortably together? Is our Christian life a burden or a pleasure? Is our quiet time with the Lord a duty or a delight? _The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life_ was first written by Hannah Whitall Smith as monthly instalments for an American magazine. Hannah was brought up as a Quaker, and became the feisty wife of a preacher. By the time she wrote _The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life_ she had already lost three children. Her life was not easy, with her husband being involved in a sexual scandal and eventually losing his faith. So, Christian _and_ happy? An alternative title for this book could have been _The Christian's Secret of a Trusting Life._

How often, Hannah asks, do we bring our burdens to the Lord, as He told us to, only to take them home with us again? There are some wonderful and challenging chapters in this book, which Hannah revised throughout her life, as she came to see that the truth is in the Bible, not in our feelings. Fact, faith and feelings come in that order. As Hannah points out several times, feelings come last. The teaching in this book is firmly Scripture based, as Hannah insists that there is more to the Christian life than simply passing through the gate of salvation. There is a journey ahead for us, where every step we take should be consecrated to bring us closer and closer to God, day by day, and year by year.

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-6-6

### Every-Day Religion

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

How are we to live out our Christian lives every day? This book isn't about everyday (ordinary) religion, but about a _living faith_ that changes our lives day by day. Hannah Whitall Smith had to live her life based on her trust in Scripture and the promises of God. In 1875, after the loss of three children, and her husband suffering a mental breakdown after being accused of infidelity, she was able to write _The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life_ , in which she showed that it is possible to find peace with the Lord, no matter what life throws at us, through trusting in His promises.

In 1894, after the death of yet another child, with her three surviving children professing atheism, and her husband losing his faith, Hannah's trust in the Lord Jesus is still so strong that she is able to write in her introduction to her Scripture-based _Every-Day Religion_ , that the purpose of the book is, "To bring out, as far as possible, the common-sense teaching of the Bible in regard to every-day religion. ... How to have inward peace in the midst of outward turmoil."

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-0-9

### Haslam's Journey

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

Previously published 2005 by Highland Books

If you only intend to read just one Christian book, this should be the one! You may have heard of the clergyman who was converted while preaching his own sermon. Well, William Haslam is that man. It happened in Cornwall one Sunday in 1851, and revival immediately broke out. Later, another of William Haslam's "famous" sermons will cause a mass walkout of assembled clergy in St Paul's Cathedral! Once he starts to preach the Gospel with zeal, you can rejoice over powerful conversions in nearly every chapter.

Haslam's Journey consists of selected passages from William Haslam's two autobiographies: From _Death_ Into Life (published 1880, his Cornish ministry) and Yet Not I (published 1882, set mostly in Bath, Norfolk and London), abridged and lightly modernised. Just under half of the originals is included. With copious notes and appendices by Chris Wright, editor of _Haslam's Leaves_ also from White Tree Publishing. William Haslam writes with humour and great insight.

_William Haslam writes about his early life:_ "I did not see then, as I have since, that turning over a new leaf to cover the past is not by any means the same thing as turning back the old leaves and getting them washed in the blood of the Lamb. I thought my acceptance with God depended upon my works. This made me very diligent in prayer, fasting and alms deeds. I often sat and dreamed about the works of mercy and devotion I would do."

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

### My Life and Work

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

Rodney "Gipsy" Smith was born in a gipsy tent in Epping Forest, England. He was the son of gipsies, Cornelius Smith and his wife Mary. Growing up, he had to help support the family by making and selling items like clothes pegs around the area. He only had a few weeks at school one winter, and was unable to read or write. One day his father Cornelius came home to say that he had been converted, and was now a Christian. Cornelius helped bring his son to the Lord, and from that moment, Rodney wanted to share the way of salvation with others.

Now followed a difficult time, because he knew that in order to preach to others, he had to be able to read the Bible, both for himself and aloud to others. He writes, "I began to practise preaching. One Sunday I entered a turnip field and preached most eloquently to the turnips. I had a very large and most attentive congregation. Not one of them made an attempt to move away." When he started preaching to people, and came across a long word in the Bible he was unable to read, he says he stopped at the long word and spoke on what had gone before, and started reading again at the word after the long one!

Gipsy Smith quickly learnt to read fluently and was soon into fulltime evangelism, where he soon became known as Gipsy Smith, a name he accepted gladly. He joined the Salvation Army for a time, until being told to resign. Instead of this being a setback, he now took up a much wider sphere of work in England, before travelling to America and Australia where he became a much-loved preacher. In spite of meeting two American presidents at the White House, and other important figures in society, Gipsy Smith never forgot his roots. He never pretended to be anything other than a Gipsy boy, and was always pleased to come across other Gipsy families in his travels. Like Billy Bray and others uneducated writers, Gipsy Smith tells the story of his life in a simple and compelling way. This is the account written by a man who gave himself fully to the Lord, and was used to help lead thousands to Jesus Christ as their Saviour.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-4-7

eBook Coming 2nd January 2018

### Living in the Sunshine:

The God of All Comfort

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

Hannah Smith, who suffered so much in her personal life, has an amazing Bible-based grasp of God's love for each of us. She writes in this book: "Why, I ask myself, should the children of God lead such utterly uncomfortable Christian lives when He has led us to believe that His yoke would be easy and His burden light? Why are we tormented with so many spiritual doubts, and such heavy spiritual anxieties? Why do we find it so hard to be sure that God really loves us?

"But here, perhaps, you will meet me with the words, 'Oh, no, I do not blame the Lord, but I am so weak and so foolish, and so ignorant that I am not worthy of His care.' But do you not know that sheep are always weak, and helpless, and silly; and that the very reason they are compelled to have a shepherd to care for them is just because they are so unable to take care of themselves? Their welfare and their safety, therefore, do not in the least depend upon their own strength, nor upon their own wisdom, nor upon anything in themselves, but wholly and entirely upon the care of their shepherd. And if you are a sheep, your welfare also must depend altogether upon your Shepherd, and not at all upon yourself!"

Note: This is Hannah Smith's final book. It was first published as _Living in the Sunshine_ , and later republished as _The God of All Comfort_ , the title of the third chapter. The edition used here is the British edition of _Living in the Sunshine_ , dated 1906.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-3-0

eBook Coming 29th January 2018

### Evangelistic Talks

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

This book is a selection of 19 talks given by Gipsy Smith which will provide inspirational reading, and also be a source of help for those who speak. There are also 20 "two-minute sermonnettes" as the last chapter! Rodney "Gipsy" Smith was born in a gipsy tent in Epping Forest, England. He was the son of gipsies, Cornelius Smith and his wife Mary. Growing up, he had to help support the family by making and selling items like clothes pegs around the area. He only had a few weeks at school one winter, and was unable to read or write. One day his father Cornelius came home to say that he had been converted, and was now a Christian. Cornelius helped bring his son to the Lord, and from that moment, Rodney wanted to share the way of salvation with others.

He quickly learnt to read fluently and was soon into fulltime evangelism, where he became known as Gipsy Smith, a name he accepted gladly. He preached throughout England, before travelling to America and Australia. Wherever he went he was a much-loved and powerful preacher, bringing thousands to the Lord.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-7-8

eBook Coming 26th February 2018

### I Can't Help Praising the Lord

The Life of Billy Bray

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

"I can't help praising the Lord!" said Billy Bray. "As I go along the street I lift up one foot, and it seems to say 'Glory!' and I lift up the other, and it seems to say 'Amen'; and so they keep on like that all the time I am walking."

Billy was a tin miner by trade and he loved his native Cornwall, but his love for souls was greater. When he was criticized for building a new chapel he replied, "If this new chapel ... stands one hundred years, and one soul be converted in it every year, that will be one hundred souls -- and one soul is worth more than all Cornwall!"

Billy Bray (1794-1868) found a real excitement in his Christian life, and discovered the secret of living by faith. His outspoken comments are often amusing, but the reader will be challenged by their directness.

This book has a strong message of encouragement for Christians today. Billy believed and accepted the promises in the Bible, and lived a life that was Spirit filled.

FW Bourne, the writer of the original book, The King's Son, knew Billy Bray as a friend. In it he has used Billy's own writing, the accounts of others who had met Billy, and his own memories.

Chris Wright has revised and edited FW Bourne's book to produce this new edition, adding sections directly from the autobiography of William Haslam who met Billy, and from Billy Bray's own handwritten Journal, keeping Billy's rough and ready grammar and wording, which surely helps us picture this amazing man of God.

eBook

ISBN: 978-1-912529-01-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-00-1

5x8 inches 86 pages

Available from major internet stores

Also on sale in Billy Bray's Chapel

Kerley Downs, Cornwall

eBook Coming 23rd April 2018

### As Jesus Passed By

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

To introduce this book of some of his evangelistic talks in 1905, Gipsy Smith writes: "After much pressure I have consented to the publication of these Addresses. They were delivered to crowded audiences with a burning desire to bring those who heard them to an immediate decision for Christ. Here they are, practically as they were spoken, and if I am so led, they will be preached again, for God has been pleased to bless them to thousands. Whether heard or read, my one desire is the extension of Christ's kingdom all over the world."

"Gipsy" Smith was born in a gipsy tent in Epping Forest, England. He was the son of gipsies, Cornelius Smith and his wife Mary. Growing up, he had to help support the family by making and selling items like clothes pegs around the area. He only had a few weeks at school one winter, and was unable to read or write. One day his father Cornelius came home to say that he had been converted, and was now a Christian. Cornelius helped bring his son to the Lord, and from that moment, Rodney wanted to share the way of salvation with others.

He quickly learnt to read fluently and was soon into fulltime evangelism, where he became known as Gipsy Smith, a name he accepted gladly. He preached throughout England, before travelling to America and Australia. Wherever he went he was a much-loved and powerful preacher, bringing thousands to the Lord.

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-912529-05-6

Christian Fiction

### The Lost Clue

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Romantic Mystery

With modern line drawings

Living the life of a wealthy man, Kenneth Fortescue receives devastating news from his father. But he is only able to learn incomplete facts about his past, because a name has been obliterated from a very important letter. Two women are vying for Kenneth's attention -- Lady Violet, the young daughter of Lady Earlswood, and Marjorie Douglas, the daughter of a widowed parson's wife.

Written in 1905 by the much-loved author Mrs. O. F. Walton, this edition has been lightly abridged and edited to make it easier to read and understand today. This romantic mystery story gives an intriguing glimpse into the class extremes that existed in Edwardian England, with wealthy titled families on one side, and some families living in terrible poverty on the other.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-2-6

### Doctor Forester

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Romantic Mystery

with modern line drawings

Doctor Forester, a medical man only twenty-five years old, has come to a lonely part of Wales to escape from an event in his recent past that has caused him much hurt. So he has more on his mind than worrying about strange noises behind his bedroom wall in the old castle where he is staying.

A young woman who shares part of the journey with him is staying in the same village. He is deeply attracted to her, and believes that she is equally attracted to him. But he soon has every reason to think that his old school friend Jack is also courting her.

Written and taking place in the early 1900s, this romantic mystery is a mix of excitement and heartbreak. What is the secret of Hildick Castle? And can Doctor Forester rid himself of the past that now haunts his life?

Mrs. O. F. Walton was a prolific writer in the late 1800s, and this abridged edition captures all of the original writer's insight into what makes a memorable story. With occasional modern line drawings.

* * *

Ghosts of the past kept flitting through his brain. Dark shadows which he tried to chase away seemed to pursue him. Here these ghosts were to be laid; here those shadows were to be dispelled; here that closed chapter was to be buried for ever. So he fought long and hard with the phantoms of the past until the assertive clock near his bedroom door announced that it was two o'clock.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-0-2

### Was I Right?

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Victorian Romance

With modern line drawings

May Lindsay and her young stepsister Maggie are left penniless and homeless when their father the local doctor dies. Maggie can go to live with her three maiden aunts, but May at the age of nineteen is faced with a choice. Should she take the position of companion to a girl she doesn't know, who lives some distance away, or accept a proposal of marriage from the man who has been her friend since they were small children?

May Lindsay makes her decision, but it is not long before she wonders if she has done the right thing. This is a story of life in Victorian England as May, who has led a sheltered life, is pushed out into a much bigger world than she has previously known. She soon encounters titled families, and is taken on a tour of the Holy Land which occupies much of the story.

Two men seem to be a big disappointment to May Lindsay. Will her Christian faith hold strong in these troubles? Was she right in the decision she made before leaving home?

Mrs. O. F. Walton was a prolific writer in the late 1800s, and this abridged edition captures all of the original writer's insight into what makes a memorable story. With occasional modern line drawings.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-1-9

### In His Steps

Charles M. Sheldon

Abridged Edition

This new abridged edition of a classic story that has sold over an estimated 30 million copies, contains Charles Sheldon's original writing, with some passages sensitively abridged to allow his powerful story to come through for today's readers. Nothing in the storyline has been changed.

A homeless man staggers into a wealthy church and upsets the congregation. A week later he is dead. This causes the Rev. Henry Maxwell to issue a startling challenge to his congregation and to himself -- whatever you do in life over the next twelve months, ask yourself this question before making any decision: "What would Jesus do?"

The local newspaper editor, a novelist, a wealthy young woman who has inherited a million dollars, her friend who has been offered a professional singing career, the superintendent of the railroad workshops, a leading city merchant and others take up the challenge. But how will it all work out when things don't go as expected?

A bishop gives up his comfortable lifestyle -- and finds his life threatened in the city slums. The story is timeless. A great read, and a challenge to every Christian today.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-9-6

Also available in paperback 254 pages 5.5 x 8.5 inches

Paperback ISBN 13: 978-19350791-8-7

A Previously Unpublished Book

### Locked Door Shuttered Windows

A Novel by J Stafford Wright

What is inside the fascinating house with the locked door and the shuttered windows? Satan wants an experiment. God allows it. John is caught up in the plan as Satan's human representative. The experiment? To demonstrate that there can be peace in the world if God allows Satan to run things in his own way. A group of people gather together in an idyllic village run by Satan, with no reference to God, and no belief in him.

J Stafford Wright has written this startling and gripping account of what happens when God stands back and Satan steps forward. All seems to go well for the people who volunteer to take part. And no Christians allowed!

John Longstone lost his faith when teaching at a theological college. Lost it for good -- or so he thinks. And then he meets Kathleen who never had a faith. As the holes start to appear in Satan's scheme for peace, they wonder if they should help or hinder the plans which seem to have so many benefits for humanity.

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-3-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-4-1

206 pages 5.25 x 8.0 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### When it Was Dark

Guy Thorne

Abridged Edition

What would happen to the Christian faith if it could be proved beyond all doubt that Jesus did not rise from the dead? This is the situation when, at the end of the nineteenth century, eminent archaeologists working outside Jerusalem discover a tomb belonging to Joseph of Arimathea, with an inscription claiming that he took the body of Jesus from the first tomb and hid it. And there are even remains of a body. So no resurrection!

As churches quickly empty, some Christians cling to hope, saying that Jesus lives within them, so He must be the Son of God who rose from the dead. Others are relieved that they no longer have to believe and go to church. Society starts to break down.

With the backing of a wealthy industrialist, a young curate puts together a small team to investigate the involvement of a powerful atheist in the discovery. This is an abridged edition of a novel first published in 1903.

Guy Thorne was the English author of many thrillers in the early twentieth century, and this book was not intended specifically for the Christian market. It contains adult references in places, but no swearing or offensive language. Although it was written from a high church Anglican viewpoint, the author is positive about the various branches of the Christian faith, finding strengths and weaknesses in individual church and chapel members as their beliefs are threatened by the discovery in Jerusalem. White Tree Publishing believes this book will be a great and positive challenge to Christians today as we examine the reality of our faith.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

Published jointly with North View Publishing

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-0-3

### Silverbeach Manor

Margaret S. Haycraft

Abridged edition

Pansy is an orphan who is cared for by her aunt, Temperance Piper, who keeps the village post office and store. One day Pansy meets wealthy Mrs. Adair who offers to take her under her wing and give her a life of wealth in high society that she could never dream of, on condition Pansy never revisits her past life. When they first meet, Mrs. Adair says about Pansy's clothes, "The style is a little out of date, but it is good enough for the country. I should like to see you in a really well-made dress. It would be quite a new sensation for you, if you really belong to these wilds. I have a crimson and gold tea gown that would suit you delightfully, and make you quite a treasure for an artist." This is a story of rags to riches to ... well, to a life where nothing is straightforward. First published in 1891.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-4-1

### Gildas Haven

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

For several years in the peaceful English village of Meadthorpe, the church and chapel have existed in an uneasy peace while the rector and the chapel minister are distracted by poor health. Now a young curate arrives at St Simeon's, bringing high church ritual and ways of worship. Gildas Haven, the daughter of the chapel minister is furious to discover the curate is enticing her Sunday school children away. The curate insists that his Church ways are right, and Gildas who has only known chapel worship says the opposite.

Battle lines are quickly drawn by leaders and congregations. Mary Haycraft writes with light humour and surprising insight in what could be a controversial story line. With at least one major surprise, the author seems to be digging an impossible hole for herself as the story progresses. The ending of this sensitively told romance is likely to come as a surprise.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-7-2

### Amaranth's Garden

Margaret S. Haycraft

Abridged edition

"It seems, Miss, your father drew out that money yesterday, and took it all out in gold. The Rector happened to be in the Bank at the time, but was on his way to town, and could not stop to talk to your father just then, though he wondered to hear him say he had come to draw out everything, as treasurer of the fund." Amaranth Glyn's comfortable life comes to an end when the church funds disappear. Her father, the church treasurer who drew out the money, is also missing, to be followed shortly by her mother. The disgrace this brings on the family means Amaranth's marriage plans are cancelled. Amaranth is a competent artist and moves away with her young brother to try to earn a living. There are rumours that her parents are in France and even in Peru. Caring for her sick brother, Amaranth wants life to be as it was before the financial scandal forced her to leave her family home and the garden she loved.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-6-5

### Rose Capel's Sacrifice

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

Rose and Maurice Capel find themselves living in poverty through no fault of their own, and their daughter Gwen is dangerously ill and in need of a doctor and medicine, which they cannot possibly afford. There seems to be only one option -- to offer their daughter to Maurice Capel's unmarried sister, Dorothy, living in the beautiful Welsh countryside, and be left with nothing more than memories of Gwen. Dorothy has inherited her father's fortune and cut herself off from the family. Although Gwen would be well cared for, if she got better and Rose and Maurice's finances improved, would they be able to ask for Gwen to be returned? Another story from popular Victorian writer Margaret S. Haycraft.

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-3-4

### Una's Marriage

### Margaret Haycraft

Una Latreille inherits the St Pensart's estate which has been in the family since the Norman Conquest. Unfortunately the estate is now bankrupt, and although still in mourning, Una's only hope of living in the style to which she has been accustomed is to marry a wealthy man, and quickly. Several suitors have disappeared after learning of the debts, and the one man who still expresses any interest in Una is Keith Broughton. Keith started work as a mill hand, and is now the young and wealthy owner of a large woollen mill. But how can she possibly marry so far beneath her class? Reluctantly, Una agrees to marriage on condition that there is no physical contact between them, and certainly no honeymoon! She also insists that she will never, ever suffer the indignity of meeting anyone in his family, or put one foot inside the door of his mill. This book was first published in 1898 by SW Partridge and Co, publishers of both Christian and secular books. Although there is no openly Christian message in this story, unlike the majority of Margaret Haycraft's books, it deals sensitively with the true nature of love -- as well as being an extremely readable story.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-5-9

### Miss Elizabeth's Niece

### Margaret Haycraft

"You have scandalised your name and ours, and the only thing to do is to make the best of it, and teach Maisie at least the first principles of ladylike conduct." Trevor Stratheyre, from a wealthy and aristocratic English family, impulsively marries Maisie, a servant girl he meets while touring the Continent. Maisie's mother had died at an Italian inn, leaving three-year-old Maisie to be brought up by the landlord and his wife, where she helps as a maid at the inn and cares for the animals. Maisie is charming and affectionate, but when Trevor brings her back to Stratheyre in England as his bride, to the large estate he is expecting to inherit, it is clear that Maisie's ways are not those of the upper classes. When she tells titled guests at dinner that she was once herding some cows home and one was struck by lightning, trouble is bound to follow.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-7-3

### Keena Karmody

Eliza Kerr

Keena Karmody finishes school in London and invites her young French teacher, Marie Delorme, to stay with her on her grandfather's estate at Céim-an-eich in Ireland as her tutor, to complete her education. One day Keena will inherit the large house and the family money. As time goes on, Marie Delorme's stay becomes permanent as she makes secret plans to take possession of the estate. When Keena's grandfather dies, Keena finds that he has made a very different will than the one everyone expected, and Marie is now mistress of the house. What is the shameful family secret that no one has ever discussed with Keena? Her only hope of getting her life back together lies in discovering this secret, and the answer could be with her father's grave in Tuscany. Homeless and penniless Keena Karmody sets out for Italy.

"When she had sought out and found that grave in the distant Tuscan village, and learned the story of her father's life and death, perhaps then death would come, and she might be laid there at his side in peace, and Marie would dwell in Céim-an-eich."

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-5-4

eBook coming 8th January 2018

### A Daughter of the King

Mrs Philip Barnes

There are the usual misunderstandings in the small village of Royden, but one year they combine to cause serious friction. An elderly lady, the embodiment of kindness, is turned out of her favourite pew by the new vicar. Young and old residents start to view each other with suspicion when a banished husband returns, allegedly to harm his wife and children as he did once before. Both Mary Grey and Elsa Knott want to marry young Gordon Pyne, who lives in the White House, but Gordon is suddenly accused of his father's murder. This is a very readable romance from 1909, with many twists and turns. It has been lightly abridged and edited. A story in the style of those by White Tree Publishing's most popular author, Margaret S. Haycraft.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-8-0

### Hazel Haldene

Eliza Kerr

Two grownup sisters live under their older brother's thumb. He is obsessed with perfect Christian doctrine and farming, and cannot see why his sisters should want any company but his own. Marie is fond of a local artist, but her brother will not allow such a marriage. Marie's only hope of freedom is to run away and marry in secret. When she returns to the family home eight years later with a child, surely she will be welcome by a brother who professes religion. This story by Eliza Kerr again takes the theme of rejection, but her stories are all very different as well as involving.

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

**ISBN:** **978-1-9997899-8-5**

eBook Coming 12th February 2018

### Rollica Reed

Eliza Kerr

When Rollica Reed is left an orphan at the age of sixteen, a friend of her father's takes her in, much to the dismay of his wife and two older daughters who consider themselves to be the cream of Victorian society. The wife and daughters resent Rollica as an intruder, and try to make her life wretched, humiliating her in front of friends and telling her she is too common to be a lady. The two unmarried daughters are concerned by Rollica's naturally good looks, and want to cut her off from meeting any of their friends. Rollica soon learns she must not show any sign of weakness if she is to survive. But can she ever forgive?

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-6-1

eBook coming 12th March 2018

### Freda's Folly

Margaret S Haycraft

Freda Beresford is an aspiring young writer whose work is constantly rejected. Her young brother wants to go to university, but money is scarce. One day Freda receives a letter from a distant aunt, congratulating her on getting a story published in a leading literary journal. Enclosed is a large cheque and a promise to help Freda to a literary career. The money would mean that her brother can go to university, and Freda begins to feel famous at last. Unfortunately, Freda did not write the story, but she accepts the cheque and the deception starts. What begins as a light hearted novella, from one of White Tree Publishing's favourite authors of fiction, gets darker as Freda's deception has far reaching consequences. Readers will share Freda's unease as her initial deception leads her deeper and deeper towards the inevitable disgrace.

White Tree Publishing edition

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-02-5

eBook coming 2nd April 2018

### Sybil's Repentance

Margaret S Haycraft

Sybil Agmere, an orphan, is taken in by a loving mother with four children and a strict grandfather. The mother's brother left the family home in disgrace many years before, never to be mentioned again. Sybil calls the mother her aunt, and is concerned when the brother reappears. The grandfather changes the inheritance in his will, but Sybil, at the age of eleven, reasons that if she can destroy the latest will, justice will be done. Her aunt will inherit, and all will be well. As the years go on, as Sybil sits in the family home, she sees that destroying the will is bringing nothing but trouble, yet she cannot admit to what she did. And even if she did admit it, the past could never be changed. After being persuaded into an engagement with a most unsuitable man, Sybil sees any hope of happiness fade away. Surely it is too late to undo the years of injustice and of wrong. There are wrongs no repentance can set right.

White Tree Publishing edition

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-04-9

eBook coming 14th May 2018

### Sister Royal

Margaret S Haycraft

Beryl Rosslyn Aylmer, known from childhood as Bride, is suffering from seizures. Her young brother, Bonny, calls in Dr. Gildredge, but quickly realises he has made a mistake, for he takes an immediate dislike to the man. Dr. Gildredge is determined to become famous throughout Europe, and diagnoses a rare condition in Bride that he will attempt to treat, and write about it in the medical journals -- whether she recovers or not. Dr, Gildredge soon sees that the only way to keep control of Bride's treatment is to persuade her to marry him, and also stop young Bonny from seeing her. As is to be expected, the outcome is far from straightforward. This story by Margaret S Haycraft is a very readable mix of romance and revenge.

White Tree Publishing edition

eBook only

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-03-2

## Books for Younger Readers

(and older readers too!)

### The Merlin Adventure

Chris Wright

The day Daniel Talbot brought home a stuffed duck in a glass case, everyone thought he'd gone out of his mind. Even he had his doubts at times. "Fancy spending your money on _that_ ," his mother scolded him. "You needn't think it's coming into this house, because it isn't!"

When Daniel, Emma, Charlie and Julia, the Four Merlins, set out to sail their model paddle steamer on the old canal, strange and dangerous things start to happen. Then Daniel and Julia make a discovery they want to share with the others.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-2-7

Paperback ISBN: 9785-203447-7-5

5x8 inches 182 pages

Available from major internet stores

The Hijack Adventure

Chris Wright

Anna's mother has opened a transport café, but why do the truck drivers avoid stopping there? An accident in the road outside brings Anna a new friend, Matthew. When they get trapped in a broken down truck with Matthew's dog, Chip, their adventure begins.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-6-5

Available now in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-0-5

5x8 inches 140 pages

Available from major internet stores

The Seventeen Steps Adventure

Chris Wright

When Ryan's American cousin, Natalie, comes to stay with him in England, a film from their Gran's old camera holds some surprise photographs, and they discover there's more to photography than taking selfies! But where are the Seventeen Steps, and has a robbery been planned to take place there?

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-7-2

Available now in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-6-7

5x8 inches 132 pages

Available from major internet stores

### The Two Jays Adventure

The First Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

James and Jessica, the Two Jays, are on holiday in the West Country in England where they set out to make some exciting discoveries. Have they found the true site of an ancient holy well? Is the water in it dangerous? Why does an angry man with a bicycle tell them to keep away from the deserted stone quarry?

A serious accident on the hillside has unexpected consequences, and an old Latin document may contain a secret that's connected to the two strange stone heads in the village church -- if James and Jessica can solve the puzzle. An adventure awaits! This is the first Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-8-9

Available now in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-8-1

5x8 inches 196 pages

Available from major internet stores

### The Dark Tunnel Adventure

The Second Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

James and Jessica, the Two Jays, are on holiday in the Derbyshire Peak District in England, staying near Dakedale Manor, which has been completely destroyed in a fire. Did young Sam Stirling burn his family home down? Miss Parkin, the housekeeper, says he did, and she can prove it. Sam says he didn't, and he can't prove it. But Sam has gone missing. James and Jessica believe the truth lies behind one of the old iron doors inside the disused railway tunnel. This is the second Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-0-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5206386-3-8

188 pages 5x8 inches

Available from major internet stores

### The Cliff Edge Adventure

The Third Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

James and Jessica's Aunt Judy lives in a lonely guest house perched on top of a crumbling cliff on the west coast of Wales. She is moving out with her dog for her own safety, because she has been warned that the waves from the next big storm could bring down a large part of the cliff -- and her house with it. Cousins James and Jessica, the Two Jays, are helping her sort through her possessions, and they find an old papyrus page they think could be from an ancient copy of one of the Gospels. Two people are extremely interested in having it, but can either of them be trusted? James and Jessica are alone in the house. It's dark, the electricity is off, and the worst storm in living memory is already battering the coast. Is there someone downstairs? This is the third Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-4-2

**Paperback ISBN:** **9781-5-211370-3-1**

188 pages 5x8 inches

### The Midnight Farm Adventure

The Fourth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

What is hidden in the old spoil tip by the disused Midnight Mine? Two men have permission to dig there, but they don't want anyone watching -- especially not Jessica and James, the Two Jays. And where is Granfer Joe's old tin box, full of what he called his treasure? The Easter holiday at Midnight Farm in Cornwall isn't as peaceful as James's parents planned. An early morning bike ride nearly ends in disaster, and with the so-called Hound of the Baskervilles running loose, things turn out to be decidedly dangerous. This is the fourth Two Jays adventure story. You can read them in any order, although each one goes forward slightly in time.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-1-6

Also available in paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5497148-3-2

200 pages 5x8 inches

### Mary Jones and Her Bible

An Adventure Book

Chris Wright

The true story of Mary Jones's and her Bible

with a clear Christian message and optional puzzles

(Some are easy, some tricky, and some amusing)

Mary Jones saved for six years to buy a Bible of her own. In 1800, when she was 15, she thought she had saved enough, so she walked barefoot for 26 miles (more than 40km) over a mountain pass and through deep valleys in Wales to get one. That's when she discovered there were none for sale!

You can travel with Mary Jones today in this book by following clues, or just reading the story. Either way, you will get to Bala where Mary went, and if you're really quick you may be able to discover a Bible just like Mary's in the market!

The true story of Mary Jones has captured the imagination for more than 200 years. For this book, Chris Wright has looked into the old records and discovered even more of the story, which is now in this unforgettable account of Mary Jones and her Bible. Solving puzzles is part of the fun, but the whole story is in here to read and enjoy whether you try the puzzles or not. Just turn the page, and the adventure continues. It's time to get on the trail of Mary Jones!

eBook ISBN: **ISBN: 978-0-9933941-5-7**

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9525956-2-5

5.5 x 8.5 inches

156 pages of story, photographs, line drawings and puzzles

### Pilgrim's Progress

An Adventure Book

Chris Wright

Travel with young Christian as he sets out on a difficult and perilous journey to find the King. Solve the puzzles and riddles along the way, and help Christian reach the Celestial City. Then travel with his friend Christiana. She has four young brothers who can sometimes be a bit of a problem.

Be warned, you will meet giants and lions -- and even dragons! There are people who don't want Christian and Christiana to reach the city of the King and his Son. But not everyone is an enemy. There are plenty of friendly people. It's just a matter of finding them.

Are you prepared to help? Are you sure? The journey can be very dangerous! As with our book Mary Jones and Her Bible, you can enjoy the story even if you don't want to try the puzzles.

This is a simplified and abridged version of Pilgrim's Progress -- Special Edition, containing illustrations and a mix of puzzles. The suggested reading age is up to perhaps ten. Older readers will find the same story told in much greater detail in Pilgrim's Progress -- Special Edition on the next page.

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9933941-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-6-3

5.5 x 8.5 inches 174 pages

Available from major internet stores

### Pilgrim's Progress

### Special Edition

Chris Wright

This book for all ages is a great choice for young readers, as well as for families, Sunday school teachers, and anyone who wants to read John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress in a clear form.

All the old favourites are here: Christian, Christiana, the Wicket Gate, Interpreter, Hill Difficulty with the lions, the four sisters at the House Beautiful, Vanity Fair, Giant Despair, Faithful and Talkative -- and, of course, Greatheart. The list is almost endless.

The first part of the story is told by Christian himself, as he leaves the City of Destruction to reach the Celestial City, and becomes trapped in the Slough of Despond near the Wicket Gate. On his journey he will encounter lions, giants, and a creature called the Destroyer.

Christiana follows along later, and tells her own story in the second part. Not only does Christiana have to cope with her four young brothers, she worries about whether her clothes are good enough for meeting the King. Will she find the dangers in Vanity Fair that Christian found? Will she be caught by Giant Despair and imprisoned in Doubting Castle? What about the dragon with seven heads?

It's a dangerous journey, but Christian and Christiana both know that the King's Son is with them, helping them through the most difficult parts until they reach the Land of Beulah, and see the Celestial City on the other side of the Dark River. This is a story you will remember for ever, and it's about a journey you can make for yourself.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-8-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-7-0

5.5 x 8.5 inches 278 pages

Available from major internet stores

### Zephan and the Vision

Chris Wright

An exciting story about the adventures of two angels who seem to know almost nothing -- until they have a vision!

Two ordinary angels are caring for the distant Planet Eltor, and they are about to get a big shock -- they are due to take a trip to Planet Earth! This is Zephan's story of the vision he is given before being allowed to travel with Talora, his companion angel, to help two young people fight against the enemy.

Arriving on Earth, they discover that everyone lives in a small castle. Some castles are strong and built in good positions, while others appear weak and open to attack. But it seems that the best-looking castles are not always the most secure.

Meet Castle Nadia and Castle Max, the two castles that Zephan and Talora have to defend. And meet the nasty creatures who have built shelters for themselves around the back of these castles. And worst of all, meet the shadow angels who live in a cave on Shadow Hill. This is a story about the forces of good and the forces of evil. Who will win the battle for Castle Nadia?

The events in this story are based very loosely on John Bunyan's allegory The Holy War.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-9-4

5.5 x 8.5 inches 216 pages

Available from major internet stores

### Agathos, The Rocky Island,

### And Other Stories

Chris Wright

Once upon a time there were two favourite books for Sunday reading: _Parables from Nature_ and _Agathos and The Rocky Island_.

These books contained short stories, usually with a hidden meaning. In this illustrated book is a selection of the very best of these stories, carefully retold to preserve the feel of the originals, coupled with ease of reading and understanding for today's readers.

Discover the king who sent his servants to trade in a foreign city. The butterfly who thought her eggs would hatch into baby butterflies, and the two boys who decided to explore the forbidden land beyond the castle boundary. The spider that kept being blown in the wind, the soldier who had to fight a dragon, the four children who had to find their way through a dark and dangerous forest. These are just six of the nine stories in this collection. Oh, and there's also one about a rocky island!

This is a book for a young person to read alone, a family or parent to read aloud, Sunday school teachers to read to the class, and even for grownups who want to dip into the fascinating stories of the past all by themselves. Can you discover the hidden meanings? You don't have to wait until Sunday before starting!

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-7-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-8-7

5.5 x 8.5 inches 148 pages

Available from major internet stores

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