

### About the Book

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.

### Sister Royal

### Margaret S. Haycraft

1855-1936

White Tree Publishing

Abridged Edition

Original book first published 1899

This abridged edition ©Chris Wright 2018

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

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

Sister Royal 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.

### Table of 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

Chapter 16

More Books from White Tree Publishing

About White Tree Publishing

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Books for 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 currently 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 1899 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 16 chapters in this book. In the last third are 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. When the story ends, please take a look at what we publish: Christian non-fiction, Christian fiction, and books for younger readers.

### Chapter 1

Stephen Gildredge M.D.

"Take my advice, Master Bonny, and call in the new young doctor from Sycamore Villa. He's got a long string of letters after his name, and folks say he's a wonderful hand at operating and using of the knife."

"But he won't use any knife to Bride. He isn't going to hurt her, is he, Mrs. Corbell?"

"Bless you, no, my dear. Nobody's a-going to use no knife to your sister. Don't you be frightened, Master Bonny. But Corbell is quite of my opinion that it's your duty to have medical advice, notwithstanding as Miss Bride herself has objections, knowing the medical man expects his fee; and well we know doctors has to live, my dear, the same as the rest of us."

"I wish old Dr. Downley hadn't gone away, Mrs. Corbell."

"Him as attended your poor ma, my dear? You wouldn't have him working for ever, would you, and him in his eighty-second year? Seeing the old gentleman's retired, it seems to me we'd better put the case in the hands of Dr. Gildredge, for he's clever, though abrupt. Wonderful good he did to Johnnie Ward's inside, to be sure. Number 15, across the way, my dear -- and that not three months ago."

"You see, Mrs. Corbell," said the boy, thoughtfully, "there isn't one of father's pictures left now, and I don't believe Bride's got any money to pay doctors. But there's my bright shilling that you gave me at Christmas for doing the errands. Won't that be enough if he comes just only once?"

"Doctors' charges varies considerably," said the landlady, shaking her head. "Leppard & Holman is seven-and-six a visit, but then they drives a pair, and none but the quality sends for them. Of course, my dear, Miss Bride could be out-patient at the hospital, but the hours wouldn't suit, for it's just her teaching time. Or you could have Mr. Neary, as is parish, but I've never forgot how sharp he spoke to my Preddy when groaning with colic, blessed lamb, last Michaelmas. I can't recommend his manners, and the drop of peppermint as I give the dear babe did more good, I warrant, than his nasty powders."

"He shan't come to Bride, Mrs. Corbell. Nobody unkind shall be my sister Bride's doctor."

"Of course not, deary," said the good woman, looking admiringly at the glowing face, earnest and resolute, upturned to her own. "Not but what I hear the new young man at Sycamore Villa is a bit sharp and abrupt, but we've got to remember that he's a beginner, and so it's likely he'll be cheap. I've no doubt he'll do wonders for Miss Bride, my dear, and we'll manage to pay his little bill -- Corbell and I. We both feels the sooner Miss Bride sees a medical man the better. We don't like the looks of the poor young creature, and where's her appetite, Master Bonny? She don't eat enough for to nourish a fly that's well and hearty."

"I'll go at once, Mrs. Corbell," said Bonny Aylmer. "She's only got me, you know, in all the wide world now, and I mean to look after her. She shall have a real clever doctor, though I have to take out every penny I've got in my moneybox."

"Bless the boy!" said motherly Mrs. Corbell, watching eight-year-old Bonny striding with decision down the street. "Troubles has come to the little chap early, hut once Miss Bride gets back her strength, things will brighten for the two of them. I don't understand them fainting fits, though as Mrs. Collier with her own lips said to me yesterday evening, they're a deal too much like them trances as we reads about in the newspapers, as folks falls into in foreign parts. I always had a horror of them trances, and I don't know but what I'll leave Corbell instructions for to have me cremated when I passes hence. As Corbell often says, it don't matter what becomes of the body when the soul's out of it. But, then, there's the expense. I've heard tell it costs a goodish bit, and I wouldn't like to deprive the little ones of what I've put by for them, the dears, in the Post Office."

Meanwhile Bonny Aylmer hurried along towards Sycamore Villa, Tydebridge. He soon distinguished the doctor's house, detached in a semi-detached neighbourhood, and bearing itself with an air of gentility between the abode of the local rate collector and that of the registrar of marriages.

The large door at Sycamore Villa had no less than five bells, marked respectively, "Surgery," "Night," "Visitors," "Servants," "Trades people and Parcels." It was further adorned by a shining brass plate, and a red lamp that at eventide gave a glimmer of brightness to the most sedate-looking of the dwellings in a somewhat cheerless road.

Bonny searched carefully among the bells, and meaning to ring "Surgery," which was out of order, announced himself with clamorous electric resonance as "Trades People and Parcels."

A small red-haired maiden appeared in the area, and, seeing him empty-handed, told him, "You'd better not come here playing tricks with Dr. Gildredge's bell. Dr. Gildredge had a boy reprimanded at the police court only yesterday for aiming at his red lamp, and next time, they told him, it would be a fine. Dr. Gildredge isn't the sort to stand any nonsense, and boys is a great nuisance, playing in the road and interrupting of him in his studies."

The little girl was so small that Bonny was quite struck to hear the flow of language. "My sister's ill, if you please," he said, politely, "and I want to see the doctor."

"Ring 'Night,'" she said, disappearing into the lower regions. "'Surgery's' broke -- by Mrs. Tomlin, what rang to tell the doctor as how Jimmy Tomlin had got a marble into his nose."

Bonny rang "Night," and the front door flew open, revealing the doctor's manservant, between whom and Bonny there was recognition, but who, deeply conscious of livery, assumed an air of patronage, and graciously invited the visitor into the consulting room.

"No, thank you, Teddy," said Bonny, "I'm quite well myself. At least, I had a cold, but Bride got me some liquorice, and I'm nearly cured. I have come to say my sister Bride, Miss Aylmer you know, 11, North Terrace, at Mr. Corbell's, who works at the Stores----"

"Will you please to make an entry in the address book?" asked the fourteen-year-old footman, as though already too heavily oppressed mentally by the vast area of his employer's practice. Bonny wrote slowly and in round, clear hand: "If you please, Dr. Gildredge, come as soon as possibul to my sister Bride, at 11, North Terrace, and I, Reginald Frank Aylmer, will pay your fea."

"I'm in the third standard now, Teddy," he remarked, confidentially, as he handed back the book. But Teddy was debarred from social communications in that hall of learning by the dignity of office, and by the consciousness that the door of the consulting room stood ajar.

"Shut the front door, Coley," called an authoritative voice. "Let the boy leave his message and go."

Dr. Gildredge was deep just then in a German treatise on catalepsy, and the murmur of the boyish voices disturbed the workings of his brain.

Coley received the book from Bonny with a bow, and the child left, much awed by his livery and the calm polish and dignity of his bearing.

Nevertheless the heart was sore and anxious, and something inside Bonny's throat was so greatly swollen that he had to blink hard to keep back the tears of dread and suspense. What would Dr. Gildredge tell him when he had seen his sister Bride -- his precious sister, who seemed wasting away to a shadow, and on whom fell these strange, terrible faints that people whispered were the beginning of the end? Would she -- brave, busy, always cheerful, tender, and self-forgetting -- have a long illness like "mother," an illness that would end----?

No, Bonny refused to believe it. He clenched his hands and shook his head, putting away the thought of trouble to come.

"God won't take Bride away from me," he said to himself. "Dad has gone and Mother has gone, He wouldn't take Sis away, He couldn't. I'll go and get her a banana with my halfpenny. Sometimes she eats fruit when she doesn't care for her meals, and a banana's very nice when it hasn't gone bad."

Dr. Gildredge came early in the afternoon to 11, North Terrace. The young practitioner, determined in coming days to be known far and wide, and resolved already that the front rank of the profession should be his if stern hard work and tireless research could reach it, had only resided a few months in Tydebridge, and possessed no practice at all compared with that of the other doctors of the popular, busy country town. But his personality, and two or three cures of specially intricate cases, were gradually telling upon Tydebridge opinion.

"He's a bit of a bear," said some, "but the cleverest of the lot. None of the others have Gildredge's qualifications."

"Wonderfully clever, but not at all gentlemanly," said some of the Tydebridge ladies, and then it would be added that his brusque, uncourtly ways were not to be wondered at. Did not his father marry his cook or scullery maid or somebody? It must be a great drawback to the young fellow that his mother was not a lady -- not one that Tydebridge could be expected to call upon.

"Yes, my dear," said old Miss Elizabeth Balmer, of The Grange, to Mrs. Savory, of Tydebridge Manor, "they come from Northpoint, where Cousin Selina lives, you know, so I am well informed concerning them. One would like to have called -- but really, she was his cook, you know, his general servant, indeed, for the old gentleman was a sad failure professionally, and always poor. Cousin Selina says he meant to write a book on 'Nerve Roots' --- or some similar subject -- and he was making notes for it all his life. They lived in a ruin of a house, and the woman, who idolised him and thought him the greatest genius of the age, used to take in sewing to keep the boy at the grammar school. Cousin Selina says he was always as sharp as a needle, complaining when he was a little fellow that they did not give him lessons long enough. Think of that! And he went to the Medical College entirely on his scholarships."

"Poor young man!" said Mrs. Savory. "His mother will always be a social drawback to him, yet one must admire his chivalry in keeping her in his home."

Dr. Gildredge was received in North Terrace by Bonny, who was away from the Board school that afternoon by special permission. Bonny politely attempted to shake hands, and received the doctor's hat and stick, eagerly trying to tell him about Bride's strange fainting fits, and how he was Bride's only relation, and yet Bride wouldn't obey him and stop teaching till she got well again. Perhaps, if the doctor advised her...."

But Dr. Gildredge brushed him impatiently aside, and Bonny took a dislike to him on the spot. They faced each other for a moment -- the boy excited, impetuous, trying to hide the tears that kept stealing to dim the brightness of his gaze; and Stephen Gildredge, with fair, straight hair, keen cold eyes of grey, and clever, authoritative face, whereon Bonny, trying with timid heartbeats to read his expression, could find no gleam of sympathy or compassion.

"How I wish I'd had the great fat man that goes to No. 10!" thought Bonny, in self-reproach for bringing aught ungentle near the life he loved the best. "I hate this Dr. Gildredge -- he's horrid; and he shan't have the bright shilling. No, I'll change it at the milk shop for the dullest one they've got."

"Where is the patient?" asked the doctor. Nothing annoyed him more than to feel the value of his time insufficiently appreciated.

"If you please, sir," said Mrs. Corbell, advancing from the kitchen regions, "the young lady's in the front attic, what's their parlour since they give up the drawing room floor, as Mr. Aylmer took when they first come here."

"What is amiss with the patient?"

"It's the faintnesses, sir. They grows upon her. She lies for hours like as if she was dead, for all the world like a trance."

"A trance? Nonsense! Nothing of the sort."

"Well, sir, of course you'll know just what's wrong with poor Miss Aylmer, for it's well known in the Terrace what a cure you made of the little boy at No. 15. It's spoke of to this day, and Corbell and me, we felt anxious Miss Bride should be seen by one as is making such a name for himself in the place. But Miss Bride do fall into a trance, sir -- it's that and nothing else, if you was to carry me to the stake the next moment for saying of it."

"Is the patient hysterical? How old is she? How does she earn her living?"

"She's nineteen, Doctor, and she's a teacher. She knows a wonderful deal of book-learning. But she's never been in no hysterics all the three year they've lodged under my roof. She's one of the quiet sort -- a gentle-spoken young lady, one anybody might take to, and it do seem sad to see her fading away like a poor broken lily that's blown upon by the cold winds of autumn."

"What did Miss Aylmer's parents die of?" asked the doctor, nipping impatiently the poetic turn to the conversation.

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Corbell, subduing her voice as they neared the attic, "her pa were an invalid as long as I knew him. He were an artist, and I've heard say wonderful talented, but he were quite a cripple with rheumatic fever, sir, which it isn't to be expected as them artists can sit on camp stools in damp fields and among the marshes a-painting of the cattle, and not feel it afterwards in their bones. And her poor ma -- quite the lady, sir, and as like Miss Bride as ever you could wish to see -- she just seemed to pine away in grief for him after he were took. I'm sure if anything were to happen to Corbell -- and we married eleven year next Lady-day----"

"Then the patient had a long time of sick-nursing?"

"She did, sir, and it's that and the strain of anxiousness and want as have broken her down. Then, six weeks ago come Wednesday, she had a bit of a fright."

"Was that the beginning of these attacks?"

"I think the fainting fits come on about that time, sir. She were alone in a big house in the Crescent. The maids was out, and her pupil had gone shopping, and Miss Aylmer was a-waiting for her to come in. Well, there was a knock at the door, and Miss Bride opens it, and in steps two men sharp-like. Miss Bride was so startled she cried out, she thought they was going to attack her. One of the stupid creatures says, 'You may scream, miss, but here we means to stay.' Why couldn't they speak up quick and tell her they was bailiffs taking possession of the place for debt? She did look bad when she come home, it give her quite a turn. Ah, fright's got a lot to answer for, and I dare say it's told on her in her weak state. She don't eat nothing, Doctor. She's had nothing today but a cup of tea."

"Tea? Poison! Ruinous to the system!"

"Which it's well known, Doctor, a cup of tea's wonderful refreshing, and as to poison, that depends on how it's made, and if the poor young lady fancies it. ... Ah, Miss Aylmer, my dear, here's the new doctor from Sycamore Villa come to see you, which Corbell and me took the liberty to advise Master Bonny to fetch, seeing as how you did ought to be seen, my dear, by a medical man."

The girl, who was poring over a pile of sum papers on the table, looked surprised and a little reluctant. Mrs. Corbell rightly surmised she was reflecting upon the condition of her purse.

"I did not know my little brother had been to you, Dr. Gildredge," she said. "I am only tired. I am getting better. It was really not needful to trouble you to call."

The doctor's keen eye took in what he knew to be the beginning of the inevitable. He looked at the girl -- faded, white, thin, worn-out -- and wondered what they had been about not to seek medical aid in time.

"This must stop," he said, pushing the school papers away. "You must have rest, fresh air, and nourishing food -- no tea, mind," with a warning glance at the landlady. "You had better get a letter for a seaside or country home, but your strength must be built up before you are fit for travelling."

"I cannot give up my teaching, Doctor, even for a few weeks," she said, quietly. "It is my living, and my brother's."

The doctor was about to remark the Charity Organisation Society or the parish authorities might render some help to Bonny during her illness, when a strange thing happened, and he recognised, not without complacency, that he was dealing with a highly interesting case -- a similar one to that which had of late brought a fellow practitioner prominently before the scientific world. He saw before him a long vista of letters to the medical press. With her face turned to him, and her remark to him scarcely ended, Bride had suddenly become still as marble. She had sunk into what seemed like coma, though of breathing there seemed scarcely a sign.

### Chapter 2

"All To Her Advantage."

"It's one of them trances," cried Mrs. Corbell, with a look of fright. "Don't she look for all the world, sir, like a marble statue? Poor dear young lady! Her limbs is that stiff as though she was a lifeless corpse. Miss Bride, my dear, try to rouse yourself, there's a dear young lady. Try to open your eyes and give us some sign you're not departed. Think of Master Bonny, and rouse yourself, there's a dear, good soul. What's to be done, Doctor? She's made me promise as we won't give her spirits, being teetotal, and Master Bonny too."

"The first thing to be done is to stop chattering," said Dr. Gildredge, "and the second is to send that boy I saw downstairs with this note to the Nurses' Institute. Someone capable and sensible must be in charge of this case at once.. Ask for Nurse Stracey."

Her indignation having dissolved in tears of concern for Bride and Bonny, Mrs. Corbell despatched the boy on his errand, and in about half-an-hour an important-looking personage, with dainty cap and neat uniform, was keeping Mrs. Corbell busy in procuring various articles from the kitchen, and rearranging Bride's room with a sofa-bed for the nurse.

"It is a case of catalepsy," Dr. Gildredge told the nurse, "but that in itself is, of course, not dangerous. There are, however, serious complications, and the patient's strength is at a low ebb. I shall want you regularly to take notes for me of the various changes and symptoms. I asked for you, if possible, having heard you nursed a cataleptic case before."

"Yes, Dr. Gildredge, a young woman in Kensington. Her attacks would last for days together, but in the end she became epileptic."

"Ah, it sometimes ends that way, but it will not be so in this case," replied the doctor.

All this time he and Nurse Stracey were busily engaged in trying to administer restoratives to Bride, and in using various means to restore animation.

"I doubt if she'll recover, Dr. Gildredge. She's naught but skin and bone. It looks to me like a case of wasting away," said the nurse.

"Permit the physician to judge as to the nature of the case," he answered, politely; "and as to recovery, the nurse is to expect that, and to work for it."

"Of all the conceited young fellows!" thought Nurse Stracey, disdainfully. She was herself somewhat dignified, but the self-importance of Dr. Gildredge made her feel some sympathy with Bonny, who had crept into the room and was rubbing his sister's hands, glancing now and then at the doctor, as though heartily desiring his absence.

"Begging your pardon, Doctor," said the nurse, presently, "but I've heard of this young lady as a teacher, and I'm sure they'd take her in at the dispensary. Wouldn't that save her pocket a good deal, Dr. Gildredge?"

"Is she in a fit condition to be moved?" asked the doctor.

He did not intend this rare and interesting case to pass out of his treatment. Nervous and mental cases were his specialty, but only once before had he been brought into personal contact with undoubted catalepsy, and the patient had recovered too soon to give much opportunity for study.

"Oh, don't let Bride be taken away!" cried Bonny, looking pleadingly, not at Dr. Gildredge, but at the nurse. "All, all you charge for her, ma'am, you shall be paid. I am going to be a great artist, and earn thousands and thousands of pounds one day for my sister Bride."

"Well, well, young lad," said Nurse Stracey, "your sister will not be taken away against the doctor's wish, of course. Now you must be a good boy and keep quiet, or I shall have to lock the door against you, you know."

Bonny said no more. He was beginning to feel helpless and powerless, so much worse, so much weaker had Bride evidently become. Hitherto he had cherished a sort of pride in knowing Bride had none but himself to look after her -- that he, when he grew up, was to make her rich and fortunate and happy, and they would keep house together in a lovely home, such as in one of his picture books, which the Prince provided as the residence of Cinderella.

That home seemed tumbling to ruins now. His heart grew chill with the dread that Bride was not going to recover, that she would never live to wear the silken gowns he had envisioned for her, riding behind the long-tailed ponies of his dreams.

"Mrs. Corbell," said the boy that night, when the kind-hearted landlady had insisted on his taking his bread-and-milk supper by the kitchen fire, "I think I ought to tell you something. I don't know if your children ought to play with me, but I can't help it, really. Mrs. Corbell, I'm a murderer."

"My dear lamb, don't talk so dreadful. You needs a good sleep, my dear. You've been worrying so over poor Miss Bride, and no wonder. Get your supper, and get to bed, there's a man."

"But I am a murderer, Mrs. Corbell. People who hate other people are murderers in their hearts, you know, and I hate and detest and abominate that Dr. Gildredge with all my heart."

"Don't say that, Master Bonny. He's very clever, and he's going to cure your poor sister, you know."

"No, he isn't. I believe she's going to die, and I wish I'd have gone to someone kind. There's lots of kind doctors, and I went and got a nasty, ugly, horrid, unkind, cruel one!"

"That isn't just, Master Bonny. Dr. Gildredge is not cruel. I own he's a bit wanting in sympathy, but then he's young, and it's only through going through a good deal ourselves that we learn to care about what others has to bear. Of course, some folks have kinder natures than others. Doctors as a rule is wonderful kind, and what they goes through in the way of hard work no money pays them for, it seems to me. It's only now and then one comes across one who's ... who's a bit sharp-spoken, like this Dr. Gildredge. Bless you, he don't mean nothing by it, and we'll be singing his praises soon for doing Miss Bride good. And you must get them unkind thoughts out of your mind, my lamb. Them ain't words and thoughts as would please your dear mother that's gone to Heaven, you know."

She gathered the boy into her arms, as she would have comforted one of her own flock. There Bonny cried himself into forgetfulness and sleep at last, while his sister lay still in the trance-like condition that caused even the nurse to wonder at times if she were still alive; and Dr. Gildredge went through certain notes of his father's, made with infinite pains and research, on the subject of catalepsy, and came to the mental conclusion that Bride Aylmer might have recovered had she not so spent her powers and strength that vitality within her seemed well-nigh exhausted.

This was the beginning of the study of a case in which he became intensely interested and absorbed. He wrote letters to the medical papers, and round these communications revolved quite a series of arguments and opinions. He received communications and inquiries from those whose names were well known in the scientific world, and so devoted was he to the study of the case that he was at Mrs. Corbell's three or four times a day.

"A more attentive doctor could not be," said that worthy woman, trying to make herself grow to like Dr. Gildredge, against whom she felt she was somewhat prejudiced still. "Here's poor Miss Bride been like death again and again, but he's that clever, he's always pulled her through."

"She's getting weaker and weaker though," said Nurse Stracey, touching the girl's thin hand compassionately, and speaking so that Bride could not hear. "This case will make the doctor's name. He'll write a book on it before he's done," the shrewd nurse soliloquised; and she guessed what the answer would be when she suggested a second opinion on one occasion, when the patient seemed sinking fast.

"Were there any need for consultation, I should ere this have arranged for it," said the doctor, in a tone of annoyance; a case so rare he preferred to keep under his own observation.

Thus three months went by. Someone paid the fees at the Nursing Home, and food and lodging the Corbells provided, knowing "Miss Bride" would pay them at last if she recovered, and if she died, "We shan't be the losers in the end," said Mrs. Corbell, even as she saw how her little store in the savings bank was diminishing. "The poor young creatures shan't want a friend so long as I'm spared and able to get about; and there's the Lord Jesus as says them as gives to others a cup of cold water even for His name's sake shan't never lose their reward."

Dr. Gildredge had not expected that Bride could linger on for three months. In paying for the nurse he had certainly kept his own studies in mind, but in his heart he had believed three or four weeks would see the end.

He was not altogether satisfied when he found that a doctor at the dispensary, one very friendly with Nurse Stracey, was also taking a great interest in Bride's symptoms, and even went so far as to show him an article in a German magazine concerning a patient very similar to Miss Aylmer.

Gildredge was not popular with his colleagues. His motto was "Every man for himself," and he meant to rise to the top of the tree; for other strugglers he had no thought nor care.

He had by no means exhausted his study of Bride Aylmer's case. There seemed continually something fresh to be noted, and there was yet a treatment detailed in his father's notes that was applicable to her condition, or rather that would have been applicable but for her weak and exhausted state. No one else should have anything to do with the treatment of a case so full of interest: on that point he was mentally resolute.

"Mother," he said one evening, going down into the kitchen where an old lady with cheeks like wrinkled apples was washing up his supper things, "the blue room must be got ready. I am going to bring a patient to this house."

"Very well, Stephen," said Mrs. Gildredge, who would have said "Very well" had her son suggested bringing a lion home from the Zoological Gardens, "I dare say it will help in the expenses. The rent and taxes do come high, and very hard on you, my poor dear."

"A medical man must live in a respectable place," said her son, "but as to the patient there will be no pay. In fact, I shall be out of pocket, but not in the end though, not in the end."

"Are you doing it out of charity, my dear? That is noble of you. Just like your poor father, but he never made money, you know, my dear. Not that money is the greatest thing in the world. There's hundreds that still bless your father's memory. Who is the poor man, Stephen, and what is the matter with him?"

"I never said he was a man," said the doctor, looking rather confused for a moment. "It's ... she's a woman, and she cannot live till Christmas, but she must be here under my own eye. It is expensive to have a nurse, but no one can look after a sick person better than yourself."

The old lady already did the cooking, and such work as "Goody," the tiny maid, could not manage; but it was a grand thing to be complimented by a son so clever, and she willingly shouldered the extra burden.

"I will nurse the case willingly if you wish it, Stephen," she said, "but I can't quite understand. You say it is a woman. Is she young or old?"

"About twenty, I fancy, but she looks any age. It is a hopeless case."

"But, Stephen," said the old lady, hesitating lest she should give offence to the son of whom she was so proud, "she is only a girl, and you see you are a bachelor, my dear. Do you think it would be quite ... quite...?"

"Oh, I have thought of all that," he said, indifferently. "She will come here as my wife. I am going to marry her before long."

"My poor boy!" said his mother, her face glowing with tender sympathy, "now I know why you have seemed so silent of late, and so taken up with your own thoughts. You have learnt to love, and the one you love is passing away. You long to cheer and tend her last days. My poor boy, may Heaven help and comfort you. Yes, bring her home, my poor Stephen, and she shall be to me as a precious daughter, and we will together smooth the way for the dear one to the Shadow Valley."

"You are as romantic as a schoolgirl," said Dr. Gildredge, rather irritably. "Still, I don't know that it matters much what view you take of my intentions; I only want to make it clear that in a few days the patient will be here, you will be her nurse, and she will be entirely under my care, you understand? Sometimes patients take a whim to see another doctor, but I am pursuing with this case an important course, and I intend to go right through with it. Already it has been of untold value to me, and I wish to take constant observations."

Mrs. Gildredge did not at all understand what he was talking about. The humblest of creatures herself, she had, mother-like, high ambitions for her son. She had felt assured he would one day marry money and position. She was a little disappointed, and then her heart went out to the dying girl who was beloved by her boy. She was not so old as to have outlived romance, and it was something like a story -- a sickroom marriage \-- and a homecoming that was but as the threshold to the Homeland that knows not sickness and pain.

"I should like to see the dear lass," she said, wistfully. "Can I go tomorrow morning, Stephen?"

"No, no, I don't want any fuss made about the affair, and you need not tell the domestics yet."

The "domestics" were Goody, then in bed, and Teddy, who had taken the resplendence of his buttons home, after delivering sundry powders and pills.

"I shall tell no one," said his mother, meekly; "but why should I not try to do something for the poor girl, Stephen, since so soon she will be my daughter?"

"The idea only occurred to me this morning," said Dr. Gildredge, "She knows nothing about it as yet. I have not mentioned it to her. In fact, she is too unwell just now for any kind of conversation."

"Then, Stephen, dear, you are not yet sure -- you do not know as yet if the poor young lady will consent?"

"Why, yes," was her son's reply, "there can be no question as to that. The girl is penniless and already in debt to the landlady. She will be very grateful. It will all be to her advantage."

### Chapter 3

Bride's Decision

"Mrs. Corbell," said a faint voice from the bed, "I want to tell you something."

"Speak away, my dear," said the landlady, "if it would ease your mind, but it's against the orders of the medical man for you to agitate yourself, you know. And when I agreed for to take nurse's place this evening, while she had a bit of an outing, I promised her as I wouldn't let you excite yourself."

"I wanted nurse to go out," said Bride Aylmer, "because I have something to tell you. I think you will be glad, because ... because of Bonny. That was my only trouble when I knew I had to die: who would care for Bonny?"

Mrs. Corbell came to the bed from the window, which at Bride's request she had opened a little more widely, so that the breath of the dewy mignonette and the night-scented stock in the little back garden might be borne to the invalid's room upon the evening wind. She came and sat down beside the girl, and took the white, wasted hand into her own.

"Dear child," she said, gently, "don't let the thoughts of Bonny trouble your mind. Corbell and me, we loves him as our own, and while we lives and has arms to work, he shall be as one of ours, and he shall want for naught. Make your mind easy about the boy, my dear."

Bride tried to move her other hand to the broad, capable palm of the landlady, and the tears came to her eyes, thinking of all the kindness she and her dear ones had received within that home.

"God bless you," she said, faintly. "I know you will always be a friend to him. He will value your love for him. But, Mrs. Corbell, someone else will provide for him now. His future will be quite safe. He will be able to study, and he will have a splendid education. Dear Mrs. Corbell, one day next week, if I keep just a little stronger, I ... I am going to be married."

"The child's delirious," thought Mrs. Corbell, in much alarm. "I had better get Corbell to fetch the doctor immediate."

But she remembered no one would be in for about twenty minutes yet, and she put a handkerchief, wet with lavender water, on the invalid's head, bidding her "shut her eyes and get a bit of sleep, there's a dear."

"Mrs. Corbell, it is really true. He wants me to marry him. He is so good, so clever, so noble."

"Who, my dear lamb?" asked Mrs. Corbell, her face puckered up into lines of perplexity.

"Why, he, of course. The doctor. Dr. Gildredge."

"I do hope she'll say nothing of the sort in her light-headedness before Nurse Stracey," thought the landlady, "or in the doctor's presence. It would be very unpleasant for the young man. But maybe she'll excite herself unless I seem to take it all in as truth; I must humour the poor dear a bit. Talking of marrying, poor lamb, and she almost in her grave! Miss Bride," she said aloud, "I quite agree with you as Dr. Gildredge is wonderful clever. Folks do say he'll be keeping a carriage and pair one of these days. He's making for himself quite a reputation."

"And he is so noble-hearted," said the girl, a grateful light shining in her long-lashed eyes of dusky violet hue,. "So good, so generous. I cannot think how he could care for me, but he must, for ... for he wants to tend me, to look after me to the last. Mrs. Corbell, he has paid to have me well nursed, and he says he will see you are paid when ... when I am his wife. He says very little. Clever people do not talk much, I think, but I can see the reason of it all. He wants to care for me to the end in the shelter of his own home, and to have a right to pay for me and provide me with comforts, and to lift the anxiety about Bonny off my heart. He must have read my thoughts; he must have known I could not be content and restful, so anxious I have been about my young brother."

The voice had become a gasp, and Mrs. Corbell absolutely refused to allow another word. "My dear," she said, "I shall go out of the room if you opens your lips again. Take your medicine now and shut your eyes. You've talked beyond your strength."

"Tell Bonny, please," whispered Bride.

"All right, my dear; I'll tell him anything you choose, if only you'll be good and stop talking now."

The medicine was a sedative, and ere long Bride Aylmer was asleep, much to the landlady's relief. As soon as Nurse Stracey returned she reported that the patient had been light-headed and talking wildly.

"Why, what did she say?" asked the nurse. "She had her senses right enough when I went out."

"Oh, she talked a deal of nonsense. Folks do when they are weak and ill. Miss Bride was never one of the giddy sort, always talking and laughing about the other sex, like as some girls do who ought to know better; but in her delirium she's actually been telling me, poor lamb, as how she's going to get married."

"Did she say to whom?" asked Nurse Stracey, with a look that did not seem so surprised as Mrs. Corbell had expected.

"Poor dear, she talked a lot of nonsense. It's no good repeating the ravings of light-headed folks," said the landlady, who did not intend to mention the doctor's name as having been upon the lips of the invalid..

"I have heard some news while out this evening," said Nurse Stracey. "I should have been astonished, I confess, but in my experiences I have seen such strange things happen that I have left off being surprised at anything men do -- or women either, for that matter. They say that Dr. Gildredge means to marry Miss Aylmer. People are quite interested in the matter, and full of sympathy about it, knowing it is practically a death-bed union."

"But ... but ... I never dreamt as he was fond of her -- Dr. Gildredge -- he ... oh, what will poor little Bonny say?"

What Bonny said and did was not repeated either to the invalid or to Dr. Gildredge. He stamped and cried and kicked, and abused the bridegroom to his heart's content in the privacy of the Corbells' kitchen.

"Let him get it over, missus," said Corbell, placidly smoking his after-supper pipe. "He's never took to the doctor, and be ain't alone in his opinions neither. Still there's no denying it will mean a home for Miss Bride till she's took, poor thing, and the providing of all things needful for the boy's own future."

"He shan't provide for me!" cried Bonny, red in the face with passion. "I'd ... I'd rather be a stowaway like him in the recitation that was a noble boy and saved the captain's life. I won't go and live in that man's house, and I want Bride to die here, where mother did, and not in his horrid, ugly, stuck-up looking place."

Mrs. Corbell let the tempest of trouble and indignation spend itself; then she gently asked him not to speak of the matter to his sister for a day or two. She was too weak to be agitated. Meanwhile Mrs. Corbell would find out how Bride herself felt about it.

"If she's really fond of him, my dear," she said, "it will be a sort of comfort to your poor sister to belong to him before she passes hence. But if in her heart she don't want the marriage to come off, we'll have another doctor to her tomorrow, and she shall see no more of Gildredge, I promise you."

"Oh, do let us have another. He'd be so angry, he'd never come near the place again!" cried Bonny, eagerly.

"There'd be some difficulty about getting another, missus," said Corbell. "There's such a thing as medical etiquette, you know."

"There's such a thing as keeping Gildredge on the outside of our door, if it's the poor girl's wish I should do so," replied Mrs. Corbell. "Leave it to me, Master Bonny, we'll let it be just as Miss Bride desires. I knows you'll be a good lad and repress your feelings, for your sister's sake."

As soon as she could, the landlady gently brought forward the subject of their last conversation to the invalid, and asked her if she had consented to become the doctor's wife because of enlisting his help for Bonny.

"Forgive me, dear child," she said, "for making so bold, but it occurred to me you might be taking this step for your little brother's sake, and, if so...."

"If so?" said Bride, with the smile that made her thin face beautiful still.

"My dear, it would be a mistake. I won't say more, but if you're doing this for Bonny's future, don't you carry it out, Miss Bride. There's none ought to marry, save for affection. Supposing as you was to get well, and find yourself united to one as you'd never have thought of, save as a helper for Bonny "

"I shall never get well," the girl answered, "and I am content to go, for he will be a brother to Bonny all his life. And, dear Mrs. Corbell, don't you be troubled about me. I am very happy, oh, so happy he cares for me. I think I began to ... to like him ... ever since Bonny first brought him here."

"To like him! My lamb, I will not bother you with questions anymore, only tell me this: do you love this man who wants to marry you and take you from our home?"

"I do," she said, "with all my heart."

Mrs. Corbell stooped and kissed her. "God be with you both," she said, softly, "and grant you happy reunion where none shall say, 'I am sick,' and where there is no more pain."

"Thomas," Mrs. Corbell remarked to her husband later, "you know as I've always thought I can read folks' faces and judge of their dispositions by their looks?"

"So you can, missus. You never fancied the looks of them at No. 20, as run away, leaving me and everybody else in their debt. You're wonderful observational, and I must say I never knowed you mistaken in judging of the physiognomy."

"There's exceptions to every rule, Thomas, and I've been prejudicing myself unjustly against that there physician, Dr. Gildredge. Miss Bride, she's got a good mind and a lot of sense -- she's one as has a deal of learning and education -- and if she's gone and got fond of that there young man, there's qualities in him, rest assured, as have escaped my notice, and as don't lie on the surface. If Miss Bride have lost her heart to him, depend upon it he's a deal more amiable and well-dispositioned than I've suspected him of. He's one of those whose bark, as the saying goes, is worse than his bite."

"I don't know," said Corbell, thoughtfully. "There's no accounting for the tastes of the fairer sex, Mary Jane. Women is strange creatures, and what they sees to fancy in a man is as difficult a puzzle sometimes as any of them pictures they puts in the magazines. Not but what it seems to me the doctor's acting noble in wanting to care for the poor young lady's last days. Handsome is as handsome does, and his deeds is evidently superior to his manners. When is it to come off, Mary Jane? Is she to go away immediate?"

"He's arranging it all," was the answer, "and I don't like to ask him no questions. Nurse Stracey is to go with her and stay a day or two, and then some other body is to have the charge of her, poor dear. I'm thinking it will be but to ease her last moments and to close her eyes. Nurse Stracey told the doctor that moving her must be on his responsibility, and he said she could stand the move at present, but in two or three weeks she would be unable to bear the fatigue."

Bonny behaved like a hero when in his sister's presence. Mrs. Corbell had told him that the marriage would be for Bride's happiness, and that it was her wish as well as Dr. Gildredge's, and not one word did he utter whereby Bride could guess how he disliked the thought of the coming arrangement. That Bride could really like "that man" was a mystery to the boy -- Bride, whose ideals had been so grand and noble, being willing to belong to one whom he had heard a neighbour describe as a bear!

Still, for Bride to be happy during the short time that remained to her on earth was Bonny's chief concern. When she was with "Dad and Mother," he would go to Rome as a stowaway, there study art under great and clever masters, and become a celebrated artist, making beauty and brightness everywhere, and perhaps in Heaven they would know and talk about his pictures, and be glad.

So Bonny betrayed nothing of his own feelings concerning this marriage. As Mrs. Corbell said downstairs, "The boy acted every bit like him as stood so brave upon the burning deck. He stood by and heard them fix the date, and he was patting of his poor sister's hand and smiling, like that the boy in history as said nothing, though his inside was being all the time devoured by a fox."

Very bright and beautiful was the morning of Bride Aylmer's marriage. She was very weak and faint, but she smiled to see the sunshine, and her hand touched tenderly a bunch of sweet, pink rosebuds that rested upon graceful fern. She did not ask whence the flowers had come; he -- her hero \-- had surely guessed her love for roses, as he guessed all her needs, and had sent them as his tender message. The Corbells' moneybox had been emptied to buy the posy, but this she knew not, and it warmed her heart to attribute the offering to the bridegroom.

"Well, my dearie, the sun's smiling upon your wedding day," said Mrs. Corbell, as she entered the room in her best cap, "and it's myself that wishes you could have some of the wedding cake as Corbell have sent in, all iced, out of the baker's window in the High Street. It's hard as you must keep to milk and such like, and can't have nothing of a wedding feast."

"Isn't the sunshine lovely?" said Bride, faintly; "I wonder how it can be more beautiful in Heaven; but I shall soon know -- and till I go, it is all, all beautiful here."

Bonny was by the bed when the short service was held. He was holding his eyes very widely open to prevent any tears getting into them. The service ended rather abruptly, for his sister fainted away, and all became confusion till the doctor and Nurse Stracey cleared the room and took sole charge.

"Mrs. Corbell," asked Bonny, "did she faint in time to prevent ... I mean before it was over? Or is she married to him really? Is he my brother-in-law?"

"Certainly he is, my dearie; and you shall have the first bit of wedding cake; and I'm sure we all ought to be glad and thankful poor Miss Bride \-- leastways, I mean Mrs. Gildredge -- will be under the best of care, and lack for nothing so long as the poor dear lives."

Bonny put his hands behind him. "No wedding cake, thank you," he said. "Do you know if I am to go to Sycamore Villa when the nurse takes Bride?"

"Why, yes, my dear; I heard your poor sister say you must be in the carriage also. That is your home now, Master Bonny, and a lovely place, I'm sure, with the front entrance all tiled and 'Sycamore Villa' wrote up in ornamental letters, all wonderful genteel. And Teddy Coley works there by the day," she added, confidentially. "A rare boy for marbles and kites was Teddy. You'll have many a game when he isn't busy. A smart lad is Teddy; well do I know his mother, and nursed him as a baby."

But Bonny shook his head. "Teddy is changed," he said. "He's like the statues in the museum now. Everything, everybody's changed. I ... I think I'll go and pack my paints, and get my things together now, Mrs. Corbell."

"I do think that there doctor might have given the boy a word or a look or a shake of the hand," thought Mrs. Corbell. "It isn't a bed of roses as is before that poor child under the roof of his brother-in-law. I wonder how they'll get on when Miss Bride have been took to glory. May Him as can do all things will soften that young man's heart to the lonely child, and give little Master Bonny grace and forbearance to act dutiful and obedient-like, and to keep the peace at Sycamore Villa."

### Chapter 4

At Sycamore Villa

The move was safely accomplished. Dr. Gildredge had been called out to a patient when the invalid carriage drew up at his house, but the driver and Nurse Stracey between them carried Bride to her room, and she roused herself and looked with some degree of interest at her new surroundings. She was in his house -- Stephen's, as in her feeble heart she told herself -- and here all was restful, tender, and beautiful. How sweet were the flowers on the little table beside her, and what a lovely print faced her of the Saviour whose garment was touched by the woman who had suffered for twelve long years!

Young Goody and Mrs. Gildredge had brought in the flowers and the picture, and worked hard to make the sickroom homely and comfortable; but Bride, breathing with difficulty as she exerted herself to lift her head and look about her, thought what a wonderful thing is love -- how it had made Stephen understand just what would rest her eyes and calm her heart.

Like most people in Tydebridge, the girl had heard how Dr. Gildredge's father had married his cook, and she would have felt some curiosity as to what this old body, kept so much in the background, was like, but for the exhaustion that soon overpowered her, and which ended, to Nurse Stracey's satisfaction, in quiet sleep.

"I never thought she'd bear the move," said the nurse to Bride's mother-in-law, "but Dr. Gildredge said she could go through with it today. He knows just what reserve of strength she possesses, poor thing. It's too late to save her now. There's scarcely any vitality left; but he might have done much for her, I fancy, if he had been called in earlier. In fact, as it is, it's owing to his treatment that she is alive today."

"My son is very learned and clever," said Mrs. Gildredge, with a flush of pride. "I've never known him mistaken yet about a case. He's a great student, like his father before him. If anyone could have saved the poor lassie, he would have done it; but life and death are not in human hands, are they, nurse? The only thing we can do is to carry out my son's orders as to treatment, and of course to look after the poor girl's diet."

When Bride opened her eyes, Nurse Stracey was lying down in the ante-room, and an old lady with a wrinkled face and tender eyes of grey -- an old lady in a widow's cap and with hands not white and soft, but wonderfully gentle, though marked by hard, busy toil -- was sitting beside her, the best of books on her lap, and her spectacles within it. She had turned from making out -- for she was not a fluent reader -- the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of John, to look upon the wasted form, the white face of the fair girl who was loved by her son, yet beyond the saving even of his learning and his skill.

"My dear daughter," was all she said, the compassionate tears in her eyes, as she touched a curling lock of auburn hair that fell upon the pillow.

"I have been dreaming," said Bride, with a bewildered look. "I have been all among singing, and there were angels round me. I thought I saw my mother."

"The poor dear is seeing signs \-- she's had a call," thought Mrs. Gildredge; but she said, soothingly, "It was only Goody singing, dear child. She's like a bird for song. She was sweeping outside the door and singing a piece she's learnt at the mission meetings:

"Beautiful valley of Eden,

Home of the pure and blest;

How often, amid the wild billows,

I dream of thy rest, sweet rest."

"Who is Goody?" said Bride, faintly.

"The little servant, my dear. We had to have someone cheap, and Stephen asked the workhouse people to let us have a little girl for me to train to the work. She is a poor little waif that belongs to nobody, but she's a born worker, and won't be without a scrubbing brush or a broom."

"I remember now," said Bride; "this is ... the doctor's house. I came here today. And you are Stephen's mother?" She put out both her hands, and smiled as the old lady bent and kissed her.

"Your mother, too, my dear lass; and you must be good and obedient, and take this jelly that I made ready for your coming. And Lady Peyton, where I used to live before I went to Dr. Gildredge's, always said I'd a gift for jellies. Another spoonful, dear child, just to please me. By the way, my dear, what is your name? I have only heard Stephen call you the 'patient.'"

"My name is Beryl Rosslyn Aylmer," said the girl, "but all my life I have been called Bride. It was a pet name when I was little."

"Well, Bride, my lassie, your name is not Aylmer, but Gildredge now, you know; but I must not let you talk, or I shall get into trouble with Stephen. Here he comes with Nurse Stracey and his notebook. ... She has borne the move well, dear Stephen, and she has had a beautiful sleep. Quite a natural sleep, without any sedative."

The doctor took no notice of her unimportant remarks; he had latterly been working out points as to the patient which convinced him her illness was complicated by a recondite malady concerning which he had been studying articles by German medical professors. His mind was full of this subject, and he directed all his attention to this theory, which indeed was at the basis of his desire to keep the case entirely for his own investigation.

"This room is so nice," murmured Bride. "The flowers are lovely. Thank you so much," but he told her abruptly not to use up her strength in talking. He had much to note as to her symptoms, and much to occupy his mind as he worked out his theory afterwards on paper in his consulting room.

"Can I have Bonny up here this evening?" asked Bride, wistfully. "I expect he feels rather strange at first in a new house."

"No, no," said the doctor, "boys are noisy, and you cannot be kept too quiet. Besides, your brother is not in. I have sent him with a note to the headmaster at St. Egbert's. I have asked as a favour that he may be admitted as a day-scholar at once."

"It is very good of you," said Bride, glad to think of Bonny at the school that bore such a high repute, though he had done very well at the Board school, and the Corbell boys would mourn their lost classmate.

On entering the house that afternoon Dr. Gildredge had caught sight of Bonny sitting alone as in the drawing room, whereto Teddy had conducted him, not knowing what else to do with him.

Bonny did not like to touch the albums and books of views, and be was much disturbed by a portrait of Dr. Gildredge as a youth surrounded with erudite volumes. Somehow the clever, keen, piercing grey eyes of the student followed him all about the room, even though he got behind the sofa and peeped furtively out.

"What are you doing in the drawing room, Aylmer?" asked the doctor, disapprovingly. "I will have no getting up to mischief in this house, mind. I have no money to spend on repairing things broken by careless boys. Here, I have something to say to you. I have been mapping out your career. Come into my consulting room, and I will just explain what you have to do -- no shirking, mind! I shall withdraw my oversight of your future if I discern signs of laziness and indolence."

"I'm not lazy," said Bonny, flushing. "I'm tired at times, but Mrs. Corbell says it's because I'm growing so fast."

"Have the goodness," said Dr. Gildredge, "not to repeat the observations of Mrs. Corbell under this roof. You are in a different position now, Aylmer, as a ... a sort of connection of mine. I must expressly forbid any association or familiarity with the lower classes. My plans for your future----"

"My future's all settled," said Bonny, in a trembling voice. "I'm to learn painting and to be an artist, like father was. If he hadn't been weak and ill he would have got to be very great -- and I'll be great. I meant to get rich and take care of Bride ... only ... only...."

"You sister will be provided with every comfort while life is spared," said Dr. Gildredge, "and as to yourself, you will live to be thankful the painting nonsense was put on one side. You are to be a student, Aylmer, and if later on you adopt the medical profession or should decide to be a chemist or analyst, such information as I possess will, I need scarcely say, be of value to you; and if you are careful of them you can make use of some of my books. I have only provided for your career at present to the age of twenty-two. You will go at once to St. Egbert's College as a day-student, there being a scholarship next spring, which will give you three years' free training. It is for boys under twelve, and you must take it. During the three years, you will take the Swift and Maunders Scholarships, giving you five years more. At the end of your time you will take an exhibition admitting you to technical training for three years, during which period you will study for a scholarship that will take you to Cambridge. Is this programme of arrangements for your future career quite clear to you, Aylmer? It must be carried out to the letter if I am to interest myself in your education. In my dictionary, remember, there is no such word as 'fail.' Take your hands out of your pockets, and try to stand like a gentleman while I write a few lines to my friend, the principal of St. Egbert's. Take this note to the college, and wait for an answer. I trust you can start lessons at once. Nothing is more annoying than to have idle boys hanging round. And remember, Aylmer, you are to forget you have ever been to the Board school. A new era is dawning for you now, and by perseverance and application you must seize opportunity at the flood, and be borne forward to eminence and success."

"Please, how is Bride after the drive?" asked Bonny, lingering at the door, note in hand.

"I have not seen the patient as yet, Aylmer. Should any critical change occur, the nurse would acquaint you concerning it. Now be quick with that letter, and no playing at leap-frog or marbles on the way with other idle boys."

Bonny felt as if playing at anything at all were the last thing he should ever want to do again. Before he left the house he hid his paints and brushes behind a pile of boxes in the cupboard of the little attic where he was to sleep. When all was over with his sister he would slip away quietly with his paint box one dark midnight hour, and Dr. Gildredge would still have that map of his career in his desk, but he would be hiding on a ship bound for Rome, beautiful Rome, where his father had studied \-- sunny Rome, the city of painters!

The, as in all the stories of poor boys who had risen to be great, some kind person would befriend him, admire his work, and look after him while, owned by all to be a genius, he devoted his time to the study of art.

"And then I will come back to England," he decided, "and design a monument for Bride. And people will come hundreds of miles to see it. No tomb shall be so beautiful as hers. Oh, Bride, Bride, how I wish I could go to Heaven with you and Dad and Mother!"

"Missus," said Goody, putting her head into the parlour where the old lady was busily knitting socks for Stephen, "that there boy says he don't want no tea nor no supper. He's sitting on the garden roller, and he do look that miserable. Master sent him an errand, and when he come in he went and sat on the roller, and I asked him, didn't he want nothing, and he says, 'only to be let alone.' I suppose he's worried about the young lady that's so ill."

"What boy, Goody?" asked the old lady, laying down the sock.

"It's the new lady's little brother, missus. Him as has come to live here, and he's had no food inside his lips since to this house he came. Not that we wants any more boys. Teddy's trying in his ways, as well you knows, missus. He don't half clean the knives -- I has to go over them all again. But I wish as Teddy hadn't the day off today, because I expect he could cheer up the young gentleman a bit. I don't know what to say to him, beyond asking him if he could eat a bit, and he says, No, he ain't hungry."

"Poor little laddie!" said Mrs. Gildredge, as she rose and went to look out at the kitchen window. Bonny looked the picture of dolefulness. He did not know where to go or what to do, or if he would be allowed to bid Bride "goodnight" before he went to bed.

"He don't take notice of nothing," said Goody, in a tone of concern. "I put my pot of geranium that took the prize at Tydebridge Show close agin him just now, and he never so much as said, 'What a beauty!' or ' Who's had the rearing of it?'"

Mrs. Gildredge looked at the sad face and listless form.

"Barkis!" she called, going over to the kitchen fireside, where in a wicker basket was a black and tan puppy with a silky white vest.

Barkis awoke from repose, and trotted outside as she opened the door to the garden. Open-mouthed and barking noisy greeting, he went at Bonny, but the boy was used to dogs, and knew the advances were friendly.

He jumped off the roller to pat and fondle Barkis; then the puppy challenged him to a race, and away they went down the path.

"Why, you are friends already," said the old lady, as she joined the two and kissed the boy's face, now flushed with running. "You will be quite a playfellow for my little dog, laddie. He is only a baby dog -- a poor little stray. I cannot hear of his people, and Goody and I want to keep him. Dr. Gildredge does not like dogs, so of course we do not let Barkis annoy him."

"Isn't he wonderful?" cried Bonny, feeling all was not vanity of vanities while his arms held that furry ball of life. "Oh, if only I could show him to Bride! She and I had a dear old dog, only he died. Oh, Bride would like to see Barkis, but I suppose I mustn't go in?"

"We will see about that, little man, if you eat up the supper Goody has got ready for you. You and Barkis shall have some together. You can teach him to beg for some nice bits."

"Why, he's laughing," cried Goody, quite dismayed to see a look of merriment on the face of "that there boy."

That look of merriment was as medicine to Bride, when, treading very softly, he entered her room with the old lady, and showed her the little creature under his arm.

"You must not stay, Bonny," said Nurse Stracey, "Dr. Gildredge will not hear of your coming in and out. Your sister has to be kept so quiet."

"Ah, but it does me good to see my little Bonny," said Bride, tenderly. "Goodnight, little brother, dear little brother; God bless you. Goodnight, Barkis. Did Stephen choose his name?" she asked her mother-in-law.

"Why, no, my dear; he does not care for dogs. I keep this one out of his way. I think the baker's man called him Barkis, and we adopted the name. But come, my little man, if the doctor orders us out we must obey, you know."

Bonny went, very slowly. He wanted to talk to Bride about St. Egbert's -- he had ever so much to say to her. He was quite a little nurse in his way, and resented being forbidden the sickroom. Had not his mother loved to have him by her, and praised him for his quiet and his help?

"You are not to take the boy in there," said Dr. Gildredge, in a tone of vexation, chancing to meet them in the passage. "The patient will very soon be in your charge, and I expect my instructions carried out. Aylmer is only to see his sister in my presence. She is not fit to be distracted by the noise of boys."

Bonny had instinctively popped Barkis under his jacket, afraid that the objector to dogs might deprive him of his comrade. He was so concerned to conceal the puppy that he did not fully take in the doctor's words; but Mrs. Gildredge sat thinking over the matter when the boy was in bed, and she came to the uncomfortable conclusion that, for some reason or other, her son did not like his little brother.

"My dear Stephen," she said, as he was taking his supper, "do you know, I think you are mistaken in keeping Bonny away from your wife."

"My -- what?"

"Your wife, my dear. Why, you are getting quite absent-minded, like your father. Surely you remember you were married today?"

"Yes, yes. Well, that reminds me; I have drawn up a list I shall want you strictly to attend to in this case. Please look at this. I have written all down very plainly. First of all, the temperature----"

"First of all, Stephen, my dear, let us settle about Bonny. I am sure it is a good thing for his sister to see the boy two or three times a day. They are evidently devoted to each other."

"Kindly allow me, Mother, to decide what is good and prudent for my patient. She is nearing a crisis that may be the end, and absolute quietude is imperative. I may be able to prolong her life for three weeks yet. It is very important that I should do so, if possible."

"Of course it is, Stephen; but while there is life there is always hope. Is there no chance whatever that, by constant care and nursing, the disease may yet be baffled?"

"No, it is a case that is absolutely hopeless. According to my theory -- and I believe the event will prove me correct -- she may survive till about the 20th. There is only one person whose distance I deplore at this point "

"One of her relations, Stephen? We ought to telegraph for such, if all hope be really over."

"Relations? No! Relations as a rule are out of place and extremely troublesome in the sickroom. I could wish Professor Urgentheim had been in England. He would have seen in the progress of this malady the refutation of views that even as his pupil I felt bound to question and oppose."

Mrs. Gildredge looked at him in silence. With the woman he loved so surely nearing the end, how came it to pass that he seemed lost in argumentative visions, instead of watching beside her and counting the very moments that she remained to him on earth? Mrs. Gildredge had expected he would scarcely leave the side of his newly-made wife. She had supposed it was to tend and minister to her that the strange marriage had taken place.

"Ah, my dear," she said tremulously, "it is very sad to think you will lose dear Bride so soon. She is a sweet girl, and I am not at all surprised that you have grown so fond of her. I could have held such a daughter very precious."

"How your tongue does run on, Mother," said the young man, irritably. "You are as foolishly romantic as the novel writers. I wish you would take these powders up to Nurse Stracey; she is to watch the result, and report to me at two a.m. Yes, I have long been convinced Urgentheim's theory has no foundation in fact, and this case proves my point. The German school will probably debate the question."

And these were the last words his mother heard as, with a face perplexed and grave, she went up to his wife's sickroom.

### Chapter 5

"It's Like a Miracle!"

They were waiting for the end -- waiting for the last flickering up, and then the dying out of the faint, trembling spark of life. Day by day they waited, and in their hearts they thought each morning that Bride would not be with them at the sunset hour. Dr. Gildredge waited, interested, observant, a little perplexed at symptoms and developments which did not wholly accord with his diagnosis of the malady, yet prepared for a crisis which would prove he had correctly worked out his theory as to the progress of the complaint.

Bonny waited, struggling hard with the class work and home lessons connected with St. Egbert's, and dreading each day what he might read in the blinds drawn down as he neared Sycamore Villa from school, finding comfort only to his aching heart from the occasional unbending of Teddy Coley, the youthful footman, to a surreptitious game in area or back kitchen, and from the tender devotion of Barkis, his comrade and attendant on all possible occasions.

Little Goody waited, too, with a mind divided between interest and excitement in a nearing funeral, and a sense of awe in the fact that "the new lady" would soon be in Heaven, where her father and mother had passed from the workhouse shelter, to the Gloryland very real and radiant to the faith of the maid.

And the snowy-haired old lady waited, too, and worked, concerned on behalf of the soul that seemed passing from all things earthly, yet resolute that if nursing and watching and tender care could save her, Stephen's wife, by the Lord God's mercy, should yet be spared to his home.

The three weeks went by that exhausted to the uttermost Bride's possibilities of surviving, according to the doctor's calculation. A month passed -- five -- six weeks, and still she lay in the same condition, able to speak very little, taking obediently what was given to her, rousing slightly whenever she had sight of her husband or when "Mother" spoke of him and sung his praises as so studious, so wise, so clever, so different from everybody else, and so certain to be numbered among earth's worthies, the famous and the great.

Seeing that mention of Stephen was a sort of life-elixir to the girl, Stephen's mother dwelt much upon the subject so dear to her own heart. Bride was soon in a position to write a biography of Dr. Gildredge, from the cutting of his teeth (accomplished with success and fortitude such as no contemporary of his years, or rather months, had been known to equal) to his latest contribution to The Lancet, which had appeared in the last number but six, and which it was promised Bride should read when her strength permitted. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gildredge thought it might be a comfort to her to have the paper under her pillow.

It began to startle the doctor a little at times to see the white face smile and the eyes brighten at his entrance. According to his expectations, according to all the workings of his theory, Bride should by this time have been but a memory. Yet here she was still, no feebler than when she was brought to Sycamore Villa, even a trifle stronger, and with the last attack of coma left long weeks behind her now.

Dr. Gildredge was bewildered; his faith in his diagnosis began to waver very slightly, yet he made no admission as to any chance of life, till one day his mother asked him plainly if Bride could not be saved -- if there were not a hope, nay, a certainty that time and nursing might give back to her health and strength.

"It will be the greatest triumph of your skill that has ever yet been known," she said, in a voice of trembling joy. "Your cures have been wonderful, my dear lad, but if you can give back health to this dear girl...."

"I do not think Beryl can make the fight for life needful for any chance of restoration," he answered. "The progress of her complaint...."

"My dear," said the old lady, humbly, "you know everything about such matters, and of course I am quite ignorant as to signs and symptoms; but I have done a great deal of nursing in my time. You know how your dear father worked among the poor, and how at times he would ask me to look after those that seemed left with none to tend them. And it's my own private opinion, Stephen, my dear, that there's no special complaint in the case of our dear Bride at all. You have cured her of that dreadful trouble as to the trance-like faints that Mrs. Corbell was telling me about when she called here the other day to inquire if our dear one still survived. And all that's left, it seems to me, is that she is quite worn out and exhausted, and needs steady building up for months to come. And then I believe the dear girl will be no worse for this long illness, perhaps all the better, for she'd been long breaking down, Mrs. Corbell was saying, through overwork and trouble. I believe she's going to be restored to you, Stephen. I am making it a matter of prayer, my dear, and so is Goody, affectionate little lassie that she is, to be sure. I believe your wife will be raised up again as one from the dead, and may you have many a year of joy and praise and thankfulness together, and not a shadow to darken your married life. May you make that dear lass as happy as your poor father made me, for happier no heart could be, nor better husband could woman wish to have."

With these remarks, not delivered without tears of sympathy, the old lady moved away, leaving her son to his studies and his meditations.

That these latter were not wholly complacent may be gathered from the fact that the young man strode up and down the room with face impatient and darkened, telling himself that Coley had been arranging his books and papers, and the confusion thus wrought was the cause of his discomfiture. But Coley was not wholly the offender. Was it possible that he felt some humiliation in the discovery that his opinions had been wholly mistaken, and his diagnosis concerning Beryl had been far graver than the reality?

If any such feeling were in his mind, the doctor's instinct to save and preserve life overpowered it. He went in search of a notebook of his father's, containing mention of a nerve-help that in Beryl's improved condition could now be tried. Yes, she was growing stronger, and she had gone down to the gates of the grave. She was a witness, indeed, of medical skill. As the physician, he felt it a triumph that Beryl (as he preferred to call his wife, ignoring in his dignity the customary pet name of Bride) should survive. But, as a husband ... well, the fact was that he had never meant to marry till he was fairly well established, he had acted impulsively indeed -- madly, and he had always prided himself on prudence and circumspection.

Coley, entering the room with a message just then, was figuratively cast forth out of it, so angry was his master's face and so impatient his words.

"Which I don't know as I should stand any more of the master's tantrums, but should look out to better myself," Teddy Coley remarked to Goody, "but how would you and that young Aylmer get on without me? It needs someone with a cheerful face and pleasing manners to keep things going at this here Sycamore Villa."

"Dear mother," said Bride, one tranquil evening when she had been long silent, her eyes fixed on the print of the Great Healer, her thoughts far away from earth, "you will be a friend to Bonny, will you not, when I am gone? Bonny is a strange, loving little fellow ... he ... he does not get on with everybody. He might seem sullen and ill-tempered, but it is only because he is shy. He is fond of you, and you would be able to manage him. You will be good to him, Mother, for my sake, and ... and .. help him and Stephen to become as brothers."

"My dear lass," said the old lady, tenderly, "what I can do for the little lad I will. He shall always have a helper in me. But as to your leaving us, Bride, that may not be God's will for you and us. I think He means to spare you to us, my daughter. Don't you know, Bride, that you are not getting worse, but getting better?"

The large, expressive eyes looked at her earnestly. "Does he think I am not going to die?" she asked, startled by the thought, to her wholly new, that this illness might have an ending of restoration and strength.

"Yes, Bride, I am sure of it. He is using a new and powerful remedy, the properties of which his father specially studied. Your nerves are calmer, your head is clearer, you even begin to feed yourself now, you know. After the long strain of anxious nursing you had a reaction, and quite gave way; but your illness is taking a turn now, and it rests with yourself, by Heaven's mercy, to battle against the weakness and be strong and well again."

"I ... I was ready to go," said the girl, "but Stephen -- Stephen has saved my life."

"My dear, you will be the best advertisement of his medical skill. Live for his sake and for all our sakes, dear lassie. Live to make him happy and to brighten his home. Somehow Stephen has not cared for his home very much. I am only a dull companion for him, but his life will be very different when you are flitting about like a sunbeam, dear child."

"I can never repay his goodness, or yours," said Bride, stroking the wrinkled hand.

"Yes, you can, my dear -- by getting well and rosy. Make up your mind you will soon be about the house. I feel I shall soon be proud of my patient, and so will Stephen. What will Nurse Stracey say when she meets you walking about the town? I shall feel quite boastful. You could not feed yourself when Nurse Stracey left, you know."

Bride laughed. Dr. Gildredge caught the sound as he entered the room, and the conviction came to him then, as never before so strongly, that his wife would recover, and that the change in his domestic arrangements was not the merely temporary one he had supposed, but a good deal more important and permanent than had entered into his calculations.

The doctor did not believe in marrying at the outset of a career. He had intended selecting a wife later, one whose income and position would help him professionally. He was a little dismayed at the sort of life that seemed opening before him: increased expenses, more feminine chatter, probable dressmaking extravagances, a wife who would be more or less of an invalid, most likely, after such a weakening illness.

Bride did not look an invalid that evening. As he felt her pulse she laid her other hand on his, and the old lady, smiling, went softly from the room.

"Stephen," said the girl, her eyes shining like stars as they rested on his face, "you have brought me back from death. I am going to get well, Stephen. I feel it in my heart, and I owe it all to you."

"Do not excite yourself, Beryl," he said gravely, feeling a little awkward under the gaze of those bright eyes. "The symptoms are certainly more favourable; but, as your medical adviser...."

"I will not get excited," she said, simply. "I will work with you and Mother to get quite well, so that I can begin to help in the house, to do things for you, Stephen. Oh, we shall be so happy -- so happy, Stephen, dear! How good God is to us, isn't He, Stephen?"

Before the doctor was aware of her intentions, she had moved up one of his hands to her lips, and he felt her kiss upon it.

"I notice hysterical symptoms in Beryl," he told his mother later. "I am afraid she is deficient in elements of practical common sense. It is natural she should feel under considerable obligation to myself, but you might counsel her that I have the strongest possible objections to anything of the nature of a scene. She had better take a composing-draught. Pray beg her to exercise self-control."

It was quite a festival in Sycamore Villa, though the master of the house was in London that day, when Bride could be moved to the sofa. Bonny and Barkis had tea with her, and Goody sang so rejoicingly in the lower regions that the soul of Barkis was moved to wretchedness and he howled in protesting alto.

After that, each day seemed to bring her fresh vigour. By-and-by she could sit by the window, and then in the garden, and at last she began to take up little household duties, gladly relieving the old lady, and anxious to concoct tasteful and delicious knick-knacks for Stephen, whom she was wont to welcome from his rounds with a colour like a blush-rose and a smile so bright that it began to haunt him as he went from one patient to another.

"No case ever impressed me like Beryl's," he told himself, suddenly aware that she had been unaccountably long in his thoughts. "It was a most remarkable case, but the unforeseen does indeed come to pass most strangely."

"Ain't it wonderful to see the doctor's lady a-getting about, and helping here and there, and getting things straight, and making the rooms so pretty?" said Goody, her eyes full of admiration as she watched Bride, with a big apron round her pretty figure, washing the old china ornaments that were a heritage of her own, and which she had brought down to beautify the overmantel. "It do seem an answer to prayer. The girl next door said as how she'd heard our lady couldn't possibly live, and Teddy Coley he says as how they was remarking at the baker's it's like a miracle for her to be raised up, seeing she used to go into trances, and was many a time like as if dead."

"There's nothing too hard for the Lord's mercy," said the old lady, "and thankful I am to have such help as I get every day now to spare my bones, for I am not so young as once I was, and the stairs seem a bit steep and trying at times. But, Goody child, you must not speak of 'the doctor's lady.' Mrs. Gildredge is your mistress now -- mistress of this house, remember; and you must do all you can to help her and to please her."

"Sure and I will, missus," said the young maid earnestly. "I'm wonderful fond of the new -- of my mistress, I mean. And Master Bonny, he's a very nice little boy, and a good example to Teddy for being so quiet and never making no noise."

"Too quiet, I fear," thought the old lady. "It is not natural for boys to have such a solemn face and keep to their books as Bonny does. Perhaps when his examination is over he will cheer up a bit. It is not everyone can stand book learning all the time like my Stephen. My lad never was like other boys. It's natural I should feel proud of him. He's a genius, like his poor dear father before him. But I really must speak to him and to dear Bride about her taking the housekeeping soon -- when she is quite strong enough. My dear daughter must be mistress here, and I must see she has her rightful place. I think she's been treated too much like a visitor or a stranger as yet. I must show her how Stephen likes the house accounts kept, and explain to her that he likes something returned to him each week out of the allowance he gives for domestic matters. Dear Stephen has not increased that allowance for the two extra mouths we have now. Not that Bride and Bonny eat much, but it makes a difference, I must remind him. It will make it easier for Bride as housekeeper if some little addition can be made to the allowance."

Thus musing, the old lady passed the door of the pantry on her way upstairs. Teddy Coley was cleaning knives therein, and Bonny, with Barkis at his feet, was sitting on a box of scrubbing brushes, trying to master some declensions, but putting the book down finally with a long sigh.

"Cheer up, mate," she heard Teddy say, sympathetically, "you never used to have such a long face. Look on the bright side, Bonny, old chap: there's always a bright side, you know. Lessons is horrid, that I admits, but I'd be ashamed to look so downcast, I would, when your own sister is cured and well, as everyone thought was a-going to die. They're saying in the town it's like a miracle. You ought to sing for joy and overflow with thankfulness, you know."

"So I do," said Bonny, with a gulp, as if something choked him. "I'm full of thanksgiving, Teddy, only ... only I don't feel like singing. I think it's the heat makes me feel so tired."

"Keep looking at the bright side," said Teddy; "don't think about them old grammar books. There's a circus coming tomorrow, Bonny, and you and me we'll get up early before anyone's astir, and I'll meet you at six down by the pump in High Street, and we'll see them take the elephants to bathe in the river. There's three elephants and eight little speckled ponies no bigger than the St. Bernard dog that plays with Barkis over at number eleven."

But Bonny shook his head. "It's very kind of you, Teddy," he said, "but I get up at six to do my Virgil and my chemistry. I've got to be first in the examination, you know. It's down on the plan for my future. And I suppose the plan must be gone through. I'm to be a doctor or a chemist, he says; I'm not to think about painting. But, supposing he should die, Teddy! He might have an accident, you know, or get some infection -- then I'd be an artist! I'd go to Rome that moment!"

### Chapter 6

When Bride Understood

Ill news reached Sycamore Villa one sunshiny morning when the birds were singing and the winds were gentle, and all save Dr. Gildredge's household seemed radiant in the brightness of the golden weather.

For some weeks now the young wife had been able to be present at breakfast. She looked fair and winsome in the neat serge skirt and white blouse her skilful fingers had daintily fashioned, a jessamine spray from the creeper over the garden porch twisted into the brooch at her throat. But Bride looked rather anxious and harassed. She had a notion that Stephen could not be well. As was customary with him, he took no notice of the rest at the table, but studied his book or paper, and then went off to the privacy of his study.

"He works so hard," she thought. "He is so good, so clever. I wish I could make him happier. I wish he would tell me what is wanting in me, for somehow I feel he is disappointed in me. He sees a lack in the one whose life he saved. Perhaps if I studied some of his papers, and could talk with him about some new bacillus and so on, I should please him better. I don't like microbe investigations, but I would do anything to please him, to make his home bright and happy."

Before the doctor left the table this radiant morning, the letters were brought in. One was from the master who had been privately coaching Bonny for the scholarship. It was a brief note, giving the name of the boy who had been successful. Poor little Bonny had failed at the first step of the carefully planned-out "career."

Bonny crimsoned with shame, but said nothing when Dr. Gildredge announced his failure in tones of stern vexation. Barkis was outside, licking the window in a futile attempt to open it, and wailing at his non-success. Bonny felt like wailing, too. He had really tried to work, and stood high as to marks, but he knew he had missed the free education, and he felt guilty and miserable indeed.

"You will do better next time, little brother," said Bride, fondly; but Dr. Gildredge remarked in solemn disapproval, as he left the table: "There will be no 'next time' for Aylmer at St. Egbert's!"

The old lady brought a pot of her own special jam, and spread a slice thickly for Bonny. Her sympathies were deeply with the boy. She was privately of opinion the "book-learning" had been too much for the young head. Perhaps he might have done better at the examination had they not "tired him out," she thought, by keeping him so hard at it day by day for so many long weeks.

It was a trouble and heartache to Bride that the two she loved did not take to one another. Today it was almost a relief to her to know that Stephen was leaving home for a distant medical congress, for perhaps by the time he returned, his disappointment as to Bonny's failure would have become less keen and bitter, and he, too, would be sorry for the little fellow who had honestly done his very best to win.

She had occasion to seek her husband to ask him a question as to the packing, and his tones in telling her where the books required would be found were so sharp and abrupt that Bride felt the tears rise to her eyes.

"Stephen, dear," she said, "have I vexed you? You seem angry with me. Is it about Bonny you are displeased? He is in great trouble over it. I am sure he tried very hard."

"I have no time to think about Aylmer today," he said, impatiently. "Kindly take the books and let the packing be done. Any fidgeting about the room interrupts my thoughts."

"Stephen, you are harming yourself by overwork," she said. "You are always studying. I wish you would take more care of yourself. You save other people's lives, and you are careless of your own."

Her voice trembled in its wistful anxiety, and she laid her hand shyly for a moment on his shoulder.

Dr. Gildredge looked at it and at herself -- at the tender face turned towards him so solicitously. "I believe, Beryl," he said, "you read penny novelettes. Do you know you look like the pictures of anxious heroines one sees in the shop windows on those remarkable specimens of literature?"

"I cannot help being anxious," she said, the hand dropping to her side, "when I see you look pale and worn-out. Stephen, I wish you would tell me, are you worried by money matters? I know you have not many patients yet, though everyone will soon know, of course, how clever you are -- and Bonny and I add to your expenses. Would you mind very much, Stephen, if I took a few pupils? I know I could get back my former ones, and it would help in our keep and in the rent."

"Do as you choose," he answered; "it really does not matter to me. I must ask you to leave me to my work at present, however."

Bride went away, her heart sore and bewildered, conscious that something was wrong -- that life at Sycamore Villa was not like the roseate picture of her dreams when first "Mother" had told her she had a chance of life.

"I think Stephen is far from well," she told the old lady while helping that morning in the household work. "He seems so depressed and out of sorts. I am so glad he is going to have a change. Perhaps he will come back much brighter."

"You know, my dear," said the old lady, glancing at her with some anxiety, "my boy was never one of the demonstrative sort. His feelings are not on the surface. Should he seem a little short with you at times, you must not think anything of it. His mind is in his books -- that's the explanation of it."

"Well," said Bride, laughing, "his mind may be there if it chooses, so long as his heart is with us, Mother \-- you and me. We can't spare his heart to those great volumes, can we, Mother?"

The old lady made no answer. Bride was so dear to her, and she could not help seeing darkness and trouble in the path of the young wife. But she would keep the shadows from that tender, loving nature as long as possible. While she lived, she would do her best to keep the belief alive in the heart of Bride that Stephen Gildredge had married her for love, and that he loved her still.

That evening Bride went out on an errand for the old lady, to procure things needful for a shawl she was knitting. The girl had spoken of going to see Mrs. Corbell, but somehow the heat of the day had tired her, and she turned homeward on leaving the shop, wondering if Stephen were yet back from his rounds, and if he would be too busy for her to be with him before he started for the train.

Hearing voices in the garden, she went and stood in the porch, thickly covered with creepers, that led from the back door. Her husband and his mother were out there among the shrubs, and the words she heard the old lady speak startled her so much that she stood there as if immovable, unperceived by either, listening to that which explained what had bewildered her and changed the whole course of her life.

"If your father had treated me so," the old lady was saying, her voice quivering with indignation, "I would not have stayed with him another day. But your father had a heart, Stephen, and sometimes I think, I fear----"

"I make no pretence as to having a heart," said the doctor, who looked impatient and annoyed, "beyond, of course, the physical organ possessed by all. And it is greatly to be hoped that Beryl, through novel reading, will not turn out one of the sentimental school. I daresay we shall get on as well as most couples, if I am not wearied by absurd and romantic notions. You might give her a hint to leave me more to myself. Once or twice she has come into the study. That must not be habitual. I have never had interruptions in this way from yourself, and it must be stopped at once."

"Stephen, your wife sees nothing of you. I consider her shamefully neglected. Her opinion of you is too prejudiced for her to see this, but it will become all too plain to her at last. Why did you marry that poor girl if you take no pleasure in her company -- if you avoid her as much as possible? You made a sad mistake, Stephen, when you brought Bride here as your wife."

"I know it," he answered, kicking the gravel with his foot. "A sad mistake, but it is too late to regret that matter now."

"A sad mistake for poor Bride, I mean. It is a shameful thing for a loving-hearted girl to be sacrificed, as she has been."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "It strikes me the sacrifice is on the other side. Beryl has her board and lodging and every comfort, and I am saddled with additional expense for the rest of my life. It was altogether a mistake. No man who has his way to make in life should encumber himself by marrying so early. I have already been greatly crippled by the expenses."

"Stephen, answer me," said the old lady, facing him with a look that was new to him upon the serene, kindly face; "why did you make Bride Aylmer your wife?"

"I cannot see that the matter should concern you, Mother. I had my reasons, and the thing is done with now."

"No, it is not done with. One day her heart will be broken. One day I pray Heaven you may grow to be ashamed of your unworthy, unmanly part."

"May I ask why you have suddenly become so indignant?" asked Stephen Gildredge, as he lighted a cigarette.

"It is not suddenly, Stephen. The anger and indignation have been growing in my heart day by day. Oh, my boy, to think that your father's son could have planned this thing."

"May I trouble you to explain what I have done?"

"Stephen," and her voice sank to an excited whisper, which yet, word for word, reached the heart of Bride, "you know there was no love in your heart when you arranged that sickbed marriage. I have grown to understand why you brought Bride here as your wife. You believed her to be suffering from some rare malady that would cause her death, and one you specially wished to study. You feared lest others might have the opportunity of pursuing investigations that would help your own studies -- help you to make a name -- and so you made her your own, that her malady might be the stepping-stone to your own progress. God forgive you, Stephen, and one day give you grace to feel shame that you could have done this thing!"

He made no answer, but turned as if to enter the house through the French window.

"I thought you married her to tend her last days, Stephen; and from the first I resolved, if love and nursing could fight her illness, I would save your wife for you. I knew half the battle would be won if I could make her wish to live, and all my words were of you -- words that found an echo, poor girl, in her heart, and that caused her to long to continue with you and to struggle for life."

"Indeed," said Dr. Gildredge, "hitherto I gave my remedies the credit of restoring the patient. But by your account the cure is due to you. Enough of this, Mother; I am tired of the subject. The thing cannot be altered now, and we must just all make the best of it."

"You did save her, Stephen," cried his mother, eagerly. "As a medical man, when there was a chance of life, you could not and did not let her die. But you saved her as a case, not as your own dear wife. Oh, Stephen, is it too late now for all things to come right? Need her heart ever be grieved by knowing you have no affection for her? Try to learn to love her, Stephen, my dear. She is a good, true-hearted girl. Try to return her love "

"Mother, I am not sentimental, and I never shall be. I will do my duty by Beryl, seeing she has recovered, and her home is here; and I will put her brother to some trade or other. It is waste of time to spend money on educating him further, as far as I can see. I fancy a boy is wanted at the dyers and cleaners; but that must wait till my return. Believe me, Beryl and I will get on as well as other people who pretend a lot of love-nonsense. You must give her a hint as to spending very little on dress, but of course she must look neat. A medical man has, of course, to consider appearances. And now, as to Dr. Lyndale, if you will consent to change a wearisome subject...."

"When does he arrive, Stephen? Will he be in here to supper?"

"No, I have already seen him. He has gone direct to his apartments, but he will be here daily to see patients in my room, and you must see all messages reach him promptly. He has been a ship doctor, but is looking out for a practice now. I knew him in the hospital -- no genius, but plodding. He will get on all right with the patients. The stupid fellow has gone and got engaged -- very bad for his prospects. I warned him not to marry before he was forty-five."

"If you have anything left to do," said the old lady, looking at her son with sorrowful tenderness that seemed to look in vain for the winsome child that had been his father's pride, "you had better get ready now, Stephen. I will remember what you say about Dr. Lyndale. Nothing shall be neglected in your absence. And Stephen, we will not talk again, you and I, about the past. When you come home again, try to be gentler, try to be kinder to that poor girl. Let her not live to sorrow that she is your wife. Let us make her happy between us. May the day never come that Bride will wish you had left her to die rather than saved her to break her heart!"

The old lady's voice broke down as if tears choked her utterance. Her son made no answer beyond an impatient gesture, and presently she passed slowly through the French window into the house, whereto he had already preceded her.

### Chapter 7

Parted Ways

Bride stood beneath the jessamine, with dazed, bewildered look, like one just waking from a dream. For a few moments the horror of the dread sensation that preceded one of her bygone trance-like seizures took possession of her, but she shook off the feeling almost fiercely, and even as she conquered it she realised how she had returned to health and strength against her husband's expectations.

Was it against his heart's desire? Would she, indeed, be a demon upon him, adding to his anxieties and encumbrances and expenses? And Bonny had not won the scholarship, but his school-fees would still have to be met. Something, she realised, was amiss with Bonny. He had lost his bright look of old. He was listless, silent, constrained. A dread feeling came to Bride that she had made a terrible, a lifelong, an irreparable mistake: this man, this monster, had made her his own as a scientific study, and she had believed that he held her dear!

His notes were made, he had done with his patient, yet she was left upon his hands. No, it never should be. Bride pressed her hand to her aching brow. She must think, she must consider. Surely there were ways and means of ending a bond so unholy -- surely, while she had a brain to work and hands to toil, she could provide for herself and her little brother without his grudging, unwilling aid.

She heard the hall clock strike the hour of eight; she knew his train left Tydebridge Junction at nine o'clock. Just then, she had no sense of shrinking from his presence, though the tide of aversion to him seemed to have set in so suddenly, so overwhelmingly that the bitterness of her own heart almost frightened her. She felt she must face him once more before they parted for ever, and show him to himself for one brief space in his selfish, calculating, self-centred existence.

The doctor was busily making notes for his representative, and said, impatiently, as the door of his private room was opened, "Can attend to nothing now. I cannot be disturbed."

"I shall not interrupt you again," said Bride, calmly, "but will you give me ten minutes, please? It is all you will have to give me for the rest of your existence."

"What is the matter with you? Hysteria, I suppose. You had better let Dr. Lyndale put you up some tonic. But I must trouble you to leave me now. This is my private apartment, permit me to remind you, Beryl."

"I will go," she answered, "when I have told you, Stephen Gildredge, what you are. No one in all your life has told you that yet to your face. You are the most cruel-hearted man that walks this earth, and the basest! Do you know I happened to overhear your conversation in the garden -- the reproaches of the mother who is ashamed of her son -- the suspicion you could not deny, nor cared so to do. I heard it all. I have come to tell you the home of a man so callous, so wicked, is no shelter for me and mine. Make your name, and may the greatness you win satisfy and content you! Win the fortune you intend to amass, and may the gold bring you happiness! But your home will never be mine again. Remain with you I will not, nor take from you help or money. What you have done for me shall be my debt, to be repaid as soon as these hands and this brain can earn it. When my death sets you free, someone shall bring the glad news to you; but, living, no word from or concerning me shall henceforth trouble you. I do not think you will live to be ashamed of stepping forward to your goal across a woman's life -- shame is not for such minds as yours. You will be one of the great ones of the earth, rich, famous, and successful, knowing no scruples, no remorse, no uncomfortable memories. Let your marriage be blotted out now from your life. I and mine are dead to you -- dead, even as your secret thoughts expected."

"You are talking wild nonsense," said her husband, whose face was white with anger. "Do you suppose I have time to listen to hysterical ravings? No more of this, Beryl. Remember you endanger your own health by such excitement, and I should be seriously vexed with you did I not credit this abusive outburst to hysteria. You have nothing to feel aggrieved about. You and your brother have every comfort, and will be provided for according to my means. By the way, that boy will have to leave St. Egbert's. He has idly allowed the scholarship to drift into other hands, and I cannot pay for him as an ordinary scholar. I think of sending him to the Commercial Private School, and then apprenticing him to some respectable trade. Perhaps he may do better in business than in study, but I fear the lad is half idiotic."

"He is a genius," trembled on Bride's lips, but she said no more to her husband. The torrent of words had wearied her, and she had only strength to creep away to her room and fling herself upon the bed in a stupor of despair that was too deep, too agonising for the relief of tears.

She knew not when Dr. Gildredge started away on his long journey, but she remembered by-and-by the troubled mother who must be sitting alone downstairs, for Bonny was at his home lessons nightly till nearly ten.

"I will not tell her that I know," thought Bride. "Tomorrow, when I go, I will write her a letter; but I will not trouble her heart anymore tonight. She, too, seems a demon upon him, but she will stay with him to the last. It will not be long, I think, before she is at rest in the Haven where she would be."

It was a sorrowful, gentle face that tried to smile as Bride went into the parlour and lighted the lamp.

"You have been waiting supper, Mother," she said. "I was lying down, and I did not notice the time. It was too bad of me to keep you waiting."

"I have made you some coffee, Bride," said the old lady, with anxious tenderness. Could anything she could do atone to this girl for the way in which she had been wronged -- for the darkness which the future with a loveless husband must mean for her? "And do you think Bonny need work so late now? You see, the scholarship is ... is decided, and it seems to me anyway it isn't the thing for a growing lad to be always at his books. There's better things than learning," she said, with a sigh.

So Bonny came, white-faced and yawning, to the supper table. Barkis was at his heels, triumphant that pens and ink and books had been consigned to the oblivion wherein his canine mind would fain they should evermore repose. Barkis ate bread and butter, uttering barks of contentment at intervals that the aversion of his heart, the master of the house, was absent from the scene. But Bonny had no appetite, and even the dog's complacency could scarcely rouse him from the apathetic state that the doctor had set down as "sulks."

Bride saw Mrs. Gildredge look at him anxiously. "He needs more play, more exercise," she said.

"If I'd my will, them home lessons should be thrown into the fire. The boy will be getting headaches and all sorts of troubles if he's kept so close to his books."

Presently the old lady went up to Goody's room, to rub some embrocation on the little handmaid's throat. Then Bride laid her hand on Bonny's, and said in a low voice: "Bonny, little brother, will you come away with me from this house, and shall we be happy together again, as we used to be in the past?"

Bonny sprang to his feet, a light of hope and longing in his eyes. "Bride, are you teasing me?" he asked. "Darling Bride, are you in earnest? Mrs. Corbell told me you were fond of him. Isn't that true, Bride? Oh, Bride, are you really going away from him, you and me together?"

"I cannot stay in his house, Bonny. I can tell you no more, but I am going, and he will be glad to have me go. I have no regard for him, and I long to leave this place."

"Oh," cried Bonny, standing on one leg in joy and relief, "and I will be an artist, and not bother about scholarships, and there'll be no more home lessons, and all will be happy and glorious away from this dreadful place. I'm glad you don't like him, Bride. I think he's a bad man, and we'll go and hide where he'll never find you again. Shall we go tomorrow, Bride -- you and me and Barkis?"

"Not Barkis," she said gently, stroking the puppy that begged on its hind legs diligently, as if pleading to make one of the party. "He is not our own dog, you know, and it would be stealing to take him. Barkis must be left behind, dear little brother."

"Oh, then," said Bonny, the long-restrained tears rushing to his eyes, "I think, on second thoughts, we'd better stay on here, Bride, as well as Barkis. I couldn't part from dear Barkis. There never was another dog like him."

"My Bonny," she said, "Mother and Goody will take all care of him. I will write them a letter and ask them to look after him always for my little brother's sake. I must leave this house, Bonny. You will come and take care of me, won't you?"

Bonny hugged Barkis, and between tears and rejoicing promised her that he would.

Nothing of sleep knew Bride that night. She sat up to write a farewell letter to the old lady, telling her that after what she had heard she could not be content to remain in the home of Dr. Gildredge, and thanking her for making heartsease and sunshine for her even through the shadow-time.

Then there was the packing to do, and there were plans to consider, and a decision to be come to ere the time for action arrived. To go to the Corbells was out of the question. They must go somewhere Stephen Gildredge would never set eyes on either of them again, or be able to attempt to control their future. Bride remembered an old lady living at Clapham who had been servant in the house of her father's family. As a child, Bride had sometimes paid her visits; surely she would shelter them till work could be obtained. Yes, to Clapham they would go, and if possible she would work in the vortex of London, and use her second name of Rosslyn.

Relieved to know that tomorrow would find her far from Sycamore Villa, Bride sank on her knees, too tired to pray, yet just crying out for God's compassion and guidance in her lonely helplessness.

"Tomorrow we will start a new life, and leave his house behind us like an evil dream," she told herself resolutely.

But when tomorrow came neither Bride nor Bonny could think of aught save the shadow that had come down so suddenly upon Sycamore Villa. In the night, the old lady had been smitten with a stroke -- a kind of paralytic seizure; and though she could not utter anything but painful, scarcely-articulate sounds, her eyes pleaded with Bride not to leave her, and the wrinkled fingers groped for the girl's, clasping her as though beseeching her to tarry with her, and to be nurse and ministrant to the one whose love had brought her own life back from the brink of the river across which is the sorrowless Homeland.

### Chapter 8

An Unanswered Message

"It is impossible to say at present how the illness may turn. The poor lady may, at any rate in some measure, recover her powers of speech and movement, or ... I think it only right to prepare you for such a crisis ... there may be another seizure. Just now she is seriously ill, and, of course, Dr. Gildredge must be telegraphed for at once."

Goody had taken Bride's place for a few minutes beside the old lady, and the young wife stood by the hall door looking with sad, bewildered face at the doctor who was filling her husband's post.

"Dr. Lyndale, I cannot send for Dr. Gildredge," she said. "I do not know his address. I think, perhaps, his mother knows, but she cannot speak or put anything down on paper. Mother seems better than she was early this morning. Don't ... don't you think she will have rallied before Dr. Gildredge comes back? He is to be away several weeks. There is no urgent need for his address, is there?"

"We are bound to acquaint him with his mother's condition at once," said Dr. Lyndale gravely. It had taken him by surprise that Mrs. Gildredge should not know where to send for her husband, but he had the address at Berlin, and he told her so, adding that the telegram would probably reach Berlin before Dr. Gildredge, as he had spoken of remaining a day or two in Paris on the way.

"I will send off the telegram," he said. "This is the address he left with me. Let me write it down for you. I shall look in again about one. Can I do anything for you in the town -- leave any orders for you?"

"Thank you, very much," said Bride gratefully, feeling rested by the kindness and sympathy she read in Dr. Lyndale's eyes, "but I have kept my young brother to run errands, as you may need Teddy Coley to deliver your medicines."

"Your young brother? That curly-haired little chap who let me in today? I should say that to keep him away from school a good many days would do him no harm. He is altogether too white and thin. Get him to take some cod-liver oil or plenty of cream. And now as to the night-nursing, Dr. Gildredge will quarrel with me if I let you knock yourself up, you know. You will want help."

"Our little maid helps me splendidly," said Bride, "and I am used to nursing. Mother would rather have me than a stranger. Please let me do for her what I can. She tired herself out nursing me when I was ill."

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Gildredge," he said, with a smile, "you are quite a celebrated character, you know. You made a marvellous recovery. Your husband must be proud of his patient indeed."

"I believe he is considered very clever," she answered, coldly. "Then we will expect you at one, Dr. Lyndale?"

"Yes, and I am going now to send off that wire. You may look for your husband at latest by Saturday evening."

But Saturday came, and the following week wore on, bringing no signs of him whose arrival the wife's heart dreaded, though it was clear even to eager Bonny that she must not leave that house while the eyes of the sufferer pleaded with her to stay. Not even to avoid meeting Stephen Gildredge could Bride turn her back at this time of need on the one who had been in her own sickness as a tender comforter and ministrant.

Dr. Lyndale wrote several letters and sent another telegram, but no response reached Sycamore Villa. He began to be uneasy about Dr. Gildredge himself, but Bride did not share this anxiety. It was a relief to her that her husband did not appear, but it only proved to her more plainly the intense selfishness of his character, when even his mother's danger was less important a matter to him than the pursuit of knowledge and the outstripping of his fellow scientists.

The doctor in attendance on Mrs. Gildredge was untiring in his care and his efforts on her behalf. He was much interested in her young attendant too, and told Bride jestingly that he would recommend her as nurse whenever she wanted a situation, for she had the needful patience and gentleness and common sense.

"She looks after that old lady with wonderful tenderness," he meditated, "but her look changes directly there is any mention of Gildredge. I wonder what is amiss between them, and why on earth he does not hurry home. Surely he cannot mean to carry through his original programme of going on to Vienna now that his mother is just lingering between life and death."

"My dear Miss Bride -- that is to say, begging your pardon, Mrs. Gildredge \-- where is the doctor? Has no one told him his mother is so bad? My dear, I see Dr. Lyndale -- and a kind face he's got, and looks you might trust with untold gold -- coming down the steps just now, and very serious he seemed. The old lady won't get over this, Miss Bride. It's a blessing as she's fully prepared and ready for the call. But your good husband should be here, my dear. Even if he's travelling in foreign, parts, couldn't he be made aware what's happened?"

Mrs. Corbell had come to inquire after the old lady, and she was looking rather anxiously at Bride herself. She feared the strain of nursing had brought that shadow to her eyes. Dr. Gildredge ought to be at home, and see that his wife ran no risk of a relapse,

"I believe he knows, Mrs. Corbell," said Bride, indifferently, "but perhaps the trains do not suit, or his business may delay his return. Of course, he might come at any moment."

"The sooner the better," said Mrs. Corbell. "His mother, poor body, must wonder at his absence. There's a look in her eyes, poor dear, as if she wanted to say something. Maybe she's wanting to ask where her son is. I hope he'll come in by the London express, Miss Bride, for I'm sure it would be a real comfort to you to have Dr. Gildredge on the spot just now."

That her husband might suddenly return was Bride's one dread. She felt as if she must quit the house if she heard his step on the stair. She became nervous of the post, of a knock or ring, of the quick passing of feet on the pavement outside. Her longing was that she might never look on his face again. Deep as had been her love for him, as intense now was her shrinking horror of the very remembrance. Oh, that her presence might never trouble him again, that she might pass away from his life and be by him forgotten. She cared not to spare herself, or even to give herself needful rest and nourishment. It did not seem to matter to her now if her illness returned and laid her low. What was life worth to her, since she was only an undesired encumbrance, when, too credulously, she had believed herself loved.

The old woman's eyes that so soon would close on earth, followed her about the sickroom, as if trying to read her thoughts, as if beseeching something the powerless lips could not frame. Bride thought she had contented the old lady when she understood the motion of her head, and opened a drawer wherein were a purse and a paper. The purse contained a few sovereigns the old lady had stored away at the time she was in service, and the paper said the money was to pay for burying her.

Bride, amid her tears, kissed the wrinkled face and locked the drawer again, telling the old lady she had read the directions and understood. Still, there seemed something Stephen's mother wished to say. Was it a message for her absent son?

"That must be left with Dr. Lyndale," said the girl, in her heart. "He will stay in Tydebridge till he returns, but it is no use giving me any message or word for him. Unless he comes quickly -- before mother goes -- he and I will never in this world meet again, if I can prevent it."

Bonny, by Dr. Lyndale's advice, had not returned to school since the old lady's illness. He moved noiselessly about the sickroom, the best of nurses, and ran up and down stairs to save Goody's feet. Teddy Coley, too, crept about on tip-toe at his work. The old lady was dearly loved by all, and more tender care none could have had than she who in her last days was without the ministration of the only one on earth who was akin to her.

"Bride!" called Bonny, one evening when his sister had gone down to the kitchen to prepare a milk pudding for the old lady, "I wish you would come up. Don't you think I ought to run for Dr. Lyndale?"

Bride ran upstairs to find the invalid had lifted herself in the bed, and was holding out the arms that had been so powerless since the seizure.

"Stephen! Stephen!" she was calling, her paralysed tongue loosened as by sudden rapture and joy.

For a moment, seeing her shining face, Bride's heart grew cold and hard within her. She thought her husband must be in the room. Had he returned and let himself in with his key? But no, the room was empty save for Bonny.

"Stephen!"

### Chapter 9

The Home That Was Still

Bride put her arms round the old lady and laid her gently back upon the pillows, bidding her brother hasten for Dr. Lyndale, with the message that Mrs. Gildredge had suddenly become able to move and speak.

'"You are better, dear," said Bride, tenderly, pouring out some of the medicine. "It is just time for this. Take it all, Mother dear. Oh, how good it is to hear your voice again."

For a while the old lady rested obediently, holding the girl's hand, and smiling into her face. Then she said suddenly, in a faint whisper, "Bride, where is our Stephen?"

"Don't you remember, Mother, he went to a gathering of doctors abroad? He is still away, but he might be back any day now -- perhaps today. Dr. Lyndale is taking such good care of you, Mother. He will be so delighted to find you better. Now you will soon be quite yourself. I think you wore yourself out nursing me, Mother."

"No, no, dearie, I am getting old and it's late. It's time I was home. It's not easy to speak, Bride, dear daughter. Come nearer ... I want to say something ... to leave you a charge before I go."

Bride never forgot the look in those gentle eyes of grey, so like, yet so unlike, the eyes of her clever son.

"Bride, you will remember this thing I ask you? Promise me, daughter."

"Mother, dear, I will remember."

"Our Stephen \-- your husband -- be not bitter against him, Bride, for his mother's sake. As you hope to be forgiven, Bride, forgive ... forgive ... forgive "

Bride was on her knees by the bedside, chafing the hands that, to her alarm, seemed growing damp and cold. No more those entreating eyes looked into her own. They were closed.

"She has fainted away," said the girl when Dr. Lyndale came hurriedly in, but he saw it was the beginning of the end. At the sunset hour that gentle spirit entered into rest, and the last utterance on earth, as she passed to peace, was that pleading whisper: "Forgive... forgive ... forgive!"

Early next morning another telegram went to the only address -- the rooms in a Berlin street \-- of which Dr. Lyndale was aware, but there was no reply from Dr. Gildredge, nor did he appear at Sycamore Villa. Dr. Lyndale had to make all arrangements for the funeral. Bride told him of Mother's little store, and according to her wish the money was used for those last expenses.

"Mrs. Gildredge," said Dr. Lyndale, very gently on the day of the funeral, "pardon me if I give you pain, but if it would not be too trying for you, do you not think you might cut away a lock of his mother's hair for your husband? It is so sad that he will never see her again. One of those beautiful silvery locks might be a comfort to him by-and-by."

"I will cut it if you wish," said Bride, simply. Already she had one of the beautiful locks herself. She meant to have it interwoven with a bracelet that held the hair of her own father and mother. Presently she brought the snowy lock in an envelope to Dr. Lyndale.

"This is what you asked for," she said. "You can give it to him on his return."

"But, my dear lady...." said the doctor, looking bewildered.

Just then someone entered the house with quiet footsteps, and he was asked for, and had to leave the room. He put the envelope into his pocket-book, meaning later on to hand it back to Bride, for he felt she \-- not he -- was the right one to pass it on to the one left motherless.

All the little household of Sycamore Villa went to the simple funeral. In addition, there were Dr. Lyndale and Mrs. Corbell, besides many a humble sympathiser from the place of worship Mrs. Gildredge was wont to attend. Dr. Lyndale had to go to an urgent case from the cemetery, but on the morrow he meant to consult with Bride as to what further steps should now be taken as to communicating with the absent doctor whom he was representing. There was much to be talked over and settled with her, but he thought quiet would be best for her that evening.

"Try to take a good rest," he said, as they shook hands. "You look tired out. Have a good sleep and get up your strength, Mrs. Gildredge. Everything else can wait."

"Goodbye, Dr. Lyndale," she said, gratefully. "From my heart I thank you for all your kindness to us."

"I shall be glad to help you in any arrangements that you may have to attend to, awaiting your husband's return," he replied. "Goodbye, Mrs. Gildredge. Goodbye, Bonny, my lad. I shall be in about ten tomorrow morning."

But, on the morrow, when he entered Sycamore Villa, he found Goody crying, and Teddy Coley, oblivious of liveried dignity, brushing his eyes with his sleeve.

"Oh, Dr. Lyndale," cried the two young folks, almost rushing upon him in eager need of advice and help, "they've gone right away -- Mrs. Gildredge and the boy Bonny. They must have gone in the night, and they've taken their things; so they must be gone for good. Or do you think burglars got in and took them off for a ransom, like the brigands do in the storybooks? And there's nothing ordered for dinner, and we don't know nothing about where the master is. And please, ought we to tell the police and the magistrates? The baker's man have been, and he said as how he'd ask at the railway station if they went off by the train; but he's round with the cart till twelve, and perhaps he'll forget. Oh, Dr. Lyndale, the mistress were that low yesterday evening. She were looking at the picture of missus that's dead, and crying fit to break her heart. Bonny told us so. And he wanted to have something extra for supper, to try and cheer her up, he said, and he bought some sprats, but she couldn't seem to get any appetite. Dr. Lyndale, sir, you don't think as the mistress could have gone strange in her head, and made away with herself and Master Bonny?"

"The only thing I can think of," said Dr. Lyndale, looking startled and dismayed, "is that your mistress heard suddenly from Dr. Gildredge, summoning her to join him at once. No doubt there will be some explanation later in the day, but meanwhile I will take steps as to making inquiries."

The explanation was forthcoming when the doctor entered the consulting room. On the desk lay a note addressed to himself. It contained these words:

When you see Dr. Gildredge, will you let him know I have kept my word, and removed myself and my brother from his home, from his knowledge, and out of his existence. He will be as thankful to know we are gone, as I am to seek freedom and peace of mind far away. Again I thank you for much kindness, and wish that happiness and blessing may rest upon you and yours.

Inside the same envelope there was a letter from Bonny, in clear, round handwriting.

Dear Teddy and Goody,

Will you always be good to darling Barkis for my sake. You will see my face no more, but for love to me please take him for walks and to swim in the river, and Mr. Corbell says dogs keep their blood in order to have veggerturbles two or three times weekly along with the other food. And when I am great I will give you both riches to take great care of dearest Barkis. With love from your affectionate friend,

BONNY AYLMER.

P.S. A nice big bone at intervals, but see he do not get choked by eating of them too quick.

Dr. Lyndale hurried to the railway station, but no one there had caught sight of those he sought. He knew not that Bride and Bonny, starting ere daybreak, had caught the early London train at a junction six miles distant. They were part of a busy crowd at Waterloo Station even then, while he was wondering in bewilderment what he could do to find the young wife, and to prevent her flight becoming public property, and affording a conversational relish for the gossips of Tydebridge.

About six weeks later, the key in the latch at Sycamore Villa was suddenly turned one evening, and Dr. Gildredge, weary with long travelling, crossed with relief the threshold of his home. He had met with most interesting experiences, though he had not been to Berlin at all, having fallen in with Professor Urgentheim who was about to start to make certain researches in Ceylon, and who had desired his company and help. They were on the track of a much talked of microbe, and had all but made a remarkable discovery. Gildredge had been quite in his element; but he was not sorry now to get back to his patients, to his mother's good cooking, and to that foolish impetuous Beryl who was doubtless contrite now for rudeness on the day of his departure, and whom he would forgive, though she must really set herself to acquire the art of self-control in future.

Very still seemed Sycamore Villa that evening; very dark were the landings and the rooms.

"All out?" he questioned, vexed that he had not thought of sending a line to ensure suitable preparations. "I do not approve of leaving the house like this; it is very careless. Stay, there is a light in the kitchen," and he rang the bell in the passage, bringing Goody up with a candle in her hand, and with a white frightened face.

"Oh, sir, you did give me such a turn. I thought you was a ghost."

"Nonsense, girl? Where is everybody? Where is your mistress?"

"Please, sir," said Goody, in a hushed voice, "mistress died more than six weeks ago, and Teddy and me we went to the funeral; and there was lovely, lovely wreaths."

The next moment Goody cried out, for her master had sunk down upon the chair in the hall, and, as she told Coley, he looked "just awful."

"Why did no one tell me my wife had had a relapse?" he asked, in stern, bitter passion. "Who was it attended her? Dr. Lyndale?"

"Please, sir, it wasn't the new lady that died. It was my old mistress. Missus had a stroke, and lay about a month before she was took. And Dr. Lyndale said he'd leave about the stone in the cemetery till you came back "

"My mother gone! Child, are you dreaming, or am I? My mother was perfectly well when I left home."

"Please, sir, she had her stroke that same night. Oh, sir, dreadful things have happened since you've been gone. Dr. Lyndale, he told me to stop on here till you came back, and he engaged Teddy's aunt, who's a charwoman, to be with me and stay all night, because I was a bit scared to be alone."

"Goody, where is Mrs. Gildredge? Where is her brother? She is here still, surely?"

"Begging your pardon, please, sir, they both went away the night of poor missus's funeral. I don't know where they went, but Dr. Lyndale said if you ever came home of a sudden-like I was to tell you to look at a letter he's put in the drawer of your desk. Dr. Lyndale's over at Fieldview today, at a consulting, Teddy told me."

Dr. Gildredge found the letter, the one Bride had addressed to the doctor acting for him. He scarcely took in the sense of it. He scarcely realised yet that he would never look upon the face of his mother again; but he felt cold and tired, and the darkness of the house made its way into his soul. He sat hour after hour in that room, his head drooping down upon listless, weary hands. Goody held him in too much awe to intrude, but she crept in wistfully, and by-and-by there was a damp nose on his knee, and the sympathy of Barkis was his one welcome home.

Chapter 10

The Health Resort

It was not clear to Dr. Lyndale why there had been clouds upon the married life of his colleague, nor why the young wife had so resolutely separated her own path from that of her husband. But during their long talks together, he became convinced that Stephen Gildredge was in real trouble, and that he was not without a secret dread that his wife's mind might have become affected, and that the end of the scandal which was being discussed all over the neighbourhood now might be a tragedy of self-destruction, to be revealed by any morning's newspaper.

"You may dismiss that thought once for all, Gildredge," said Dr. Lyndale, decisively. "Your wife -- poor lady! -- may have acted impulsively and in mistaken haste in thus deserting her home. To me, of course, it is unaccountable, save as arising from some deplorable misunderstanding. But her nature is too brave for suicide -- and far too highly principled. I saw a great deal of Mrs. Gildredge during the time she so devotedly nursed your mother. Very possibly she has by now regretted her too-impulsive action. I suggest an advertisement urging her to return. I am so sorry for you, old fellow. I heartily hope all will come right. But why on earth, Gildredge, did you go to Ceylon, when you gave me an address in Berlin?"

"The fancy seized me," said Gildredge, "and I had been accustomed to come and go free from the burden of correspondence. Things always went on right enough. How could I foresee my mother would have that seizure?"

"My dear fellow, who can foresee tomorrow at any time? It is surely never wise to place oneself beyond the reach of news by leaving people ignorant of one's whereabouts, that is if we have any home ties at all. But forgive me for adding to your self-reproaches."

"I knew the patients were all right with you, Lyndale, and you had told me you were free to stay on while wanted here. It never occurred to me that mother would have a breakdown, and certainly not that any such scandal concerning this house would ever arise."

"Take my advice, and advertise," said Dr. Lyndale, "and if you can spare money -- as undoubtedly you will -- and arrange for a careful search and inquiry. I know the very man for you. A mental patient, living with a friend of mine who takes such cases, mysteriously disappeared, but the man I speak of was successfully on the track in a few hours. His name is Sandle."

Gildredge had to withdraw an investment, which meant a good deal to him in those days, before he could find means to employ the agent recommended by Lyndale. But the money was found and the detective set to work. In addition, for a whole month there was the advertisement in the local and London papers: "B. G. IS EARNESTLY REQUESTED TO COMMUNICATE AT ONCE WITH HER HUSBAND, S. G., WHO ANXIOUSLY DESIRES TO BE ASSURED OF HER SAFETY. -- ADDRESS TO HOME, S. VILLA."

"I wonder if in his heart he really wants her back, or if he only wishes to end the gossip and scandal," Dr. Lyndale meditated, as the days went by, and from no source whatever could tidings of Bride be obtained. "I should be out of my mind, I fancy, if Alice had disappeared from my life like this -- but then I love my Alice, and I doubt there was much love in that marriage. Yet it was not a match for money. She is a good woman, and this turn of affairs puzzles me, but it is clear she has left Gildredge once and for all."

By his friend's request, Dr. Lyndale stayed on to practise for him. Gildredge was out of sorts \-- so little like himself that he did not even care to study. The shock of his mother's death had affected him more than he understood. When he held a book before him, the characters seemed blurred and indistinct, and his mother's face -- and Beryl's -- looked out at him from the printed page. When he visited a patient, the tones that spoke to him seemed far away, and a girl's bright eyes were shining up at him, while a trembling voice exclaimed: "We shall be so happy, so happy, Stephen, dear. How good God is to us, isn't He, Stephen?"

Then Stephen Gildredge would go far out from Tydebridge on his bicycle, or away for a lonely ramble. At such times the only companion he seemed willing to tolerate was Barkis, who rejoiced in the outings, and between whom and his master a better understanding was in process of development now.

"It is no use, Lyndale," said Stephen Gildredge, when three months had gone by, and the agent still reported no success; "my wife is either dead, or fully resolved to be dead to me. I shall seek no further. My intention was not to force an unwilling wife to make her residence in my home. Indeed, to speak plainly, our dispositions were scarcely compatible. We should have got on more comfortably apart, but she has absolutely no financial means, and I wished to allow her something quarterly. It is not pleasant to think that I may be brought to book by parish authorities one day for permitting my wife to starve."

"How could you be held accountable, Gildredge, when you do not know her whereabouts? Just now I cannot see that you can do more in the matter. If Sandle has failed, it must be as you say -- she is resolute in staying hidden. I fully believe she will communicate with you of her own accord one of these days, and then I hope and believe all will go well. You know, Gildredge, I can't speak from experience, because Miss Alice Raygate is not going to make me happy till the New Year, but people say the first few months of wedded life are the most trying. You were scarcely together long enough, pardon me, to judge as to compatibility. All will come right yet, and you, like Alice and myself, will be as happy as the flowers in May one of these days. Depend upon it, old fellow."

"I do not know that the flowers are particularly happy, Lyndale. Their fate seems to be to be pulled and to fade away. And as to my being like yourself or you like me -- fate has made us different. Has not somebody said that 'his only books were tender looks'? Well, the only looks I ever cared for, or mean to care for, are looks into my books. While my study is left me, I shall get on all right, never fear. From today, shall we agree to dismiss a subject that perhaps has been over-discussed in Tydebridge already?"

But though no more was said concerning Bride, and it almost became like a dream to Dr. Gildredge that he had ever gone through that strange, sad wedding ceremony.

It was many a month before Gildredge could be the calm, composed, trust-inspiring, capable physician of former days again.

"They say young Dr. Gildredge, as his wife run away from, is down with fever or something;" Mrs. Ward, at 15, North Terrace, told Mrs. Corbell one day. "He don't seem ever to have quite got over losing his mother, and he's quite prostrated with something as he caught attending a child in the Marshes. I always say he saved our Johnnie's life, but his manners is too abrupt -- a-dashing in and out of the house, and never no time to sit down pleasant for a bit of a chat."

"I'll never forgive him, never, for so treating of Miss Bride that she couldn't abear her life with him. There must have been reasons for her facing the hard world, rather than stay beneath his roof." Thus had Mrs. Corbell declared in her own mind over and over again. Sorely troubled and bewildered had the good woman been concerning Bride and Bonny, but her busy life left her little time to grieve, but every day the wanderers were in her prayers; she trusted them to her Heavenly Father whose tender mercies evermore are over all His works.

But somehow the thought of that lonely home where Stephen Gildredge lay ill and feeble -- and to one of his active nature the helplessness of illness must be almost unendurable -- oppressed Mrs. Corbell's heart.

"He's got no one of his own to look after him," she said to her husband, "and though Teddy Coley's aunt, as was left widowed, is staying on with Goody to keep house, I don't know as she's used to sick folks. I'll just step up and see if I can be of use."

"Don't you run no risks," said Corbell. "We can't afford to have you taking fevers and such-like."

"No, I'll be prudent, Corbell. I'll see Dr. Lyndale, and if it's catching I'll not venture where there's contagion. But maybe I could cook something as the poor gentleman might fancy. I ain't over fond of him myself, as you know, but I'd like to be of some use, for his poor mother's sake."

"Isn't that Mrs. Corbell?" said Gildredge, faintly, hearing a familiar voice in the passage. "Go and see, Coley. I wish she would come upstairs."

The days were very long and lonely for the doctor. Just now there was much illness about, and his colleague was wanted in many places. He did not like professional nurses attending on himself, and had announced, when stricken by illness, that Coley, and Mrs. Bowes, his aunt, were quite enough to look after him.

Dr. Lyndale had told the household that the notion of "fever" was all a mistake. Over-study and overwork, together with the shock of his mother's loss, had broken Gildredge helplessly down for a time, but there was no infection whatever in the case. Still, Mrs. Bowes was a little nervous of the sickroom, and never ventured in without looks of affright, and carrying weight in the shape of bags generously filled with camphor.

To see Mrs. Corbell's hearty, cheerful countenance was a pleasant change for Dr. Gildredge. She had brought him some jelly -- it reminded him of his mother's -- and Mrs. Corbell saw him turn aside his head as if to stroke the little dog curled up on a chair by the bed; but she knew that his mention of his mother had brought the first look of tender feeling she had ever seen on his face.

From that moment, Mrs. Corbell's prejudices melted away. She had discovered what perhaps he knew not himself -- that he had a heart. She sat down in the armchair and talked of the times when she had called in to see his mother, and how sweetly patient the old lady looked as she lay there in her weakness, waiting for the dawning of the day, and the passing of the shadows.

But neither spoke of Bride. Mrs. Corbell did not like to touch upon the subject, and the doctor had put it away, out of his life.

"He's a deal nicer now, Corbell," said the good woman, coming home one day from tending Stephen Gildredge in his long-continued weakness. "When he were that strong and self-confident, there didn't seem no room for sympathy in his constitution. The boy Teddy Coley says you wouldn't know him for the same, he's turned that gentle since he's been a sufferer, and I do declare if there isn't a look of his poor mother in his eyes, and you know their eyes wasn't one bit alike, only in their colour. If you asks me, Corbell, I should say the poor gentleman have learnt more in his illness than through all his book-learning. He's beginning to think a bit of others, and so it's my opinion he won't be lonely and miserable no more, though I agrees with Dr. Lyndale as a change of abode would be preferable."

"What do you mean, mother? Is Dr. Gildredge leaving Tydebridge, then?"

"Well, you see, Corbell, as Dr. Lyndale were remarking to me this afternoon, he don't seem to get back his spirits and his energy as might be expected. It do seem to have taken a hold upon him that if he'd troubled to let them know at home as to his travels, he might have had tidings of his mother's illness. It's always in his mind that maybe she was looking out for him, and looking in vain. And, when there's trouble on the nerves, it stands to reason the best remedy is change of scene, so when he gets himself again, Dr. Lyndale's advice is that he shall dispose of his practice here and settle down in some nice bracing part suitable to his health."

"He were getting on famously here. It seems a pity, but health has got to be considered first, of course," said Mr. Corbell. "I suppose Dr. Lyndale's thinking of settling down here in his place?"

"No, there's some talk of their going partners in a practice as Dr. Lyndale knows of. I believe it's the uncle of his young lady as is retiring at Pinewood -- and well it's known to be wonderful healthy all around there, with the fir trees and the heather."

"It don't do for a medical man to settle down in a place that's too healthy, my dear."

"Oh, but Pinewood is a 'health resort,' as they call it in the advertisements of the boarding-houses there. Lots of folks a little out of sorts goes to Pinewood. I hopes the young men will make a living there, and I favours the idea of a partnership myself, for two heads is better than one, and Dr. Lyndale's that there kind and feeling-hearted, it can't but do the other one good to associate constant with him."

The notion of leaving Sycamore Villa and working amid fresh scenes seemed welcome to Stephen Gildredge. Shame and remorse concerning a young life that he had shadowed were making tumult in his heart. Something told him that Beryl was dead, and that the unhappiness of her married life had hastened the end. He wanted to forget all about her, but she was more in his thoughts than ever she had been while residing in his home. The words of his mother seemed ever echoing in his mind, "May the day never come that Bride will wish you had left her to die, rather than saved her to break her heart!"

It was too late now to right what had been wrong concerning Beryl. He was practical, he told himself, and she was romantic. This idea of flight was sensational, and he blamed her for it, yet he blamed himself more. Could he have the time over again, he knew he never would have planned that union. Then he tried to argue within himself that it had been for her advantage. Conscience told him this was untrue. Food and shelter and care she had had, but she had learnt she was unwelcome and unloved. He would be able to forget her and the clouded past when Sycamore Villa was left behind.

The arrangements as to Pinewood acted like a tonic upon him. He felt he could not get away too soon, and it was settled that for a time at least his partner should share his home. Mrs. Bowes was quite willing to take charge of domestic matters, and Teddy and Goody both begged to remain with Dr. Gildredge. He was quite struck with their loyalty and fidelity, and promised they should continue in his service so long as he could afford to find wages.

"That's all right then, Goody," said Teddy Coley when they returned to the lower regions, "not but what with my figure, and my father being a butler, 1 could better myself any day. But it would never do for you and me to forsake the poor dog, seeing as how the boy Bonny's last words writ down on paper put Barkis special into our charge."

"And well he knows I'll look after him to his dying day," said Goody, hugging Barkis to her heart, "and when master finds poor dear mistress again, and we're all happy in that nice place full of pine trees, I'm sure there won't seem nothing left to wish for, Teddy -- if only you'd mind and take more care to be more thorough when you cleans my knives and my windows."

Nine busy years had passed away, bringing many changes, healing many a wound. Dr. Gildredge, of The Cottage, Pinewood, had his smart little Victoria carriage by this time, and Coley was as trim a driver as he was capable for indoor work. Tall and smart-looking was young Teddy Coley, bearing himself as one who understood the repute in which the popular doctor was held.

Teddy Coley's aunt, Mrs. Bowes, had bestowed herself upon a second husband about a year ago, and was now mistress of the grocer's shop round the corner. It had been a double wedding -- for Goody, the maid she had trained, had become Mrs. Coley on the same occasion, and the young couple now looked after Dr. Gildredge between them -- and after Barkis, who still survived, though beginning to grow a little grey.

There were streaks of grey, too, in the hair of Stephen Gildredge. Old memories had died away, and though he felt assured he had long been a widower, he had never given a thought to womankind, save as concerned his patients. Still, the heartache that had come to him when he found his home desolate was such as left traces behind it. He was not the Stephen Gildredge of the past. While he had made his name, and was sought not only by patients but in frequent consultations, he was no longer self-centred and self-assertive. Illness and weakness had laid him low, but they had lifted him to the greatness of the life that has learnt to be humble.

The Cottage was the prettiest house, Goody considered, in picturesque Pinewood. It stood on rising ground, and had all kinds of quaint windows and cosy nooks. The garden was lovely as a picture, and at the back was a vision of roses, wreathing a portion which the former tenant had named "My Lady's Garden." The name survived, but no lady fair, save Mrs. Alice Lyndale, had an opportunity of enjoying the charms of those roses.

The Lyndales were often at The Cottage; they were quite old married people by this time, and they had twin girls, and a boy named Stephen who frequently visited Goody and consumed her cakes. Their house was called The Grange, and was within easy reach of the Queen Adelaide Hospital, a large and important institution where Dr. Lyndale held a post necessitating his attendance thrice a week. Gildredge was one of the consulting physicians, and took a great interest in the well-managed place.

"You really ought to give this place a mistress, Doctor," said Mrs. Danley, the old lady whose villa stood next on the hill, when Dr. Gildredge had given her a lift home one day. "You are the only bachelor doctor in Pinewood, and I feel quite concerned about you. Soon you will be growing old, and just think how cheerless it will be to sit at a lonely fireside. Now, if I find you a very nice wife, pretty and amiable, with just a little income of her own...."

"All the Pinewood ladies are pretty and amiable," said the doctor, gallantly, "but who would look at my sober face and hoary hairs?"

"Nonsense. Your hair is a little iron-grey, that is all. Most of the storybook heroes have iron-grey hair, you know. Now, I have set my heart on the very one for you, doctor. The one deficiency is that I doubt the existence of an independent income, but you are the last man to be mercenary, and really she is a sweet woman. She would be a fortune in herself. But, of course, you have seen her. Did she not strike you as very winsome and lovely?"

"All Pinewood ladies answer to that description, Mrs. Danley," said Dr. Gildredge with a smile.

"Of course; but then she is not a Pinewood individual at all. I have taken a great liking to her, Dr. Gildredge, and I want you to do the same. You would make such a handsome couple. Poor, dear Mr. Danley always said I was a matchmaker -- and why not? I had such a dear good husband myself that I want you to have the same, Dr. Gildredge -- at least, of course, I mean a wife."

"Anything to oblige you, Mrs. Danley," laughed Dr. Gildredge; "but you see an old fogey like myself -- a musty, fusty old bookworm -- could scarcely hope to find favour in the eyes of one so attractive and charming."

"Then you have seen her, Doctor?"

"I am not aware if I have had that pleasure, Mrs. Danley. You have not yet identified your kind selection for me."

"Why, the new sister who has come to the hospital -- the one in charge of the Royal Ward. 'Sister Royal' they call her. We visitors to the wards think her charming. But I forgot, you have been away on your holiday. She has only been there three weeks."

"So you have chosen a hospital nurse for me, Mrs. Danley? Do you know they can be very objectionable creatures at times?"

"So can we all, Dr. Gildredge "

"Present company excepted," said he, lifting his hat. "Well, Mrs. Danley, should I ever bring a lady to The Cottage you must be the first to call upon her, and to drink tea out of the set you were kind enough to choose for me when I was so puzzled by various patterns at the Stores the other day. But seriously now, do you really believe any of your charming sex would take pity on such an old hermit as myself?"

"Oh, don't despair," said Mrs. Danley, as he helped her to alight. "The New Woman is very eccentric, you know. You always make fun of me, doctor, it is too bad. On second thoughts, you are not nearly good-looking enough for my pretty nurse, Sister Royal." She went off nodding and smiling.

On entering The Cottage, Gildredge found his partner there. Lyndale had called to ask him if he could see a patient the next morning with two other doctors at the hospital. The time was fixed for eleven o'clock, and Lyndale stayed to give details of the case. Afterwards the conversation became general, and he remarked: "So you gave Mrs. Danley a lift? She is sadly concerned about your loneliness. Alice tells me she has your desolate condition quite on her heart. She was giving you advice?"

Gildredge nodded, but said nothing.

"Yes, I thought so. I don't know why people take such an interest in the matrimonial affairs of others, which are distinctly not their business. By the way, Gildredge, there's a new sister in charge of the Royal Ward now, and Alice has met her and thinks a lot of her. I should like to know your opinion, because in a year or so one of the sisters may be chosen as the new matron, and it is important to get hold of the right one. Just have a look at her tomorrow. She strikes me as very capable and intelligent. The matron knew her in London, and sent for her here. A good-looking woman, with pretty hair -- Sister Royal."

"Good-looking women are apt to be conceited, Lyndale. I hope she looks more at her patients than into the glass!"

"Oh, she knows her business. In fact, the matron trained her some time ago. The patients seem fond of her, and Alice says she is 'just sweet.' But you have a look at her, Gildredge. I should really be interested to know your opinion of Sister Royal."

Chapter 11

Tea at the Cottage

Dr. Gildredge did have a look at Sister Royal, and a great many looks. Hitherto he had not been much at the hospital, his time being more than fully occupied with his private patients. But a number of things occurred just now which seemed to suggest errands at that institution, and occasions which should bring him within sight and hearing of the new Sister.

Undoubtedly Sister Royal was possessed of great powers of attraction. He admired her professionally -- her deft, skilful, and yet gentle ways in managing her helpers and in dealing with the patients. It was the custom at that institution to call the Sisters after the various wards, and somehow the name by which she was known seemed to suit her exactly, as she moved to and fro with quiet dignity and sweet, serious grace.

Gildredge had seen her unbend, too, and frolic with the little children, but he tried not, even to himself, to acknowledge what a charm existed for him in her many-sided yet wholly winsome personality. He told Dr. Lyndale it was a comfort to come across a nurse to whom nature or training had given tact and common sense; and then Alice Lyndale's bright eyes danced as she said teasingly, "Dr. Gildredge, mind you do not lose your heart to the model nurse. She may be engaged already, you know."

"Not she. She is too enthusiastic in her profession not to devote her whole life to it."

"It is all right, Doctor; she wears no ring. I especially looked to see."

All right? Gildredge knew the happy, light-hearted wife had spoken jestingly, heedless of the warning look of her husband who thought such topics better avoided with his partner.

No, it was all wrong -- bitterly wrong. This "perfect woman, nobly planned," stately, graceful, in glowing health, yet tenderly sympathetic with the weak, was the very one that his inmost thoughts could have craved to see in his own lonely home. So much had she become to him by some swift magnetic influence that he seemed restless and dissatisfied unless somehow he could manage to see her daily. But it was not "all right."

He dared not indulge the dream of ever revealing to her his feelings. How could he tell if he were free to think of a happy married life? The past came upon him again like a demon, and the remembrance became an agony to him of a pale, slight, frail girl with short curly hair remaining of the locks that had been removed in illness -- a girl like a fragile snowdrop, the life that stood between him and possible happiness.

Yes, it surely was possible. Sister Royal had been gracious to him from the first. A little shy, perhaps, but that but added to her charms; and latterly she had even made opportunities to converse with him; and once -- but he blamed himself bitterly for the weakness -- he had given her the queen of his choice roses, and she had worn it, to his rapture and delight.

When he thought of Beryl's delicacy and her utter unfitness for battling with the world, he felt inwardly persuaded she had long since died, and yet she had promised someone should acquaint him with the fact. Perhaps this had been impossible, but it was all but certain she no longer survived, and yet, if he could only know!

One day Stephen Gildredge went to his solicitor and laid before him the facts of the past. Of the reason for this suddenly-awakened anxiety he said nothing, but perhaps the lawyer guessed.

"Look here," said Dr. Lyndale, handing to his wife during breakfast one morning a London paper at which he was glancing, "I have seen this for some days now. Don't you think you might pay for our summer outing by claiming the reward?"

"Oh, Frank!" cried Mrs. Lyndale, excitedly, "why ever did you not tell me before? I feel like in the last act of a play. If -- if she is alive, she will answer this, won't she? I wonder if he is hoping for an answer, or dreading one?"

"Anything is better than suspense. The poor old chap looks dreadfully worried."

"So he deserves to be. I have no sympathy for him at all. If you were to go away to Ceylon and never tell me, I can't answer for what might happen. I don't know that I should sit here in patient obedience till you condescended to return."

"To sit still or be patient would be quite a new role for you, Alice!"

"Well, I am going to be patient now, and see this thing through. This advertisement is lovely. Fancy his putting it into Mr. Densher's hands!"

Mrs. Lyndale rose to find scissors, and carefully cut out a paragraph from the advertisement column: "If Beryl Gr. nee Aylmer, who left her home at Tydebridge nearly ten years back, still lives, she is earnestly besought to communicate with the undersigned, with a view to mutually satisfactory pecuniary arrangements. A reward of £50 will be paid to anyone giving information as to the whereabouts of the said Beryl G., or furnishing proof of death, if such has occurred. Address S. Gr., care of Messrs. Densher & Wilton, High Street, Pinewood."

Sister Royal happened in her time of rest to be reading the same paper, when a nurse who had been her fellow-probationer years ago, and who had made up her mind that Dr. Gildredge meant one day to propose to the prettiest of the sisterhood, came into her room and laid a caressing hand on her hair.

"What a shame to cover your lovely locks with that great cap, Sister Royal. You would look like a picture with your hair flowing round you like this."

"And into the beef tea and medicines. The cap is very sweet. Think of the uniform we used to wear at St. Agatha's! Now what is the matter with you, my dear child? You seem much amused about something this evening."

"Well, I am. Your admirer has been. He had business with the matron, and his business led him close to your ward, of course. You should have seen his face when he found someone else on duty there just now. His business will not bring him here at the same hour again, I fancy."

"You silly, silly girl. My admirer exists in your own fancy."

"No, no, Sister Royal, everyone can see by this time what Dr. Gildredge thinks of you. Until you came, he was like unyielding to women. Someone told me," she added, confidentially, "he is a man with a history. Isn't that interesting? He had some shock or disappointment and became very ill. Since then, he has never thought about marrying at all; but oh, I am so glad. He is a good man. You see yourself how the patients like him, and he is so liberal to the poor. And he is very well off, people say."

"Please do not talk like this," said Sister Royal, who looked white and weary. "I know you mean no harm, but it is not nice, Katie. I do not like it."

"You poor dear. You are just tired out. Stay still and rest. I will run away and not bother you with my chatter, but I am not blind nor deaf, you know. Depend upon it, one of these days that solemn-looking doctor is going to ask you to become his wife, my dear."

Sister Royal rose and took the laughing little creature by the waist, assisting her outside the door and locking it upon her. But when she was alone she went and looked out upon the waving trees in the grounds, with eyes that saw not their freshness and beauty.

"Yes," she cried, "he shall do it! To this I will bring him: that Sister Royal shall become the desire of his heart -- more to him than his books, his profession, all else in the world. He shall ask me to marry him, and then -- then he shall have my answer. It is a revenge worth living for. If his own heart can be broken, the heart he made of no account, will have done its work and be satisfied."

Someone was singing to the sick children in the twilight hour. The echo of the melody came to Sister Royal. It was a hymn tune beloved of Goody, the little handmaid, of old. And with the music there came back the dream of Sycamore Villa, where a little maid sang at her work, and one aged and tired lay waiting for the end, and eyes where the tears trembled looked pleadingly up, and a voice, now still, had faltered: "Our Stephen -- your husband -- be not bitter against him, Bride. As you hope to be forgiven, forgive -- forgive -- forgive!" But the heart that remembered, hardened itself against the vision. The purpose of many a bitter thought was near fulfilment now. There were wrongs too deep for forgiveness, she said in her resentment; there were cruelties, and wicked, atrocious schemes that must reap bitter harvest. What otherwise could they deserve?

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"Indeed, Mrs. Latimer, you must shelter at my house till the storm is over. I am afraid it will be rather severe. Pray do not think of going further, ladies. The hospital committee would never forgive me if I permitted you to endanger yourselves."

Dr. Gildredge scarcely knew what he was saying. He seemed transported suddenly to a golden summer-land all flowers and beauty, for a heavy thunderstorm was impending, and he had been fortunate enough to meet the matron and Sister Royal out together on a shopping expedition.

"I thought of taking a cab," said the matron, "but I cannot see one about just now. I dare say it will only be short. Thank you, Dr. Gildredge. These hills are trying, and a rest will be acceptable. Are you timid of lightning, Sister Royal? You look very pale. It is fortunate we can have shelter."

A smiling domestic with big eyes and ruddy hair opened the door for them and ushered them into a drawing room, leading into a conservatory where a portly dame was attending to the plants.

"This is an old friend of mine, Mrs. Corbell," said the doctor. "One of her family has been unwell, so she has brought him here for a change."

"And wonderful healthy is this neighbourhood," said Mrs. Corbell, as she gathered up her implements and retreated. "And I'm much beholden to you, sir, for inviting of us down, I'm sure. I'll just help Mrs. Coley to send the ladies a cup of tea."

"Thank you, Mrs. Corbell," said the doctor, opening the door for her. "Mrs. Coley is the helper you saw just now, Mrs. Latimer. She and my man have made a match of it, and as they would not leave me, I am now in their united hands."

"She has a pleasant face," said the matron, graciously. "My dear," she added, turning to Sister Royal, "you look whiter than ever. I am quite glad we are under shelter; just hear the thunder! Well, since we are to have a cup of tea, Dr. Gildredge -- though I am afraid you do not practise as you preach, for you forbade tea to Mrs. Danley, I hear -- I may as well loosen my things a little. It will rest you to remove your bonnet, Sister Royal."

"Pray do, ladies. Make yourselves entirely at home," said Dr. Gildredge eagerly.

"No, thank you," said Sister Royal, who was listening rather nervously to a bark in the lower regions, "my bonnet takes a good deal of arranging, and I feel more at home when I have something on my head. I am so used to wearing a cap. What lovely carnations, Dr. Gildredge. May I have a look at them?"

She rose and passed into the conservatory, while Mrs. Latimer settled herself for a rest in the armchair. There were two or three claps of thunder, but the lightning flashes were few and faint. The rain came splashing down, but Stephen Gildredge, leading Sister Royal into the second greenhouse and showing her the dainty blooms, seemed treading the paths of fairyland.

"Let me cut you some flowers," he said. "Which will you have, Sister Royal? Do you like heliotrope?"

"Mrs. Latimer does," she answered. He was close beside her, and her breath was coming quickly and nervously.

"Do you?" he questioned, in a voice no woman could misunderstand.

She took the sweet spray from him with a smile, nor did she withdraw her hand when, as she received the flowers, he suddenly bent down passionately and kissed it. After that, said her beating heart, he must propose; and then ... and then ... the hour for her triumph, her revenge, had come.

But Stephen Gildredge's face was pale and troubled as he lifted his head. "Forgive me," he said. "My joy in your presence here maddened me for the time. What must you think of me, Sister Royal? The words that are on my lips I dare not, must not speak ... at least not yet ... not till I know...."

"Till you know what?" she said, putting the fragrant bloom within the pretty gathered bodice of her neat black dress. "Dr. Gildredge, you might as well tell me the mystery, don't you think?"

"No, I should be speaking to my own blame, and your opinion of me is more to me than I dare say. One day -- it may be soon -- I may be free to speak to you. If I were assured of this tomorrow ... any day ... Sister Royal, there is no man living could know such happiness as I. Forgive ... forget these words. Try to think kindly of me, and may God bless you and give you a golden future, whatever may be in store for me."

His voice faltered and broke. She looked down at the ferns that were fresh and damp in one corner of the greenhouse, as she said, "I am no longer a girl, Dr. Gildredge, and I will not pretend to misunderstand you. Do you mean that there is some barrier? Aare you already married?"

"I fear ... I think it may be so. Of my freedom I am not certain yet."

"If you please, sir, the tea is ready," said a voice at the entrance to the conservatory, "and Mrs. Corbell is afraid the teacakes may get cold."

"Thank you, Mrs. Coley, we are just coming," said Dr. Gildredge, trying to speak indifferently. "I think Mrs. Latimer might like a cutting from that geranium. She is welcome to anything that she might find acceptable here."

"I have actually had a nap," said the matron. "Yesterday was such a tiring day, and I feel a little overdone. Have you good people been waiting for your tea? You will pour out, will you not, Sister Royal? And then I can enjoy this cosy chair. Oh, Doctor, it is too kind of you. What a charming bouquet!"

It was rapture yet heartache for Dr. Gildredge to see the one he loved making tea in his room, and taking upon herself the little offices of hostess, yet to know he might not beseech of her to fill that place.

Mrs. Latimer did justice to the cakes. She believed in people taking care of themselves, and while fond of her own comfort, looked well after her nurses, and was exceedingly popular with everyone at the hospital.

"You have more of a colour now, Sister Royal," she said. "The tea has done you good. Really you are well looked after, Dr. Gildredge, by your married couple. I suppose you are so comfortable that you do not need, like some poor neglected bachelors, to better your condition by bringing a mistress here? I beg your pardon, I forgot you were a widower -- so I was told. I must ask you to forgive me for touching a painful chord."

Mrs. Latimer looked so penitent that Dr. Gildredge wished to set her at her ease.

"I hope you will take pity on my solitude," he said, "and favour me by a repetition of this honour one of these days. I and my dog lead a very quiet life, and to entertain ladies to tea is quite a new experience at The Cottage, I assure you. Let me find you a cushion, Sister Royal. I fear that seat is not very restful."

"I do not think Sister Royal can be well. I hope her nerves are not suffering from overwork," thought the matron, hearing her companion conversing in a lively and, as seemed to her, over-fluent way.

Mrs. Latimer had a third cup of tea while the other two chatted, or, rather, Sister Royal discoursed on various subjects, and the doctor listened and looked, and wished that grey, sombre drizzle of rain would last for ever and ever. But it stopped by-and-by, and the discourse stopped too \-- very suddenly, for in rushed, open-mouthed and wildly, a black-and-tan terrier with a snowy waistcoat and beaming hazel eyes, and frantically dashed into the lap of Sister Royal.

"Barkis, oh, Barkis!" cried Sister Royal, the dog jumping up at her and down again, and finally panting from exhaustion between his rapturous caresses.

"Did I mention his name?" said the doctor. "I suppose you heard the servant calling him. It is a good name for a dog, is it not, Sister Royal? I never knew him make such a fuss over anybody. Do not be afraid, Mrs. Latimer. He has really not gone mad, but he simply cannot express his admiration for you two ladies."

Of Mrs. Latimer, however, Barkis took no notice beyond a wag of the tail. He fixed his great eyes on Sister Royal. She could read a question within them -- where was Bonny, his dearly-beloved, his mate, his play-fellow?

"My dear, that rough dog has knocked off your bonnet," said Mrs. Latimer. "It is all to one side. You had better go to the glass."

Sister Royal rose, and as she removed the disordered bonnet, the auburn curls came waving over her brow, making a soft, bright halo such as Barkis -- and Stephen Gildredge -- had seen many a time of old.

Stephen Gildredge had become utterly silent. Mrs. Latimer thought him unaccountably absent-minded.

"Well, thank you very much, Doctor, for your hospitality," she said. "There is a cab just coming up the road. Do you mind stopping it, for I have an appointment at five? What a child you look, Sister Royal, with your hair ruffled by that creature. But do not stop to straighten yourself; we will drive all the way back. Goodbye, Dr. Gildredge; I quite enjoyed the rest."

"Goodbye, Dr. Gildredge," said Sister Royal, giving one swift look into his face.

"Goodbye, Sister Royal."

There was the shining of a great light in his eyes -- such an expression as made her heart throb wildly, while she steeled herself to seem unmoved. He had been late -- later than Barkis -- in the discovery, but she realised at that moment that her husband knew and understood.

Chapter 12

A Letter and its Answer

There came a knock at the door of Dr. Gildredge's room almost as soon as -- in a tumult of feelings, wherein triumph and gladness overwhelmed even shame and remorse -- he had shut himself up in his sanctum. Goody and Mrs. Corbell stood on the threshold.

"Oh, sir," cried Goody, tremulously, "when I bring in the cream as I had to send Edward for to the dairy, and when I see that poor dumb creature make that rush at the lady -- at Sister Royal -- then the scales fell from my eyes, and, says I to Mrs. Corbell, 'You come and have a good look through the door,' and Sister Royal was putting back that lovely hair from her face at the mirror, as Barkis had disordered; and, oh, sir, please, sir, we're both certain sure of it ... it ... she ... Sister Royal is the mistress and no other, sir. The mistress is found! Oh, how could I open the door to her and not know the mistress in a moment? But she were like a shadow of herself in those days. Now she looks well and strong, but it's the same sweet eyes and beautiful hair."

Goody was so excited that she fairly broke down, and looked at Mrs. Corbell for corroboration of her words.

"Indeed, Dr. Gildredge," said the good woman, "true is it as I have set eyes again on Miss Bride. It's her own pretty self, and well do I understand why I felt when she come into the room as there was a likeness to someone I'd known in the past. Of course, when her bonnet were off it flashed across me this were indeed Miss Bride. She were like a frail blossom then, but now she's like a rose. She's a perfect beauty, and don't she look in good health now! And 'tis you as saved her life, Doctor. Sure she can never be able to forget she owes her life to you."

"You are right," said the doctor, in a voice he vainly tried to steady. "Sister Royal is Mrs. Gildredge. I hope and believe she will soon change her home at the Queen Adelaide Hospital for The Cottage. You must give the place an extra clean-down, Goody," he added, using the familiar name of his handmaid, and looking, as they told Coley afterwards, "twenty years younger than he had done that morning."

"I'll have the carpets up, and scrub the place from top to bottom," said Mrs. Coley, to whom an extra clean-down was intense enjoyment. "Now don't you offer to help me, Mrs. Corbell, for I've got it all planned out in my mind how I can get every room done by Saturday and devote that day to my coal cellar."

For the rest of the week Goody's brooms and brushes were whisking to and fro in affectionate zeal. The girl had never forgotten the mistress who had been so gentle and kind to her, and who had loved and been beloved of the aged one now at rest. Cheerily did the echo of Goody's hymn tunes \-- mostly those with a bright lilt in the chorus -- float through the passage of Stephen Gildredge's home, as he waited for the answer to the letter he had written to Sister Royal.

On the evening of the day she had been recognised, he had started forth to call at the hospital, but he reflected that having been out that afternoon she would be on duty, and it might be difficult to see her alone, especially if she declined the interview.

That night he attempted many times to write to her, but nothing that he penned contented him. In the end he wrote but a few lines hurriedly. How could he put on paper what was in his heart? And in the grey dawn he walked rapidly through the quiet streets, and put the note, addressed to "Sister Royal," within the letterbox in the central door of the Queen Adelaide Hospital.

When may I come to see you? You are all the world to me. Bride, Bride, if I wronged you in my selfishness by a loveless marriage, if you have thought of me as I deserve, and in your bitterness of heart left me desolate, ask yourself if you are unloved now, if any house can be home to me where you are not? My wife, my darling, God knows what this means to me! I have merited darkness, and in finding you there is light over all my life. Forgive, forget the past! I have lived to learn much in the years of my loneliness. Send me a word to say when I may see you, for your work must cease. It hurts me to think how you have toiled. You must come home to rest. This you shall settle and arrange when we meet. Tell me when, my dearly-loved, and let it be soon. The day is just dawning. May I not come today?

That letter was not answered until the evening, and then there went the reply that Sister Royal for many a week had planned to make. It had been a shock and surprise to her, on reaching Pinewood, to find it was the residence of her husband, but she knew she was changed from the timid, shrinking girl he had known, and she doubted if in the cap and uniform of the hospital sisters he would recognise her again. Finding he did not know her, and was evidently inclined to pay her attention, the thought had come to her that she would indeed try to win his love; then, when that love was expressed, he should know the scorn of her heart.

She realised now the thought had been born of her wrongs and wounded feelings. Now the hour was come for her revenge, yet all day long there was a voice that pleaded: "Forgive -- forgive -- -forgive." To that voice, and to something that stirred in her own woman's heart as she read his letter, she refused to give heed. As she had suffered, he should suffer. He had been without care for her feelings, so why should she have regard to his? In the gloaming-time, the time of stars, she wrote in clear, decisive characters her answer to her husband's entreaty for an interview.

There was a lad -- the porter's nephew -- who did errands for the nurses as required, and would post letters when they were not in time for the usual hall collection. To him, Sister Royal gave her letter to take down to the pillar-box. Ten minutes later she came hurriedly back, saying she did not want it posted -- there was some alteration.

Already the reaction was setting in. The old love had wakened and cried. She could not send him those cruel words. She could not thus for ever and ever refuse the granting of a plea for pardon made on his behalf by his mother's dying lips.

"I've just given it to Dr. Gildredge, miss," said the boy. "He were up at the hospital speaking to Dr. Dean, and I see him passing through the grounds. But he's only just out of sight. If there's any mistake, shall I run after him and say as how it's incorrect, and you wants to make an alteration? I'll catch him up, miss, if you wishes."

"No, no, it is not of any consequence," said Sister Royal, faintly. Her revenge was accomplished. The heart that had broken her own would be pained that night. She had kept her word, and their roads remained apart, and should do so to the end. But she was thankful she was obliged to be busy all that night, for the place was extra full, and her duties kept her from thinking, and she did not want to think or to be alone.

When at last she was free to seek rest, and when she went to the room on the floor of which lay the fragments of her husband's letter, she hid her face in the pillow of the bed beside which she knelt, and wept tears of misery that only the Saviour beheld.

Stephen Gildredge was not a coward by nature, but his face was pale and his hands were trembling when at last he found himself at home in the privacy of his room, and drew forth the letter he had received from the porter's lodge at the hospital. Its contents would mean the fulfilment of his dearest hopes, or a shadow worse than that which for years had been lingering over his pathway. The love which, scarcely known to himself, had begun to blossom for his girl-wife had ripened into passionate devotion for Sister Royal. Was that love returned, and could she forgive and blot out the past, or was the wife -- neglected and unheeded of old -- indeed lost and dead to him for evermore?

Dr. Gildredge, (said the letter, out of which dropped a piece of paper that he looked at in astonishment and not without indignation) "may I ask that I may never again be insulted by words such as you have addressed to me? When I left your house I did so in the knowledge that a battle with the world awaited me. Better a thousand times that toil and independence should be mine rather than the unhappiness to which you brought a wife sacrificed to the scientist's ambition. It is far too late to right the wrong you did me. You would fain salve your conscience now by making provision for me in your house, but I refuse to bear your name or to wear your ring. As Beryl Rosslyn I have struggled on. I can earn my bread and make my living. I can subsist, and choose to, unaided by yourself and apart from your life. To none in Pinewood will I reveal the secret that is my sorrow. If the tale is told by you I must seek other work rather than be the subject of gossip in this town, but you would gain nothing by thus speaking. I will never return to you -- the thought to me is horror. I desired to bring you to this, that you should desire and seek my return; yes, I desired it that I might the more emphatically declare to you I would take work at the other end of the earth rather than that your home should be mine.

I take this opportunity to free myself from debt to you. While in private nursing, the friends of a child who was restored to health gave me a personal present of £100. This sum I have always considered yours in discharge of your services, the nursing fees you paid on my behalf at Tydebridge, and your settlement concerning myself and my brother with Mrs. Corbell. I should have sent you this cheque ere this, but feared I might thus be traced out; now I enclose it.

Please make out a receipt as in discharge of all claims on my purse and my brother's, and you will find the cheque honoured at the Pinewood Bank. This, I believe, settles all matters between us.

In conclusion, I wish you well, and trust you may continue to prosper in fame and wealth; but no other answer can I give you than this most decisive one. I will not meet you nor speak with you, save as my duties here may oblige me, nor will I ever again be known to the world by the name which, to my life-sorrow, I consented in my weakness and inexperience to share. You have deceived yourself in supposing I am as once I was. As a girl I respected you, but now the esteem has been swept away by scorn that is natural and righteous, and indignant aversion that only increases with every passing year.

Sister Royal.

Dr. Gildredge still held that letter in his hand, and the words seemed stamping themselves upon his brain, when the last post was delivered. A local letter was brought him -- an envelope from his solicitors, enclosing one that had been sent to him at their address. It was signed "Edith Stracey," and he remembered the name as one from the Nurses' Institute at Tydebridge. She was now in London, and she had noticed the advertisement in The Times.

Dear Dr. Gildredge,

I must say at once I write with no desire to be paid for information. You are welcome to anything I can tell you concerning Mrs. Gildredge. I was sorry to hear there had been any domestic clouds, and if I can assist in removing such, I shall be glad for both your sakes. I cannot tell you where Mrs. Gildredge is now, but I know that as Miss Rosslyn she was trained for nursing some time ago at St. Agatha's Institute, for I recognised her there when I once called to see a friend. The authorities may be able to tell you what became of Miss Rosslyn. I think I heard she took private nursing for a time. Another and a better clue I can also give you; her brother has a painting in this year's Royal Academy, under the name of Rosslyn. I met him early this year at the Academy. His face is not changed at all, though of course he is about nineteen years old now. You could obtain his address at the Academy, and thus no doubt hear of his sister. Trusting your search will he successful, and with best wishes for mutual happiness, I remain, yours sincerely,

Edith Stracey.

Almost mechanically, Stephen Gildredge sat down at his desk and penned a few lines to Miss Stracey, saying his wife's address was known to him; and while thanking her for the trouble she had taken, he asked her to receive a small acknowledgment from him of her kind interest and help. Then he read once more the letter of Sister Royal, and he placed it in his pocket-book; it would serve to remind him that his dream of happiness was hopeless, if ever thoughts so vain should find lodgement in his heart again.

The returned cheque for £100 reached Sister Royal on the morrow, simply enclosed in one of the doctor's printed slips of paper: "With compliments from Dr. Gildredge."

She returned it to him, and again it came back to her. Somehow she had half expected another letter, entreating for a different reply, or that he would have sought an interview. That he should take her answer so silently was the deepest heartache of all to Bride, and she began to realise it was no use resolving to pay her past debts to him -- he refused to accept settlement -- and she realised, too, their separation was to be final and lifelong.

The friend who had teased her about her "admirer" thought he had proposed and had been rejected. He came but seldom now to the hospital, and only when specially obliged. She did not like to allude to the subject, and Bride, who looked ill and weary, was thankful that the mention of his name had ceased.

At first Bride thought she would seek work elsewhere, but pride whispered to her that she would do better to stay on at Pinewood and show him it had cost her nothing to make that final decision, that she was content and happy, and free from regret or suffering.

It had been Dr. Lyndale's approval of her nursing of "Mother" that had suggested to Bride this means of earning a living. The kind friend to whom, as "Miss Rosslyn," she went when she journeyed to Clapham, had a relative who was porter at St. Agatha's, and he gave Bride information which led her to believe one of the committee was a gentleman formerly acquainted with her father.

By his influence she was well trained without the fees usual in that institute, and Bonny had a start in the art lessons which were the longing of his heart. As soon as Bride took private nursing, she was able to supply her little brother's board, schooling, and art studies, and she repaid the expense their helper had incurred on his behalf. Bonny was the pride and hope of his art master, whose own name was justly famous. He still lived at Clapham, but he had part of a studio with a fellow artist, and this year he was in the Academy, showing only a small thing, a peep of a Surrey lane, but one noted as full of power and promise. Bonny was beginning to pay his own way now, and his mind was full of visions of what he was going to do for Bride by-and-by when he had studied abroad -- and for this he was trying to save. The world should see what he could do, and all the gifts of Fame and Fortune that coming years held for him should be Bride's.

"I don't like to ask Dr. Gildredge," said Mrs. Corbell to the Coleys, the day before she went back with her youngest son to Tydebridge, "but it seems odd nothing is said about Mrs. Gildredge coming home. Surely, if they had a bit of a misunderstanding they've made it up by now. The doctor were wonderful happy that day she was here, but he don't look well the last few days, and that's the truth."

"No wonder," said Coley. "He's far too hard-worked, with night and day patients wanting him. It's all very well to be popular, but no money don't pay for being always out and about, and master will break down again one of these days if he don't look out."

"She did ought to be here and look after him," said Mrs. Corbell. "Why, I'm that uncomfortable about Corbell when we're parted, for who can know his ways like a wife, though our Jane's wonderful handy and a willing girl, though forgetful. And how Miss Bride can keep on looking after strangers, and the doctor the same -- and yet they two neglecting of one another as is wedded husbands and wives ... well, I don't understand it, and if you asks me I don't approve of it neither. It didn't ought to be."

"Master couldn't do nothing but what's right by everybody. He's quite the gentleman," said Coley, flushing in defence of his employer.

"And so is mistress -- leastways, quite the lady," said Goody. "A more genteeler-looking person than mistress I defy Pinewood to show. She's the flower of the nurses. Everyone says so. I'm sure there must have been reasons for her leaving Sycamore Villa, and it's not for us to be too inquisitive."

"You are quite right, child," said Mrs. Corbell. "It is not our business, but let this be a warning to you two young married people. Beware of disagreeing, for it's a bad business, as the hymn says -- to take the liberty of changing the line --when there isn't love at home!"

Dr. Gildredge came in about nine o'clock that evening, looking grave, and as Coley had suggested, a little over-worked and overdone. For the first time since their correspondence he had met Sister Royal. He had passed her in the corridor of the children's wing, where he was visiting a crippled mite being treated there by his wish. She had a baby wrapped in flannels in her arms, and the poor babe had run the risk of a fall, for Bride had not known he was in the place. Almost directly, however, she had acknowledged his bow by a quiet "Good evening."

Only for an instant they had met, and it was a relief to him that it was over. Let her go her way, since to her anything was better than acknowledgment of their relationship. Free she might and should remain. He would nevermore intrude his claim upon her. He had never deserved her, but he loved her, and the world to him seemed very blank and grey.

When he had seen the patients who had been waiting for him, he sent for Teddy Coley and his wife, and told them he did not wish it noised abroad in Pinewood that Sister Royal was Mrs. Gildredge. Let her own desire to keep the secret be respected.

"And now," he said, as they looked at him in silent, respectful sympathy, "we need refer to this matter no more. I will ask you to forget it, but I thought it right to make it clear to you that Mrs. Gildredge will continue in her profession. She will never make her home at The Cottage."

Chapter 13

"He Fully Accepts the Arrangement."

"Well, to be sure, of all the coincidences! If I wasn't just thinking of you, Miss Bride, and here you comes upon me, taking your recreation in the park. This is Frederick, as were the baby, a handful with breakings-out in the face, as well you'll remember through nursing him on my washing days when you'd half-an-hour or so to spare. He's been under Dr. Gildredge's advice this six year now, and a fine boy he's growing, though not much flesh. Make your obedience to the lady, Freddy, and then go and watch the boys at cricket, my dear, for I wants a few private words with you, Miss Bride -- leastways, I beg your pardon \--Mrs. Gildredge I should say."

"'Sister Royal' I am called here, Mrs. Corbell," said Bride, with a warm clasp of her friend's hand. "It is good to see your kind face again. We can have a nice chat on that seat under the trees. Now you must tell me all about my old acquaintances. Why, you look younger than ever. Do you know I am getting grey hairs?"

"Now, my dear, if I was one to pay compliments I'd tell you there was many would like to change their hair for yours. Do you remember how your poor father used to love to paint your hair the exact colour, and Master Bonny used to try, and couldn't mix his colours right? As to telling you about ourselves, my dear, things goes on with us pretty much the same; but our Jack's learning the cabinet-making, and our Jane's got a young man in the corn chandlery line. It isn't about ourselves as I feels like speaking to you today, Mrs. Sister Royal; it's about you and him."

"I do not quite understand, Mrs. Corbell."

"My dear, time is short and the years are passing by, and every Christmas, I'm sure, seems to come quicker than the last. Your two lives are passing, and you might be happy and comfortable together, but it seems to me one of you is too proud to say, 'Forgive and forget,' and to let bygones be bygones. The doctor -- he's a good man, and if a bit abrupt as a young man, why it's wore off, and his true nature takes after his poor mother, as were kindness itself. The doctor is in solitude and loneliness, and you're earning your living -- excuse me, miss -- and keeping someone else out of a good situation; and neither of you looks happy."

"Excuse me, but I love my profession, and I am perfectly happy."

"Well, if you are, my dear," said Mrs. Corbell, "he is not. He's too white and thin to satisfy me, and Dr. Lyndale's always telling him he works too hard, and might have another breakdown. He was as bad as he could be when he got back to Tydebridge and found his poor mother gone. That was why he was advised to settle in Pinewood air. After all, my dear, you are married folk, and can't you just bear and forbear and do your duty by each other? I don't hold with putting apart what God have joined together. I'm sure Corbell's a bit trying at times, and I reckon I'm the same, and we do get a little argumentative over some points now and then; but, as to going separate ways, may the Lord grant it's many a day before we're parted for awhile. We ain't going to bring no parting on ourselves."

"Mrs. Corbell," said Bride, with quiet dignity, "I do not think you are in a position to advise me on private circumstances. I must ask you to let me judge as to my own affairs. Dr. Gildredge and I could never, under any circumstances, make a different arrangement. The decision to which I came many years ago is not likely to be changed; and the older we become, the less likely is it that any alteration would be made. Are you still in the same house at Tydebridge, and do you still let apartments?"

"Yes, Miss Bride; we have a permanency, an old gentleman that's pensioned off from the bank, and wonderful reliable and regular in his habits. But, my dear, you're not going to take offence at me? I'm leaving this place today, and the thought came to me that you'd take a word from an old body that helped to nurse your father and your mother at the last. I'm fond of you, and I'm fond of the doctor, and it was laid on my heart to remind you, dearie, that life's too short not to clasp hands together and forgive, and try to help and comfort. You're not offended at me, Miss Bride, dear?"

"No, no," said Sister Royal, gently. "Dear Mrs. Corbell, I am not offended. You mean it all kindly; but it is too late now. I have chosen, and there it will remain. It is best so. Now tell me of Jane and Jane's friend."

A few weeks later a bright-faced young fellow was asking at the hospital for Sister Royal, and Bride, in the matron's room, clung fondly and proudly to her artist-brother who was all she had in the world, as she often told him, and as she repeated today. As a rule Bonny reciprocated the sentiment warmly, but just now, beyond telling her she was "a brick," and informing her that after Christmas he meant to get on without touching her earnings anymore, he seemed more disposed to wax rapturous over a young lady typist, about his own age, who lived next door to his apartments, and who, he said, was like a picture of Romney's.

He added that they rode together on the tram sometimes, and it was a great shame she, an orphan and so beautiful, should have to work so hard for her living. When he had made his name and could command good prices for his work, he hoped -- and here the lad coloured and smiled -- Miss Violet would not find herself without someone to be her guardian and protector.

Hitherto the prospective fortune had always been Bride's. His sister now perceived, as sisters the most devoted usually do by-and-by, that there was another lady looming upon the horizon of the future; yet it seemed only yesterday that Bonny had been playing with marbles and a top!

"I am growing old," she thought, with half a sigh for the years of her youth. "Bonny has left boyhood behind, and I did not realise how time is passing. Bonny, dear," she said, aloud, "I am very interested about Miss Violet, but you will be prudent, will you not, dear? You are only nineteen, and you have nothing whatever but your own work -- and, of course, my pay -- to look to. You must let your elderly sister preach commonsense to you, you know."

"Why, Bride," he said, his handsome face beaming good-humouredly upon her, "Miss Violet is the most sensible girl in all the world. We are just opposites, and contraries ought to at least.... Of course, I can't think about telling Miss Violet how much I admire her, till I get better off. But if I could study under Lucchini in Rome for three or four years, I feel I could do something, Bride. It's in me. I want to travel and see the galleries abroad, and have some time with Deroche in Paris, too. I'll make a name -- yes, and a home for her, too, before I am twenty-five!"

"I wish you could travel, Bonny," said Bride, wistfully. "Shall we see next year what we can do? You put it all down on paper, and see what three years' foreign work would be likely to come to. If I could get an increase of salary here next year---"

"Bride," said the young fellow, looking at her gravely, "I have something to tell you. I am going to take my name -- our own name again. It is father's name that I want to make famous in the art world. My next picture I shall show as Rosslyn-Ay liner."

"Will you, dear Bonny? Then you know...."

"Yes, I know you have come across him again, and that he has recognised you. So there is no longer any need for us to be called Rosslyn."

"I shall keep that name, Bonny, always."

"You need not be afraid of his making you go back to him," said Bonny, soothingly. "Remember I am grown up now, and for any annoyance to you he would have to answer to me. But he does not intend to trouble you in any way, or to seek your return to him. He gave me his word for it."

"Bonny, when did you see him?" asked his sister, trying to hide the trembling of her hands.

"He came up to my studio last week, Bride. By the way, something seems to have improved him. He has lost that sharp, curt manner that as a child I so hated. He isn't such a bad-looking chap, after all. He wanted to know how he could help my career. He said he had money to spare, and he considered it his duty to be of help to me, if possible. He offered to bear all the expenses of my going abroad."

"Bonny, please do not take money from him. We owe him too much already."

"I don't know about that, but I gave the worthy doctor a piece of my mind that day. I told him I would rather beg than touch a coin of his. I said I did not know, and should never ask you, why you had left his home, but I knew he must have acted like a brute for you to choose your life of toil rather than to remain with him. And I told him that, as the brother of the best woman in all the world -- for that you are, old girl -- and so I scorned his help and favours, and requested him to relieve my studio of his company. I also reminded him that he had intended me for a career very different from that of my own choice. Whereupon he looked at my pictures, and said calmly enough that he had been mistaken -- art was my life-work -- but he criticised my skies, and told me when I was in Pinewood to come and see one or two things -- old masters -- he had picked up of late years, as he thought they could teach me something. I told him he was welcome to his old masters. Neither I nor mine wanted anything of his, or to have anything to do with him."

"Oh, Bonny!"

"And why do you say 'Oh, Bonny'? I was quite correct, was I not, Bride?"

"Quite correct, but I am afraid you spoke rather sharply, rather unkindly. There was no need to hurt his feelings, Bonny. He has not troubled me, and I am sure he never will."

The lad stared at her. "He treated you badly, Bride. Who cares about his feelings? Surely you don't!"

"Of course I do not," said Bride briskly, "and I would not have you go abroad on his money for anything."

"He wanted to buy a picture," said Bonny. "It was that sketch 'Heart's-ease'. By the way, the face was yours, you know, Bride. He offered me twenty pounds for it, but I said my price for it was a thousand. I had no intention of selling him any of my work. I must say he kept his temper, for I was in a bit of a passion that day. I was thinking all the time how he had spoilt your life, how you might have been happily married to someone who better deserved you "

"Bonny," she said, smiling rather sorrowfully, as she looked up at him, "it is no use regretting the past. I am old now. Let us think not of my career, but of yours. You shall have those studies abroad yet. I will manage for you your heart's desire. Are you going to give yourself a holiday here now, Bonny? You will find plenty of scenes to paint in this neighbourhood, you know."

"Yes, I have seen three already. I will come down later on. I should enjoy two or three weeks here, but just now I am too busy to stay. I ran down for a few hours, Bride. I wanted to tell you about Gildredge, and \-- and little Vi."

Bride laughed. "You shall tell me all your confidences out in the gardens," she said. "I have an hour to spare, and I will show you the prettiest walk in Pinewood."

Out they went together into the gardens, full of natural and cultivated beauty. They sat down near the lake, and Bonny was telling with rapture how Miss Violet ministered patiently and sweetly to a cantankerous aunt, when he suddenly stopped and jumped up in excitement.

"Look, Bride, that's old Barkis, or his ghost. Isn't he fat! Oh, wouldn't I like to have him? I wonder if he would know my whistle."

Know it? Barkis came swimming through the lake and covered Bride's trim costume with the drops he shook from his coat. Bonny's velvet jacket was likewise considerably damped, but the eager lad cared not for this.

"He knows me after all these years! I feel like Ulysses and his faithful dog. Barkis, you're a brick to be living still! Good old dog to live so long and to keep in such good condition! They don't starve you, Barkis. I say, I'm going to buy you. You shall come with me to Rome and Paris and Antwerp."

"Bonny, there is Dr. Gildredge. Come and have some tea in the High Street. Time is getting on."

As Bride rose hastily to proceed on her walk, Dr. Gildredge caught sight of them, and, lifting his hat, would have passed on, but Bonny went forward impulsively.

"The dog and I are old friends," he said. "Will you sell him to me, Dr. Gildredge? I remember you did not care for dogs."

"My taste has improved since you remember me," said Dr. Gildredge, "and it will take a long purse to buy Barkis from me. My price is a thousand pounds!"

Bonny remembered the price he had named for the picture, and could not help a laugh. He was at ease with his brother-in-law now, and no longer in childish awe of him as one who could forbid and confiscate pictures, brushes, and paints.

"Then I can't buy you, Barkis," he said, pulling the dog's ears, "and after all, there must be good feeding where you live. You could not better it, old boy, and in Clapham you would have to don a muzzle. Your country life and liberty will be better for your constitution, but it's awfully jolly to see you again."

"Will you have a look at my Gainsborough now you are down here?" said Dr. Gildredge. "I am on my way home, if you like to come."

"No, thank you," said Bonny, "I am just going to take my sister to have some tea." But there was in his face such a wish to see the pictures that Bride said, quickly, "I think I ought to get back to the hospital, Bonny. You will have time to say goodbye before you catch the London express."

"Very well, I will come round later on and say goodbye," said her brother.

Bride was turning away, but suddenly she faced Dr. Gildredge: "Why is your hand bandaged?" she asked. "Have you hurt it?"

"Somewhat," he answered; "but it is getting better. I daresay you feel inclined to criticise the bandaging, but Coley does his best, and it answers the purpose."

Before leaving, Bonny came up duly to bid his sister farewell. "I say, Bride," he said, "he's got a Gainsborough -- no mistake about it, and some fine Morlands, and a head of Sir Thomas Lawrence's, and a jolly good collection of miniatures. I suppose now -- if he should die intestate -- you would have those pictures "

"Bonny, don't!" said Bride, almost sternly.

"What's the matter? He must die some day, mustn't he? By the way, it's a wonder he didn't get killed the other day. Teddy Coley -- he's gone and married Goody, and she calls him Edward now -- told me all about it. There was a fire at Mrs. Danley's stables -- she's an old lady living near Gildredge, you know -- and there's a horse that's ill there, and they got one out, but they couldn't get at the other poor thing, it was half mad with fright. But the doctor wouldn't give up trying. He got his hand and arm cut by a partition or something he had to break down, but he actually saved the poor creature and got it out of the smoke, and almost directly after, the roof of the stable fell in. It was a grand thing to do. Mrs. Danley has sent him a piece of plate for the sideboard in memory of it, but Coley says he's feeling it, now it's over. He's not the thing, and he seems to think Pinewood doesn't altogether suit him. I fancy he'll sell his practice and take a place at the West End. I say, Bride, don't you worry yourself thinking he's going to bother you, or let folks know how things stand. Remember, I asked him straight out how he meant to act, and he answered that he fully accepts the arrangement that already exists."

"Yes," said Bride, "that is quite understood. I must say goodbye, Bonny dear, because I am wanted in the ward. Come to Pinewood for a few days when you want some river views. There are plenty of nice rooms where they take lodgers."

"Goodbye, old lady," said her brother, fondly; "I've had a jolly time. That Gainsborough is a beauty. I'd like Vi to see it. She's awfully fond of the old pictures in the National Gallery. We'll all three have a jolly day there when you come up to town, Bride; and Vi knows where they sell lovely ices, just the sort you used to buy me, Bride -- do you remember? -- when you had a day off from St. Agatha's, and you took me sightseeing in London."

He turned his bright face in smiling farewell till he was out of sight.

"Oh, Bonny, Bonny!" cried Bride in her heart, "may you never know heartache and shadow. May Fate deal kindly with you, and all the sunny promise of your life be fulfilled. I ought to be proud of you, and I am. Whatever else be lost, you are left to me, and I can rejoice all my days in your talents, and, better still, your love."

She smiled a little in thought of "Miss Violet" -- they were only a pair of children, and their friendship was an idyll at which even her prudence as the elder sister surely did not need to be over-anxious. Yet maybe one day she would lose her brother. It might be the beginning of the end; then Duty must satisfy her heart, and she would go on in the daily, patient ministry of help and comfort, till with a little pension she could retire to end her days in two rooms, within reach of her brother and his household.

Perhaps by that time Dr. Gildredge would be knighted. If he went to London, he would take with him a reputation that would soon fill his rooms with patients. Well, did he not deserve good fortune? Was he not the wisest, the cleverest of men? And was he not a hero? Had he not braved danger and pain to rescue a helpless creature? Bride thought of the white face and the bandaged hand. She wished she had known, when she spoke to him, what he had done. He must have thought her manner so cold, so careless, so unfeeling; and he had been facing death. She was the one person in all the world who ought to have been tending him, ministering to him, but she had put their lives apart, "and he fully accepts the arrangement that exists."

### Chapter 14

"Is You and Her Keeping Company?"

"What's this we hear, Dr. Gildredge, that you are going to forsake Pinewood? I asked Dr. Lyndale about it, and all I could get out of him was that he 'sincerely hoped not'; but Pinewood will not hear of it. What should we do without our popular physician? No, no, we really cannot spare you. Why, I actually took The Hermitage to be next door to a doctor, and I have taken it for seven years. Think of my lease, and spare me from new and uncongenial neighbours."

Mrs. Danley, kept indoors by a bronchial cold, had sent for the doctor, and was taking this opportunity of trying to discover if Pinewood gossip as to his leaving for London had made a mistake.

"It is very kind of you to think I should be missed, Mrs. Danley," was the answer, "and for many reasons I should be very sorry to leave this beautiful neighbourhood."

"It would be great folly," said Mrs. Danley, severely, "with such a practice as you have made, and your house built out at the back only last summer; and where will you find better cupboards? I consider these houses most convenient, and I had some thought of buying this one; but you really must give up the notion of running away. London, indeed! Why should everyone drift to London? I never want to see London again. Give me the woods and the pines! And as for doctors, why, they are next door to one another at the West End \-- and I suppose it is the West End you are thinking of. How they all manage to live, passes my comprehension. And think of the rents! But I suppose you have made your fortune, and expense is no consideration to you, Doctor."

"No, Mrs. Danley, I have not made my fortune, though Pinewood has been very kind to me. But I am not wholly sure that the air----"

"Then why did you write an article that the boarding-house people are always quoting about 'the mild yet bracing properties of the Pinewood air, so impregnated with the fragrance of the firs'? Nonsense, Dr. Gildredge, it is the best air in England, and you are well enough here, and doing well, and since your rescue of my poor Lubin you are quite a hero. Pardon an old woman for discerning another cause for your disposition. Confess now, Doctor, have you not been crossed in love?"

"Do I look like the hero of a love story now, Mrs. Danley?"

"Yes, I think you do. They usually have fine eyes, and yours are not so bad, except when you are out of temper."

"May I venture to hope that you have never seen me out of temper?"

"Oh, but I have. You did not notice me in Pelham Street the other day, but I saw you turning the corner by the Library, and you quite alarmed me by the gloom of your expression. There was certainly thunder in the air that day."

Gildredge remembered. In the distance he had seen Sister Royal cross the road into a bye street rather than meet him, and her avoidance of him had spoilt for him the sunshine of that day.

"I am very sorry for you, Doctor," said Mrs. Danley. "I fear the fates are against you. You know that lady whom I selected as a most admirable choice for you -- the pretty nurse, Sister Royal?"

"I know Sister Royal, certainly."

"Well, I thought -- of course, acting in your interests -- I would find out if she were engaged, or quite heart-whole and free to marry. I went about the matter very gently, and, do you know, I fancy she has been crossed in love, for she said with a determined look and a decisive way of ending the subject between us, 'Mrs. Danley, single people are much the happiest, and I shall certainly never marry!' I know two or three who particularly admire Sister Royal. It seems such a pity for her to have formed such an evident aversion to your sex. Must you be going now, Doctor? Well, look in again tomorrow, won't you? And mind, I shall never forgive you unless you dismiss once and for all the notion of running away from 'the mild yet bracing properties of the Pinewood air!'"

Dr. Gildredge went away laughing. The lively old lady usually exercised a cheering influence over him, but for all her persuasions, he still felt he must leave Pinewood. It was torture to him to be so near Sister Royal, and know that the one he loved had no feeling towards him except shrinking dislike and indignant aversion.

"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Alice Lyndale, coming home that day from a visit to the hospital, when Bride's sad face had set her mind and heart sympathetically at work. "Oh, dear! Things are as unsatisfactory as ever. If one could only do something to set things right, to bring those two together. They both look white and miserable, and each is bearing the life-struggle alone, not sharing it, as they might do, because each is too proud to speak a reconciling word. Is there nothing we can do to end this estrangement and straighten out the tangle?"

"My dear Alice, what caused the tangle in the beginning we know not, and I am afraid all our trying will not straighten it out. I believe in the influence of time and circumstances. They were bound to come across each other here."

"Yes, but should he go away, who knows if their paths will cross again? I believe it is all his own fault. She is too sweet a woman to cherish bitterness and resentment."

"My wifie, your female sex is ever a charming riddle, and not to be judged by appearances. My own opinion is that Gildredge would welcome her back tomorrow, and that the estrangement is her own decision and choice. Cheer up, you sympathetic little soul; be sure if ever I can help things on satisfactorily it will be done; but this is one of those cases where it seems to me interference would be out of place. If there was ever any affection to start with in that union, I prophesy it will reassert itself before long, and things will right themselves for the poor old chap's happiness, without any outsiders needing to concern themselves in his domestic affairs."

But the weeks went on, and there seemed no signs that Dr. Lyndale's prediction could ever be realised. The more Sister Royal thought of the time when she was looked upon as hopelessly ill, and when the medical theories as to her malady were disproved by her recovery, the more bitter was her indignation against Stephen Gildredge; and, as regards himself, he was utterly grieved and ashamed in recalling the events of ten years back, and he could not wonder she had written to him those decisive words: I refuse to bear your name, or to wear your ring. I will not meet with you, nor speak to you, save as my duties may oblige me.

She had won his love, and the heartache he bore in silence was no more than his past had merited, he owned in his heart; but it would be better for him to be in the whirl of London life, and to have his thoughts once more wholly immersed in his profession.

One afternoon, he was in the train from London, whither he had been to make inquiries about a possible opening, when at a country station about twenty miles from Pinewood, just as the train was about to proceed, the guard opened the door and helped in a lady, giving the signal quickly for departure. Gildredge would have relieved her of his presence by changing carriages, but that was impossible. He lifted his hat with the greeting, "Good afternoon," and Sister Royal, too startled to make reply, followed his example by becoming absorbed in a newspaper.

It flashed across her that he had been to London about a practice there. Perhaps it was all arranged. He might be going away soon, and this might be their last meeting for many a long year -- perhaps their last on earth. It was fully evident that he did not wish to speak; but while he was bending over his paper, Sister Royal took a mental photograph of the changes ten years had wrought in him -- the grey streaks in his hair, the lines upon his brow, the gentler expression that time and trouble had brought to the clever face.

He glanced up once and met that earnest gaze. "Have you seen The Daily Graphic?" he asked, passing it over to her.

Bride had just come from visiting a former patient, one she had nursed while engaged in private work. That patient was now within sight almost of that shore whence returns no traveller, and the nurse's heart was sad and wistful, thinking of her friend, and how at last to us all earthly scenes, earthly tumult, earthly wrongs will seem as nothing compared with the eternity of peace and pardon and soul-quietude.

"Dr. Gildredge," she said, "is your hand quite cured? It must have been very painful."

"Thank you, Sister Royal, it is all right again now," and he turned his paper with interest, resolved he would not intrude conversation upon her.

A few miles further on the train came to a standstill. Sister Royal had to be back by a certain time, and she grew fidgety and rather nervous. She wished he would put down that paper and find out what was causing the stoppage, and when they would be likely to proceed. The day was very cold, and to sit still in an unmoving train seemed the last thing to be desired that afternoon.

"Will you have my rug?" asked the doctor, aware of a shiver on the part of his companion.

"Oh, no, thank you, but do you know why we are waiting? Do you think there has been any accident?"

Dr. Gildredge put down the window and made inquiry of one and another looking with impatience out of the carriages. At last he obtained a few words with the guard, and learnt that what might have been a serious calamity had occurred -- part of a tunnel had fallen in, fortunately at a time when there was no traffic. The only thing to be done was for the passengers to walk across the fields to the next station, whence, as soon as could be managed, they would be taken on to Pinewood.

Sister Royal looked dismayed. The meadows were snowy and damp, and the next station was yet some distance away.

"There is a good road to the village," said Dr. Gildredge. "I know this part of the country. A former patient of mine lives here and lets out carriages. If you would rather keep to the road, he would soon drive you into Pinewood, Sister Royal."

"Oh, yes, there may be a long delay at the station. Which way do I go?"

"Will you allow me to show you the way?"

"Oh, if it is not troubling you too much, only -- I did not bring any money except for my return ticket. But I could pay him when we reach the hospital. Perhaps if he knows you..."

"Ashwood certainly will not want payment in advance, and I am meaning to drive into Pinewood myself. What I meant was, might I offer you a seat in the conveyance?"

"I should like to pay my share, please, Dr. Gildredge."

"Oh, certainly. Now if we walk quickly you will get warm again. It is about three-quarters of a mile down the road to Ashwood's place."

They walked on in silence, the doctor keeping his lips closed lest he might anger her by saying too much, to which he was sorely tempted in that unexpected interview, and Sister Royal convinced that he must have quite recovered from his fancy for her society; if he cared about her still, he could not possibly be so business-like and composed.

A number of little Ashwoods rushed out and greeted the doctor. Their father went to see about the conveyance, and Mrs. Ashwood showed the travellers into a snug room where glowed an inviting-looking fire, and where in a cradle cooed a little babe that very soon was in the arms of Sister Royal.

"What a mercy as no one was hurt in the tunnel," said Mrs. Ashwood. "Now do, miss, and you too, sir, get a nice warm by the fire, and I daresay the lady would like a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you," began Bride, but Dr. Gildredge said, "Yes, she would," and told her she should pay her share of the tea in settling for half the carriage.

"I owe it to Mrs. Latimer not to let you get cold," he said. "They are too busy at the hospital to want the nurses laid up, and the tea will warm you. Come, put the child down, and get your feet warm at the fire."

"Oh, the walk has warmed them," said Sister Royal. "How it makes the face burn to come indoors from the cold!" She felt angry with herself that she could not make her voice calm and composed as his own. She carried the baby to the window, and looked out upon the juveniles snowballing in the garden, while the doctor stood by the fire and warmed his hands, devoutly desiring that Ashwood might not put himself out to hurry with the horse.

Mrs. Ashwood brought in her best teapot and a plate of bread and butter, and set a chair for the lady in front of the teapot.

"Now, miss," she said, "you'll want to get to Pinewood afore it's dark, so, if you'll please pour out the tea. Come to mother, Georgie. He's a wonderful fine boy for eight months, isn't he, miss?"

The tea was a silent meal, so silent that Bride determined to talk freely on general subjects as they waited for the carriage, and thought that the additional wing now being built to the hospital, and the proposed winter gardens for Pinewood, would be topics safe and satisfactory for discussion. It seemed so silly to sit silently, and she was more nervous in that stillness than if conversation had been proceeding.

Suddenly, in the midst of the silence, came an outburst. A small boy, Richard Ashwood by name, pushed open the door in the room and ran tumultuously up to the doctor. "If you please, sir," he said, politely, "is you two -- you and her -- walking out?"

"Not at present, my lad, but we propose to drive out when your father is ready."

"I mean," said the boy, with a puzzled face, "is you and her keeping company? Liza says she's sure you are, and she bet me a halfpenny you and her is going to get married, and I bet Liza a halfpenny you ain't, and so I wants to know. Please, do tell me, 'cause I wants that halfpenny from Liza."

"Don't you know," said the doctor, "it is very wrong to bet, Richard? I cannot encourage such behaviour on your part and Liza's, and I shall certainly not give you any information whatever."

"You tell me, miss," said the boy, turning upon Sister Royal, his big eyes of blue something like Bonny's.

Bride was too fond of children to resist him. "Betting is very wicked," she said, "and I hope you will not take your sister's halfpenny. But Liza is wrong, quite wrong. I am not going to be married, Richard."

The boy ran off triumphantly, and his sister's reply came to their hearing as she exclaimed with emphasis, "I don't care what you say, Dicky; she's the doctor's sweetheart, I'm sure and certain, and I ain't going to give you no halfpennies, so there! I'll tell mother if you don't go and play quiet along of Bobby."

Bride would have laughed, but the laugh would have ended in tears. Perhaps Gildredge guessed that, for he rose without glancing towards her.

"Shall we be getting on?" he said. "I see our driver is ready. Mrs. Ashwood will lend you a wrap of some kind. That cape is not enough for driving."

Mrs. Ashwood had a fleecy white shawl which she willingly brought forward, and Dr. Gildredge put his rug over Sister Royal, and over that, the rug belonging to the conveyance.

"Now I think you will not be frozen," he said. "Goodbye, Mrs. Ashwood; goodbye, Liza and Richard. Share that between yourselves and the wee ones," and he closed Richard's small fist over a half-crown piece.

"Richard deserves a tip," he said to his companion as they drove off, "for coming so well through diphtheria. He had it very badly when they lived in Pinewood. I feared at first he was going to turn out an ailing, delicate little fellow, but there is not much of the invalid about him now."

"No, indeed," said Sister Royal. "His mother was telling me what faith she had in your skill. She said you had cured her husband of asthma when other treatment had failed."

"I hope the cure may be permanent, but that is a troublesome complaint. Sister Royal, pardon my asking a personal question, but as a medical man I should be interested to know if you have ever had a return of those cataleptic seizures since you were my patient several years back?"

"No," she answered, "and I earnestly hope I never shall. Those faints were too terrible. It was like a living death."

"Your health is very different now," he said. "You need not fear a recurrence. But just now I fancy you are doing too much. They are extra busy, I believe, at the hospital?"

"Yes, we are very full, but I am not sure I am going to stay."

"Are you not happy there? Do they not treat you properly?"

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Latimer and all are most kind, but I like private nursing better. Someone I know has gone to the Hathaway Street Institute, and strongly recommends me to join. The Institute supplies nurses to private families."

"I know the place, but I think you are better where you are. Mrs. Latimer is just and kind, and seems to take special interest in you. I fancy you would not care for the Hathaway Street place. The head of it is given to taking likes and dislikes, and can make herself unpleasant on occasion."

"My mind is not made up yet about going to London," said Sister Royal quickly. "People say you are thinking of living there, Dr. Gildredge?"

"London is a big place, Sister Royal. I should not be near enough for my presence to incommode you."

A long silence followed; then she ventured on the question, "What do you think of the suggested Winter Gardens? Do you approve of the site they have selected for the grounds?"

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I was thinking. I did not catch your remark."

"The suggested Winter Gardens "

"Oh, never mind the Winter Gardens. I am on the council, and hear quite enough of that prospective resort. Will you allow me to say something for which I have long wanted opportunity? I am loath to annoy you by taking advantage of the accident of this drive, but I see you very seldom, and there is something I have long been anxious to say. May I, Sister Royal?"

She did not answer. She could not. She looked at the red sunset in the sky, and her breath came quickly as she waited for his words.

"I wish," said he, "you would let my solicitor draw up a maintenance deed between us. Let us look at the matter in a practical, commonsense way. You ... we ... have decided to live separately."

"Certainly," she said, proudly. These were not the words she had expected, and the light reflected from the sunset seemed to have died out upon her face.

"Certainly," he echoed, "that is of course a settled thing. But you have a claim upon my income, and I can afford to pay you quarterly that which would do away with the necessity of your working for a livelihood. You are not strong enough to go on year by year with this kind of life, Bri---- Sister Royal, and it would be a kindness to me if you will let Mr. Densher mutually settle the terms of the annuity. A man is certainly supposed to provide for his----"

"No -- no -- no!" cried Bride, passionately, with a burning face, "I will not touch your money. It is no use asking me. I will not be under any obligation to you. I intend to pay half this drive."

"I believe it was so arranged," he answered. "Do not agitate yourself. The more money you leave in the Pinewood Bank, the more comfortably will you be situated by-and-by as a widow. It will be all the same in the end."

"What do you mean? You are not ill "

"I sometimes think I shall not be more than middle-aged," he answered, "but who can tell? We die none the sooner for setting our affairs in order, and you will find it smooth sailing, and not be bothered by finding things in confusion. But about the Winter Gardens? You were going to remark----"

"No, I was not," she said, "and I don't know anything about them. Dr. Gildredge, can I get down at the Market Cross? I would rather walk through the town, please."

"I have to alight here," he answered, "so I will bid you good evening. Ashwood will drive you to the hospital. I have settled with him, and you can remit to me at your leisure. Your share of the drive is three shillings and sixpence."

"And a shilling for the tea," said Sister Royal. "I heard her say it was two shillings. I will post to you this evening. Goodbye, Dr. Gildredge, I think it is you who are overworking."

She half held out her hand, but he did not or would not see it; and she was borne on swiftly to the hospital, his travelling rug still sheltering her from the cold evening air.

### Chapter 15

A Case of Fever

Bride asked the driver to stop while she placed four shillings and sixpence in an envelope and directed it to the doctor. Giving Ashwood a shilling for himself, she asked him to stop at The Cottage before going home, and leave the rug and the envelope.

Next day she received by post a receipt for the money. The sight of the letter directed in the well-known handwriting set her heart throbbing, but when she opened it there were only the formal words, partly printed, "To Drs. Gildredge and Lyndale, for professional attendance, four shillings and sixpence. Details if desired. Received, Stephen Gildredge," and the date.

The name of Dr. Lyndale and the words, "for professional attendance," had been scored through. But it was a business-like communication enough, yet it did not share the fate of the letter she had torn to atoms -- that receipt within her pocket note book accompanied her as she went busily about her many duties day by day.

Some weeks later, Dr. Gildredge came home tired one evening from a long round, and was partaking of the dinner which Goody had done her best to keep from spoiling for the last two hours, when a note was brought to him from a house in Riverside Road. "Please to come to Mrs. Duckitt's, where there's a London gentleman as seems very poorly, and having apartments to let, Mrs. D. would like to know if it's catching."

Dr. Gildredge attended the Duckitt household, and knew it was important to them to let their rooms. He was too much accustomed to interruptions to cast a backward glance at the dinner and the comfortable fire, but as he left the house Goody remarked to her husband that it put her out of all patience that he should "have to take his meals anyhow like a heathen, instead of having them comfortable before all the goodness is cooked out of them through warming of them up."

The doctor would not take Teddy Coley and the horse out again, but walked quickly on to Riverside Road.

"I'm real sorry to trouble you at this time of day, Doctor," said Mrs. Duckitt, "but it's a gentleman lodger arrived this morning. He said he'd been feeling out of sorts for some days, and fancied a change in these parts. He's got a relation here, he says, that he means to surprise; but he's been too poorly to do anything but lie down and try to get a sleep, and I think myself the symptoms is serious and points to smallpox, which for them as lets apartments is a dispensation indeed, Doctor, but we'll look on the bright side till you've given your opinion, though it's evident to myself, poor young gentleman, that he's sickening for it."

"Why, Bonny, lad!"

The young fellow raised himself languidly, but his face brightened at sight of one he knew. "Did she send for you? I'm glad. I wanted her to, but I couldn't remember your name."

"Never mind my name; let me move the lamp a little so that I can get a look at you."

"Here is the gentleman's card, sir," said Mrs. Duckitt. "Mr. Reginald P. Rosslyn-Aylmer, of Vista Crescent, Clapham Common, and 116, Alford Road, Chelsea. I think he's a painting gentleman," she added, in a low voice.

She lighted a spare candle and went downstairs, anxiously awaiting the doctor's verdict, and dreading the news which should make her rooms to be avoided by sojourners in Pinewood.

By-and-by Dr. Gildredge came down, and she hurried to meet him.

"I can scarcely say for certain," he told her, "but I am afraid we must be prepared for typhus fever "

"Oh, sir, you won't want him to stay here? Don't they send such cases to the hospital out on the Woodham Road? I don't know as they'd take him at the Queen Adelaide, and I hear it's very full."

"We will settle that after I have seen a relation of his," said the doctor. "I shall be in again later on. Meanwhile, I may as well tell you your lodger is well known to me -- I knew him as a child. Whatever you may lose for a time as to the rooms, I will see to it your time and trouble shall be satisfactorily paid for, Mrs. Duckitt."

"Oh, if it's a friend of yours, Dr. Gildredge," said the landlady, "I'm sure, sir, I will do my best; but times are hard, and the rooms empty since the last week in November. I must say I did not like the look of the poor gentleman -- so languid-like and shivery, but after all, he may take a turn for the better after a good night's rest, and it's a mercy, sir, you don't suspect smallpox."

"Dr. Gildredge would like to see you for a minute or two, Sister Royal, and Mrs. Latimer told me to show him into her room."

"Dr. Gildredge?" Bride faced the messenger, trembling and dismayed. The next moment she recollected herself and struggled for composure. "I am busy just now, but I will come down as soon as I can be spared."

She was a little indignant that he had come to the hospital and asked for her, and at such an hour! Did he not think she had been in earnest when she wrote declining to see him or speak with him, save as compelled by necessity? Had he dared to tell the matron of their relationship? No, she felt sure he had not gone so far as that, but it was with a look of vexation and dignity that she entered Mrs. Latimer's pleasant room, and found him standing alone there by the fire.

"I am extremely busy, Dr. Gildredge. I really cannot understand----"

"I think you will believe I should not trouble you willingly, Sister Royal. I have come up to ascertain your wishes about a patient of mine in lodgings at Mrs. Duckitt's, Riverside Road. I believe he came down intending to give you a pleasant surprise, but he is seriously unwell and I am afraid of typhus fever. His landlady sent for me about eight o'clock."

"You can't mean Bonny? Bonny is not in Pinewood. He wrote me he needed a rest, and thought of a few days in the Isle of Wight."

"I think, being out of sorts, he fancied being in your neighbourhood. I am rather afraid it may be a long illness, but he may really be stronger when it is all over. To begin with, I need not have charge of the case at all. Dr. Lyndale will visit your brother if you prefer it."

"Oh no!" Bride exclaimed. "At least..." and she hesitated nervously.

"It shall be just as you wish. I will not attend your brother against your desire."

"Oh, but please do. I would much rather. Only typhus is highly infectious."

"A doctor has to face risks and take precautions. Then you do not object to his being in my care?"

"Thank you very much, Dr. Gildredge," she said, her voice faltering in her anxiety for Bonny, "but please let this be clear between us -- you will let me pay your charges?"

"You shall pay what you like. The next thing to be settled is who is to nurse him."

"Dr. Gildredge, six of our helpers here have influenza. They will not spare me now, I know. But I could go round once a day and see what he is needing, and send in all he wants. Mrs. Latimer is so worried about the nursing here just now, I cannot even ask her. It would distress her to refuse me."

"You need not ask her, Sister Royal."

"But Bonny must have a nurse. In such an illness nursing and care are everything. Oh, what had I better do? I cannot see to him unless I leave her entirely, and that would be wrong while they are so short-handed. Dr. Gildredge, could not one be got at once? I could pay well. I have that hundred pounds in the bank "

"Mrs. Duckitt is quite used to nursing, and if we -- I mean if you -- make it worth her while, she will give up her whole time to Bonny, I know. She nursed a patient for me last year through a bad form of influenza. And I shall be with him every moment possible. Will you trust him to me, Sister Royal?"

"It is very good of you, Dr. Gildredge."

"I am afraid your heart, and justly, does not credit me with much goodness, Sister Royal. Now I need only detain you one moment longer. I should like to move your brother to The Cottage tomorrow, and let Mrs. Duckitt come there to nurse him under my roof. But you will be visiting him, and if you prefer----"

"I should rather he stayed in the apartments," said Bride, quickly.

"Very well. I am afraid Mrs. Duckitt will be without lodgers, though, for some time to come."

"She shall not be the loser. Please do not take my brother to your house."

"Certainly not against your wishes. I had thought it likely you might object to the contamination of my roof."

He spoke rather bitterly for a moment, and Bride turned round quickly. "It is not that. Please do not think I meant that, but we owe you already more than you will let me pay you."

"The debt would have been on my side. I should have liked to take in someone akin to you. I beg your pardon, I am talking foolishly. My patient will be very comfortable and well cared for where he is. I will tell him I have seen you, and that you will soon be round. Would you like a bulletin every day -- a medical bulletin?"

"Oh, if you could spare a moment."

"You shall hear of him daily. Unless I chance to see you there, I will send a line as to his condition. Should you be absolutely needed, rely on me to send for you. Goodnight, and make your mind quite easy. You can trust Mrs. Duckitt to do her best."

"And the doctor," she said, with a grateful smile.

"I fancy you have learnt in your profession that a good nurse is worth more than the doctor, Sister Royal."

"Goodnight, Dr. Gildredge. Please give dear Bonny my love."

He seemed about to say something, but on second thoughts was silent. But this time he did not ignore the offered hand. He held it for a moment, repeating "Goodnight," and then went down the broad staircase, watching Sister Royal's graceful figure as she passed quickly back to her duties.

Bonny had to be trusted to the doctor and his helper a good deal more than Bride had expected, for she found Mrs. Latimer objected to her going much to Riverside Road. Bride was always very cautious as to her garments, but the matron thought it better for her to avoid the patient as far as possible, and sometimes three days went by without an opportunity of assuring herself how her brother fared.

Every morning there came a brief note for her, telling of his condition, his temperature, the variations of his state as to restlessness or calm. The doctor praised Mrs. Duckitt very warmly in these notes, but when Bride gratefully thanked the good woman she exclaimed, "Why, the doctor's sat up with him most every night while I gets my rest! Dr. Lyndale is looking after some of Dr. Gildredge's patients, so as he can be free to look after your brother. He's wonderful good to the poor, dear young gentleman. He told me he knew him when a boy. I must say as Dr. Gildredge have a rare kind heart, and yet, Sister, do you know I've heard tell people couldn't abear him once, he were that sharp-spoken and abrupt. I've heard it from them as he attended in past years. But he's had a deal of trouble -- something strange about the wife, I've heard tell. Maybe she's dead now; nobody knows. And sorrow have sweetened him wonderful. I'm sure he's attended me and mine for years, and we speaks as we finds. No woman could be more thoughtfuller nor tenderer. If your brother pulls through, Sister -- as Heaven grant he may -- 'twill be due to Dr. Gildredge. He couldn't take more care of the poor young gentleman if he was his own younger brother."

Sometimes Bride thought she ought to answer the notes that reached her so regularly, with a letter of acknowledgment and thanks; but she so felt the doctor's kindness to Bonny that she deemed it possible she might express herself either too coldly -- which would be ungrateful -- or too warmly, which would be worse, seeing he had never even hinted, since the one letter she had torn to pieces, that he wanted any change in their present circumstances. So Bride was silent as concerned the bulletins. She was saving up her thanks till she could see him and say something suitably polite.

One evening a telegram was brought to her. She had been ill at ease all day, the morning note from the doctor not having contented her, and she had meant to send or go for news later, but all that day had been a rush of work. The telegram said:

A CHANGE EXPECTED TONIGHT YOU HAD BETTER BE HERE

Mrs. Latimer could not detain her, on seeing that telegram. She looked very grave as she read it, and told Sister Royal she had better prepare herself for the worst.

Bride took a cab to Riverside Road, her heart beating fast with fear and anxiety. It was a rest to see the calm, quiet face of Dr. Gildredge bending above poor Bonny, who was exceedingly weak and delirious. He pulled a chair forward for her, and told her "that good soul, Mrs. Duckitt," had kept some coffee hot for her.

"You look tired out," he said. "Forgive me for sending for you, but I thought it right you should be here tonight. You must sit still, though, till you have had the coffee."

"You will save him, won't you?" she faltered. "You will not let my boy die -- say you will not."

He saw she was quite over-wrought, and said gently, "Sister Royal, there is only One who has life and death in His hands. Ask our Lord and Saviour to save Bonny, if it be His will. God helping me, dear, I will not let your brother die."

He scarcely knew at that time he uttered the soothing word, but Bride heard it, and laid it up in her heart as a treasure. Very soon the quietude of the nurse came to the doctor's help. She conquered the trembling and nervousness, and held cooling drinks to the patient's thirsty lips, and soothed him by the tender touch that had ministered to his childhood.

Bonny's delirium was not concerned with his paintings or even with Miss Vi. For the most part he was a boy again, playing with Barkis, and in dread lest he should fail in the scholarship examination at St. Egbert's.

"Oh, Sis, Sis," he called out, "do you think he will be very angry if I don't win it? I am afraid of him, Sis. I think he is wicked. He will not let me paint, and I can't remember my analysis, and the physical geography, and the Tudor period, and my Caesar and my Virgil."

"Never mind, Bonny, darling," said Bride. "Forget it all, and go to sleep. No one will be angry."

"Poor lad!" was all the doctor said, but Mrs. Duckitt noticed his eyes were wet as he gently settled the pillow to ease Bonny's aching head.

When he took the temperature, he did not tell Bride how it stood.

"Stephen," she said, in a pleading whisper. Mrs. Duckitt looked up in surprise, but made no remark.

"Ask me in the morning. There will be a change tonight," said the doctor, and his words were fulfilled.

The poor lad sank at last into a deep sleep, and when the morning came, after that long, long night of fear and hope and prayer, Mrs. Duckitt said, "He'll pull through yet, Sister. Hasn't he slept beautiful? He's got to be fed up careful and cautious, and he'll yet be a feather in the doctor's cap."

Bride looked into the face of Stephen Gildredge, but she could not speak.

"Sister Royal," he said, gently, "it is all favourable. I believe from my heart everything points to recovery. The worst is over, and we shall soon have this young man his own cheerful self again. I am certain of it. We do not mean him to have any relapse."

"He is going to get well now, my dear," said Mrs. Duckitt. "He's taken a favourable turn this night, praise the Lord!"

"Amen," said Stephen Gildredge, reverently. But Bride could say nothing. The words would not come. She bowed her head and tried to hide the tears which, like a healing flood, came welling up from her heart.

"Poor dear" said Mrs. Duckitt, pityingly, and the doctor moved towards her, then resolutely strove for self-control. Bride thought she felt his hand upon her hair for a moment, but when she looked up through her tears he was measuring some drops of a composing mixture in a glass.

"Drink this, Sister Royal," he said, "and now get a good rest before you think of returning to your work. Mrs. Duckitt has a comfortable room yonder where you can lie down, and you are not going back till you have been to sleep."

In vain Bride protested that she must be in her ward at eight. Mrs. Duckitt said, "The doctor's orders have got to be carried out here, Sister," and very soon the calming draught had done its work, and she was resting in dreamless slumber.

When she awoke at half-past ten, the doctor had been called away, and the good landlady said he had bidden her see that Sister Royal had a cup of tea before her walk.

"He's that thoughtful for everybody," said Mrs. Duckitt. "Whether it's a poor person or a well-to-do one, they all sings his praises in Pinewood."

"Thoughtful for everybody," repeated Bride in her heart. "He makes no exception in his kindness to me. His mother's nature is asserting itself -- caring for everyone and smoothing everybody's way."

She went back to her work, thankful in the assurance that her brother would live. That afternoon's bulletin was: "Improvement maintained, condition continues very hopeful"; and from that day the patient went steadily on in his progress towards recovery.

Bride saw Bonny frequently, but she did not chance to meet Stephen Gildredge in Riverside Road again. Bonny asked her one day if she would mind very much should he make the doctor a present of the picture he had wanted.

"It is your face, Sis," he said, "but then it is idealised. I don't know that Pinewood folks would recognise the likeness, and I am sure he wanted to have it very much."

"Idealised! I should think so, Bonny. It is far too pretty to be my portrait. Give your medical adviser what you choose, Bonny, dear. We certainly owe everything under Heaven to his skill."

So Bonny sent for the picture, and drew it forth one day, asking Gildredge to accept it.

"Bride says she is going to pay your bill, every penny of it," he said, with a smile in the eyes that were getting bright as of old; "but I want you to take this from me, Gildredge. It's awfully like her, isn't it? Will you take this picture with my gratitude and best wishes?"

"Best wishes for what, Mr. Rosslyn-Aylmer?"

Bonny laughed. "For the fulfilment of your heart's desire," he said; "and, if I can bring it to pass, it shall be done."

"No one can bring it to pass, my lad. I did not prize my Eden, and I lost it. Does your sister know I have this picture?"

"Yes, I asked her consent, and she told me to do as I chose in the matter. Gildredge, can't I really help you two? I'd give a great deal to see Bride safe in her own home, instead of working and tiring herself out as she does. If you would just tell me why you two parted -- I have never liked to ask her the reason "

"No, my lad, the less said about it now the better. The whole blame was mine, and Bride could do no other than leave me. Be as good to her as you can, Bonny. It is hard for a woman to struggle on in the world all alone, and you are the one person on earth whom she holds precious, you know."

"Oh, am I?" said the young fellow, helping the doctor to wrap up the painting for transit to The Cottage. "I am the only person Bride hold precious, Gildredge? I don't know so much about that, upon my word!"

### Chapter 16

(Last Chapter)

"I Told Her Yesterday."

During Bonny's illness, by Dr. Gildredge's arrangement, the Duckitt family had occupied another house in the road. As soon as the invalid was ready for the seaside change desirable for him, it was settled that he should reside for a month in the family of a doctor in the Isle of Wight, and Mrs. Duckitt was sent off to rest at Margate, while her own house was thoroughly disinfected, whitewashed, repapered, and generally overhauled.

Bonny and Sister Royal paid for the Isle of Wight trip between them, and the Duckitts' expenses came out of that banked sum of a hundred pounds. Bride was nervously fidgety that the doctor's private purse should on no account be taxed on Bonny's behalf, and before her brother left she reminded him to ask Dr. Gildredge for his account, but had to be content with the reply that the accounts, as a rule, were made out half-yearly.

"He has been speaking to me again about my going abroad to study," said Bonny wistfully, on the eve of his departure. "He wants me to let his help be a loan; and you see, Bride, it will be putting me in the way of doing good work, and so being able to repay him later on, as well as ... as being able to think about little Violet. If I could have a few months first in Paris----"

"Bonny, dear, I must pay the doctor's bill first, and then you shall have the rest of what the Fords gave me. I had kept that money to pay him our back debt, but he refused it. I think that will pay your expenses, Bonny. We need not be indebted to him any further. I thought you said you would on no account take help from him."

"So I did, Bride, but I never saw anyone so changed. I used to hate the sight of him, but I think he likes me now, and really he's acted like a brick while I have been so bad. He is not the hard-hearted chap I supposed him to be. You should hear all Mrs. Duckitt has to tell about his kindness to the poor. Whatever we pay him in money, I know I shall owe him a debt of gratitude all my life for what he's done for me in this illness."

"He is a very clever doctor," said Bride. "I suppose he will see you once more before you go?"

"I don't know; I hope so, but Lyndale was in this morning in his place. I say, Bride, I wonder if Lyndale knows? He called me 'Mr. Rosslyn-Aylmer,' but made no reference to any former acquaintance in Tydebridge."

"I cannot say, Bonny. I don't suppose he would remember either you or me. He leads a busy life, and sees so many people. But why did he take Dr. Gildredge's place today, Bonny?"

Her tone and look were anxious, and her brother said gently, "I fancy he said something about Gildredge being rather done up, Bride. And was there not some idea about a move to London? He may have some business to settle about that matter, but Pinewood people would sadly miss him. I hope he will decide to remain."

Bride saw her brother off at the station, and Dr. Lyndale and his bright-eyed wife were there likewise.

"Oh, Sister Royal," said Lyndale, as they were leaving the platform, "your nursing staff is well in order again now, I believe? I thought of coming up later on to see if Mrs. Latimer could possibly spare me someone to look after Dr. Gildredge. He is in for an illness, I am afraid. I cannot be sure for a day or two, but it may turn out typhus fever. I think he expects as much himself. If one of the Queen Adelaide nurses could possibly be spared----"

"Sit down, dear;" said Alice Lyndale, gently. "You must have hurried to the station, and made yourself faint. Let me get you some water, Sister Royal."

Bride had turned suddenly white, and had caught at the back of a railway platform seat, but she felt she needed all her strength, and she forced herself into calm and composure as she answered. "I am better now, thank you, Mrs. Lyndale. Yes, I hurried somewhat up the hill. Dr. Lyndale, I can take my holiday at any time now. If Dr. Gildredge has typhus, he has caught it from my brother, and it would be my duty to do my best as to the nursing."

"But to spend your holiday nursing, after all the hard work you have had! Do you think the matron would approve of that?"

"It does not matter; I am not sure of staying at the Queen Adelaide -- I may return to private nursing. Dr. Lyndale, I will speak to Mrs. Latimer. I can be spared at once, I know. When do you want me?"

"Just as soon as you can get to The Cottage, Sister Royal. I will go there now, and tell them I am putting you in charge."

"Dr. Lyndale ... do you think ... will he mind?"

"Mind! Why should he, Sister?" said the doctor, looking surprised.

Bride hesitated, and Alice said quickly, "My dear, he knows you are fully qualified; and as to minding the expense, when people are ill they must not think about expense. I know I should love to be nursed by you, and we shall feel quite at ease about Dr. Gildredge if you undertake the case. Shall we not, dear?"

"Perfectly," said Dr. Lyndale. "Well, then, Sister Royal, I leave it to you to make your own arrangements with Mrs. Latimer, and shall expect you round at The Cottage to take charge this evening."

Mrs. Latimer had not expected to spare Sister Royal for her leave just then, but she had a cousin staying with her who could superintend the Royal ward -- so-called because opened by a princess in past years -- while Bride was away. Sister Royal's heart had no room for any thought save for the one who was ill and alone. He had worn himself out for her brother's sake. Was it not plainly her duty to repay his care of Bonny by ministering to him now?

"Well, Gildredge," said Dr. Lyndale, when he called to see his colleague after leaving the station, "you must cheer up, you know. You are a bit knocked up, but a good rest may do wonders for you, and then you ought to have a holiday right away from this place. You will come back to it another man. People cannot work night and day without having to pay Nature's debt at last. I see Mr. and Mrs. Coley take good care of you, but of course you need a nurse, and I have been fortunate in securing a good one for you this afternoon."

"No thank you, Lyndale," said Dr. Gildredge, who spoke in weak and weary tones, "there is only one nurse who could have done me good, and that one is not likely to come here."

"Oh, if you had mentioned any particular nurse. As it is, my dear fellow, you will have to put up with one from the hospital -- Sister Royal. Why, what is the matter? Is that doing as you are told and keeping yourself quiet?"

"Lyndale, am I awake or dreaming? I have dreamt it often. Do you tell me she is coming here?"

"Certainly she is. It happens to be the time for her holiday, and she is free to undertake the case."

"I know why she is coming. She thinks I have caught this from her brother. She is taking up this work as a matter of duty."

"Well, Gildredge, what is a nobler inspiration than duty? Be content to know you will have thoroughly conscientious nursing, and try not to excite yourself, my dear fellow. By what I can judge at the present time, you are going to cheat your medical adviser and be about again before long, so try not to look at the dark side of things "

"It will turn out typhus fever, Lyndale. I do not want her to run the risk of it."

"My dear Gildredge, Sister Royal means to nurse this case, and you know the old adage: 'When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't; and when a woman won't, she won't, and there's an end on't.'"

"And one thing she will not allow is for a patient to talk so much," said a quiet voice just then, and Sister Royal entered the room dressed in a soft grey costume, with cap, apron, and neat collar and cuffs. She went to the window and turned the blind so as to shade the patient's eyes. Perhaps she knew he needed a moment to get used to the fact of her being there.

"Now I call that business-like," said Dr. Lyndale, in a tone of satisfaction. "I did not expect to see you till quite late, Sister Royal. I am glad you have been so prompt, Sister, because I ought to be in Berrydown this evening, and I can leave my instructions with you."

"I cannot let you run the risk of typhus fever," said Stephen Gildredge, faintly.

"No talking, please, Dr. Gildredge," said the nurse in a firm, composed voice. She felt in her place in the sickroom, and she saw he must not excite himself.

"He is a very bad patient, but I think you will manage him," said Dr. Lyndale with a smile, when he had given his instructions. "There is a telephone to my house. Send for me at any time. I shall be round early tomorrow."

When he had gone, Stephen Gildredge seemed too faint and languid even to notice Barkis who had followed Bride upstairs, and was trying to reach up to kiss his master's forehead. The nurse gently lifted the little creature down.

"Wait a little while, Barkis," she said. "Your master will notice you more in a day or two. Just now he must rest."

"I want----" said Dr. Gildredge, as if trying to recollect something while yet his mind was clear.

Sister Royal had a glass of jelly in her hand, and he took some of it obediently before he proceeded.

"It is very good of you to come. I hope I shall not tire you out. I may wander in my senses, for my head seems strange. I want you to know where my will is ... should ... should I not recover."

She put her hand gently on his as if to soothe him. "But you will recover," she said, "and if I stay with you, you will keep yourself calm, and do just as I tell you, will you not?"

"I will do anything if you stay," he said, with brightening eyes; "but for you to be good to me, Bride, is returning good for evil truly."

"My name is Sister Royal," she told him, but her hand still rested on his, and it so continued till he fell quietly asleep.

From that slumber he awoke only to semi-consciousness. The matter of the will seemed on his mind. He spoke of the last drawer in the chest over by the window, and wanted to give Bride the key, but he could not remember its place. He seemed restless till she searched for his keys and found that which fitted the lock. He made her keep it, and, when Dr. Lyndale called, Dr. Gildredge said, "It is all right ... you are executor, and the codicil ... Bonny----"

"My dear fellow, you will make plenty of wills yet," said Lyndale, cheerily. "My professional reputation is at stake, and Sister Royal's too, remember. You must do us credit. Why, you were twice as weak at Tydebridge, yet you pulled through splendidly, you know."

The illness was very similar to the breakdown at Tydebridge. It was soon evident that nothing in the nature of typhus fever need be feared, and that constant and careful nursing was chiefly required to do battle with the depression and debility. And Bride was equal to the emergency. Helped by the Coleys (who were in an intense and continuous state of delight in her presence at The Cottage, and called her "ma'am "and "madam," oblivious of her nursing designation), she was tireless in anticipating the patient's needs, and her presence seemed to have power at all times to calm the impatience and irritability of extreme weakness.

Never in later life did she forget those quiet days when it seemed so natural yet so strange for her to find herself in Stephen Gildredge's home, ministering to his needs -- those days when his eyes followed her tenderly as she moved about the room -- and when his wistful gaze silently asked her to come and sit beside him, while from the wall there looked down upon them both the picture of his mother's gentle face, and her words seemed ever echoing: "Our Stephen -- your husband -- be not bitter against him, Bride, for his mother's sake; as you hope to be forgiven -- forgive -- forgive."

One day, when she offered to read him to sleep, he said he wanted no reading. All he wanted was for her to sit where he could look at her and know she was there.

"It is good for you to know how the world goes on," said Bride, and she favoured him with the leading article of the daily paper; but she thought within her, "He is getting well. My work here will only last perhaps a few days more."

And "a few days more" saw her patient in the armchair, and then resting in the sitting room, till at last Goody said joyfully to visitors, "Many thanks for kind inquiries, and he's fast getting cured."

Dr. Gildredge was comfortably ensconced on the sofa one day, flowers, papers, and jelly arranged within reach, and looking the picture of well-cared-for convalescence, when Mrs. Danley called to see him, bearing a basket of grapes.

"Ah, Doctor," she said, shaking her head, "you have kept it very quiet, but I foretell you are going to take my advice."

"Could I do better, dear lady? But may I ask to what special counsel you just now refer?"

"Why, my advice to you to take unto yourself a wife. Confess now, are you not going to get married?"

"Not that I am aware of, Mrs. Danley. What should lead you to suppose so?"

"Why, I did not know till I happened to see her in the garden today, that the pretty Sister -- my Sister Royal I call her -- from the Queen Adelaide Hospital was nursing you. Don't you remember it was that very nurse I mentally selected for you long ago? I am sure you must have lost your heart to her. By the way, where is she just now? I want to ask her if you are a good and obedient patient."

"I am indeed. Just now Sister Royal is out for a walk. She is the best of nurses, and, next to Mrs. Danley, the most charming of her sex."

"Oh, I see you are getting well again. My anxiety for you has been wasted. But, Doctor, I never know if you are joking or in earnest. If you really admire my pretty Sister Royal, why not give her to me for a neighbour? It would be like a delightful romance -- the mutual attraction of patient and nurse. Now, do give up that foolish notion of London, and ask that sweet woman straight out if she will marry you."

Nor could the lively old lady be contented till Gildredge promised to "think it over."

It was just after Mrs. Danley's visit that Dr. Lyndale looked in. Sister Royal was back then from her walk, and the sunset light was on her face as she said, "Don't you think, Doctor, our patient is nearly well? I tell him he might be thinking about a drive tomorrow. After this week he will be able to spare doctor and nurse, I feel sure."

"Of course," said Dr. Lyndale, "at this stage good nursing is everything. My orders to him are to pack up and be off to San Remo for a month or six weeks, but not without good nursing attendance. Oh, dear no, that would never do."

Sister Royal was silent.

"You must get away, Gildredge, and as soon as possible. I know just the place for you, where I sent a patient two winters back. I brought the address with me, and here it is. Try, there's a good fellow, to get away by next week; and when you come back well and strong, Alice and I and the bairns will have our holiday."

"I am not going to be idle for six weeks," said Gildredge; but Lyndale went away with the words, "Isn't he incorrigible, Sister Royal? But I am sure a nurse of your experience will see the importance of carrying out medical orders."

Bride followed him to the porch, and he turned and faced her with a smile. "Now don't tell me," he said, "that the matron cannot spare you longer. My patient has to get to San Remo."

"But, Dr. Lyndale----"

"My dear lady," he said, very gently, "why not have a talk with him, and consider it over? Money matters -- and all other matters -- you had really better settle with him. He is very lonely, Sister Royal."

He could not help adding those last words; and Bride, lifting to him eyes that were wet with tears, read in his kind, smiling face that her secret had never been a secret to him.

They shook hands silently, and Lyndale drove off. For a few moments Bride lingered within the porch. Was she thinking of that time when thus she stood, beneath hanging tendrils of fragrance, and heard that she was a wife unloved, unvalued, undesired? If she thought of that hour, the memory was with her, too, of many a look and word, while she and Stephen Gildredge had been together, that spoke a different tale. There was no need now for that tender plea, "Forgive, forgive." She loved so truly, and was so truly loved, that she knew all was forgiven -- and almost all forgotten, save that between them it was well after the long, long years.

Barkis was with him on the sofa when Bride went in. The old dog lazily stirred his tail in sleepy welcome of his favourite, and Gildredge, who had been quietly looking out at the sunset, said gently, "If you can spare me a few minutes -- I would rather not delay -- there is something that ought to be settled soon, my kind nurse."

"Yes, there is," she said, "and that is the amount I owe you for attending Bonny. I am going to ask Dr. Lyndale for that bill. It has been owing much too long."

"You have overpaid me in the nursing, Sister Royal, but I want to know just what is your position with regard to the hospital."

"I have left the hospital. My place could be filled at once, so as I had already had some thought of leaving----"

"Left the hospital?" he said, raising himself up with energy. "Then what are you going to do, Sister Royal? Are you going in for private nursing again?"

"Well," she said hesitatingly, "you heard what he said about San Remo."

Stephen Gildredge turned to look at her, his face flushed, and his tones were low and earnest.

"No, not San Remo, Bride. If you are going to leave me, let it be soon. It would be kinder. Surely you have done your duty now. You can feel you have repaid any care I gave to Bonny. Each day I have been wondering if the next would take away my sunshine. Let me get it over -- to lose you. If not, I cannot promise I shall let you go, sweetheart."

"I have always wished," said Sister Royal, slowly, "for some opportunity of travelling, and people say that San Remo...."

She paused, and smoothed the cushion on which his head was resting. She did so with her left hand, and he suddenly caught sight of a gleam upon it, and realised she had put on again her wedding ring.

He clasped that hand in both his own. "My dearly loved, do you mean it? Are you in earnest? Answer me, Bride. Are you willing that the Pinewood people should know? May I write to Mrs. Latimer and explain to her the truth?"

She laid her other hand on his, and put down her face upon it. "Stephen -- husband -- I told her yesterday."

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

Chris Wright

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

J Stafford Wright

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

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

### The Clever Miss Jancy

Margaret S. Haycraft

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.

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?"

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9957594-9-7

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

Don't forget to check our website www.whitetreepublishing.com for the latest books, and updates on availability

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