

### About the Book

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. He 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.

Una's Marriage

### Margaret S. Haycraft

1855-1936

Abridged Edition

Original book first published 1898

This abridged edition ©Chris Wright 2017

e-Book ISBN: 978-0-9957594-5-9

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

Una's Marriage is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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

### Contents

Cover

About the Book

Author Biography

Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

More Books from White Tree Publishing

About White Tree Publishing

Christian non-fiction

Christian fiction

Young readers

### Author Biography

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

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

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.

£1,000 in 1898 may not sound much, but in income value it is worth £120,000 pounds today (about US$150,000). I mention this in case the sums of money in this book sound insignificant!

Chris Wright

Editor

NOTE

There are 10 chapters in this book. In the second half are advertisements for our other books, so this book 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 the other books we publish: Christian non-fiction, Christian fiction, and books for younger readers.

### Chapter 1

Betrothed

"Well, to think that Una Latreille should marry into trade! It is enough to make her ancestors turn in their graves!"

"Yes, I can scarcely believe the rumour even now. Una is the acknowledged beauty of the neighbourhood, and she would have made quite a brilliant match, could she have had the advantages of a London season."

"Of course she makes no pretence that it is a love match."

"Then she ought to be ashamed of herself, and I shall tell her so when I see her! A little while ago she entirely overlooked Keith Broughton if she chanced to meet him in society, and now, when her uncle has died, and the estates prove to be heavily burdened, and Mr. Broughton has purchased the St. Pensart's estate, she is actually willing to marry him -- to take him for better, for worse!"

The ladies who are taking afternoon tea at Clevethorne Grange smile tolerantly upon May Clevethorne, nineteen years old, who bends over the back of her mother's chair and hotly denounces the idea of self-interest in the matter of matrimony.

"My dear," says Mrs. Perriss, a rich widow from the neighbouring cathedral town, "circumstances are altered now with poor Una, and she rightly makes the best of the situation."

"Circumstances," exclaims blue-eyed May, "cannot alter the fact that it is wrong to accept a husband she despises!"

"Indeed," says Mrs. Clevethorne, "I see no reason why Mr. Broughton should be despised. His father was a self-made man, and not ashamed of the fact, but I am sure everyone respected the old gentleman, and his son is well educated and bears a high character. What more can Una want?"

"Oh, mother, she is the proudest girl I have ever known. She will never be able to forget those woollen mills, and besides -- there is poor Mrs. Broughton."

"Was she not merely a factory hand? I have heard something of the sort," remarks the spinster companion of Mrs. Perriss. "Thank you, Mrs. Clevethorne, I will take a macaroon."

"Yes, she was a mill girl once, I believe," replies her hostess. "But then John Broughton was only a factory hand himself. It was later on that by successful inventions he made his fortune. Of course, there is a great deal of competition nowadays, but his mills are the oldest and largest in Westborough."

"I can scarcely picture Una Latreille with a common mother-in-law," says Mrs. Perriss, smiling. "Poor Una, she may find she also has family connections in the pawnbroking or laundry or costermonger's line, or even in service! Well, I always considered her somewhat haughty, and it is all too true that pride goes before a fall."

"I believe," says Mrs. Clevethorne, "money is not the only motive for this marriage. I have heard a rumour -- I cannot vouch for its truth -- that in his last illness Mr. Latreille entreated Una to marry Keith Broughton after his death, and indeed made her promise to do so. He had long seen that Broughton admired his niece, and in this way he designed to provide for her future."

"I don't believe they are engaged at all," says May. "Gossip makes so many mistakes about the people round here, and Keith Broughton has been in London nearly three months now. How can they have settled things in his absence?"

"By letter, of course," says Mrs. Perriss. "All I know is that Latreille's solicitor is my own as well, and he told me Una is not proposing to leave the St. Pensart's estate, except for a visit to the Rectory. There can be no doubt that she is engaged to marry the purchaser."

"Well," says Mrs. Clevethorne, "we shall know the facts of the case in time. I only hope the poor motherless girl will not marry in haste and repent at leisure. If she marries for the sake of the estate, she has but little prospect of happiness."

"Happiness, mother?" cries May. "It must be misery to be tied to a husband for whom one cares nothing. I have not seen much of Una since I came home from Germany. But we used to play together, and I mean to go up and see her and try to talk her out of such a marriage."

"What would you advise her to do instead, my dear child?" asks Miss Burdenne. "She has been brought up in the lap of luxury. Is the poor girl to starve?"

"She could be a typist, or a lady-guide, or something like that," says May passionately. "Mother would have her here and advise her about her future, and so would the Rectory people, I know. For myself, I would rather be a kitchen maid than marry for money!"

"Well, well, we all know you need not go out as a kitchen maid, May," says Mrs. Perriss smilingly. "When does a certain man-of-war sail homeward again? You always talk like a little Socialist, but you will end in your old age by finding yourself an admiral's wife! Don't look so indignant, but bring your cousin round to see me when he gets leave from his ship. Now we must really be going. I am always tempted to linger so long in this cosy room."

"May," says Mrs. Clevethorne, when the visitors have left, "I really think you had better not interfere in Una Latreille's arrangements. I am quite sure she would resent any intrusion. Remember how rude it would seem for anyone even to suggest to her that this is a loveless marriage. In society, my dear, one must keep one's thoughts to oneself."

"I will promise not to offend her, mother," says May, "but Una was proud beyond all words, even when she was only a little child. I believe her life will be simply wretched if she marries beneath her. And you know the Broughtons have some very common relations -- second cousins, I fancy they are. I shall never forget Una's indignant stare when one of them spoke to her at the Westborough ball without any introduction. She simply looked him through and through. Poor man! He had asked if he might take her to get an ice, but he soon vanished with a face perfectly crimson."

"Well, Una must learn to put up with such people now," says Mrs. Clevethorne.

<><><><>

The St. Pensart's estate has belonged to the Latreilles through many changeful centuries. There have been alterations and additions, but portions yet remain that stood in the time of the Norman kings. Sir Courcy de Latreille rendered service to William the Conqueror, who bestowed upon the family many marks of favour. None in the county have enjoyed repute beyond the owners of St. Pensart's, and it has struck consternation into many a breast to hear that, through foolish and ruinous speculations, Hugh Latreille has died, leaving behind him mortgages and debts that oblige the ancestral seat to be sold, and leave his niece and heiress virtually a pauper!

"He meant to make me rich. He told me his idea was to leave me a millionaire," thinks Una, sitting by the firelight this very afternoon while her affairs are discussed so freely at Clevethorne Grange. "Poor Uncle Hugh! It was not his fault, but oh, what must the Latreilles of Tudor and Stuart times be feeling at the thought of a tradesman reigning at St. Pensart's!"

Her ancestors, if we may judge by the serene expression of the ancient paintings on the walls, are taking very little notice of the change of ownership; but to Una it seems almost like sacrilege for Keith Broughton and his common connections to tread the oak flooring of St. Pensart's.

Alone in the morning room that has been arranged to suit her own fancy, garbed in black, and looking grave and wearied by the flickering light of the fire, she recalls those last days of her uncle's illness -- when he reminded her that Keith Broughton had proposed to her once by letter, and been contemptuously rejected, and told her he could die happy if she would promise to alter that decision now.

Una believed him half-delirious, and promised anything he desired. Later, she perceived his anxiety for her future had prompted a request so strange from one by nature as proud as herself. Her lips take a half-scornful curl as she remembers the few lines received about a month ago from Keith Broughton, telling her the family lawyer had handed him a pencilled memorandum, written by her uncle on his sickbed. It urged him to try his luck again, for Miss Latreille's answer would be different. To this Una sent only a few words.

Before despatching her note, she had weighed St. Pensart's and riches against freedom and need, and her mind was made up that she could not abandon her life of luxury -- even marrying into trade would be better than falling from her position of county queen, and earning her bread in some menial situation. And what alternative does she have? She knows her other suitors have fled when they learned of the huge debts she has inherited.

Keith Brougbton has thanked her for her reply, and she finds it is well known now in the neighbourhood that they are engaged. Already Mr. Latreille's creditors seem satisfied and respectful, and the solicitor tells her every claim has been paid, so as to leave the estate unencumbered -- but the future she shrinks from facing. Her only comfort is that, as far as she can judge of Keith Broughton, he is extremely unassuming, knowing his place as concerns an old family like the Latreilles, and he and his can easily be kept in the background when she is entertaining.

Una has had her dreams of a knightly cavalier, preferably one renowned for military deeds of glory. Now she lays aside such visions of necessity, and thinks her fate decidedly hard that the choice for her lies between poverty or a mill owner!

In the midst of these melancholy reflections she is disturbed by the entrance of the butler to light the lamp.

"Not yet, Atkins," she tells him. "I prefer to sit by the firelight."

"A gentleman has called, Miss Una," says the old man, presenting a card on his salver. "I showed him into the library, as there is a good fire there, and the drawing room one is almost out. Charles is that forgetful, there's no trusting him with the fires."

"Oh, light the lamp, then," says Una, thinking the visitor is probably the rector or her uncle's solicitor. "Ask him in here, Atkins, it is more comfortable." But when she glances at the card she suddenly twists it up as though it had stung her, for it bears the words "Keith Broughton, High Street, Westborough."

In the glow of the rose-shaded ormolu lamp the two stand face to face -- Broughton, tall, erect, brown-eyed, wavy-haired, an ordinary-looking young man, and yet with a certain stamp of honesty and decision that has won him favour even within the portals of society -- and Una, with wondrous locks of auburn crowning her proud, fair brow, and dusky, blue-black eyes that seem to hold the haughty spirit of her high-born kindred.

"I returned from town this morning," he says. "If you are free for a few minutes, Miss Latreille, I thought we could have a quiet talk as to future arrangements. I have been so very sorry to hear of all your troubles."

This Una does not believe, since her troubles alone have procured him the honour of a Latreille to preside over his household. She points to a somewhat distant chair, and seats herself again near the fire.

"The past cannot be recalled," she says coldly. "The future must, as you say, be arranged sooner or later. I am about to pay a visit at the Rectory, and I shall remain there, or with other friends, till ... till I return here as mistress."

"First of all, let me thank you, Una, for making me so happy. I know I am not worthy of you, dear, but I love you very truly, and now you are trusting your life to me."

"Mr. Broughton," says Una, her stately figure looking prouder than ever as she surveys him with icy repression, "such speeches are the right thing for fiction or the stage, but between us they are most unsuitable, and I beg they may be dropped."

"Unsuitable, Una? Are we not engaged to be married?"

"I suppose so, but endearments between us are as incorrect as the use of my Christian name, if you please. Let there be no hypocrisy or talk of affection on either side. You are desirous of marrying into the aristocracy."

A sudden exclamation of impatience from Keith Broughton checks her for an instant, but she takes no notice, and continues.

"And I am compelled to marry money. Let the truth be realized on both sides. We each get what we desire, with the drawback that I lose my freedom. But this is a large house, and as you intend living here, we need not trouble one another more than society requires."

"As to society," he answers, looking white and stern, "I know nothing and care very little what it may expect; but I am old-fashioned enough to require that my wife shall bestow her affection on me, and I did not propose to you, Miss Latreille, for the sake of aristocratic connections."

"I am sorry," she says, shielding her face with a feather screen from the fire, "that you are sentimentally inclined, as affection is entirely out of the question. You must at once clearly understand that, please. And I cannot conveniently be married till I am in half-mourning -- say, about next July."

Keith Broughton gazes at her silently. Despite the fact that in society she has seemed to overlook his presence, her uncle's letter has awakened the dream that Una really may be interested in him, and though commonsense has whispered her change of mind was simultaneous with her loss of fortune, he has loyally and indignantly repressed the notion. Now he is faced by the fact that in careless and heartless selfishness she offers him her hand for the sake of his money. One moment he is on the point of asking her how much money she will take to close the brief betrothal, but the next instant he feels such words to the woman he loves would be insulting, and she is so dear to his secret heart that he cannot bring himself to sever their pathway.

"July will do for me," he says quietly. "Have you thought where you would like to pass the honeymoon?"

"Oh, there will be no honeymoon!" she answers with decision. "Uncle used to go into Scotland for the shooting, and I shall visit the Dugals in the Trossachs as usual, of course, but my maid is a capable escort. I always thought honeymoons a foolish institution. Why two people should tire each other out in some uncivilised country district I never could understand. You will oblige me by arranging everything connected with the marriage as simply and quietly as possible."

"I agree with you there," he answers. "I dislike parade on such occasions, but July is a long way off and we shall have plenty of time to discuss details. Mr. Craig will enter into the matter of settlements with you. I think all that is arranged to your contentment. There is one thing more this evening...." and he rises and approaches the fire, drawing a little diamond hoop from his pocket. "I got that for you in town," he tells her. "If it fits you, will you wear it in token of our engagement?"

"Thank you," says Una, gazing at the flashing stones with unconcealed distaste, "but I have my mother's engagement ring. I wear it on my right hand now, but if I must wear an engagement ring I prefer to use this. Opals are unfortunate, I know, but I never have been particularly lucky."

"I am sorry you decline my ring," he answers, looking rather hurt. "I am afraid your head aches this afternoon, Miss Latreille. I will not weary you further, for you certainly are not looking so well as when I last had the pleasure of meeting you at Mrs. Lindsay's dinner. You were the life of the tableaux vivants they got up suddenly during the evening, I remember. You must take care of yourself and rest. Do not dwell too much upon your troubles, dear."

"Do not call me that," says Una haughtily.

"Call you what?" is his quiet question.

"'Dear,'" she explains impatiently. "I strongly object to such expressions. I have accepted my fate, and I will do my duty by you as a wife. I can introduce you, of course, to the Armsteds, and the Hursts, and the Duvignys -- leading county families. I can make a social position for you, since that is your ambition. But a Darby and Joan existence is led nowadays by the lower classes alone, and mutual civility is all I can personally tolerate."

"Very well," he answers, "I understand your wishes, and I will not offend you again, though I hope to call occasionally at the Rectory."

"Oh, certainly," says Una. "Society would expect you to visit me from time to time. But I shall spend most of the day riding, and the Peels do not care for evening guests as a rule. They generally go to sleep after dinner. Do not let me detain you now. It is a long way into Westborough. Good afternoon, Mr. Broughton."

"Good afternoon, Miss Latreille," he answers, this time not troubling her to extend a reluctant hand.

"He wearies one out," thinks Una, with a yawn of vexation as she hears his retreating steps. "I shall take care he seldom finds me in at the Peels. I wonder how he is arranging as to the settlements. I suppose Mr. Craig will make it clear to me, and give me some definite idea of his income. Everyone says he is immensely rich, and nothing pays like trade. Fancy, a shopkeeper at St. Pensart's! Yet what is his warehouse but a shop?"

Keith Broughton, riding through the dark lanes to Westborough, tells himself again and again he is a senseless idiot to link his fate to Una Latreille, however witching be her beauty.

### Chapter 2

Naming the Day

M

ay Clevethorne comes up to the St. Pensart's estate with some exquisite flowers from her mother, and a kind letter expressing the hope that Miss Latreille will be able to stay for some time, during her proposed round of visits, at Clevethorne Grange.

Una admires the camellias and primulas, and asks that the matter of the visit to Clevethorne may wait till she can definitely arrange her time. She says nothing of matrimonial intentions, but May's quick eyes perceive the opal ring on her engagement finger, and the girl exclaims, "So, Una, it is true. You are going to be married. But why did you choose opals? I thought you Latreilles were rather superstitious."

"Uncle used to believe in omens," says Una hastily. "I suppose opals are thought unlucky, but this is an old family ring, and I preferred it to any Mr. Broughton could purchase."

"Yes, I heard it was him," says May, more earnestly than grammatically. "But, Una, I scarcely believed it. You won't be cross with me if I speak my mind, will you? I do really believe you are making a mistake."

"Marriage generally is a mistake," says Una, looking straight before her and conjuring up drearily the vanished ideal of the chivalrous hero of the Victoria Cross. "We shall get on as well as most people, I suppose."

"Una, what a way to talk! You know well your heart is not in this marriage. We have known each other ever since we have been in pinafores, and if nobody else will speak plainly to you just now, I will. The Latreilles have always been thought the proudest people in the county. May not a time come when the thought will be unbearable to you that your husband is in trade?"

"It is not a pleasant reflection," says Una, colouring, "but I have taken all the circumstances of the case into consideration, and as time goes on I shall marry Mr. Broughton. You and I certainly are old friends, May, but my engagement is quite my own concern, and I am the best judge of future arrangements."

"There, you are offended, Una. But I often made you cross when we were little children, and we always made it up, you know. I know well you do possess a heart, though you seem so cold and stately as a rule. Is it not wronging Keith Broughton to marry him when the love of your heart is not his, and in secret you despise him? Yes, I know you do, Una. For my part, I would rather sweep a crossing than marry a man I do not love. I am sorry for the two of you; most of all for him. Now I suppose I am quite in your black books, and you will not offer me a cup of tea."

"Yes, I will," says Una graciously, as she touches the bell. "You always were a romantic little thing, May, and I know you write poetry and that sort of thing. I have learnt to be matter-of-fact and practical, and I have not an atom of faith in the sentiment you call love. Mr. Broughton and I will get on as comfortably, I dare say, as most couples in society, and at any rate we are not going to be married tomorrow. Next week I am going for some time to stay with the Peels at the Rectory. Now let us change the subject, for I am tired of it."

Nothing will induce Una Latreille to return to the subject of her engagement, and May ceases her protest, though she feels inwardly assured that to marry out of her own sphere will mean many a thorn of misery for one of the St. Pensart's family.

"It is to keep this estate and all her ancestral belongings that she takes poor Broughton," thinks the girl. "He must be blind not to be aware of her scornful pride: and yet in her heart of hearts Una has a warmth of feeling very few would guess. If only she could have married someone she really loved. If only by some miracle she could learn to care for Mr. Broughton."

<><><><>

Two days before Una is to leave St. Pensart's she hears, to her vexation, that scarlet fever has made its appearance at the Rectory. Three of Mrs. Peel's grandchildren are laid up with it, though in a mild form. Mrs. Peel begs her to destroy the letter in which she conveys the news, and sorrowfully tells her the doctor will not hear of any guest coming to the house at present.

"How very annoying!" reflects Una. "It would have been so comfortable at the Rectory. The old people always look after one so, and let me enjoy myself in my own way. Now I suppose I must go to Kensington to the Whytes. I wanted to leave that visit till the height of the London season. I have never seen a real season yet; but in my case I could not have gone out while in mourning, so I may as well telegraph to Sybil that I shall go up on Thursday."

Mrs. Sybil Whyte is a former school friend of Una's, both having passed one finishing year, after the reign of governesses, at an extremely exclusive Parisian establishment. Una informs her maid of the change of plans, and the necessary labels are prepared for her trunks. But within two hours of sending her telegram, a reply wire is handed to her: MASTER AND MISTRESS AT MENTON IN FRANCE TILL APRIL. BEING TOLD TO OPEN TELEGRAMS, I HAVE DONE SO AND THOUGHT BEST TO WIRE AT ONCE -- HENRY ABBOT.

"I suppose he is the butler or caretaker," thinks Una. "I am glad he let me know, but how tiresome for Sybil to be away just now! I can't bear Brighton this time of the year, but I suppose I must go to the Warings, and then I can return here and stay with the Clevethornes till Sybil is home, or the risk of infection is over at the Rectory."

Clevethorne Grange is at present full of visitors, and there is no more accommodation. So Una decides her first visit shall be to Brighton. The Warings used to live at Westborough Manor, but now they have moved to the seaside, and they have long pressed Una to visit them. She telegraphs to know if it will be convenient, for she is aware Keith Broughton is sending in workpeople next week to do certain needed repairs, and she wishes to keep to the date she has fixed for her departure.

There is no reply by telegram, but Thursday morning brings her a letter from Mrs. Waring saying she is in constant attendance at the sickbed of her husband who sustained a fall while riding, and she would be so "glad to welcome dear Una if she could postpone her visit for awhile. Later, it would be in her power to make her pretty one far more comfortable than now in a house of sickness."

Una is sitting with Mrs. Waring's letter in her hand, forgetful of the waiting breakfast, uncertain as to what she had better do. She is mentally running over the various invitations she has received, when the butler brings her Keith Broughton's card, bearing a pencilled line: "Can you see me for five minutes?"

She consents rather impatiently, for she knows her maid is waiting for orders, and she has as yet devised no new project as to her destination.

Keith Broughton looks fresh and almost handsome in the glow of his morning ride as he apologises for his early intrusion, and remarks he is anxious to see her before going to the mills.

"I only heard yesterday," he says, "that there is illness at the Rectory. Do I understand rightly that you intend staying with friends in London, Miss Latreille?"

"My plans are not decided yet," she replies coldly. "I told Mr. Craig I should leave today, and you need not countermand any orders you may have given as to repairs. My things are already packed for departure."

"But where are you going?" he inquires. "You will allow me the right to feel some interest in your movements."

"Oh, of course. Mr. Craig said he would want to see me more than once about the settlements. I will take care he has my address."

"But why not give it to me at once, Una? I am going to London myself today"

"Oh, but I am not," she answers with dignity. "The fact is, owing very likely to my changed fortunes, there does not seem to be a strong desire among my friends for my company just now, and this extremely inconvenient illness at the Rectory has caused me some perplexity. I must think things over. Indeed, I was doing so when you came."

"Why not go to Mrs. Perriss?" he asks quietly.

"Mrs. Perriss is going to Geneva almost directly, and 1 have no invitation there. We are not close friends."

"She told me," he answers, "that she intended to ask you for the fortnight she remains in Westborough. She hoped you would come, seeing the Rectory plan is altered. She is on the Soup Kitchen Committee, and I happened to meet her yesterday."

Just then a groom passes the window, and both recognise him as in the employ of Mrs. Perriss. The widow sends Una a warm invitation for a few days, adding: "I shall be delighted if you will use my house as a sister's. You know I am always interested in such occasions."

"What does she mean?" asks Una, in astonishment, reading these words aloud. "I think she must have meant the note for someone else."

"No," says Broughton, fidgeting a little with the spoon in the marmalade dish, "I told Mrs. Perriss yesterday I should suggest to you a change in our plans. It struck me, as our marriage is to be so very quiet, why can it not take place at once? The fact is, Miss Latreille, I must go abroad almost immediately on business, and it would be more satisfaction to me to think of you in your own home than depending on the convenience of friends. Mrs. Perriss was kind enough to suggest we should be married from her house."

"Oh, no!" cries Una haughtily. "I have nothing ready. Things cannot be hurried like that. Mr. Craig said the settlements would...."

"Trust me to see that is all right before the wedding day," he answers, flushing. "You shall not be disappointed in that respect. But why should you be perplexed any longer as to your plans? I will get a licence admitting of our marriage within a fortnight. Meanwhile, make yourself comfortable with Mrs. Perriss. As to getting things, you can buy at your leisure just as well after marriage as before. By the way," he adds gently, "are you short of ready money, Una?"

"No, I am not!" she says, with a burning face. "I have five pounds, seventeen and fourpence; and I do wish you would not call me 'Una,' but 'Miss Latreille.'"

"I will call you anything you like if you will become Mrs. Broughton before I go to Paris."

Paris! How Una would like to re-visit the famous city and enjoy its attractions, no longer the withdrawn schoolgirl who knew it of yore. Then she remembers her objection to honeymoons, and reflects it would not be pleasant escorted by one travelling on business, to run the risk of meeting any of her former associates, some of whom have married into the nobility.

"Will you think it over, Miss Latreille?" asks Keith Broughton. "You can send me a line at your convenience to tell me your decision. I see you have not breakfasted yet, so I will not intrude: but I hope as soon as possible you will come back to St. Pensart's as your home."

"He is evidently afraid of losing me," thinks Una, with some self-complacence. "He is determined to make an effort to rise socially, and he is sorely anxious to get a wife of good birth, poor fellow. He pretends to be concerned as to my own comfort, but self is at the bottom of his anxiety. He fears, perhaps, that during my visits I may meet somebody more eligible. I certainly should have done so had I ever enjoyed a London season, like other girls. Did not Ida Valecourt marry a prince? And she had no beauty except her figure! I wonder what I had better do. As he is going abroad, I should not have to endure his company yet awhile, that is one consideration!"

"Must I unpack, then, madam?" asks Valerie, her maid, on hearing the Brighton visit is abandoned. "I have everything strapped and covered, but I can soon get out your dresses. I had better hang them again if madam is remaining here longer."

"No," says Una, "I feel I must have a change of some sort. I am getting restless. It is so lonely in this great house without Uncle Hugh. Valerie, I want someone to ride into Westborough with a note. Mrs. Perriss, of the Knoll, has invited me, and I shall visit her for a few days. Be ready to accompany me this afternoon."

Una is not only feeling lonely, but disquieted and out of sorts. She is beginning to long for company and for some relief from her own thoughts. Although she has never yet been on intimate terms with the mistress of the Knoll, she feels the conversational widow will be an acceptable companion after her solitude since the loss of her uncle.

<><><><>

Mrs. Perriss has no intention of warning Una, as May Clevethorne did, not to marry without love. Her own ideas of happiness are not very exalted, and comfortable means would be her first consideration in studying the pros and cons of matrimony on behalf of any young protégée. She considers Una would be "flying in the face of Providence" not to secure St. Pensart's as quickly as possible, and in her heart she likes the little she has seen of Keith Broughton.

"Of course, my dear," she tells Una confidentially, "you cannot see much of his mother. I believe she does lead a retired sort of life, and very sensible of her, considering what she was. Nor can you know his cousins and his aunts, and so forth. People like those must be taught their proper places. They need a great deal of repressing, as a rule, but I can see that with you they would not take liberties twice."

The end of Una's deliberations is that she sends Keith Broughton a brief note. "It can be while I am here;" and that same evening he calls to see her, having been unable to leave the claims of business at the mill earlier. Mrs. Perriss is nodding in an easy chair, and her companion is out of the room, so the two have every opportunity for a lover-like talk, but such a notion seems to occur to neither.

"Shall we say Friday week, Miss Latreille?" he asks, taking out a business-like notebook. "I am afraid that is the latest date available."

"When do you cross?" asks Una, turning over a series of Venetian views with interest.

"I must leave London Friday afternoon. I find the workmen at St. Pensart's need not interfere at all with your comfort, so you could return there when convenient. I thought if we could be married quite early on Friday morning...."

"Oh, my dear, never be married on a Friday!" says Mrs. Perriss, rousing slightly and opening her eyes. "Did I hear you say Friday, Mr. Broughton? I must really advise Una not to tempt Providence by choosing a day well known to be unfortunate."

"Oh, that day will do as well as any other," says Una indifferently, "and the earlier the better. I do not want anybody I know in the church. Friday week, then, Mr. Broughton." And her tone is cold and careless, as though leaving an order at a costumier's.

Mrs. Perriss looks shocked to think of a wedding on Friday, but closes her eyes resignedly, and Broughton rises to go.

"Miss Latreille," he says hesitatingly, "before I leave England I should like, if convenient to you, to take you to see my mother. She cannot get out much this cold weather, but----"

"Mr. Broughton," says Una coldly, "it is a delicate subject to touch upon, but I prefer that my acquaintance with your family shall not extend beyond yourself. I have consented to marry you, but please understand from the beginning, I decline to know your family."

He makes no answer, but looks at her for a moment as if he could say a great deal. She congratulates herself that never again will he propose a Latreille should visit his common, assuming mother.

"Friday week at nine o'clock," he tells her quietly, and the words seem to toll in her ears like funeral notes through every day that lies between.

Chapter 3

"For Better, For Worse"

U

na has more than one interview with Mr. Craig, Keith Broughton's solicitor, but she does not expect to see any more of her future husband till they stand at the altar of St. Luke's Church, Westborough, on the approaching marriage morning. She is, therefore, somewhat astonished when on returning from a drive with Mrs. Perriss on the Thursday afternoon she hears he is waiting to see her.

"No doubt he has brought the wedding ring," says her hostess, in a low voice. "Mind you offer him some tea, my dear. I shall join you after I have changed my things."

Una walks, proud and erect, into the drawing room, retaining her out-of-door things as a hint that she has no leisure to spare for callers. He is looking rather nervous, and a sudden fear comes to Una that he has lost his money. Some bank may have failed, or some great financial calamity have occurred. Of course, if such be the case, he would not think of holding her to her promise.

"Is anything the matter, Mr. Broughton?" she inquires. "I did not expect to see you till tomorrow."

"The fact is," he answers abruptly, "I have been a good deal disturbed in mind, Una, and I have had a serious talk this week with my mother, too. She has been too poorly to discuss matters with me before, but she is anxious concerning both of us. So before you put it out of your power to arrange your destiny more brightly, I want you to think the question over -- are you not procuring unhappiness for yourself by our marriage?"

"I can quite understand," says Una haughtily. "Your mother resents your marrying one who cannot know her, but her interference comes too late. The curate has postponed a journey to perform the ceremony tomorrow, and I have acquainted the servants at home that they may expect me back in the afternoon. Mrs. Perriss and her companion are coming, too, for a few days, and so I shall not be left to mope. I dislike being alone."

"As to that," he answers gently, "you will be mistress, and you will invite whom you please. But pray do not misunderstand my meaning. My mother reasons probably in her own mind, though she has never done so in words, that if you cared for your future husband you would wish to know his mother. And if you do not care for him, will not the day come when you will wish yourself unfettered? Ask your heart this question, dear, before it is too late."

"I am not going to be made a public laughingstock to gratify your mother," says Una with dignity. "The servants here have told all the neighbourhood that tomorrow I shall be married. And besides, Mrs. Perriss has bought a large cake, though I tried to persuade her nobody expects cake at such a quiet affair as ours."

"The cake can soon be settled for," he replies. "Do not spoil your life because a cake has been purchased."

"What do you want?" she asks, after a pause. "Is all this preamble an effort to free yourself?"

"You know what I want," he answers quietly. "I cared for you when a train of flatterers hung round you wherever you went, and the dearest wish of my heart is to call you my wife."

"Of course, and then you will be second cousin to the Earl of Glenrhaer," says Una scornfully. "That is not a trifling lift in the social scale for----"

"I hope you are very well, Mr. Broughton," says Mrs. Perriss graciously, as she comes upon the scene in a grey and black tea gown, a charming half-mourning confection. "He looks out of temper," she thinks. "Surely that foolish girl need not irritate him before she is mistress of the situation. St. Pensart's is too good to be lost, but girls are so sure of their power that they make sad mistakes sometimes. Suppose he is not at the church tomorrow?"

"Everything is so nicely settled," she tells him. "The bells are to strike up directly you are pronounced man and wife together. I admire the custom, so I took it on myself to arrange that matter. And you will come here afterwards and get something to eat. How very unfortunate, though, that business calls you to Paris."

"Oh, it does not matter," says Broughton absently. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Perriss, I was thinking of something else."

"We must all think about a cup of tea at present," the lady answers amiably. "We have been to see the Whitmores at Vale Abbey. It was a long, cold drive, so Una and I are quite ready for some refreshment."

"I must ask you to excuse me," says Keith Broughton. "As I leave tomorrow, this is a very busy day with me. Then, Miss Latreille, is it all settled for tomorrow? There is to be no change in the arrangements?"

He has turned to Una, and he catches an indistinct murmur about "Uncle Hugh's last wishes," then his fiancée says, with more composure, "Certainly, everything is settled. Even the cake has come home, and Mrs. Perriss is going to stay with me for a time at St. Pensart's."

"Mrs. Perriss will be very welcome," he says gallantly. "Goodbye then, ladies, till tomorrow: I am sorry such an early hour was necessary, but there is only one train that will catch the Dover express from town."

"He is a very undemonstrative fiancé, my dear," says the widow, as the two sit over their tea. "What an unromantic leave-taking! But perhaps my presence restrained sentimentality."

"Oh dear, no. Neither Mr. Broughton nor myself intend to go in for sentiment," says Una. "One hears enough of that kind of thing in connection with breach-of-promise cases. How ridiculous all the love-making seems a few years later! I have always been a practical sort of person, and I leave romance to the novelists."

"Well," says Mrs. Perriss, "I hope you will be as happy as I was. Arthur was only a struggling barrister when we married. Success came after many years, but those days were very bright ones." And she sighs, looking into the flickering fire.

<><><><>

Friday, despite its reputation for ill luck, dawns bright and beaming. "An ideal wedding morning," Mrs. Perriss tells her guest. Una is almost disinclined to turn out so early, the weather being keen and cold. As it is, she is late at the church, and the curate, having a bad cold, is rather put out at having to wait unduly in the chill, unwarmed atmosphere of the building. Una is attended only by her hostess, but many of the servants from St. Pensart's are present, as well as some in the employ of Mrs. Perriss.

Una also recognises a few of the tenants on the estate now belonging to Broughton. But the large church looks empty, and has a depressing effect on her spirits. To the spectators she looks prouder than ever in the plain black tailor-made gown she has not troubled to vary for the occasion, the sombre attire relieved only by a spray of white flowers sent her by the old gardener at St. Pensart's.

Keith Broughton, however, is conscious that the hand he holds is cold and trembling, and that Una is probably realizing for the first time the solemnity of the step she has taken with such indifference.

The service over, the curate offers his congratulations in the vestry, receives an envelope from Broughton, and departs willingly to coffee and bacon at his lodgings. When the requisite formalities are completed, Mrs. Perriss remarks the bride and bridegroom can return to her house in her carriage, and she will follow in a hired vehicle, but Una insists on her accompanying them.

"This is quite out of order," says the widow, as they drive along. "No third person is permitted, as a rule, with a newly married couple. But dear Una has been superior all through to the ordinary affectations of brides, and I heard several people say how clearly and admirably she made the responses."

"I am glad it is over," says Una, sinking back as though exhausted. "Early morning marriages are most melancholy occasions. When did you say your train leaves for London, Mr. Broughton?"

"I shall only just have time to escort you two ladies back," he replies. "Are you cold, Una? I beg your pardon, I thought you were shivering."

"She wants her breakfast," says Mrs. Perriss.

"We all do," says Una. "We only had an early cup of tea and a biscuit. Why, it is beginning to snow. What a dreadful time of the year for you to cross the Channel, Mr. Broughton."

Things look more cheerful when they enter the dining room and find a warm breakfast all ready for them. The wedding cake, bright with frosted Cupids, adorns the table, and the servants have offered various gifts, in addition to a bronze statuette from Mrs. Perriss.

"Many more gifts have gone to St. Pensart's," Mrs. Perris tells Keith, "and others will come when the fact of the wedding is more widely known. Now it is no use for you to keep on your overcoat, Mr. Broughton. Give yourself time to thaw, at least. The coffee is just coming up."

She hurries away to remove her wraps, and Una is about to follow her, but Broughton's voice detains her. "So it is really over," he tells her, "and I am second cousin to the Earl of Glenrhaer."

Una glances up at him, suspecting sarcasm, but he looks quiet and grave, as he warms his hands at the fire.

"Yes," she answers, "and Debrett will tell you all about him. Glenrhaer is travelling now. We used to play together when we were children. I do not know what he will say when he knows ... I ... I have married into trade."

"I hope the shock will not be fatal," says her husband. "If I see him in Paris I will break it to him gently."

"You.... Excuse me, but you would scarcely be on Glenrhaer's visiting list."

"I hope not," he replies. "I should say that list would chiefly consist of the betting fraternity, if he is the same Glenrhaer who quitted Cambridge rather suddenly when I was there."

"Were you at Cambridge?" asks Una, opening her eyes. "Ah, yes, I have heard anybody can go to the universities nowadays. My cousin, of course, lives like many other young men in society. His disposition is lively, but he never forgets he is a gentleman."

Broughton is not ungenerous enough to recall certain episodes of college life scarcely very gentlemanly. He remembers young Glenrhaer as a thoughtless, good-natured ne'er-do-well, too fond of the flowing bowl and the dice.

"Well, well," he answers, "there were many good points about my second cousin, and I daresay he has settled down a bit by this time. Are you warmer now, Una? Come closer to the fire."

He takes her hands and chafes them gently in his own. Una is simply aghast at his audacity, and opens her lips more than once to forbid such presumption. But it has been a trying morning, and she is feeling almost on the verge of hysteria.

"I hope Mr. Craig contented you as to money matters," he tells her. "You understand that, equally with myself, you draw on our banking account."

"Of course," she replies, though to speak truly his confidence in this respect rather touches her, for she was never allowed to sign cheques for her Uncle Hugh, and of late very little pocket money came her way, owing to his debts. "Mr. Broughton, the parlour maid is coming. My hands are warm now, thank you."

"You are quite welcome," he replies gravely, as he releases her. "Do you know, Una, my mother has a wedding present for you, but I will not let her give it till you call."

"Brides receive calls," says Una.

"Yes, but the old lady cannot get out in such cold weather. I know you will go. It would give her such pleasure."

"Nothing will induce me to do so," says his wife with decision. "What is the present?"

"A miniature of myself as a baby, with a lock of my hair at the back. It forms a brooch, I believe," he answers. "Is not that worth going for?"

Una makes no reply beyond a scornful gesture, and turns with relief to the breakfast that appears simultaneously with Mrs. Perriss. Broughton partakes of some coffee and fish, and expresses the hope that Mrs. Perriss will remain at St. Pensart's as long as possible. Then, glancing at the clock, he begs to be excused.

"Take care of yourself," says Mrs. Perriss, shaking hands cordially. "You will need plenty of travelling wraps today. I will look after Una, and keep her company in your absence."

Una is sorely afraid he intends to kiss her, and looks at him distantly, coldly repressing any such idea. He only shakes hands, however, recommending her to try the fish, as it is extremely nice.

"A very composed sort of bridegroom," says Mrs. Perriss, smiling. "Well, Una dear, I think you are fortunate. A well-to-do husband, a handsome house, and an invalid mother-in-law who cannot interfere."

"Interfere? I should think not! I can have no possible acquaintance with Mrs. Broughton," says Una haughtily. "My husband quite understands me on that point. How it snows! I wonder if we shall be able to get to St. Pensart's."

<><><><>

The drive is managed about four o'clock, and Mrs. Perriss is impressed by the long train of staff, many of whom have grown up under the Latreilles, who welcome their young mistress to her home. The marriage has delighted them, for at one time all expected the establishment would be broken up, and "Miss Una" would have to leave and earn her living as best she could. They have not anticipated the bridegroom's absence today, and the butler peers out into the grounds, awaiting his master.

"Mr. Broughton had to go to Paris," Una tells him hastily. "Shut the door, please, the snow is coming in. We shall dine at seven this evening. Let us have tea now. Valerie," she adds to her maid. "Do see there are good fires upstairs. We are almost frozen."

Mrs. Perriss and Miss Burdenne have visited at St. Pensart's now and then, but they have never before had a prolonged opportunity of examining the art treasures of the Latreilles. Their interest in ancestral pictures, armour, china, and plate is balm to Una's heart, so deep is her family feeling and her reverence for the chronicles of bygone Latreilles.

The evening thus passes away, and the day ends happily enough for the newly-made wife. Her guests, listening to her animated converse as she exhibits the lance of Geoffrey de Latreille of Plantagenet times, quietly wonder if she gives any thought to the far-distant traveller speeding onward through the inclement weather.

"Did you ever hear the like, Mrs. Dean?" asks the parlour maid of the dapper little housekeeper, who is handing her out some stores required for the morrow. "What do you think of that? Miss Una only married today and him gone for his honeymoon all alone. That don't seem to me the way to treat a wife."

"You are speaking of the master, Benson," says Mrs. Dean reprovingly. "Miss Una's husband is Squire at St. Pensart's now, and a very nice, pleasant-spoken gentleman he is, though not of any family, so to speak. It is not for us to criticise what he and Miss Una choose to arrange. Master's in business, and I dare say he has been called away unexpectedly."

"Well, it do look strange, and that's my candid opinion, Mrs. Dean. I wonder Miss Una could bear to let him go, a-facing the winds and the waves such weather as this! It gave us a turn, the other day, to hear the wedding was to come off at once, when we didn't expect it till the summer. And now off he goes, and Miss Una's no sooner married than she brings home visitors to stay. Such ways is past my comprehension!"

"It is not for us to criticise the quality," says Mrs. Dean solemnly. "Now, Benson, mind you are careful with this furniture cream, and tell the housemaids the same. You girls forget things cost money. Be careful how you carry the jars, Benson, and take my advice, do not gossip downstairs about Mr. and Mrs. Broughton's concerns. They are the best judges of their own affairs."

"So they may be," returns Benson, "and I'm not likely to open my mind, Mrs. Dean, to any but yourself. But it does seem so funny to get married and say goodbye, all in a breath as it were. I only hope when my time comes, me and my husband will do things more like folks expects. Everyone supposes a bride and bridegroom are going to be sociable-like, and if I were Miss Una, I shouldn't be any too well pleased to have my husband go on his wedding trip and leave me behind in the lurch!"

Chapter 4

Mrs. Perriss and her companion remain with Una a fortnight, and she feels enlivened by their company. She is naturally fond of entertaining, and of late her Uncle Hugh rather objected to visitors, his mind being full of his financial troubles and disappointments. "By-and-by," thinks Una, "when I am out of mourning, St. Pensart's shall be known as of old through all the country for its hospitality." She pictures many an animated scene, many a festive gathering. But in the background there is always the figure of her low-born husband; and she sighs impatiently, feeling that he and his family will assuredly detract from the social brilliance of St. Pensart's.

Una is only alone for a day, when she is surprised by a telegram from a distant relative, the Hon. Mrs. Courstans, asking her if she can receive her daughters, Sybil, Maud, and Vivien for a while, as she has been sent for to nurse her husband, attached to a continental embassy.

"Mother went off in such a hurry," the girls tell Una, on their arrival. "She is so afraid of cholera, but we told her it is only one of father's attacks of malaria. He is subject to them. Mother thought it was so kind of Mr. Broughton to let us come. Oh, is he away? Then we shall have you all to ourselves. We have not seen you for five years, Una. You look like a duchess now; but, after all, you are only as old as Sybil. Sybil will be quite an old maid soon, won't she? Do you know she has made up her mind never to marry?"

Una has heard in the past of a youthful attachment between Sybil Courstans and the Earl of Glenrhaer, but she supposes his unsteady habits have nipped such ideas in the bud. So she makes no mention of him to her young relatives, bright and talkative in the light-heartedness of girlhood.

The Courstans family is as old as the Latreilles, and in her secret heart Una hopes Keith Broughton will continue absent from home while the girls are at St. Pensart's. He is by no means particular to avoid mention of his business, and the latter is far more of a heart-sore to Una herself than to her friends and connections who are glad on her behalf that she has been enabled to retain her home.

Cheering telegrams and letters concerning Mr. Courstans' health reach the girls, and there is nothing to damp their natural liveliness. One evening, just before dinner, Maud joins the others in the drawing room with an air of excitement and mystery.

"Guess what I have seen in the hall!" she exclaims. "A hatbox, a portmanteau, and travelling rugs! Una, Una, you meant to surprise us! Why did you not properly prepare us for the arrival of one of the lords of creation? I do wonder what Mr. Broughton is like. We always said nobody under royalty would satisfy you, you know!"

"Is Mr. Brougbton back, Una?" ask Sybil and Vivien eagerly.

"No," says their hostess. "Maud is romancing a little, that is all."

But just then the butler, with a look of importance, asks if he can speak to her, and informs her some luggage has arrived from the station, with the message that Mr. Broughton and his uncle, Mr. Jenkins, are walking across the fields, and will shortly arrive.

"Shall I make dinner eight o'clock, madam?" he inquires, and Una reluctantly agrees. A storm of indignation is taking possession of her mind that Keith Broughton, even though ignorant of the presence of her aristocratic companions, should presume to introduce to her society one of his own common kinsmen!

"Mr. Jenkins, indeed! Why, the name sounds like a coachman or a carpenter. The idea of placing a man like that at my table! What will the girls think? It will be the talk for many a day in Sycamore Crescent when they go back to town."

By-and-by she hears the activity of the gentlemen's arrival, but she does not stir from the lounge where she is ensconced among the girls, her poodle, richly beribboned, at her side. It is not till the butler again appears, asking if Mr. Broughton can see her, that she slowly sails from the drawing room and enters the morning room where he awaits her, looking tired and travel worn.

"Pray forgive my disturbing you, Una," he says. "I was anxious to explain to you before you see Uncle Samuel how it is he is here. I should not have troubled you with a guest so soon, but I met him unexpectedly in the train. He was coming to Westborough on business, taking it for granted he could stay, as usual, with my mother, but her house is full from top to bottom with a lot of children -- great-nieces and nephews, who always visit her twice a year. So there is really no room for the old gentleman. He decided to spend two or three days here, and go in and out to Westborough with me."

"May I ask, Mr. Broughton, if it is customary for people to invite themselves to places quite independently of the mistress of the house?"

"Uncle Samuel never stands on ceremony, Una," says Broughton shortly. He feels tired and disinclined for argument, and sorely in need of his dinner. "He is my father's half-brother, a boot manufacturer on a large scale in the Midlands, and many a kindness I have had from him in my boyhood. I consider him entitled to expect my hospitality, and I certainly could not refuse when he proposed to come on to St. Pensart's. He will leave in a day or two. He is full of interest concerning my marriage, and I do ask that he may receive from you a cordial and friendly welcome. My relatives will never become oppressive to you. They are not accustomed to intrude on people's hospitality. On the rare occasions they do come here, I ask you, as a favour, to receive them civilly."

"I certainly must decline to cultivate the acquaintance of a boot maker," says Una haughtily. "And on behalf of visitors of my own, I feel extremely indignant his presence should be forced on St. Pensart's. Perhaps you are not aware, Mr. Broughton, that the Misses Courstans, of Courstans Park, Warwickshire, are staying here. Their father is related to Lord Inbeville, and their mother was a Ducie. How can your uncle dine with such as these? You two had better take your meals in the library."

"I think otherwise, Mrs. Broughton," says her husband, quietly but firmly. "As regards your own treatment of my visitor, that, unfortunately, I cannot influence: but the utmost respect and hospitality my house can offer is my uncle's by right. We shall dine, as arranged, at eight."

"I might have known," says Una, coldly and bitterly, "that St. Pensart's would soon be overrun with shopkeepers. I dare say you are plotting and planning, too, that one day your mother shall live here. But if she comes here, I leave the place. No common mill-hand----"

"Silence, Una!" says Keith Broughton. "My patience can stand much, but it has its limits when my mother is mentioned with scorn. My mother was once a mill-girl, but then, as now, she was the best and sweetest and truest woman on this earth. As to bringing her here, I should not be likely to expose one so precious to common contempt. Pardon me if I say our conversation has been long enough. Mutual recrimination can only mean pain for both."

So saying, he rather takes her by surprise by walking from the room. Una's will has hitherto been law at St. Pensart's, and she feels extremely annoyed to realize that Keith Broughton, too, has ways and opinions of his own. At the door he half turns, a little sadly and wistfully, but she vouchsafes no glance in his direction, and he goes up to see that Mr. Jenkins has all he needs, and to prepare for the meal he is beginning rather to dread.

Una thinks it well to explain to her relations the awkward dilemma in which she is placed, owing to the lack of etiquette shown by "Mr. Broughton's deplorably common relative" in inviting himself to the house. The girls sympathise with her and anticipate some fun, but Sybil tries to calm Una's feelings. "It is such a short visit, Una, dear," she says, "that it need be no trouble to you. Pray do not mind us. You know we visit around Whitechapel, and we are used to 'all sorts and conditions of men.'"

Una introduces "Mr. Broughton" to her visitors as coldly as can be managed. He speaks a kindly welcome, and then makes way for his relation -- a white-haired, ruddy-faced old man, who horrifies Una by exclaiming: "Well, where's the bride? I'm going to claim an old huncle's privilege, of course! Which of you young ladies is my boy's little wife, I wonder?"

The Courstans girls begin to laugh, but Una draws herself up and looks like an icicle as Keith says quietly, "Here is Mrs. Broughton, Uncle Samuel. Una, may I introduce Mr. Jenkins? Ah, I see dinner is ready," and he offers his arm to Sybil.

"You come along of me, my dear," says the old gentleman to Una.

Maud and Vivien greatly enjoy the sight of the two going in to dinner together, old Mr. Jenkins hopping along brightly as a robin, Una walking like an insulted princess.

Keith Broughton exerts himself to maintain the conversation, and to choose topics of general interest in which all can join. Sybil seconds him, for she is a sweet-tempered girl, and rather takes to good-natured Mr. Jenkins. But the chilling influence of the hostess make itself felt at last, and even Uncle Samuel begins to feel out of his element, and rather sorry for his nephew. His own wife is the personification of good temper, and he privately congratulates himself that he is not the possessor of one so stately and haughty of demeanour as the bride.

"Keith, my boy," he remarks, when alone with his nephew, "it seems to me your young lady is rather high and mighty. I'm afraid a plain man like myself is not altogether welcome at your board. I'll put up at a hotel in Westborough."

"You will do nothing of the sort, uncle," says the young man. "It would grieve me very much if you did such a thing. As regards Una, please do not judge from first impressions. She will give you a warmer welcome one of these days. Take my word for it, uncle."

"All right, my boy, let the lassie take her time. I don't take offence in a hurry, as you know. Maybe one of the young ladies will give us a bit of music. I miss Jennie's singing when I'm away."

Keith's cousin, Jennie, has a sweet, well-trained voice, which she generally uses in the evening for her father's delight. Old Mr. Jenkins is passionately fond of music, and a student of the violin in his leisure hours, and he very soon asks Sybil if she plays or sings.

"The pianos want tuning," says Una. "What is the next stitch, Sybil?"

The girls are bending over some dainty stitch-work. Sybil sees the old man's look of disappointment, and remarks: "Oh, the pianos are not so bad as all that, Una, dear. I might give Mr. Jenkins a song. Do you know 'Barbara Allen,' Mr. Jenkins?"

"That is my uncle's favourite," says Keith gratefully. "I am sure we are much obliged to you, Miss Courstans. I dare say Una will favour us presently."

"I never sing in uncongenial society," says Una, loudly enough for him to hear as he fingers the lace-work lying in her lap.

"What an exquisite voice your friend has!" he remarks, in subdued tones, as the sweet, plaintive ballad rings through the room. "You have charming visitors, Una."

"I am sorry I cannot return the compliment."

"Oh, you will like Uncle Samuel better one of these days. He has the kindest nature possible."

"I happen to possess a weakness for culture," she answers frigidly. "I have not been accustomed to entertain people who forget their h's."

She has meant to anger him, and there is a flush of indignation on his face as he forsakes her corner and seats himself near Mr. Jenkins, to whom Vivien is now discoursing a gavotte on her violin.

Una looks up in considerable astonishment when the old man presently takes the instrument and sends a tender, lingering air of Mozart's through the room. Sybil follows it up by accompanying him on the piano, and then he lays aside the violin and tells Keith it is time he gave them a song.

Keith Broughton has the gift of a rich, tuneful voice, and he accompanies himself at the piano. To Una his musical powers come as a revelation as he yields to his uncle's desire at last, and sings first "The River of Years," and then "The Garden of Sleep."

"I am waiting for thee in the hush of the corn." Every note is clear and sweet and tender, and there is silence at the close.

"Oh, Una, how splendidly you two will sing duets!" cries Vivien. "You never, never told us about Mr. Broughton's voice! Oh, Mr. Broughton, do sing the 'Songs of Araby' and something of Sullivan's. I love Sullivan!"

But Keith declares he will not longer tax their patience. Una has not looked up from her fancy-work, and he doubts if she has listened to the music. The evening is evidently wearying her; and though he is no smoker himself, he presently takes his uncle off to have a pipe in the smoking room.

"Oh, Una, he is nice!" cry the girls in chorus. "Doesn't he sing splendidly? Una, dear, are you not well? You look as if you have a bad headache."

"Yes, I shall be glad to get to bed," says Una. "That insufferable old man weighs like an incubus on my spirits. I only hope nobody will call while he is here. He would make St. Pensart's the talk of the neighbourhood."

But in the silence of her room, as she casts herself sobbing on the bed, it is not of Samuel Jenkins she is thinking as she whispers, amid her crying, 'I can't bear the sight of him. I will not stand his domineering ways. Who is he but one of the masses, and I am a Latreille! Yet he treats me as though he were my equal. I detest him. I wish he had never, never come back to England!"

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Sybil gives the gentlemen their breakfast next morning, for Una's headache forms a convenient excuse for her breakfasting upstairs. The meal passes pleasantly, and the girls flock into the hall to admire Broughton's mare, and to watch the departure of the gentlemen in the dog-cart.

"Now let us go and storm Una," says Vivien. "I believe she is sulking. She is cross because her husband brought his old uncle here; but, of course, St. Pensart's is his now, not hers, and he can bring here whom he pleases. I thought Una was horrid to him last night."

"Hush, Vivien," says Sybil. "Una was not well, and you know she always was very particular about her friends and associates. I remember once she was surprised mother let us visit at a cotton merchant's."

"Then why does she go and marry into trade?" asks Vivien. "She ought to make the best of it now she has done so. I could see she hurt Mr. Broughton's feelings more than once yesterday. This is the day we are invited to Clevethorne Grange to lunch. I must go and mend my cloth costume, or will you do it for me, Sybil?"

Sybil readily promises, and the girls run up to Una, who is found looking very unlike an invalid, partaking of a dainty breakfast, and debating a new evening dress of lace and jet in company with her maid. Vivien, a merry schoolgirl of seventeen, commences at once upon the breakfast, remarking her own has given her an appetite, and calls Una a hypocrite for pleading indisposition.

"Get up, now, you lazy girl," she exclaims. "Don't you remember we are all going to Clevethorne?"

<><><><>

On the whole, the second day of Keith Broughton's return is more successful than the first. Both gentlemen are detained late in Westborough, and they dine very comfortably at St. Pensart's, the ladies having been persuaded to remain at Clevethorne. Next morning, Mr. Jenkins announces he must go home by the midday train. There is an evident look of relief on Una's face, and she does not second her husband's pressing invitation for the old gentleman's company till the end of the week, at least.

"No, I have yet to go to Leicester and Northampton, and I promised your Aunt Sarah I would be home on Saturday," he answers. "Thanks all the same, my boy. I hope one day you will bring our new niece to see us. I have a nice little place, my dear, among the dale scenery. Dear me, you'd be as happy as the day is long climbing the Tors and rambling about among the waterfalls. Your Cousin Jennie----"

"I have no cousin of that name, Mr. Jenkins, and I am fully engaged as to visiting for a great many years to come," says Una hurriedly. "Sybil, will you take another cutlet? If not, I think we will go into the morning room. The new books have come from Mudie's."

"One moment, my dear," says the old man. "When I was in Westborough yesterday, I chose for you a little marriage gift that I hope you will like. It is to be sent home today."

"What do you think of another set of fruit-knives, Una?" asks Keith Broughton, smiling while drawing on his overcoat.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Jenkins," says Una, with studied politeness; "but I have had already nine cases of fruit-knives."

"My dear, don't take all that young man hints for reality. I am not giving you fruit-knives, but a present almost exactly the same as I gave our Jennie when she was twenty-one."

Una pictures some ornament devoid of all good taste, and coldly replies she is sorry he troubled about her.

"I only hope you will use it," says Mr. Jenkins. "I shall be very much gratified to hear you are making use of my wedding gift."

"I really cannot promise to wear it often...." begins Una haughtily.

Both gentlemen burst out laughing, and indignant and mystified Una sails into the morning room, and does not condescend to glance up from her book while her visitors are waving goodbye from the window to the gentlemen in the dog-cart.

Chapter 5

Sybil's Gratitude

Broughton takes the ladies by surprise by returning to lunch. They are out riding in the country lanes, followed by the groom, when they meet him, also on horseback. Una at once challenges Vivien to a gallop, leaving her husband to the company of Sybil and Maud. He would like to try the speed of his mount against hers, but politeness keeps him beside his guests, and when they reach St. Pensart's Una and Vivien are standing on the steps, glowing like roses from their dash through the breezy air.

"Have you seen Uncle Samuel's present, Una?" asks Keith Broughton.

"No," she answers disdainfully. "Really, I have more odds and ends now than I know what to do with!"

"I wish I could see it," says Maud. "Oh, Una, do let us see what Mr. Jenkins has given you. I daresay it is a photo frame. Everyone gives frames nowadays, and some of them are really lovely."

"Now let me guess," cries Vivien. "Is it something alive? Ah, I thought so! I believe it is a parrot."

"Una will not require that while you are here," says Sybil, with sisterly politeness. "Most likely it is a pug. You adore pugs, don't you, Una?"

"Yes, but I am afraid Dabby would be jealous of another dog," says Una, taking a little more interest in her present now that "something alive" is in the question. "He never likes me to notice other dogs."

"I think he tolerates Trusty though," says Sybil. "He did not seem to mind much when you had Trusty in your lap this morning, you know."

Trusty is Keith's terrier, and Una is displeased he should thus be made aware she has vouchsafed any attention to his property.

"Well, are we going to stand on the steps indefinitely? Why are we lingering here?" she asks coldly.

"I thought perhaps you would not mind taking a look at uncle's present before lunch," says Broughton. "Will you permit me to act as guide?"

"He is going to the kennels," cry the girls, but Una flushes with curiosity and pleasure, for she sees he is leading the way to the stables.

"Will you accept these, with Uncle Samuel's love, Una?" asks her husband quietly, and then there is a long silence, the girls surveying with rapture too deep for words a pair of dainty white ponies and a charming little chaise, the equipage being adorned with Una's monogram, and the cushions being of the easiest and most inviting description.

"Did he really give these?" asks Una, who can scarcely believe she is the possessor of a turnout so elegant. Most of the Latreille carriages are the worse for age and wear, and Hugh Latreille spent very little on stables or coach house.

"Yes, he had them sent to Westborough on approval. He ordered them as soon as he heard of our engagement. Well, shall I tell him you like them?"

"Like them? She is simply in love with her present," says Vivien. "Look at that darling pony. He seems to know his mistress already, and now the other one wants to be noticed! Whatever will you call them, Una? We had a lovely pair once called Tulip and Primula."

"It is very kind of Mr. Jenkins," is all Una replies. Her conscience reproaches her for conduct extremely uncivil and inhospitable to her generous guest, but this feeling she keeps to herself.

"I will tell him you like his gift," says Broughton, "and that you will often drive me into Westborough, and come and meet me with this bewitching turnout. Well, Hayward, what do you think of this new concern? "he adds to the coachman, who approaches at this moment.

"It's pretty enough for a princess, sir, but none too pretty for our young lady, says I," the old man replies; and his master remarks, "I quite agree with you. And I hope all these young ladies, when they get married, will receive offerings equally appropriate to the charms of the bride."

"Why, he is getting quite poetical, Una," says Sybil. "Indeed, Mr. Broughton, we do not possess a single rich relation, and we are never likely to receive such a sweet little turnout, I fear; but Una must drive us all somewhere tomorrow. I know this splendid little pair can go famously."

"Una, I want to speak to you a moment, dear," says Keith Broughton, rather hesitantly, entering the camellia house after his wife, who has strayed therein for a moment, closing the door. "Your visitors are going indoors. I will not keep you long. I know my presence is an annoyance to you."

"I am hurried. It is time for lunch," says Una hastily. "I dislike walking about in a gown."

"The fact is, Una, I came home early today for a special reason. I have heard through mutual friends that your cousin Glenrhaer is in this neighbourhood, and, I am sorry to tell you, visiting people from whose house I cannot permit my wife to receive a visitor here. It is enough for me to tell you they are card-sharpers, and bear a very shady character as to turf transactions. I am afraid Glenrhaer is leading a wild sort of life just now. He may take it into his head to call on you, but while he is where he is, we cannot receive him at St. Pensart's."

"We? You forget yourself, Mr. Broughton. I believe I am mistress here, and my door will always be opened to a Glenrhaer. Do you know they came over with William of Normandy?"

"I daresay," he says indifferently, "but I am responsible that my home is free from any connection whatever with dishonour. Unfortunately, your cousin has not been particular enough about the repute of his entertainers. While he is there, he might even venture to bring one of the fraternity with him here. You and those young girls----"

"They are Glenrhaer's relations, and so am I," says Una. "If you think St. Pensart's is for the use and enjoyment of illiterate and uncultured connections of yours alone----"

"That remark is rather unsuitable today, I think, Una," says her husband quietly. "My uncle may be illiterate, but you have witnessed his kindness and liberality."

"Well, at any rate, you may fully understand I shall welcome my own relations here at any time," says Una. "If Glenrhaer calls, I shall not only receive him, but invite him here on a visit."

"I forbid you to receive him unless I am in the house," says Broughton firmly. "I have a reason for this, Una. It is not a mere caprice."

"Caprice or not, I have not the slightest intention of obeying you," she answers haughtily. "I am mistress at St. Pensart's, and a woman nowadays is not a voiceless, mindless, downtrodden slave. Kindly let me pass, Mr. Broughton. My doors will always be open to Glenrhaer."

"I will say no more," he remarks, opening the door, "except that he is not to be admitted in my absence. I may add that the butler will receive these instructions."

Una's proud face burns with indignation. In her heart she believes her husband is jealous of Glenrhaer's rank and social brilliancy, and will endeavour gradually to separate her from the fashionable world to which his own birth did not vouchsafe him the "Open Sesame." But he shall find he cannot command at St. Pensart's as at the mills. She is not one of his mill hands, and his orders will not affect her actions in the slightest.

Keith Broughton makes no further allusion to his wife's titled connection, and he treats her with considerate politeness and attention that form a marked contrast to her own cold dignity and pride.

<><><><>

The days go on, and nothing is heard at St. Pensart's of the Earl of Glenrhaer, though at Westborough rumours reach Broughton of money and property lost at cards, and of reckless indulgence in drink, probably to drown remembrance. One afternoon, however, while the butler happens to be away, and Una and her guests are taking tea after a drive, Glenrhaer takes it into his head to call at St. Pensart's, and the second footman answers his ring.

The youth has heard nothing of the prohibition, and conducts him to the presence of his mistress, though inwardly thinking that "that there swell have had as much drink as he can take." Glenrhaer wears a hothouse flower, and carries an eyeglass, and his attire is unexceptionable as to quality and fashion: but too much wine with him means an excess of sentiment, and he is so affectionate in his greeting of his relations that Sybil especially is thoroughly frightened.

"Will you take some tea, Arthur?" asks Una, her heart beginning to beat fast as she realizes how extremely demonstrative he is inclined to be. He cannot hold the cup properly, and it trembles in his hand, the tea falling to the saucer, and thence to the carpet.

"Oh, Una, is he intoxicated?" whispers Vivien. "Mother said he had been seen like that. Oh, Una, can't you ask him to go? Look, he is trying to sit by Sybil now."

"Sybil, dear," says Una hurriedly, "you had better go and dress for dinner now. I am afraid, Arthur, we must ask you to excuse us at once. Perhaps another time...."

"Oh, I'm not going to let Sybil run away just yet. She's my little sweetheart, and she owes me a kiss, and I'm not going till I have one," says the young man obstinately. "You need not be shy with me, you know, Sybil. The others won't look."

"Una!" says Sybil, in an appealing tone of fright. Maud has run away, thoroughly alarmed, and hearing her host's voice in the entrance hall she hurries to him, white and tremulous.

"Oh, Mr. Broughton, our cousin Glenrhaer is in the drawing room, and he talks so oddly, and he teases Sybil so," the girl says, half crying,

Broughton's face grows pale and stern. He takes no notice of Una, who tries to utter a dignified remark that her relative is "somewhat unwell." He walks up to his former college acquaintance and requests that he will desist from annoying Miss Courstans.

"Why, she used to be my sweetheart," says the young fellow in a husky, indistinct voice. "She's very fond of me, aren't you, Sybil? Who are you, pray, to interfere between a gentleman and his sweetheart? Oh, I know you, man -- you're Broughton, the rich cad that married pretty little Una."

"Your hansom is waiting, Glenrhaer," says Broughton quietly.

"Well, I'm not going, if it is. Una has asked me to dinner, and I'm going to make myself comfortable here with my pretty little Sybil."

Sybil wrenches herself with an effort from his grasp, her heart wrung as she realizes the rumours that have reached her mother have been all too true. Broughton has calmly drawn up the blind and opened the long window leading to the grounds. His next action is to spin Glenrhaer round with very little apparent effort, and to consign him to the garden outside, where he appears to fall heavily on the turf.

"Do not be frightened, Miss Courstans," he says to Sybil. "I will go out and see he is helped into the cab. He is not himself at present. I am sure he will be overwhelmed with shame for the insults you have sustained."

Sybil begins to cry. She really cannot help the tears, and the others gather round, concerned, to soothe and comfort her. Having safely despatched his unwelcome guest, Broughton is passing to his dressing room when he encounters Una, and he perceives she makes an effort to conceal the fact that she is trembling nervously. Broughton has been feeling decidedly angry at the fact that Glenrhaer was in his drawing room, but the anger changes to compassion as he sees her agitation.

"I am afraid you have been frightened, dear," he says gently. "I was sorry to treat a cousin of yours so inhospitably, but he was really not fit to remain. I shall try to see him tomorrow, Una. He will feel miserable, I fancy, remembering his behaviour here."

"I never asked him to stay to dinner. That was his invention," says Una. "And I never knew he was here till William brought him in. But, of course, I never meant to deny myself to him. He used to be such a nice, clever boy. He looks quite different, somehow."

"The kind of life he leads means a broken-down constitution, as well as losses in every way, dear. I have been thinking a great deal about him of late, poor fellow. I don't see how I can help him unless he helps himself by giving up dice and drink. But I will do what I can, for his mother's sake."

"Yes, she is fond of him. What trouble she must be in," says Una. "It was a good thing you came home, Keith, but he had no right to talk to you as he did."

She is not aware that for the first time she has unconsciously called him by his Christian name. Her husband, however, is conscious of the fact, and he has the audacity to ask her for the snowdrops that brighten the cape she has worn in her drive. Una glances up at him a little uncertainly, a faint rose-flush taking the place of the pallor. Then she shakes her head, remarking, "Giving flowers is sentimental, and the Latreilles are never that."

"And am I to go flowerless to dine at the Clevethornes, then?" he inquires,

"Oh, there are plenty of flowers in the houses," she answers, her dignity quite recovered by this time. But she notices when they reach the Grange that Broughton is unadorned florally, and she wonders why he did not find something nicer than the few snowdrops now in water in her room.

<><><><>

"Una," says Sybil, coming in to Mrs. Broughton the day before she and her sisters are to leave St. Pensart's, "you know I went alone to the post office this morning. Whom do you think I met?"

"Captain Daubigny, or Major Ducie?" asks Una, smiling; for these officers are friends of the Clevethornes, and have been very attentive to Sybil and Maud.

"No. Why, I seem to meet them somewhere about every day. No, Una, it was poor Arthur."

"Did you meet him, Sybil? Oh, I am so sorry you were alone. I hope he did not annoy you or frighten you, dear."

"Oh, no, Una, he was as different as possible today. I felt so sorry for him, poor fellow. We had a long talk coming down the lane from the village. I mean to tell mother, of course. You know she did not wish me to think about him anymore; but, Una, if he is really going to try to keep steady."

"Sybil, dear, can you trust his promises?"

"I believe he is in earnest, Una. At first he was so confused when we met, and then he told me he had written several letters, both to you and me, apologising for coming to St. Pensart's in such a state. It seems his groom told him Mr. Broughton removed him by force, and he said he richly deserved it."

"We never had the letters. I suppose he did not post them," says Una.

"Nothing that he could say seemed to satisfy him, and he destroyed each one he wrote. Then last week he called to see your husband in Westborough, and Mr. Broughton told him to say no more on the matter, to let bygones be bygones, and to remember that past mistakes could be steppingstones to better things."

"He went to the mills?" asks Una, attentive with ear and heart.

"Yes. You remember how extremely rude he was to your husband. The least he could do was to apologise. Arthur cannot say enough now in Mr. Broughton's praise. It seems they were almost college chums once, but your husband would not go with the set that got hold of Arthur. When my ... when poor Arthur went to the mills, they had a long, serious talk, and Mr. Broughton pleaded with him, for his mother's sake, to make a great effort to break from his gambling associates. But Glenrhaer owes some of them a lot of money, and even the old home, Abbotdean, is mortgaged."

"Oh, Sybil, his poor mother! It would break her heart, I believe, for Arthur to lose Abbotdean. Think what a splendid place his father made of it!"

"Well, Una, he has seen Mr. Broughton a good many times, and a Mr. Craig too."

"He's my husband's solicitor. He was poor uncle's as well," says Una.

"Mr. Broughton is paying off the mortgage completely, Una. Think of that! And Arthur has to pay him the debt, with only a nominal interest, by easy instalments. Arthur says he feels set free from a terrible chain, but Mr. Broughton has only done this on condition he gives up cards and wine. And Arthur says he feels himself that it is his only safeguard."

"Then Keith will be his only creditor? I am glad, Sybil, dear. I had no idea Keith was helping him so."

"No. I fancy your husband is one of those who do not blazon abroad all the good they do, like some people. And what do you think, Una? Arthur has been offered by a relative of his mother's a post in an embassy on the Continent, and Mr. Broughton strongly advises he should leave England for a time, to break off with these associates. He asked me today if I would think of him sometimes, for he meant to work hard and make a name worthy of the Glenrhaers of Abbotdean. And then, he said, when he comes home ... if I still were free ... it may be some years...."

Just then Keith Broughton himself walks in, followed by his terrier, leaping and bounding around him in welcome.

"Down, Trusty! Gently!" he exclaims. "I forgot some important papers, Una, so I had to come back, and I am hungry enough to want some lunch. Could we have it earlier?"

Una rings the bell and asks for lunch at once. Keith is rather astonished to find his wishes are not met, as usual, with the cold opposition he has learnt to expect from his wife: but he understands Una's somewhat softened expression when Sybil cries impulsively: "Oh, Mr. Broughton, how good you have been to poor Glenrhaer. He has been telling me all about it. If he can only get free from the mesh of those dangerous people who have entrapped him, his poor mother may have cause to be proud of him yet. I think it is a wise idea for him to go abroad. His mother likes travelling, and she is sure to accompany him. Indeed, we cannot thank you enough for helping poor Arthur just now."

"I am doing very little, after all," says Broughton, looking embarrassed, as he always does when any deed of kindness is dragged into the light. "It is natural I should want to help Una's cousin and yours, Miss Courstans. Una, I wish you could spare me those violets you are wearing. I always covet an attractive buttonhole, Miss Sybil, when I see it on my wife."

And Una hands it to him silently, and then says, hastily averting her burning face, that the weather is growing remarkably sultry, and she feels quite hot!

Chapter 6

At the Rectory

Una has an uncomfortable feeling during lunch that the gift of her violets may be construed by her husband as a token she is willing to stoop from the pedestal of cold, platonic civility, and she tells herself proudly again and again that never, never will she allow the footing of mere courtesy that exists between them to be changed into anything that savours of the foolishly sentimental.

She therefore endeavours to atone for the momentary weakness by an added chilliness and increased dignity of demeanour during the meal. Her face is a study of haughty indignation when Vivien suddenly exclaims, "Oh, Sybil, you know how we enjoyed seeing the paper mills when we were in Yorkshire. Wouldn't it be lovely if Mr. Broughton would let us go over his works? I do like to watch all the machinery and see how things are made, don't you?"

"Oh, Una, do ask Mr. Broughton if we can go over the mills," cries Maud, in youthful delight. "It is our last afternoon, and we should so enjoy it. I suppose you have been over before, haven't you, Una?"

"Indeed not!" answers her hostess. "The inspection of factories is not my idea of enjoyment. You will do as you please, of course, but personally I should be unable to accompany you, as I propose driving over to the Lindsays."

"Oh, bring the ponies into Westborough instead, Una, dear," says Sybil. "Let us keep together on our last afternoon. I know it will be most interesting to go over the woollen mills. But may we, Mr. Broughton? Would we be in your way?"

"The mills would be highly honoured, Miss Sybil." he replies. "I only wish I could show you over myself, but I have an appointment that will prevent my doing so, I fear. I would commission Adams, my manager, to take you round and give you every information. You have seen Adams," he remarks to his wife. "He brought you the model he made in carved wood of our works seen from Abbey Hill."

"He seems to be a civil, respectable person, and he has the rare virtue of knowing his place, and respecting his superiors," says Una condescendingly. "Oh, if he is our escort, perhaps I can manage to accompany you, Sybil, but I really think it will prove a very strange way of spending your last afternoon."

"It will be lovely!" cries Vivien. "I do so enjoy seeing the great wheels go whirling round and hearing all the busy noise and din of a factory."

"Mind you do not stand too near the machinery," says Keith Broughton, smiling. "I do not want to pay damages on your behalf, Miss Vivien. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies, I must get back. I will tell Adams to expect you later, and the ponies will be well looked after in the stables."

"Have you stables there?" asks Una, who had proposed driving the pony carriage to the Abbey Hotel.

"Well, we could scarcely send out our vans without a few horses, you know," he replies. "You may safely trust the ponies to the tender mercies of our old stableman."

"I do not at all suppose I shall come," says Una, after a moment of thought. "I never take the least interest in mills and factories. They are usually so extremely dirty."

"There are exceptions to the rule, however," says her husband. "We shall feel overwhelmed with sorrow if you find reason to suspect our cleanliness."

In the end Una does condescend to accompany her guests to the mills. Their passionate persuasions are aided by a secret and unconfessed curiosity as to the place where her husband chiefly spends his time, a curiosity she feels she can the better gratify as he will be absent on this occasion.

Tulip and Primula, as the ponies have been named, soon take the four ladies into Westborough, Una driving, and being fully aware that her "turnout" is the admiration of all who meet them. She has to inquire the way to the mills, never having been nearer to them before than the High Street, and she turns rather doubtfully into the indicated road.

"We shall have to ring some bell or call somebody," she remarks. "The place seems a labyrinth of offices. Whereabouts are the stables?"

"Oh, here is Mr. Broughton," cries Sybil. "Look, Una, coming across the yard by those carts."

Keith Broughton lifts his hat and remarks his business interview has been postponed by telegram, so he is at the service of the ladies. The Courstans girls express their pleasure, but Una says with cold disapproval, "I expected Adams would have shown us over. I thought that was the arrangement."

Broughton whistles, and a lad appears and conveys the carriage to the stables.

"Mind the steps, ladies," says Broughton. "Some of the passages are very old, and there are plenty of unexpected tips and downs. Take care, dear," he adds, putting out his arm to stay Una from tripping, and receiving for thanks a frigid glance of indignation that does not affect his composure, being aware as he is that her proud face has suddenly crimsoned at his touch.

It is impossible to study the details of a busy factory without interest, and the Courstans girls continually exclaim in astonishment and delight as they proceed from room to room, watching the gradual evolution of the raw article into soft and warm and many-hued material.

Una is silent, but she is conscious it must need a mastermind to control the arrangements of such a many-sided concern, and she notes the respect with which Keith Broughton is everywhere treated, yet the entire absence in his manner towards his employees of any touch of patronage or condescension. They might be brothers and sisters together by his behaviour towards them. Indeed, in his own opinion they are such, and on this basis he bases his every action towards his workers. Yet his quiet word seems law throughout the place, and it is hard work for Una not to feel proud of him as she recognises the influence he wields over so many hearts and lives.

"Una," he says in a low voice, as they approach a particular department, "we employ mostly girls and women here. As I told Adams you were coming, thinking I should be absent, the news soon spread through the factory. The girls insisted on getting a bouquet for you, I believe. You see, this is your first visit to the mills. Poor girls, they will be disappointed if you decline it, Una."

The factory girls, bright-eyed and expectant, cared for at those mills in a hundred forms of consideration and sympathy, look quite picturesque as they group together to welcome "the master's bride." One of their number speaks a few words of pleasure at seeing her there, and then they offer the flowers: maidenhair and roses from the best florist in Westborough, for the "hands" do things well when they attempt a demonstration.

Una is rather touched, and for once finds herself at a loss for words; but she thanks them with one of her rare smiles, and kisses the little maiden who offers the flowers -- the youngest girl employed in the room -- shaking hands with the grey-haired woman who addressed her.

"My word, she be pretty as a princess," is the verdict of the delighted girls. "And to think of her kissing little Kitty! Eh, did you see the braided collar of her cape? You might cut your new jacket like that, Phoebe Jane Williams. My word, it was becoming, and it's certain to be quite the fashion."

While Una is discussed among the girls, Keith Broughton leads the way to another department, where examination of letters and arrangement as to retail orders are carried on by a staff of clerks. Another office is devoted to correspondence with the wholesale customers. A large space below is used for packing, and the girls note that many of the cases are directed to continental and colonial addresses.

"I had no idea it was such a large place," says Sybil. "However do you look after it all, Mr. Broughton?"

"As you have seen, I have plenty of helpers," he replies. "This way, to the left. Our designing room will interest you, I know. There is considerable talent at work to design the various patterns for our materials."

Una has never understood that many a West End firm obtains material for its graceful costumes from her husband's mills. She is as interested as the others in the details of the designing room, and thence they proceed to a portion of the stores where Broughton opens a drawer containing rolls of charming patterns.

"All of these look more effective in the piece," he says, "but it will be less trouble for you to examine these. Will each of you ladies honour the mills by choosing a dress to your taste? It shall be forwarded without delay."

"Oh, Mr. Broughton, we scarcely like to," begins Sybil shyly. But Vivien exclaims, "Oh, how lovely! I must have that dark green cloth. It shines just like satin. It is kind of you, Mr. Broughton."

While he is called away for a while, they proceed to make an animated selection, even Una deigning to choose a sort of golden-brown cloth shot with crimson, that seems to catch a different tint with every varying light. She is going out of mourning, and she plans the drapery of this dress with considerable interest, while Sybil, Maud and Vivien are enraptured with their own selections.

"Well, have you chosen?" says Broughton on his return. "Let me take the numbers of your selected patterns, then there will be no mistake. I suppose you will not deign to accept a specimen of our productions, Una?"

"This is mine," she answers. "The material is very like some I bought once at Monica's in Paris."

"We supply Monica's," he answers, "and have done so for many years. These lengths shall be cut off at once. Would you or your cousins like anything more, dear?"

"That is a dangerous question," Una says, "to put to women among all these patterns, but we are satisfied, are we not, Sybil?"

"I should think so," says Sybil. "Mr. Broughton is a very generous escort, and on the whole I should think almost as satisfactory as Adams."

"Almost," says Una, giving her husband one of her gentler looks, innocent of frost and ice, being, indeed, thoroughly enraptured with the artistic dress she has added to her possessions.

Keith flushes a little and hesitates, as if he were about to say something. Then emboldened by her graciousness, and by the fact that she accepts his arm down a rather dim passage, he remarks, "I think our inspection is nearly over now, and I wonder if you ladies would do me a favour. I have an invitation for you to afternoon tea within five minutes' walk from here. You would give an old lady a great deal of pleasure if you would have tea at number 50, High Street -- at my mother's. She is downstairs there now, but not yet able to come out."

"Oh, we should like to see your mother!" cries impetuous Vivien, "and I want some tea dreadfully."

But the others, while hoping the invitation will be accepted, look uncertainly at Una, knowing she holds herself aloof from her husband's mother.

"It will cheer her up. She is quite alone today," urges Broughton. "I told her you ladies would be in Westborough, and she invites you most warmly to rest awhile in my old home."

There is a momentary pause, then Una says frigidly, though in rather trembling tones, for it has begun to hurt her to bring the shadow to her husband's face, "We are sorry to decline Mrs. Broughton's proposal, but we really have not time to visit her. Would you please have the pony chaise brought round? It is nearly five o'clock."

"No, indeed!" she proudly decides within her. "He thought he would suddenly take me by surprise and force me to forego my decision never, never to know his mother. But I will hold to my resolve, seeing it is quite impossible for me to associate with the poor, uncultured woman upon equal terms. I am glad I have proved to him I mean to go on as I began. Nothing will induce me to make that person's acquaintance!"

"If you really cannot take tea with mother," says Broughton quietly, "I will send a boy round to ask her not to expect you, as I should not like to keep her in suspense. I will have the ponies put in presently, if you ladies will kindly wait in my private room."

This is a large and comfortable sitting room, communicating with his office. It is well carpeted, choice engravings are on the walls, and Vivien, sinking into a large armchair, declares she had no idea men of business lived so comfortably.

When Broughton rejoins them he explains he was born here at the works where his family lived at the time, and this was the parlour of his early childhood. When he was six they moved to 50, High Street, the old house that is his mother's.

"And here comes Mrs. Maxwell, my housekeeper, with tea," he says. "You ladies would never forgive me, I know, if I let you drive back tealess. Una, will you officiate, and pray forgive all the shortcomings of a working-class commercial establishment."

"Shortcomings!" exclaims Vivien. "If these cakes are shortcomings, we will readily excuse them. Make haste, Una, I do want my tea. Why, you will have some, too, won't you, Mr. Broughton?"

"I think I will get on with my letters in the office while you have tea," he replies. "It is growing dark, and I thought of riding back with you, but I must catch the 5.30 post."

"Well," exclaim the girls, as the master of the mills retreats to his office, "this is cosy. I wonder if he has afternoon tea with crumpets and meringues every day, or if he got them from the confectioner's for our especial benefit. You might often drop in here to tea, Una, instead of paying sixpence a cup at Vellini's, as we did last week when we were shopping in Westborough."

"Vellini's is handy for the shops, and they make delicious ices there, too," says Una. "I fancy these are some of their meringues. Some more tea, Maud? We really ought to be getting home."

"Oh, Una," cries Vivien, almost indignantly, "what a shame not to wait till Mr. Broughton has done his letters. He said he would not be long. "Why cannot we all go together? He has taken a great deal of trouble to interest us, I am sure."

"You need not look at me so reproachfully, my dear child," says her cousin. "I will wait if it is the general desire, of course. Meanwhile, calm your feelings with another crumpet."

Sybil and Maud exchange a quiet, observant smile as Una pours out a cup of tea, and with an air of studied carelessness and indifference passes through the door marked "Office." She feels her conscience reproaching her for unkindness that she knows her husband has felt deeply, as concerns her refusal to enter his mother's house, and she is willing to atone for the slight by supplying him now with a cup of tea. He is busily writing, and does not perceive her approach. She sets the cup upon his writing table, remarking abruptly, "I have brought you some tea."

"I am greatly indebted to you," he replies politely. "Do you know if there are two m's in accommodate, Una?"

"Of course," she answers, pitying him a little for having to write so many wearying business letters. "Drink the tea while it is hot. Have you not almost finished for today?"

"'Yours faithfully, Broughton & Son,'" he repeats as he concludes his letter and partakes of the tea appreciatively. "That must be the last for today. I should get through a great deal of work if I had my wife in the office all day, I fancy. Wait a minute, Una. I think you forgot something. Do you know you never thanked me for that dress I gave you? Monica would charge you about eight shillings a yard for that material, you know."

"I certainly did thank you," says Una. "Or I meant to do so. We are all much obliged to you. Do you want some more tea?"

"The style of thanking I prefer, Una, is the one you adopted towards Kitty Leason when she gave you the roses. Is there any objection to treating the representative of the firm in similar fashion?"

He has risen to put away his papers, and looks so tall and self-possessed that Una feels a frightened throb for a moment at her heart, and backs quickly towards the office door.

"Such conversation is very foolish," she says severely. "Sometimes I think you forget my extreme dislike to any remarks that border on sentimentality. I hope you will soon be ready if you mean to accompany us. You know the Clevethornes are coming to dinner, so we must not be late."

He only stays to give a few parting directions, and then his horse is brought out and he follows the pony carriage down the High Street, riding at the side when the road becomes less busy. It is a cheerful, animated ride, for Vivien is primed with amusing conundrums; and Keith, knowing she is great in languages, gives her a puzzle alike in French, German, and Latin, the solving of which keeps the girls employed till they see the lights of St. Pensart's.

Una reflects it is a good thing he came, since he was able to make a space for the chaise through a drove of cows by riding ahead for a while. Besides, she feels rather proud of her driving powers, and has been quite willing to display what she can do with her agile little ponies, Tulip and Primula.

<><><><>

"They are really getting on better than I expected, mother," says May Clevethorne, after dining at St. Pensart's this evening. "Una treats her husband civilly, at any rate, and though I could see she was reluctant, she did not refuse when Sybil begged them to sing together that duet, 'Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!'"

"Their voices blend charmingly," says Mrs. Clevethorne, "and I begin to think I was mistaken in fearing unhappiness for their future. No one can help liking Keith Broughton, whatever his ancestry. Your father says one of these days he is almost certain to be asked to stand for this division of the county. The working-classes would with one accord send him to Parliament, your father thinks."

"I shall tell mother tomorrow that you have the best and kindest husband in the world, Una," says Sybil, as she kisses her cousin goodnight. "Mother is anxious to know what Mr. Broughton is like. Well, she will understand when I tell her how he is befriending poor Arthur. Many would have let Arthur drift to ruin, without troubling or caring about him. Even father said once that Arthur deserved to suffer if he were silly enough to take to gambling. Oh, Una, I never, never can forget how generously Mr. Broughton has lent him a helping hand, and restored him to hope and to self-respect."

But whatever the outside world may think or say about them, neither the master nor the mistress of St. Pensart's is feeling happy and peaceful-hearted tonight. In Una's spirit the pride of birth, the contempt of people without "ancestors," is warring with respect, gratitude, and another feeling, not yet defined, towards him whom she has wounded by scornfully refusing to meet his mother.

And Keith Broughton, remembering that refusal, and the many times during that very day she has asserted herself as immeasurably superior to him and his family, and removed from him by insurmountable barriers of contempt and indifference, stands at his window looking out sorrowfully to the gardens, bright in the cold sheen of the moonlight.

He tells himself, almost despairingly, "Her heart will never thaw to me. My wife, my darling, will never know, never realize how I love her, how she fills my thoughts, my hopes, my prayers, my life! God bless her -- I will not, must not give up hope. If tender care for her can break down her prejudice and win me the treasure of her heart, my Una's love shall yet be mine. I will do what I can to win her love. Sometimes, sometimes I have thought.... But that may just be only fancy."

Chapter 7

An Introduction

Una misses the Courstans girls very much after their departure, and dreads the meals with her husband, wondering whatever they will find to talk about in front of the servants. Silence will, of course, be the order of the day when they are quite alone.

She drives her cousins to the station, and is relieved to find on her return home that Broughton will not be back to dinner. He has sent a message to St. Pensart's explaining that he is detained in Westborough. Somehow the evening seems very long and lonely, and Una finds herself listening now and then for her husband's step in the hall. She grows weary of the book she is reading, and tells herself it is the absence of Vivien's merry laugh and the cheerful voices of Sybil and Maud that renders solitude so distasteful now.

"We must begin to entertain," she reflects. "I must see plenty of society. I cannot be moped to death like this. I shall send out invitations for a quiet dinner party to begin with."

She decides to breakfast in bed next morning, to show Keith Broughton she has as little desire for his company as he for hers, but the morning is so fair and sunny that she is constrained to rise, and plans an enjoyable gallop across the downs.

"Good morning, Una," says Broughton, coming in from the garden with a flower in his coat. "I hope you did not wait dinner for me yesterday. I was obliged to stay in town, and I expect to be late for the rest of the week. My friend Wilson is unwell, so I have to fill his post."

"It does not matter at all," she answers, taking her place at the table, "and I never wait dinner for anybody. Uncle Hugh always insisted that the meals should be punctual and regular at St. Pensart's. I have no doubt business will detain you as a rule. There is no occasion to apologise."

"Well, it was not exactly business," he replies. "I spent the greater part of the evening playing 'round the mulberry bush,' and 'blind man's buff.' It was rather hot work, and the coat I wore is now torn."

Una opens her eyes in surprise. "Were you at a children's party, then?" she asks. "I thought you were working at the office."

"No, dear. The fact is, my friend Wilson, who belongs to the Westborough Bank, is head of a society that looks after the activities of boys and girls \-- those who would otherwise be playing in the rain and cold out in the streets."

"Oh, ragged children," says Una. "I should be afraid of infection if I went among them." But in her heart she feels curiosity and interest as to Keith's work among the poor, of which rumours have reached her from many quarters.

"Some of them are ragged," he answers, "but all come as tidy as can be managed to our Hall. I only see them once a week, but while Wilson is laid up I am responsible for the doings there, as I am vice-president. Twice a week we have a play evening. Some of them knew very little about games till they came to our room. Life is very hard already for some of those boys and girls. Then tonight they draw, sew, sing, do fretwork and the like. The Hall keeper's wife undertakes the sewing part, as Wilson and I are not equal to that. Directly Wilson is well, we have promised the youngsters a tea and treat. Your friend, Miss Clevethorne, has promised to come down and sing to them. They are wonderfully fond of music."

"Oh, is May going there?" asks Una. "She was always fond of district work and that kind of thing. I wonder what she intends to sing."

"'The Skylark's Message,' and 'Merrily over the Waves,' I believe," he answers. "Those are already on our programme."

"Why, those are duets that she sings with me!" cries Una. "Who is going to take my part?"

"Mrs. Broughton, we hope," he says, passing his cup for more tea. "There is no risk of infection, Una. We take every precaution against that."

"Do you mean me" she asks indignantly.

"I believe that name is our possession, fortunately for myself, dear," is his quiet remark.

"And unfortunately for...." she begins, and then stops short, wondering why it has become so difficult to speak coldly and scornfully to her husband, beneath the quiet, steadfast gaze of his eyes.

"Unfortunately for yourself, you mean, Una. Do you really mean that, I wonder?"

"Of course I do!" she answers, angry with herself that she cannot repress the blushes that make her face suddenly rosy beneath his look. "You have married a Latreille, I only----"

"A husband who loves you more than you realize," he says quietly. "May I trouble you, Una, for a little more sugar?"

There is a long silence, and Una presently takes up a sheet of The Morning Post, whereupon he possesses himself of The Times. It is not till he is just about to depart that she speeds him away with the words, "May has not asked me yet, but when she does so I shall certainly refuse to sing at your Hall. I am not accustomed to such a curious kind of entertainment. I heard a friend say the other day a great deal too much is made of the lower classes now."

"I do not like to hear you speak like that, Una," he says gravely, "though I know very well those words do not spring from your heart. The poor round St. Pensart's know you as liberal and compassionate, and I believe you will be as glad as Miss Clevethorne to brighten the children of the town by giving them a little cheerful music at their treat. Everyone there would appreciate your kindness, most of all the vice-president."

"I should not think of coming," says Una, firmly. "What are those tickets you took out of your pocket? I see Sir Geoffrey Wentworth's name."

"Yes, he is president of the county agricultural society, and I am one of the committee. These are tickets for the private visit next Tuesday. I do not know if you would care to see prize cattle and goats and the like, Una, but I believe many of your friends will be present, and the military band is to play."

"Oh, yes, the Duchess of Lysleye has promised to attend. She is a peeress in her own right. Uncle used to know her, but I cannot remember her. I have often wished to meet her, and her daughter, Lady Mary Roselle. One sees her portrait everywhere. She is very beautiful."

"Well, I will keep Tuesday afternoon free, and show you over the exhibition in Sir Geoffrey's park, Una," says her husband.

She opens her eyes disdainfully, remarking, "I have known him and his all my life, and there is no necessity for me to take you from the factory to escort me."

He does not look in the best of spirits as he rides down the avenue, these farewell words echoing in his ears. Una is rather ashamed of her ill-temper as she sees the cloud upon his face, but she consoles herself by selecting the attire she will wear at the agricultural fete -- a dainty combination of half-mourning heliotrope tints.

She has been to Sir Geoffrey's private visits before, and knows they are cheerful occasions, with Sir Geoffrey providing tea, fruit, and high-class music in a picturesque marquee. The Duchess of Lysleye knew both her parents, and Una looks forward to the opportunity of becoming acquainted with one familiar with the Court, and the leader of county society.

It is not long before May Clevethorne calls at St. Pensart's and tries to coax Una to sing the duets with her at the Broughton Hall in Westborough. Keith's father founded this institution, which for many years has carried on a good and helpful work, and brightened all the neighbourhood. But its association with the Broughton family makes Una obstinately determined to hold herself aloof from it, and she tells May she must sing a solo or get someone else to take her part in the duets. Come to such a place as the Broughton Hall she will not, and she only wonders that Mrs. Clevethorne lets May go!

"Oh, I am a spoilt child, you know," says May. "Mother generally yields to my desires; and besides, she knows the poor people round there work hard and have very little pleasure. It is a privilege to sing to them, for they do appreciate it, Una. They give us more than the cold, formal acknowledgments of the ordinary drawing room audience. I will not press you further now, but think over it, and I believe you will come. We practised those songs together, and they are the best I have by me just now."

<><><><>

The afternoon of the agricultural fete is bright and cloudless. Una looks a vision of youth and beauty as she enters her pony carriage to drive to Sir Geoffrey's. Keith Broughton's eyes tell her he is intensely proud of her. This is really their first appearance in county society together, but he does not seem at all nervous or constrained or inclined to remember how far removed is his own social status from that of a Latreille or a Lysleye.

"So you have come after all," she says discontentedly, as she takes the reins. "I wonder you could get away from the mills. I suppose you do not expect to drive?"

"No, I feel lazy and will leave the hard work to you. By the way, Una, you should have brought a wrap with you. What was Valerie thinking about? There is always a breeze driving, and you will be chilly returning. We must turn back for a shawl."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," she answers. "I told Valerie I required no wraps today, as the sun is quite bright. Are you meaning to get out for one? If you do, I shall certainly drive on. I specially want to see the Duchess and Lady Mary, and they are sure to leave early."

"Drive on if you wish," he answers." It will not exhaust me to walk to Wentworth Meads, but I cannot let you return this evening without some sort of wrap."

He touches the reins lightly, and Tulip and Primula slacken their pace as he alights. They seem to be rather slow this afternoon, for he manages to overtake them by-and-by, bearing a white fleecy shawl and fur cape, and Una remarks: "I am quite ashamed of their pace today. I fear Primula may be a little lame. I wish I had ordered the landau."

"Perhaps their pace will mend presently, Una," says Keith, who has a private idea the fair driver has not been inclined to hurry the ponies for the last few minutes. "Lend me the reins awhile. Come, Tulip, come, Primula, show your mistress you can move when told to do so."

"Do you suppose I did not tell them, then?" she asks indignantly.

"I should have thought it very unkind had you gone so fast that you left me behind," he replies. "I am not going to quarrel today, Una. It is too bright and lovely, and besides, this is the first drive I have had with you alone, and I mean to thoroughly enjoy it. Do you know I have never seen you in that dress before? Is it a new one? Where did you get it? The colour suits you beautifully, but then I think that of whatever you are wearing!"

"I do not intend to talk," says Una with dignity. "I cannot both converse and drive. Let us proceed in silence, please."

"Very well, my darling."

"You must not say that," she cries quickly, and he as notes there is a little catch in her voice that rather spoils its coldness. "Our agreement is that we never say words like that to one another."

"It was a one-sided agreement, Una," he explains." I never promised to emulate an icicle when with my wife. You resolved, never to address or treat me endearingly."

"And have I broken my resolve?" she asks, looking straight before her, and flicking a fly from Tulip's ear.

"No, I can certify you never have, Una, and I am getting quite exhausted waiting for the golden hour when you will."

"That hour will never, never come," she says proudly. "You wanted me because I am a Latreille"

"That is false!" he replies. "None but you should dare to offer me that insult. Stop one moment, if you please. I prefer to walk the rest of the way."

Una glances at his flushed, indignant face from under her long, sweeping lashes. She sees she has gone far enough, and, womanlike, begins to soothe what she has roused into anger.

"Well, we each agreed to marry for self-interest, of course," she remarks. "I decline to consider any question of sentiment. I leave that to the writers of novels, but there is no need to make a scene just as we are near Wentworth Meads. You said yourself you did not mean to quarrel ... Keith."

"I prefer to walk, thank you," he answers. "I am tired of hearing that I married you for the sake of social elevation. Your entrance will be far more successful without my company at your side, I am sure."

"No, do not get out," she says hastily. "Everyone will expect us to go together. We need not make ourselves a subject of gossip. I did not mean to offend you. Please drive on with me to the Meads."

"I will, if you say, 'Stay with me, husband.' Do you know you have never used that word to me yet? 'Stay with me, husband.' Say it, Una."

"Oh, it means nothing," she says, giving him a look of indignant reproof. "I am sure I do not know what you are smiling at, Mr. Broughton. Some people do look so foolish when they smile."

"Well, are you going to say it, or shall I bid you au revoir?"

"Oh, I do not mind saying a few meaningless words, rather than set people wondering why we arrive separately. Since you make such a point of it.... Stay with me ... husband." The last word is almost a whisper, and Una puts up her gloved hand to her face, complaining that the sun scorches her even through her veil. She then proceeds hastily to relate some reminiscences her Uncle Hugh used to give concerning the Lysleye family, wonders what the Duchess will wear, and tries to efface the memory of that low, whispered word that brought the love-light shining like a star upon Keith Broughton's face.

He answers in monosyllables, saying quietly as they near the Meads, "You seem gifted with extraordinary conversational powers for the last mile or so, Una. I understood you never could talk while driving."

"I will never drive with you again," she says decisively. "The enjoyment of a drive quite depends, I find, upon having a congenial companion. Oh, here is Sir Geoffrey's groom. He will see to the ponies."

The two alight, crossing the velvety turf to the marquee where Sir Geoffrey and Lady Wentworth are receiving their friends and guests. Una is soon in the midst of a circle of intimates, the "queen-rose" of a bright and lively circle who are more concerned as to society ways and doings, than as to heifers, honey, agricultural machinery, and the like.

Broughton, on the contrary, is always interested in machinery, and he has spent some time amid sundry engines and implements before he again comes across his wife, who happens to be with a party of foreign friends of Sir Geoffrey's, people unacquainted with the majority of those present and appreciative of her fluent French.

"Oh, Keith," she says eagerly, "have you seen the Duchess and Lady Mary? I have just been showing them to Sir Geoffrey's cousins. Madam Marblon, may I introduce Mr. Broughton? The Duchess has the loveliest face imaginable -- aristocratic and intensely refined, but so sweet and gracious. And she is dressed so tastefully, too, like some last-century picture; and her daughter is very pretty, with such a calm, peaceful face -- one you feel you can trust."

"Why, Una, you have gone into quite a rhapsody over these people of high degree," he says lightly. "I understood the Duchess was unable to come over as arranged today."

"Oh, no, that must be a mistake. I know everyone for miles around, and those two are strange to me. You see, they are seldom at Lysleydene, and when they were last here I was in Paris. Look to your left, you see them now between the trees. The Duchess is resting on a garden chair, and her daughter is speaking to Lady Wentworth. I must ask Lady Wentworth to introduce me by-and-by. I do not wonder Uncle Hugh thought so much of the Duchess. I call her expression simply beautiful."

"So do I," says Keith, when he has taken a long, observant survey in the direction she indicates. "I am glad you share my admiration of those two, Una. I can introduce you at once if you like."

"You! Do you know them, then? Surely, they cannot do business at the mills?" asks Una, in disdainful perplexity.

"Well, I know them well enough to introduce you, Una," he answers. "If you can leave these ladies a while, I am at your service. I see Lady Wentworth has been summoned away, so her aristocratic and noble guests -- which they are in the truest sense of the word -- are for a while alone."

Una scarcely heeds his remarks; her eyes are fixed upon a silver-haired old lady attired in grey satin, with a bonnet of the same hue, prettily quilted and brightened with white lace, setting off her venerable locks, and a shawl of rich black lace enwrapping her figure.

"She looks like a Quaker Friend," thinks Una, "or like those sweet, pictured faces of our ancestresses in bygone days." And she is charmed likewise with the pleasant expression of the younger lady, who is dressed simply but tastefully in white, with a large hat trimmed with cornflowers.

"Are you certain you know them, Keith?" she asks doubtfully. "Perhaps you do not quite understand society's ways as regards introductions."

"Perhaps not, but I can promise you in this case a very warm reception for my sake."

"For your sake?" she asks, bewildered.

"Yes, you will be astonished to hear I am a very great favourite with your much-admired duchess. Can you understand such bad taste, Una? Can you believe any living creature would waste affection on your husband?"

"Affection!" Una's eyes open widely and disdainfully. She supposes the Broughtons may at one time have been poor dependants at Lysleydene, and thus the Duchess may feel some kindly interest in the family still. But, of course, a Latreille will be received as an equal. Was not Uncle Hugh a playfellow of the Duchess of Lysleye once?

Her face wears its most bewitching smile, and her eyes shine with pleasurable excitement as they approach the two, amid the music of a gentle, graceful minuet played by the band. Keith Broughton stoops gently down and touches the old lady's hand, smiling into the sweet, wrinkled face.

"Mother," he says softly, "this is Una. Cousin Jennie, this is my wife."

A mist seems to rise before Una's eyes. She is so utterly taken back, so dismayed to find she has paved the way for an interview she has so long and so resolutely refused. At first she can scarcely realize she indeed stands before Keith's mother. She has pictured a common, over-dressed person, of whom every moment she would feel ashamed, and the aged Quaker lady is the very opposite of the mother-in-law of her imagination.

And this is Cousin Jennie, the cousin of whom she refused to hear when Mr. Jenkins spoke of his daughter! Una lost her own mother when she was very little, and something in her heart goes out longingly to the sweet-faced lady whom Keith calls mother. She feels she could take up the same precious name, but no, has she not declared she never, never will know his mother? He shall not triumph, even though her foolish, impulsive words betrayed admiration of his kindred.

"My dear daughter, sit thee beside me. I have longed to talk with thee," says Keith's mother, yearningly, tremblingly. "I would have come to see thee, but I have not been out of my house for seven months. Let me see thy face, dear child. Jennie, Jennie, let Keith's wife sit between us. Keith, there is room for thee, my son, under the lime tree."

Keith's eyes are fixed on Una anxiously. His face glows as he hears his much-loved mother's tender tones, but it darkens like a storm cloud as Una lifts her proud head in the stately way he knows of old, looking his relatives through without seeming to see them, remarks, "I am afraid you have but a poor memory, Mr. Broughton. I am sorry to be obliged to remind you a Latreille cannot make the acquaintance in society of mill employees. Excuse me, I see Mrs. Clevethorne in the distance." Turning her back upon the trio, she moves slowly away haughtily, but conscious to the depths of her heart of that dark, disappointed, indignant look upon her husband's face.

### Chapter 8

Keith's Mother

The rest of the afternoon passes miserably for Una. She listens to the cheerful voices and music around, and sees the dainty action of the ponies that are being judged by Sir Geoffrey, as one in a dream. Many admiring eyes follow her here and there, and everyone makes much of her as of old. But she cannot rid herself of the thought of the pained, surprised expression in the sweet, gentle face that beamed welcome upon her, and of Keith's indignant, stern, insulted look. She knows that in wounding his mother she has hurt him inexpressibly, and the knowledge makes her so unhappy she is almost impatient with herself for weakness and sentimentality.

A sense of shame possesses her, recalling Keith's invariable kindness and consideration, and how when the many admirers of her prosperous days waxed less ardent and assiduous in their attentions when her inherited debts were made known, the one suitor she had despised set her first in his thoughts and concerned himself about her. Then, what must his cousin think of her -- the daughter of the man whose generous present she has accepted and uses continually?

She begins to realize that she it is who has been unladylike, commonly self-assertive, lacking in all the courtesy to be expected from a gentlewoman and one of the Latreille race. But she betrays nothing of her inward shame and regret to Keith Broughton, when later he informs her the chaise is waiting, and asks if she is ready to return to St. Pensart's.

Una recognises that the ring of warmth is gone from his tones. His manner is cold and distant, as chilly as her own in answering, "Yes, I am ready. I think the whole affair a decided failure."

"It is getting dark," he says. "I will drive this time, as I am rather in a hurry. I have to return to Westborough when you are safely within the grounds. It is rather a pity you did not bring Maurice."

"I never require an attendant with the chaise," she says frigidly. "Pray do not trouble to come out of your way, Mr. Broughton. I very much prefer to drive back alone."

"No doubt," he replies, "but I do not consider it safe in the twilight. There may be unpleasant men about." He takes the reins, and she sits silently beside him, shivering in the chilly air of gloaming, and glad of the white shawl she rejected earlier in the day.

Una has never known him so stern and reticent, and she feels miserably unhappy, though too proud to betray her heartache. She is thankful Mr. and Mrs. Peel from the Rectory are coming to dinner at St. Pensart's. Having to entertain them will, in some measure, divert her thoughts.

As they near home she remarks that Mr. Peel will expect to see his host at dinner. "He will certainly think it rude," she says, "if you are away."

"Do ladies expect the monopoly of rudeness?" he asks shortly; and Una is silent, feeling in her heart he has some ground for his anger and coldness. She afterwards finds he has apologised for his absence to Mr. Peel's son, whom he met at the fete, asking him to convey his regrets to the rector.

<><><><>

The old couple talk away as usual in their kind, pleasant fashion, but even they discern Una is troubled in mind, and Mrs. Peel remarks, on leaving St. Pensart's, "I do hope, my dear, nothing has gone wrong between the young people. How very seldom Una mentions her husband. And you know Eustace said Mr. Broughton was looking depressed when he conversed with him this afternoon."

"Well, well, my dear," says good Mr. Peel, "the first year of married life is often rather trying. They will get along well enough if there is affection between them. I only hope such is the case," he adds rather anxiously.

Una guesses that her husband is spending the evening in the High Street, and she thinks a good deal about the old lady in the dove-coloured satin, and the cousin with the pretty grey eyes who would evidently have suited Keith so well. Why did he not take a fancy to her? Perhaps now he sees and regrets his mistake, and feels the chain he has forged is cruel and galling.

The end of these meditations is a flood of tears. But these are secret, and if Keith guesses them as he passes her in the corridor when leaving the house next morning, it does not remove his depression to discern that all he has been able to give the mistress of St. Pensart's has failed to make hers a happy marriage.

<><><><>

Una has shopping to do in Westborough on the morrow, and she walks in after lunch, longing to escape from callers and to find relief from her headache in air and exercise. She calls at the milliner's, the music warehouse, the library: and then, with a trembling hand, and her fair face lovelier than ever, with a look of the impulsive courage of the Latreilles, she rings the bell at 50, High Street, an old, substantial-looking house standing back somewhat from the pathway, with a large, old-fashioned garden at the back.

A covered, tiled walk leads from the outside gate to the hall door. Down this walk comes a maid of the olden times in a mobcap and mittens, one who has been with old Mrs. Broughton since first she was married. Una is feeling sadly awkward -- a sensation to which she is a stranger -- but the servant relieves her at once by breaking into a smile of welcome.

"It's Mrs. Keith, isn't it?" she says, unlocking the gate. "I was in the church at your wedding, madam. I thought I couldn't be mistaken. Miss Jennie has gone to the station to meet her father, but the mistress is in. It isn't often she is out when it threatens rain."

She calls out, "It's Mrs. Keith, ma'am, and I'll bring up tea directly."

So saying, the ancient dame ushers Una through a hall bright with flowers and plants to a cosy sitting room, where Keith's mother is knitting on behalf of a poor child, looking sweeter than ever, Una discerns, in her white lace cap and soft black satin dress.

"Come in, dear child," she says tenderly. "Take off thy hat and cloak, and sit down in the rocking chair. I was just wishing I had company. Did thee walk in or drive? Thy face looks pale and tired, my daughter."

It is such a relief to Una to be received so simply and naturally, and without a sign of resentment, that the reaction of mind can only find vent in tears. She can scarcely believe herself that she is crying by the side of the old lady's armchair with Keith's mother gently kissing away the tears, and soothing her with the fond, quiet touch that has calmed many and many a restless spirit. Una falters that she is ashamed of the words she spoke yesterday, but Mrs. Broughton stops the apology with a caress.

"My daughter," she says, "thou wert right in suggesting I once worked in a factory. It has pleased Heaven to change my circumstances since those clays. But of hard work and poverty I cannot feel ashamed, nor do I think our hearts will hold apart, dear child, because I once was so poor, seeing we both love Keith."

Una's face burns, and she lifts it quickly from his mother's shoulder. "Oh, no!" she says hastily: "I ... I...." Then she reflects she has brought enough pain to his mother's heart, and she need not trouble that peaceful life with the domestic clouds of St. Pensart's. Old Mrs. Broughton is one of those choice spirits refined and cultured by nature, innately kind and considerate, and beloved the more as she is the better and more intimately known.

Una already feels rested and brightened in that fair, peaceful room, and she is smiling through her tears by the time the old servant brings tea, with homemade bread and some special biscuits, of which she carefully guards the recipe. Altogether she spends nearly three hours with Mrs. Broughton, and the old lady takes her over the house, talking fondly of Keith's childhood and boyhood, and showing portraits of her much-loved boy -- the only one spared from several children -- at various ages dating upwards from babyhood.

Una is enraptured with some old cups and choice Palissy ware she finds in a cabinet, and she opens her eyes in delight over a very old set of French miniatures. However has Keith's family become possessed of these treasures? It is not till long after she understands Mrs. Broughton is descended from Huguenots once numbered among the French nobility, and these treasures are hers by inheritance. Neither Keith nor his mother tries to purchase her regard by boast as to honourable ancestry.

Cousin Jennie looks decidedly astonished to find Keith's wife at home with the mother-in-law whom yesterday she refused to recognise. But she speedily falls a victim to the frank charm of Una's manner as the girl holds out her hand, asking her to forgive her rudeness at the fete, and to come and see her at St. Pensart's and bring Uncle Samuel.

Mr. Samuel Jenkins has come to stay for a day or two and to take his daughter home. His kind face beams with pleasure as Una thanks him with shining eyes for the ponies and carriage, and he tells Jennie by-and-by, "It's as if ice had melted to see Keith's wife along of his mother and us today. It's worth travelling miles to see a change like that. Well, Jennie, you'll enjoy seeing the fine place Keith has bought. We must certainly go over before I leave."

<><><><>

Una feels as if a great burden had been lifted off her heart. She goes home happily, though she is a little shy of her husband after what she has done, and earnestly hopes he will not allude to the subject of her impulsive visit. He makes no mention of 50, High Street when they meet, though something in his face tells her he is fully aware of her proceedings. She is so afraid he will think she went there to please and propitiate him, that she avoids his presence as much as possible and takes care to treat him with due formality, and to time her future visits to his mother when she knows he is not likely to appear upon the scene.

The old lady spends a long day at St. Pensart's, together with Jennie and her father. Visitors drop in, and one or two are at first inclined to stare rather coldly and haughtily at sociable and free-and-easy Mr. Jenkins. But Una soon puts an end to this by paying him pronounced attention, and calling him "uncle," with the gentle deference that seems so charming in one whose pride is proverbial.

Keith's mother follows her beautiful daughter with a glad, loving gaze, and Jennie, though she is pleased to return to her home and the neighbouring curate to whom she is pledged, has fallen quite in love with Una, and installs her as her ideal of grace and graciousness. All this, however, occurs by Una's careful arrangement on a day Keith is absent in London, so the master of St. Pensart's is not regaled with the sight of a Latreille standing up on behalf of a commercial visitor.

Keith hears often enough that Una will not sing to the poor people at the Broughton Hall. He has many things to think about, but he spends a great deal of time and care in arranging the annual indoor treat -- there is always a summer excursion besides -- and he wishes in his heart that Una could be a witness of the genuine enjoyment that is sure to fill the evening.

He goes to the Hall, when the great occasion comes round, straight from the mills. He is helping after tea to move the piano into the right position, when his friend Mr. Wilson remarks, "I am so glad you induced Mrs. Broughton to come. She has just arrived in the Clevethornes' carriage."

Una looks a little frightened at the unwonted noise and bustle. Hundreds of boys and girls are present, and as many of their parents as can crowd into the Hall. It is a relief to her to reach Keith's side, and he conducts the ladies to a room at the back where they can leave their cloaks, remarking they would not appreciate the kind of tea the children have had, or he would offer them some.

"It is like a menagerie," says Una. "What a dreadful noise! May coaxed me to come. She gave me no peace till I consented, did you not, May? But I did not expect a menagerie."

"Say rather a 'happy family,' Una," says her husband. "And now we are complete, seeing the nightingales have come to charm us. We cannot thank you enough, Miss Clevethorne, for honouring us thus, and for bringing one who to all my hints proved as adamant."

"Oh, well, I do not see how we are to sing in all this noise. We may as well go home," says Una, but she is astonished to find that a signal from her husband produces silence, and that adults and children alike revel in the music that is provided.

Each duet is encored, and the ladies find when they leave the Hall that May has sung three solos besides, and Una five. After her "Home, Sweet Home" there were tears in the eyes of strong, labour-worn men, and a new light and glow on many a wearied woman's face, inspired by the magic spell of music.

The carriage from St. Pensart's is waiting outside Broughton Hall at the close of the entertainment. May Clevethorne has left earlier in the Grange carriage, followed by rapturous applause, and cheer after cheer rings upon the evening air as the husband and wife take their departure, a fur cloak covering the grey dinner dress that Una has worn on the platform.

She feels very tired, and her head aches a little, being unused to a crowded room like the Hall, but there is a strange sense of gladness at her heart -- a feeling that she has helped to make others cheerful, and uplifted them by the power of music.

"Thank you for waiting for me, Una," says her husband. "I expected you would leave with your friend. I hope you are not wearied out."

"Oh, as you had ordered the carriage to fetch you, I thought I had better go direct than trouble May's coachman," she says. "It was very tiring, was it not? But May sang splendidly."

"She did not equal your solo of 'Home, Sweet Home,' though," he answers. "That was the song of the evening, Una. If sentiment were not absolutely forbidden between us, I would try to thank you for the help you have given me tonight. You have fairly taken my friends of Chequer Lane and the Marsh by storm."

"I only came because May begged me," she explains. "I hope you do not think----"

"I wish I might tell you what I do think," he says, in a voice that sends the roses to her face, though there is no light beyond the carriage lamps. "May I, Una?" And, as he draws the fur cloak closer around her his hand lingers for a moment on the little gloved hands that lie in her lap. Una draws them quickly away, more frightened of herself than of him.

Surely, she thinks, it cannot be that the practical, frigid, romance-despising Una Latreille is sitting there with trembling pulses and beating heart, quivering beneath his touch! No, she will assert herself as of yore. This is folly. If they cannot speak commonsense, let them drive on in silence,

"Mr. Broughton," she says coldly, "you forget yourself. I shall certainly leave the carriage if you ... if you act like that."

"Act like what?" he asks in surprise.

Una is annoyed with herself, thinking, "Perhaps he only touched my hands by accident. He might not have meant to do so." Then she says aloud, "Let us talk sensibly if we must talk at all; but I am tired and would much rather go to sleep."

"Just as you like," he says politely. "But I should like an answer, if quite convenient, to a problem that has been perplexing my mind all the evening."

"A problem! Do you mean a conundrum? I am not at all clever at solving puzzles of any kind, I assure you."

"But you could settle this puzzle once for all, if you only will, Una. At what period after marriage is a husband -- in society -- justified in giving his wife a kiss? I wish you would explain the etiquette upon the point, Una. We have been married...."

Una shrinks back into her corner as far as she can go, and he is conscious of the movement, though he cannot see the roses on her face and the trembling of her restless hands.

"Do not be frightened," he says gently. "You need fear no annoyance from me, Una. But when you think the right time has elapsed, and even society would allow me one----"

"Oh, here is the lodge! We are nearly home," she says hastily, in a tone of great relief. "I am so glad. What a very long drive it has seemed. Mr. Broughton, my cloak has caught in your coat, unfortunately. Do you mind unfastening the ribbon?"

"It does not matter at all," says Keith. "Pray do not mention it."

And she is trying to free herself as best she can, which is managed at last, with some diminution of her usual dignity.

That drive is enshrined in the memory of both. It seems to promise a brighter and gentler era between them, but somehow Una begins to suspect her husband feels he went too far that night, for he is decidedly drawing back into his shell.

<><><><>

Within a few days after the entertainment Una notices a change in his usually cheery demeanour. He seems to converse with an effort, and she scarcely ever sees a smile upon his face. The chill sense comes to her that his marriage is becoming a trouble and a sorrow to him. Is it possible he can once have fancied someone else, and may she now be free, while he is bound?

Una feels that if she deserves to suffer. Since her marriage was heartless and selfish, she suffers now indeed. And since many a sweet, high lesson is learnt amid sorrow and shadow alone, it comes to pass that in the furnace of her secret grief she grows gentler, more sympathetic, more truly womanly.

<><><><>

As the days go on, Una becomes more and more convinced there is a burden upon her husband's spirits. And what can it be but the fact that he is discontented and miserable in his marriage? His mother evidently has not discerned the absence of his usual cheerfulness. It may be only at St. Pensart's, thinks Una proudly, when near her, that he becomes pre-occupied and melancholy, realizing how much better he might have done, matrimonially, but for his romantic desire to shield her from battling with the world.

In secret she frets a good deal concerning his clouded looks, for a little while ago the dawn of happiness at St. Pensart's seemed smiling in the horizon. She reproaches herself in deep spirit-suffering during these anxious days for sacrificing him to her selfishness. Now, what effort of hers to fulfil a wife's duty can atone to him for the fact that he is united to one whose nature fails to satisfy him and to reach his high ideal?

Mrs. Perriss and her companion have now returned to Westborough, and Una sees a good deal of them, and takes care they know in what high and loving esteem she has learnt to hold Keith's mother, concerning whom she used to converse with them disparagingly. One evening the husband and wife are engaged to dine with Mrs. Perriss, and Una hears at the last moment that Keith will be unable to accompany her. She feels rather indignant, as only yesterday he excused himself from a concert in Westborough Town Hall, and a flush rises to her face as she reflects her society must be growing unbearable to him.

At first she decides to go out to dine alone without further protest, but she really does not know what explanation to offer to Mrs. Perriss. When she is ready, she makes up her mind to ask him if he is unwell, and why he has ensconced himself within his special sanctum \-- the library -- instead of dressing to go out for the evening, as arranged.

Chapter 9

Forebodings

Una opens the library door and enters slowly, and with considerable hesitation. For the quiet dinner with Mrs. Perriss she has donned the dress she chose at the mills, and it falls around her in graceful, gleaming folds, a few blackberry leaves and crimson berries nestling amid the lace at her neck, and revealed beneath her white, fur-lined cloak, which as yet she has not fastened.

She believes she has never looked lovelier than now, as with dignity and wounded pride struggling with compassion for his evident dejection she addresses her husband who is standing leaning against the mantelpiece while gazing gloomily into the fire. "Are you not ready yet?" she asks him. "Mrs. Perriss fully expects you. I am sorry the task of escorting me is so distasteful, but I scarcely know what excuse to make for your absence. Is it true that you will not come?"

"Say I have a headache," he answers. "It will be true. I could not sit through dinner this evening. I am very grieved to appear uncivil, Una, but I really do not feel up to visiting just now, and we need not stand on ceremony with Mrs. Perriss."

"Nor with one another," she says haughtily. "It would be more candid to tell me plainly you prefer to be alone, and I will not inflict my company upon you further. I always enjoy a solitary drive such a moonlight evening as this."

"You are mistaken, Una," he says gravely. "I will intrude no sentiment upon you. You have repeatedly forbidden it, but I never prefer your absence to your company. The fact is, I have a good many business worries just now, and they fill my thoughts and render me unfit for society. When I am less morose, I will atone to Mrs. Perriss for seeming rudeness. Go and enjoy yourself, dear."

"I am going presently," says Una, a sense of infinite pity beginning to flood her heart for her husband who seems to be disturbed by anxieties of which she has not dreamed. "I ... I did not know you were in trouble. Will you have some eau-de-cologne for your head?"

"No, thank you, Una. Adams, my manager, will be in to see me presently. I must confer with him and with the head clerk tonight. I have no doubt things will straighten soon. I feel sure Mrs. Perriss will not be offended if you excuse me this evening."

"Would you like to see a letter I had from Sybil Courstans today?" asks Una, thinking the good news it contains may cheer him up. "She want you to know that good accounts reach them concerning Glenrhaer. He is working hard at the embassy, is connected with a quiet, steady set, and his mother thankfully reports that 'a nobler and higher purpose seems to fill his whole life now.' I fancy, as time goes on, she will be the prize of poor Arthur's striving. Sybil always says you gave him the first gleam of hope by lifting that burden of the mortgage from his life, and so setting him free from those gamblers."

"He is gradually reducing the debt. I also know for a fact that he is working earnestly and honourably, and proving worthy of his family traditions, Una," says Keith, with a quiet smile. "But had you not better ring for the carriage now? Shall I do so, Una? I fear you may be late if you delay."

"Mrs. Perriss does not dine till eight," she answers, wishing she could find some word to unlock his confidence without annoying him by seeming persistent and intrusive. "Is the trouble about money, Keith? Uncle Hugh was so often worried about money matters. Have I been spending too much?"

"No, you are not at all extravagant," he answers, smiling. "You spend less than I anticipated, Una. There is no reason for you to reproach yourself. Go to your friend's house with an easy mind."

"But you look so worried," she says, in a low voice. "You need not mind telling me, Keith. Something must have happened to depress you so. Have you had losses like uncle did? Perhaps you invested money and the company failed. Some company always does seem failing now."

"The truth is, Una," he answers, "I am overanxious. No loss has befallen me yet. It is the dread of what may be coming that oppresses me, and has weighed on me for a long time now. If what I fear comes to pass, losses certainly are in store for me, and the business my father built up will lose its standing and go down, slowly, but surely. That may mean a great change in our lives, Una. Many and many a manufacturer before me has known losses and difficulties, and money has no charms for me save as I can help others with it. But it is of you I think -- it is for you I fear. What could you do without the luxuries to which you have been accustomed all your life -- luxuries you naturally expected when you agreed to marry me?"

"I daresay you have found me very selfish," she says, colouring, "but I do not know that I exist only for luxuries. I expect I should survive their loss. We ... we married ... for better ... for worse."

Her voice falls brokenly on his ear. He flushes, restraining with an effort the impulse to draw her into the arms that have longed for her so long.

"Una, you do not know the real meaning of adversity yet. Heaven grant you never may! But I may be powerless to ward off calamity from you. If the business collapses -- and just now we are at a crisis -- I may not be able to keep on St. Pensart's. We might have to live in a house as small as my mother's. I know it would break your heart to leave St. Pensart's."

"Could I not keep it on with my settlements even if the worst comes?" she asks.

"No, dear, they are bound up with the interests of the business. And mother's income, too, comes from the mills. But while I live she should never know if that income is diminished."

"No, she must not know," says Una. "But I do not see why you worry yourself, Keith. A small house can be pretty and cosy, and I daresay very soon I should like it as much as I do St. Pensart's. And perhaps I could get money by teaching singing and music."

"Oh, Una, don't!" he cries suddenly, the vision of his wife reduced to poverty seeming more than he can bear. His head aches with long anxiety and suspense, and an impulse beyond her control takes Una's hand soothingly to his arm. He covers it with his own, wondering if this be but one of the dreams of her gentleness from which he has often awaked.

"Una," he says, trying to speak composedly, "your womanly compassion is very kind, very comforting, but I know you have planned a pleasant evening with Mrs. Perriss. I must not monopolize you any longer. It was selfish of me to oppress you with my anxieties, and, besides, forebodings are both weak and wrong. I can only do what seems my duty, and hope for the best. You have cheered and strengthened me inexpressibly already. Now I must not keep you. Next time you go out I shall feel more sociable as to dining. Perhaps Mrs. Perriss will come over to St. Pensart's soon."

"Oh, she is very good-natured. She will not be offended," says Una. "It is such a relief to know what is on your mind. I thought...."

"What did you think, Una? I am afraid I have been a morose, gloomy sort of fellow for a long time now. Tell me what you have been imagining."

"Oh, I don't know," says Una, with a blush. "I thought of all sorts of things, but never about the business. Won't you tell me more about it, Keith? What is it that would mean such trouble for you? Are you fearing some bank may fail?"

"No, Una, but I do not know if you will quite understand. What I have to face just now is the possibility of a strike."

"A strike! But, Keith, that never, never would happen at your mills. Your mother says all who work for you are fond of you, and I am sure they seemed so that day I went over the mills."

"So they are, I believe, in their hearts," he says thoughtfully, "but strikes are the order of the day, Una, and there is a great deal of agitation going on in the neighbourhood at the present time, both persuasion and intimidation. I really pay in all departments what I can afford, and no one can say our hours or system of work can be called unreasonable. Besides, I have for months now been forming a system whereby everyone employed at our mills may share in the profits. Mr. Craig has had the matter a long time under consideration, and I have been consulting those who adopt a similar plan. I meant to announce the new scheme at Christmas, and I must say I feel hurt that there should even be a chance of misunderstanding at our mills."

"I really think you must be mistaken," says Una earnestly. "What can they want in reason or in kindness that you would deny them, Keith?"

"Una, do you really think so well of me as those words imply?" he asks, looking down at her with a face from which much of the shadow has already disappeared.

"Your mother says you are a very good master," she answers, looking at the flowers on the overmantel. "Do you really think the people at the mills can be discontented?"

"I do not know what claims they may be considering at present," he replies. "There are un-restful influences at work among the mills round about, and the feeling has spread to mine. If I cannot grant their claims -- and it may be out of my power to do so -- the next thing will probably be that I shall find the place deserted and shut up, and that will eventually mean ruin, I fear!"

"I do not believe they will be so cruel, Keith."

"They may get worked up in their excitement to the idea that their master is grasping, hard, and unjust," he answers. "I have heard the rumour that this very evening many of them have arranged a meeting in a schoolroom down in the Marsh, to talk over their position and decide if they shall threaten a strike or not, failing higher wages. I suppose it will end in a strike, and it could not come at a worse time. Oh, Una, I have been careful to keep all this from my mother. If you knew what a relief it is to tell you these worries, my darling -- but I forgot, I must not call you that."

"You may, while you are in such trouble," she answers gravely. "There are exceptions to every rule. Do you mean, Keith, a strike would be ruinous because you have so many orders on hand?"

"Yes, dear, I have just had most important orders from several of our largest customers abroad. Houses that have supported us faithfully. Their orders must be despatched, or they will go elsewhere. Once we disappoint such houses, our good reputation will be lost. Besides, I should lose largely every day our expensive machinery is idle. Of course, the strike never may come to pass. Heaven grant my anxieties have been needless. I have honestly done my best for all at the mills. Well, a very few days now will decide."

There is silence for a while. Una longs to comfort him, but shrinks in her shyness from words that may seem to reveal the welling tenderness within her heart.

"I did not know you had these anxieties," she says presently, "but I would not look at the dark side if I were you. After all, at the very worst, if the business were to go down, you ... we should only be poor. Need we be afraid of being poor? Only last week I was talking to Mrs. Peel's youngest daughter who married so badly, as they said, a struggling artist, and she told me she is the happiest wife in the world. They have very little money, but they seem quite contented."

"You mean Athol and his wife? Ah, but they are what you would call a Darby and Joan couple. They are bound up in each other. Troubles fall lightly on hearts that love, Una."

She makes no reply. The wheels of the carriage waiting for her sound on the gravel walk outside. She glances at his anxious face, and a sudden impulse takes possession of her heart. Like a flash she seems to see a way in which at least she can try to help him. If she fails, it shall not be for lack of courage or effort or earnestness.

Something tells her that if he knew what filled her thoughts he would forbid the notion as wild, perhaps dangerous. But none shall know. As the Latreilles of old faced adventure without a fear, she will still the throbbings of her shrinking heart for the sake of bringing relief to the anxieties of the husband who has had as yet little from her beyond coldness and neglect.

"I think I hear the carriage," she says, withdrawing her hand and fastening her cloak. "If you are sure you will not come, perhaps I had better not linger, Keith. Promise me you will not increase your headache by imagining all sorts of calamities. For my own part, I feel quite certain there will be no strike at our ... your mills."

"Say 'our mills,' Una," he says, with a smile. "What is mine is thine, but I suppose a Latreille would not condescend to own a place of manufacture."

"I think I hear Mr. Adams in the hall," she says hastily. "Don't let him worry you. Tell him I have a presentiment things will go well, and my presentiments always do come right. Goodbye, I must really go now. Wish me prosperity."

He puts his hand gently on her shoulder and looks down into her face, half shy, half smiling. "Wish you prosperity, Una? That I do every moment that I live. Do you know this has been the happiest evening since our marriage for me?"

"I really must go," repeats Una hurriedly. "The horses will get quite impatient. Good evening, Mr. Adams. I hope your wife is better."

Keith's headman enters as she retires, for the order was given for him to be shown to the library on his arrival. He answers her respectfully that his wife is "getting on first-rate," and wonders in his heart at the change he notes in his employer's expression. Only that afternoon Keith Broughton seemed filled with anxiety as to the progress of the work now in course of manufacture, and now he greets Adams with a cheerful smile, looking far more his old self than he has done for many a day.

Keith goes out with Una to the carriage, putting the rug around her, and bidding her quietly to forget his doleful conversation and enjoy herself with Mrs. Perriss and her guests.

The old coachman is aware of his destination with Mrs. Broughton. The groom happens to be unwell, so the old man is in sole charge of the conveyance. He is considerably astonished when, as they near Westborough, his mistress pulls the check-string and opens the window, saying, "I have changed my mind about going out to dinner. There is some business I wish to settle. You can drive to the mills, and put up the carriage at the stables there. I will come there for it later."

He is so surprised, though used to Miss Una's sudden impulses, that he stops the horses and descends from his box, coming to the carriage door and touching his hat.

"Will you not let me drive you where you are going, Miss Una -- I beg pardon, madam," he says. "That is rather a crowded part, madam, and I should feel more easy if you would let me take you where you want to go, and call for you."

She smiles at the old coachman's anxiety. "Why, Hayward," she says, "you are more timid than I am. I am really not quite sure whereabouts I am going. It is somewhere in the Marsh, but I shall have to inquire."

"In the Marsh, madam? I hope you will not go there alone. There is sure to be a policeman about, and I can make the inquiries. I cannot drive in among the courts, I know: but let me take you as far as I can."

"Very well. I am going to a schoolroom somewhere in that part, where people hold meetings. That is all I know about it. But I must go there, so please drive on as quickly as you can."

"What have Miss Una got in her head now, I wonder?" thinks the old man, as his horses move briskly on towards Westborough. "I've heard tell it's getting quite the thing for the high-ups to go into the slums. Perhaps Miss Una's going to be one of them speechifying ladies that goes here and there, up and down the country, laying down the law about what one is to eat, and how one is to cook it, and which way we're to vote, and the like. For my part, I think a female woman's place is her own home, but I reckon I'm old-fashioned nowadays. At any rate, I know the place Miss Una wants, and I can drive close by. It's the schoolroom built over the fish market. I've been there many a time when I belonged to the Lodge in Westborough."

Chapter 10

### (Last Chapter)

"Three Cheers for Broughton's!"

After waiting nearly an hour beyond the appointed dinnertime, Mrs. Perriss concludes that something has occurred at the last moment to detain her guests, and that a message to that effect must be on its way.

When the ladies are alone at their dessert, she remarks to her companion: "I hope these business troubles of which we read in the papers will not touch Broughton's Mills. It would be dreadful for poor Una if heavy money losses befell the Broughtons."

"Do you know," replies Miss Burdenne, "I fancy such a misfortune would be the very thing to thaw Una's stateliness, which I sometimes think is rather over-acted now. I believe that if trouble came to Mr. Broughton he would find that Una could be very tender and womanly!"

<><><><>

Una's heart beats considerably faster when the carriage turns at last out of the High Street, and she finds herself in a noisy, crowded part, bright with flaring jets of light, and echoing with the cries of men and women selling various goods at their street stalls.

"The schoolroom you want is down the turning to the left, madam," says Hayward, when he finally stops the carriage. "The street is too narrow for the horses. Shall I wait here till you return, madam?"

"No, I will come for you at the mills. I know they are not far off," says Una. "You will be able to make them hear at the stables there. Keep the carriage there for me."

Hayward touches his hat, but secretly resolves directly his horses are safe to make his way into the meeting that his mistress is attending. "I'm sure the master would tell me not to lose sight of her," he thinks. "She is, so to speak, in my charge, and I must say I don't like these goings-on. Didn't the master plainly tell me to drive to Mrs. Perriss? This don't look well. There's a mystery at the bottom of it, and I never did hold with mysteries."

Meanwhile Una, the hood of her cloak thrown over her wavy hair, is making her way down the narrow street. A policeman, who looks extremely perplexed at sight of her, but sees her but dimly in the flickering lamplight, tells her the place she wants is up a flight of stairs, and thither she proceeds, conquering her timidity by the remembrance of Keith's anxieties, and the possibility that she may be able to remove them.

A lad of sixteen or thereabouts stands at the door of the schoolroom, and addresses her politely. "'Tain't this room you're wanting, miss. You must have made a mistake. There's only a private meeting a-going on there -- the hands from Broughton's Mills. I were told not to admit no strangers."

"I am not a stranger," says Una, in her clear, firm voice. "I have a right to be there indeed." Seeing the lad only stares at her in uncertainty, she ventures to pass by him and turns the handle of the door. The place is crowded, and so many are talking at once that her quiet entrance is unnoticed. She looks around her, and seems to recognise many faces she saw at the factory, but there are one or two evidently strangers to the locality. Una wonders why they should think it their duty to unsettle Keith's hands because in some other factories things may not have been fair to the workpeople.

Her heart begins to sink as she realizes there is, indeed, every danger and prospect of a strike. Many a voice discourses concerning the oppression of capitalists and the injustice at so-and-so's mills, and a resolution is brought forward demanding many changes at Broughton's, or failing these, declaring the hands will refuse to work. The meeting is lashed up to a state of excitement, but there are women and girls present who look as if they would like to utter a protest if they dared. They gaze at one another, but none likes to speak first.

The resolution is put to the meeting by the visitor to Westborough, a very eloquent and enthusiastic man. He has just demanded a show of hands, when a woman's voice asks to be heard, and Una rises up, her cloak thrown back, her face glowing in her support of what she feels to be justice. A great outcry echoes through the place as every face is turned towards her, and she is recognised by the excited throng. But she does not flinch for a moment, even amid the clamour and uproar.

"Hear what I have to say," is her appeal to them. "You are Englishmen -- you will treat a woman fairly. Hear me, as you have heard one another."

There are murmurs of, "A stuck-up Latreille!"

Una hears, "We don't want nobody from St. Pensart's spying here," and the like, but the woman whose child Kitty was kissed by Una at the factory calls out, "For shame! The master's wife haven't come to spy. She shall speak, lads, and none of you shall stop her! Ain't there some of you here as couldn't say enough for her when she were a-singing 'Home, Sweet Home,' down at the Broughton Hall?"

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," says one, who is a stranger in Westborough, making his way to Una's side, "but ladies cannot go into these social questions, especially one of the master's family. I strongly advise you to retire, as the meeting is excited, and you may find yourself in danger."

He has spoken in a low voice, but several around have caught his words, and there is a cry of indignation from many of his hearers.

"No woman is in danger, lad, among Westborough men," cries a burly engineer. "And don't you repeat them words, or maybe you'll get into trouble. Now, lads, shall we hear madam from St. Pensart's -- ay or nay? I say 'ay'. She's a brave one to come down here, and she deserves to have her say."

There is a roar of "ay," and a girl's shrill voice cries out, "That there dress she's got on were made at our mills. There's ne'er another factory around turns out cloth like Broughton's."

"So it be. 'Tis our cloth for sure," is the general exclamation, and Una has never felt so thankful before for the gift of fairness when the faces around her are evidently expressing chivalrous admiration.

"I want you to think before you claim what you feel in your hearts my husband cannot do," she says earnestly. "I heard you say just now, 'He won't have a feather to fly with if he gives in to those terms. It will come to a strike, and the strike committee will keep us.' Are you content to live like that? And if you feel a strike will not harm you, do none of you care how it hurts your employer -- your friend, as you know he is?"

"Rich folk can look after theirselves," says a voice in the crowd, but Una answers: "Our prosperity and yours are bound up together. If you demand wages more than my husband can afford to give, his fortunes must sink and dwindle by degrees. If you refuse to work, the work goes from him, and Broughton's Mills will no longer stand first, as they do now in all the county. I just want to appeal to every conscience among you. Has Keith Broughton ever refused a demand that was just, and that he could grant? Can you draw any comparison between your own position and that of some you have named as being downtrodden and oppressed? Have you not been proud of belonging to Broughton's -- the mills that this very week have been flourishing for fifty years? Where is there another factory that has a school for the children of those employed there, a crèche, a coffee-bar, a room for reading and refreshment, every care that a master who holds you all as brothers can plan and arrange to benefit you?"

"It's all true," cries an old man who worked under Keith's father. "Three cheers for Broughton's! I don't see why we should swim with the stream, and make grievances we haven't got. I won't put forth no hand to ruin Broughton's. I protests against that there resolution. While I've strength to work, I'll stand by Broughton's Mills!"

There is a shout, but whether of agreement or the contrary Una cannot discern. The old man's partisanship gives her courage to renew her pleading. "If you have grievances," she says, "you know my husband well enough to understand he would not treat them lightly. He is the kindest, most unselfish, most honourable man in all the world -- and you know it."

"So was his father before him," says the old mechanic. "I protests against that there resolution, lads. 'Tis our jubilee year, and we ain't a-going to bring no troubles upon it."

"It is your jubilee year," says Una earnestly, "and my husband meant to make it a memorable one at the mills. They say women can't keep secrets, but I will just tell you this. For months he has been busy on a scheme by which every worker under him shall be able to share the profits of the mills. It is not complete yet, but with these desires in his heart, do you think it would not be a real injustice to him if you proclaimed yourselves ill-treated and oppressed? You will never find a fairer, a more upright master than Keith Broughton. I have come here to try to save him from the sorrow and loss of a strike, and to save you from being unfair and unjust! If you were only 'hands,' there would be reason in this agitation, but he treats you as brothers and sisters. Won't you stand by the old mills still?"

There is a deafening cheer, and a tumult of voices cries out, "We will! Our hands upon it, we will!"

Una holds out her bare hand, and one and another shakes it till the strong grips make her fingers ache. But though her face grows white with the reaction from excitement, her eyes shine as she listens to the cry, "No strikes for us, whatever they may do at Kennedy's place. Our master's a different sort to him, lads, and it's right he should be treated different."

The visitors remark that if all the hands feel they are treated justly and considerately, it would be unwise to press further claims, except out of sympathy with Kennedy's Mill hands. "Their rights have never been considered," cries one of the foremen. "We'll help them to get justice if we can. But I for one don't mean to desert Broughton's, and that's our answer, one and all."

"I thank you from my heart," says Una, as she looks around her with a smiling, glowing face. "I believe that answer is fair and just. You do not know what a blow it would have been to my husband to lose the help of those who have stood by him so long."

She moves gently away, a little faint and weary now, but inexpressibly thankful that she appealed to the sense of fairness amid her hearers. It is difficult for her to reach the door, and the tall, strong, burly engineer comes forward to make a way for her.

She puts her hand on his arm, amid the cheering of his mates. Their "cheers for Broughton's -- three times three for his missus," follow her down the stairs as her escort leads her deferentially into the street, where Hayward waits in a fever of anxiety.

He has heard there is agitation among the hands from the mills, but he could not effect an entrance. "Keep out the flunkey," gruffly ordered a man who passed by the landing, and he has been on the point of summoning the police to rescue his mistress from the perils conjured up by his fears. He recognizes Una's escort, and thanks him for looking after her.

"I didn't know you was up there, Stubbs," he says. "I never heard such an uproar in my life. The carriage is waiting in the stable-yard at the mills, madam. It is but round the corner."

Stubbs and Hayward walk one on either side of her to the mills, and she is soon resting back, trembling and utterly exhausted, against the cushions of the carriage.

"She's a plucky one, Hayward," says Stubbs confidentially. "You should have seen her stand up like a queen afore that roomful of chaps, and you might have heard a pin fall while they listened to her voice a-rising and a-falling just like music!"

"I hope Miss Una isn't going to take to speechifying though," thinks the old coachman. "That ain't a lady's sphere. That should be left to the masculine sex." But to Stubbs he only remarks, "The mistress is a Latreille, and they've never wanted for pluck. Bless you, they don't know the meaning of fear."

Now the ordeal is over, Una begins to wonder how she found voice and courage to address the excited meeting. She feels utterly worn out, and during that lonely drive she finds relief in tears. Her heart has been drawn out towards the men and women who showed her no hostility, but received her in the frank, friendly, straightforward spirit for which she had hoped and appealed. "They treated me like men," she thinks gratefully. "Like gentlemen in the truest meaning of the word."

Then a fear seizes her lest Keith may grow vexed when he hears of her interference. He may think her bold, unwomanly, anxious to become the talk of the neighbourhood. And what will society say? It may even get into the papers. Will she be credited by people with being forward and "strong-minded," interfering unduly with social issues, and pushing herself to the front without a womanly sense of modesty?

Una covers her face with her hands, but she cannot find it in her heart to regret the impulsive step she took. "I did it for Keith's sake," she tells herself, "and for him I would do anything. He it is who has taught me any kind feeling, any care for others. Till I knew him my only thought was myself. I owe him all there is of gentleness, of brightness in my life. What would I not do for my husband's sake?"

Yet it is a relief to her shrinking spirit that she is not obliged to see Keith on her return to St. Pensart's. The butler tells her the rector has called during the evening, and is now with Mr. Broughton in the library.

"Send Valerie to me," says Una. "I am very tired, and I shall not come downstairs again."

"You are home early," says the butler to Hayward. "You must have come along at a smart pace tonight."

"There's been rum goings-on this here evening," says Hayward mysteriously. "Mark my words, our young lady's a-going to turn out a heroine -- but I ain't a-going to betray what I knows in confidence. I'll draw a veil of reserve over the proceedings of this here evening."

It suddenly occurs to Una that the non-arrival of her expected guests must be perplexing Mrs. Perriss. She writes a few lines explaining they were prevented from keeping their appointment, and the note is dropped into the pillar-box in the park wall by the lodge.

"I wish you would get me a biscuit, Valerie," she says, "and a cup of tea or coffee. Somehow I feel very hungry this evening." And she reflects that this is not surprising, seeing she has missed her dinner.

"Coffee is just going into the library, ma'am," says Valerie, "but perhaps you would rather have it up here."

"Oh, yes," says Una hastily. "And, Valerie, I shall not go down to breakfast. Solitude is best when one has a headache."

<><><><>

News flies quickly in Westborough, and Una's appearance upon the scene of discussion is a grateful subject for the local reporter who is hard up for matter. He gets wind of the affair, and Keith Broughton, opening the Westborough Herald in his office next morning, is astonished and dumbfounded to come across the mention of his wife having appealed for justice and fairness to his employees, and having championed his management and his character in a way that drew enthusiastic cheers from the assembly.

"It is all pure invention," he says to himself, his face flushing deeply at the thought of Una doing him honour publicly, and telling out to the world that she is proud of her husband, and not ashamed -- as some may possibly imagine. "It must be invention. Una dined with Mrs. Perriss last night, quite the other side of the town. Did I not put her into the carriage myself?"

But presently Stubbs knocks at the door and comes in with Adams whose face has lost the aspect of its late anxious concern. Stubbs is the bearer of a letter hastily composed last night before the meeting broke up, and signed with many a familiar name and many a mark. Broughton is deeply moved as he reads the expression of affection and confidence, and the record of a resolution carried unanimously, that despite the present agitation there would be no disputes, no clamour, no strike at Broughton's Mills.

But the master can scarcely find voice to speak at all when Stubbs, as mouthpiece for the rest, tells him of the impression his wife's appearance and her words made on the gathering, and how her appeal turned the tide of feeling loyally back to the old mills and the master. Broughton tells the men brokenly this is the happiest day of his life, and later his visit to the various departments is the signal for an outburst of cheering, for he has notified that this jubilee occasion will mean a month's wages as bonus to all employed about the place, from the oldest to the youngest errand boy or factory girl.

Una is intensely thankful Mrs. Perriss and Miss Burdenne drive over to St. Pensart's that day to make inquiries, and to hear more of the newspaper report. She persuades them to stay to dinner, but begs them, with a burning face, not to allude to the subject before her husband.

On his arrival he is so composed and quiet that she makes up her mind, in great relief, that he has heard nothing of her adventure. He talks on ordinary subjects, and appears quite unconscious of the occasional smiles of his visitors in the direction of his wife, who cannot lift her eyes from the tablecloth or regain anything of her customary ease of manner.

It is not till he has seen the ladies into their carriage and returned to the drawing room just in time to perceive Una endeavouring to escape by an alcove that happens to be locked outside, that he remarks, "Una, if you have a few minutes to spare, I want to speak to you on a very serious subject."

"Then he is angry," she thinks. "Perhaps I did harm after all. Oh, I wish he would not stand there looking at me. I wish my face would keep cool and not burn like this!"

"I am particularly busy," she falters. "I don't think I can stop to talk ... Keith."

But the protest is too faint, for he has taken her burning face into his tender hands, and his eyes look down into hers as if they are reading her very heart.

"Una, I want your unprejudiced opinion on a very important subject. What do you think of a wife who is loved as never man loved woman before? A wife who has been growing sweeter, kinder, more beautiful every day since the hour her husband first called her his? A wife who has saved her husband's fortunes, and let all Westborough know she is ashamed of him no longer -- and yet she has never, never, never yet bestowed upon that husband a kiss! What is your verdict upon such a wife?"

"Oh, Keith, you must not talk about it. I feel ashamed of myself today, as if I had been so unwomanly and forward!"

"I should think you did feel ashamed," he answers. "Not one kiss all these months. But it is never too late to mend. How many do you suppose you owe me by this time, sweetheart?"

"Be sensible, Keith," begins Una, but her voice breaks down as he puts back her soft, wavy hair, and thanks her in low, tender tones for standing out so earnestly as his champion.

"Una," he whispers, "though we are unequally yoked as to descent and lineage, and I come from no ancestral race like your own, you have shown the world that your heart does not despise me now."

"Despise you?"

"That is over, is it not, Una? Is there any hope that if I try very hard I may lift the esteem you have granted me high enough to be esteem no more, but love?"

A rainbow smile is dawning on Una's lips as her hand steals up and touches his face. "Don't pretend," she says in a whisper. "I am not going to tell you what you know already."

"Yes, I do know it, Una," he says triumphantly. "I know ours is a heart marriage at last, my sweet, my wife."

And then he bends down and teaches Una how that long-due debt of kisses can be paid, principal and interest too, at the time of peace and thanksgiving.

THE END

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## Christian Non-fiction

Four short books of help in the Christian life:

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

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

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

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

### Be Still

Bible Words of Peace and Comfort

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

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

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

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

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

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

116 pages 5x7.8 inches

A Previously Unpublished Book

### The Simplicity of the Incarnation

J Stafford Wright

Foreword by J I Packer

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

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

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

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

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

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

160 pages 5.25 x 8 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Bible People Real People

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

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

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

Dip in and discover who was who in personal Bible study

Check the names when preparing a talk or sermon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

314 pages 6x9 inches

Note: This book is not available in all eBook formats

### Christians and the Supernatural

J Stafford Wright

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

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

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

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

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

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

222 pages 5.25 x 8 inches

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Howell Harris

### His Own Story

Foreword by J. Stafford Wright

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

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

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-9-5

From the Streets of London

to the Streets of Gold

The Life Story of

Brother Clifford Edwards

A True Story of Love

by

Brother Clifford Edwards

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

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

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

### Seven Steps to

### Walking in Victory

Lin Wills

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

Also available as a booklet

www.lenandlin.com

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

### Seven Keys to

### Unlock Your Calling

Lin Wills

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

Also available as a booklet

www.lenandlin.com

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

English Hexapla

The Gospel of John

(Paperback only)

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

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

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

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

Douay Rheims 1582, Authorized (KJV) 1611.

English Hexapla -- The Gospel of John

Published by White Tree Publishing

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

Size 7.5 x 9.7 inches paperback

Not available as an eBook

### Roddy Goes to Church

Church Life and Church People

Derek Osborne

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

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

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

David Pytches, Chorleywood

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

Paperback ISBN: 978-09927642-0-3

46 pages 5.5 x 8.5 inches paperback UK £3.95

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

### Heaven Our Home

William Branks

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

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

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

### I See Men as Trees, Walking

Roger and Janet Niblett

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

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

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

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

Also available as a paperback

(published by Gozo Publishing Bristol)

paperback ISBN: 978-1508674979

### Leaves from

### My Notebook

New Abridged Edition

William Haslam

(1818-1905)

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

Original book first published 1889

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-2-7

### Blunt's Scriptural Coincidences

Gospels and Acts

J. J. Blunt

New Edition

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

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

First published in instalments between 1833 and 1847

The edition used here published in 1876

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-5-8

### Fullness of Power

### in Christian Life and Service

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

R. A. Torrey

Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

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

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

eBook only

ISBN: 978-0-9935005-8-9

Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends

Musings on Life, Scripture

and the Hymns

by

Marty Magee

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

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

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

Also in paperback

from Rickety Bridge Publishing

ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

ALSO BY MARTY MAGEE

### Twenty-five Days Around the Manger

# A Light Family Advent Devotional

Marty Magee

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also in full colour paperback

from Rickety Bridge Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-4923248-0-5

Available from bookstores and major internet sellers

The Gospels and Acts

In Simple Paraphrase

with Helpful Explanations

together with

Running Through the Bible

Chris Wright

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

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

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

eBook only

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

### Faith that Prevails

The Early Pentecostal Movement

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

Smith Wigglesworth

Study Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

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

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

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

eBook only

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

### The Authority and

###  Interpretation

### of the Bible

J Stafford Wright

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

eBook only

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

### Psalms,

### A Guide Psalm By Psalm

J Stafford Wright

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

eBook only

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

### The Christian's Secret

### of a Happy Life

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

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

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

eBook only

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

### Every-Day Religion

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

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

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

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-0-9

eBook Coming late 2017

### 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

eBook Coming late 2017

### 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 early 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 early 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 early 2018

### I Can't Help Praising the Lord

The Life of Billy Bray

FW Bourne and

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

This challenging and often amusing book on the life of Billy Bray (1794-1868) has a very strong message for Christians today. Billy, a Cornish tin miner, 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 Billy Bray's own Journal, keeping Billy's rough and ready grammar and wording, which surely helps us picture the man.

eBook

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-4-7

Paperback ISBN: 9785-203447-7-5

5x8 inches 80 pages

Available from major internet stores

Also on sale in Billy Bray's Chapel

Kerley Downs, Cornwall

## 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

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

Coming November 2017

### 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. She now 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

eBook coming December 2017

### 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 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

eBook Coming early 2018

### Keena Karmody

Eliza Kerr

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

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

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook only

ISBN: 978-1-9997899-5-4

eBook Coming early 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 2018

### 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:

## 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

$5.99 £4.95

### 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

$5.99 £4.95

Coming December 2017

### 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 Baskerville 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

$5.99 £4.95

### 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 £6.95

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 £5.95

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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