CHAPTER XLII.
"After all, there is nothing like English scenery; this is very
beautiful. I don't suppose you could get a greater variety of opal
tints in one view than lies before us now, but there is something
missing. It is all too beautiful, too rich, too gorgeous; one finds
one's breath coming too quickly, and one longs for just a dash of
English gloom to tone down the brilliant colors and give a relief."
It was Mr. Etheridge who spoke. He was standing beside a low rustic
seat which fronted the world-famous view from the Piazza at Nice. The
sun was dropping into the horizon like a huge ball of crimson fire,
the opal tints of the sky stretched far above their heads and even
behind them. It was one blaze of glory in which a slim, girlish figure,
leaning far back in the seat, seemed bathed.
She was pale still, was this Stella, this little girl heroine of
ours, but the dark look of trouble and leaden sorrow had gone, and
the light of youth and youthful joy had come back to the dark eyes;
the faint, ever ready smile hovered again about the red, mobile lips.
"Sorrow" says Goethe, "is the refining touch to a woman's beauty,"
and it refined Stella's. She was lovely now, with that soft, ethereal
loveliness which poets sing of, and artists paint, and we poor penman
so vainly strive to describe.
She looked up with a smile.
"Homesick, uncle?" she murmurs.
The old man strokes his beard, and glances at her.
"I plead guilty," he says. "You cannot make a hermit crab happy if you
take him out of his shell, and the cottage is my shell, Stella."
She sighed softly, not with unhappiness, but with that tender
reflectiveness which women alone possess.
"I will go back when you please, dear," she says.
"Hem!" he grunts. "There is someone else to consult, mademoiselle;
that someone else seems particularly satisfied to remain where we are;
but then I suppose he would be contented to remain anywhere so that a
certain pale-faced, insignificant chit of a girl were near him."
A faint blush, a happy flush spreads over the pale face, and the long
lashes droop over the dark eyes.
"At any rate we must ask him," says the old man; "we owe him that
little attention at least, seeing how much long-suffering patience he
has and continues to display."
"Don't, uncle," murmurs the half-parted lips.
"It is all very well to say 'don't,'" retorts the old man with a grim
smile. "Seriously, don't you think that you are, to use an Americanism,
playing it rather low down on the poor fellow?"
"I--I--don't know what you mean," she falters.
"Permit me to explain then," he says, ironically.
"I--I don't want to hear, dear."
"It is fitting that girls should be made to hear sometimes," he
says, with a smile. "What I mean is simply this, that, as a man with
something approaching a conscience and a fellow feeling for my kind, I
feel it my duty to point out to you that, perhaps unconsciously, you
are leading Leycester the sort of life that the bear who dances on hot
bricks--if any bear ever does--is supposed to lead. Here for months,
after no end of suffering----"
"I have suffered too," she murmurs.
"Exactly," he assents, in his gently-grim way; "but that only makes
it worse. After months of suffering, you allow him to dangle at
your heels, you drag him at your chariot wheels, tied him at your
apron strings from France to Italy, from Italy to Switzerland, from
Switzerland back to France again, and gave him no more encouragement
than a cat does a dog."
The faint flush is a burning crimson now.
"He--he need not come," she murmurs, panting. "He is not obliged."
"The moth--the infuriated moth, is not obliged to hover about the
candle, but he does hover, and generally winds up by scorching his
wings. I admit that it is foolish and unreasonable, but it is none the
less true that Leycester is simply incapable, apparently, of resting
outside the radius of your presence, and therefore I say hadn't you
better give him the right to remain within that radius and----"
She put up her hand to stop him, her face a deeper crimson still.
"Permit me," he says, obstinately, and puffing at his pipe to
emphasize. "Once more the unfortunate wretch is on tenterhooks; he is
dying to take possession of you, and afraid to speak up like a man
because, possibly, you have had a little illness----"
"Oh, uncle, and you said yourself that you thought I should have died."
He coughs.
"Ahem! One is inclined to exaggerate sometimes. He is afraid to speak
because in his utter sensitiveness he will insist upon considering you
an invalid still, whereas you are about as strong and healthy now as,
to use another Americanism, 'they make 'em.' Now, Stella, if you mean
to marry him, say so; if you don't mean to, say so, and for goodness
sake let the unfortunate monomaniac go."
"Leycester is not a monomaniac, uncle," she retorts, in a low,
indignant voice.
"Yes, he is," he says, "he is possessed by a mania for a little chit
of a girl with a pale face and dark eyes and a nose that is nothing to
speak of. If he wasn't an utterly lost maniac he would have refused
to dangle at your heels any longer, and gone off to someone with some
pretension to a regular facial outline." He stops, for there comes the
sound of a firm, manly tread upon the smooth gravel path, and the next
instant Leycester's tall figure is beside them.
He bends over the slight, slim, graceful figure, a loving, reverential
devotion in his handsome face, a faint anxiety in his eyes and in his
voice as he says, in that low, musical undertone which has charmed so
many women's ears:
"Have you no wrap on, Stella? These evenings are very beautiful but
treacherous."
"There isn't a breath of air," says Stella, with a little laugh.
"Yes, yes!" he says, and puts his hand on the arm that rests on the
seat, "you must be careful, indeed you must, my darling, I will go and
get you a----"
"Blanket and a suit of sables," broke in the old man, with good
humorous banter. "Allow me, I am young and full of energy, and you are
old and wasted and wearied, watching over a sick and perhaps dying
girl, who eats three huge meals a day, and can outwalk Weston. I will
go," and he goes and leaves them, Stella's soft laughter following him
like music.
Leycester stands beside her looking down at her in silence. For him
that rustic seat holds all that is good and worth having in life, and
as he looks, the passionate love that burns so steadily in his heart
glows in his eyes.
For weeks, for months he has watched her--watched her patiently as
now--watched her from the shadow of death, into the world of life;
and though his eyes and the tone of his voice have spoken love often
and often, he has so tutored his lips as to refrain from open speech.
He knows the full measure of the shock which had struck her down,
and in his great reverence and unfathomable love for her, he has
restrained himself, fearing that a word might bring back that terrible
past. But now, to-night, as he sees the faint color tinting the clear
cheeks--sees the sunset light reflected in her bright eyes--his heart
begins to beat with that throb which tells of long-suppressed passion
clamoring for expression.
Maiden-like, she feels something of what is passing through his mind,
and a great shyness falls upon her. She can almost hear her heart beat.
"Won't you sit down?" she says, at last, in that little, low, murmuring
voice, which is such sweet music in his ears. And she moves her dress
to make room for him.
He comes round, and sinks in the seat beside her.
"Can you not feel the breeze now?" he asks. "I wish I had brought a
wrap with me, on the chance of your having forgotten it."
She looks round at him, with laughter in her eyes and on her lips.
"Did you not hear what uncle said?" She asks. "Don't you know that
he was laughing, actually laughing at me? When will you _begin_ to
believe that I am well and strong and ridiculously robust? Don't you
see that the people at the hotel are quite amused with your solicitude
respecting my delicate state of health?"
"I don't care anything about the people at the hotel," he says, in that
frank, simple way which speaks so plainly of his love. "I know that I
don't mean you to catch cold if I can help it!"
"You--you are very good to me," she says, and there is a slight tremor
in her voice.
He laughs his old short, curt laugh, softened in a singular way.
"Am I? You might say that a man was particularly 'good' because he
showed some concern for the safety of a particularly precious stone!"
Her eyes droop, and, perhaps unconsciously, her arm draws a little
nearer to him.
"You are good," she says, "but I am not a precious stone, by any means."
"You are all that is rare and precious to me, my darling," he says;
"you are all the world to me. Stella!----" he stops, alarmed lest he
should be alarming her, but his arm slides round her, and he ventures
to draw her nearer to him.
It is the only embrace he has ventured to give her since that night
when she fell into his arms at the cottage door at Carlyon, and he half
fears that she will shrink from him in the new strange shyness that
has fallen upon her; but she does not, instead she lets her head droop
until it rests upon his breast, and the strong man's passion leaps full
force and masterful in a moment.
"Stella!" he murmurs, his lips pressed to hers, which do not swerve,
"may I speak? Will you let me? You will not be angry?"
She does not look angry; her eyes fixed on his have nothing but
submissive love in them.
"I have waited,--it seems so long--because I was afraid to trouble you,
but I may speak now, Stella?" and he draws her closer to him. "Will you
be my wife--soon--soon?"
He waits, his handsome face eloquent in its entreaty and anxiety, and
she leans back and looks up at him, then her gaze falters. A little
quiver hovers on her lips, and the dark eyes droop.
Is it "Yes"? If so, he alone could have heard it.
"My poor darling!" he murmurs, and he takes her face in his hands and
turns it up to him. "Oh, my darling, If you knew how I loved you--how
anxiously I have waited! And it shall be soon, Stella! My little wife!
My very own!"
"Yes!" she said, and, as in the old time, she raises herself in his
arms and kisses him.
* * * * *
"And--and the countess, and all of them!" she murmurs, but with a
little quaint smile.
He smiles calmly. "Not to-night, darling, do not let us talk of the
outside world to-night. But see if 'all of them,' as you put it, are
not exactly of one mind; one of them is," and he takes out a letter
from his pocket.
"From Lilian!" she says, guessing instinctively.
Leycester nods.
"Yes, take it and read; you will find your name in every line. Stella,
it was this letter that gave me courage to speak to you to-night. A
woman knows a woman after all--you will read what she says. 'Are you
still afraid, Ley,' she writes, 'ask her!' and I have asked. And now
all the past will be buried and we shall be happy at last. At last,
Stella, where--where shall it be?"
She is silent, but she lifts the letter to her lips and kisses it.
"What do you say to Paris?" he asks.
"Paris!" she echoes, flushing.
"Yes," he says, "I have been talking to the old doctor, and he thinks
you are strong enough to have a little excitement now, and thinks that
a tour in Paris would be the very thing to complete things. What do
you say," he goes on, trying to speak in a matter-of-fact voice, but
watching her with eager eyes, "if we start at the end of the week, that
will give you time to make your preparations, won't it?"
"Oh, no, no----!"
"Then say the beginning of next," he returns, magnanimously, "and we
will be married about Wednesday"--she utters a faint exclamation, and
turns pale and red by turns, but he is steadfast--"and then we can have
a gay time of it before we settle down."
"Settle down," she says, with a little longing sigh. "How sweet it
sounds--but next week!"
"It is a cruel time to wait," he declares, drawing her nearer to him,
"cruel--next week! It is months, years, ages----"
"Hush!" she says, struggling gently away from him, "here is uncle."
It is uncle, but he is innocent of wraps.
"Going to stay out all night?" he asks, with fine irony.
"Why, where are the wraps?" demands Leycester.
"Eh? Oh, nonsense!" says the old man. "Do you want to commit suicide
together by suffocation? It's as warm as an oven. Oh, for my little
garden, and the cool room."
"You shall have it in a week or two," says Leycester, with a smile of
ineffable satisfaction. "We are going to take you to Paris, and then
will come and stay with you----"
"Oh, will you? and who asked you, Mr. Jackanapes?"
"Why, you wouldn't refuse shelter to your niece's husband?" retorts
Leycester, laughing.
"Oh, that's it!" says the old man. "Allow me to wish you good-night.
I'll leave you to your Midsummer madness--no, to your Autumn wisdom,
for, upon my word, it's the most sensible word I've heard you utter for
months past!"
And he goes; but before he goes he lays his hand upon the sleek head
and whispers:
"That's a good girl! Now be happy."
* * * * *
They were married in Paris, very quietly, very happily. Lord Charles
came over from Scotland, leaving the grouse and the salmon, to act
as best man, and it was an open question which of the two men looked
happiest--he or the bridegroom. Lord Charles had never heard of that
forged note and his inadvertent share in the plot that had worked so
much harm, and he never would hear of it; and furthermore he never
quite understood how it was that Stella Etheridge and not Lady Lenore
became Leycester's wife; but he was quite satisfied and quite assured
that it was the best of all possible arrangements.
"Leycester's the happiest man in the world, and he used to be the most
wretched, and so there's an end of it," he declared, whenever he spoke
of the match. "And," he would add, "the man who could have the moral
cheek to be anything but absurdly happy with such an angel as Lady
Stella wouldn't be fit to be anywhere out of a lunatic asylum."
They were married, and Charlie went back to the grouse, and the painter
went back to the cottage and Mrs. Penfold, leaving the young couple to
have their gay time of it in the gayest city of the world. It was not
particularly gay after all, but it was ecstatically joyous. They went
to the theaters and concerts and enjoyed themselves like boy and girl,
and Leycester found himself continually amazed at the youthfulness
which remained in him.
"I have begun to live for the first time," he declared one day. "I only
existed before."
As for Stella, the days went by in a sort of ecstatic dream, and only a
little cloud lined the golden sky--the earl and countess still hardened
their hearts.
Though not a week passed without bringing a letter full of love
and longing from Lilian, the old people made no sign. In the proud
countess' eyes her son's wife was still Stella Etheridge, the painter's
niece, and she could not forgive her for--making Leycester happy. It
would have made Stella miserable if anything could have done so, but
Leycester's love and watchful care often kept the cloud back--for a
time.
They stayed in Paris until a little bijou place in Park Lane was ready,
then they went home and took quiet possession.
It was the most charming of little nests--Leycester had given Jackson
and Graham _carte blanche_--and formed a fitting casket for the
beautiful young viscountess.
"After all, Ley," she said, as she sat upon his knee on their first
evening and looked round her exquisite room, "it is almost as good as
the little laborer's cottage I used to picture for myself."
"Yes, it only needs that I should sit in my shirt sleeves and smoke a
long pipe, doesn't it?" he said, laughing.
For some weeks they did almost lead an isolated life; they were always
together, never tired or wearied of each other. Of Stella, with her
exquisite variety, with her ever changing mirth and rare, delicate
wit, it would certainly have been difficult for any man to tire, and
what woman would have wearied of the devoted attention of such a man
as Leycester! They lived quietly for a little time, but as the season
commenced people got scent of them, and soon the world swooped down
upon them.
Stella protested at first, but she was powerless to resist, and
soon the names of Lord and Lady Trevor appeared in the fashionable
lists. Then came a surprise. Like Lord Byron, she woke one morning to
find herself famous; the world had pronounced her a beauty, and had
elected her to one of its thrones. Men almost fought for the honor of
inserting their names upon her ball-cards; women copied her dress,
and envied her; the photographers would have hung her portraits in
their windows if she had not been too wary to have one taken. She had
become a reigning queen. Leycester did not mind; he knew her too well
to be afraid that it would spoil her, and it amused him to find that
the world was rowing in the same boat with him--had gone mad over his
little Stella.
Now it was a gay time, but still the countess made no sign. The
Wyndwards were away on the continent in the winter, and in the spring
they went down to the Hall. Letters came from Lilian regularly, and she
grew more pathetic as time rolled on, she was pining for Leycester.
Stella urged him to sink his pride and go down to the Hall, but he
would not.
"Where I go I take my wife," he said, in his quiet way, and Stella knew
that it was useless to urge him.
But one day when it chanced that Stella was at home resting after a
grand ball at which she had reigned supreme, a brougham drove up to
the door, and while she was just preparing to say "not at home," the
servant opened the door of the boudoir, and there stood the tall,
graceful, lady-like figure of Lilian.
Stella sprang forward and caught her in her arms, with a cry that
brought Leycester bounding up-stairs.
The two girls clung to each other for at least five minutes, crying
softly, and uttering little piteous monosyllables, after the manner of
their kind; then Lilian turned to Leycester.
"Oh, Ley, don't be angry. I've come!" she cried.
"So I see, Lil," he said, kissing her. "And how glad we are I need not
say."
"And she shall never go again, shall she?" exclaimed Stella, with her
arm round the fragile form.
"Why, I don't mean to!" said Lilian, piteously. "You won't send me
away, will you, Stella? I can't live without him, I can't indeed. You
will let me stay, won't you? I shan't be in the way. I'll creep into a
corner, and efface myself; and I shan't be very much trouble, because I
am so much stronger now, and--oh, you will let me stay?"
There is no need to set down in hard, cold, black letters their answer.
"There is only one thing more I want to make my happiness complete,"
said Stella; and they knew that she meant the reconciliation of
Leycester with the old people.
So Lilian stayed, and made an additional sunshine and joy in the little
house; and it amused Leycester to see how soon she too fell at the feet
of the new beauty and worshipped her.
"If any one could be too good for you, Ley," she said, "Stella would be
that one."
Well, time passed; the season was at its height, and the countess came
to town. The earl had been in his place in the Upper House from the
beginning of the season, of course; but the countess had remained at
the Hall nursing her disappointment. She came up in time for one of
the State balls, at which her presence was indispensable. It was the
great official ball of the season, and crowded to excess. The countess
arrived with the earl just before the small hours, and after the usual
ceremonies and exchanges of salutations with the great world which she
had left for so many months, she had time to look round the room. She
did so with a little inward tremor, for she knew that Leycester and
"his wife" were to be present. To her relief--and disappointment--they
had not arrived. For all her pride and hauteur the mother's heart ached.
But if they were not there, their reputation had preceded them. She
heard Stella's name every five minutes, heard the greatest in the land
regretting her absence, and wondering what kept her away.
Presently, toward two o'clock, there was a perceptible stir in the
magnificent salon, and the murmur went up:
"Lord and Lady Trevor!"
The countess turned pale for a moment, then looked toward the door
and saw a beautiful woman--or a girl still--entering, leaning upon
Leycester's arm. Society does for a man or woman what a lapidary does
for a precious stone. It was precious when it first came into his
hands, but when it leaves them it is polished! Stella had become, if
the word is allowable when applied to her, the pink of refinement and
delicacy, "polished." She had learnt, unconsciously, to wear diamonds,
and that with princes. As she came in now, a crowd of "the best" people
came round her and did homage, and the countess, looking on, saw with
her own eyes, what she had heard rumored, that this daughter-in-law of
hers, this penniless niece, had become a power in the land. It amazed
her at first, but as she watched she lost her wonder. It was only
natural and reasonable; there was no more beautiful or noble looking
woman in the room.
The band began to play a waltz, the crowds began to move, dancing and
promenading. The countess sat amongst the dowagers, pale and smiling,
but with an aching heart. Where was Leycester? Presently four persons
approached her. Charlie, with Stella on his arm, Leycester with another
lady. Suddenly, not seeing her, Charlie stopped, and Stella turning,
found herself face to face with the countess.
For a moment the proud woman melted, then she hardened her heart and
turned her head aside.
Leycester, who been been watching, passed in front of her, and he put
his hand out.
"Leycester!"
But he drew Stella's arm within his--she was white and trembling--and
looking his mother in the face sternly, passed on with Stella.
"Take me home, Leycester," she moaned. "Oh, take me home! How can she
be so cruel?"
But he would not.
"No," he said. "This is your place as much as hers. My poor mother, I
pity her. Oh, pride, pride! You must stay."
Of course the incident had been noticed and remarked, and, amongst the
persons who had seen it was a prince of the blood.
This distinguished individual was not only a prince but a
gentle-hearted man, and as princes can take things as they please, he
disregarded the best name on his ball programme and walking straight up
to Stella, begged with that grand humility which distinguishes him, for
the honor of her hand.
Stella, pale and beautifully pathetic in her trouble, faltered an
excuse, an excuse to a royal command.
But he would not take it.
"A few turns only, Lady Trevor, I implore. I will take care of her,
Leycester," he added in a murmur, and he led Stella away.
They took a few turns, then he stopped.
"You are tired," he said: "will you let me take you into the cool?"
He drew her arm through his, but instead of "taking her into the cool,"
as he phrased it, in his genial way, he marched straight up to the
countess.
"Lady Wyndward," he said; and his clear, musical voice was just audible
to those around, "your daughter has been too gracious to her devoted
adherents, and tired herself in the mazy dance. I resign her to your
maternal care."
Stella would have shrunk back, but the countess, who knew what was due
to royalty, rose and took the fair, round arm in her matronly one.
"Come," she said, "his royal highness is right--you must rest."
All in a dream, Stella allowed herself to be led into a shaded recess,
all fresh with ferns and exotica. Then she woke, and murmuring--
"Thank you," was for flying; but the countess held out her arms
suddenly, and for the first time--well, for many years--burst into
tears, not noisy sobbing, but quiet, flooding tears.
"Oh, my dear!" she murmured, brokenly. "Forgive me! I am only a proud,
wicked old woman!"
Stella was in her arms in an instant, and thus Leycester found them.
When old Lady Longford heard of this scene, she was immensely amused in
her cynical way.
"It would have served you right my dear," she told the countess, "if
she had turned round and said, 'Yes, you are a very wicked old woman,'
and walked off."
So Stella's cup of happiness was full to the brim.
It is not empty yet, and will not be while Love stands with upraised
hand to replenish it.
She is a girl still, even now that there is a young Leycester to run
about the old man's studio and upset the pictures and add to the
litter, and it is the old painter's oft expressed opinion that she will
be a girl to the end of the chapter.
"Stella, you see," he is fond of remarking, whenever he hears her
sweet voice carolling about the little cottage--and it is as often
heard there as at the Hall--"Stella, you see, was born in Italy, and
Italians--good Italians--never grow old. They manage to keep a heart
alive in their bosoms and laughter on their lips at a period when
people of colder climes are gloomy and morosely composing their own
epitaphs. There is one comfort for you, Leycester, you have got a wife
who will never grow old."
[THE END.]
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21--Wife In Name Only.
22--The Sin of a Lifetime.
23--The World Between Them.
24--Prince Charlie's Daughter.
25--A Thorn in Her Heart.
26--A Struggle for a Ring.
27--The Shadow of a Sin.
28--A Rose In Thorns.
29--A Woman's Love Story.
30--The Romance of a Black Veil.
31--Redeemed by Love; or, Love's Conflict; or, Love Works Wonders.
32--Lord Lynne's Choice.
33--Set in Diamonds.
34--The Romance of a Young Girl; or, The Heiress of Hill-drop.
35--A Woman's War.
36--On Her Wedding Morn, and Her Only Sin.
37--Weaker Than a Woman.
38--Love's Warfare.
40--A Nameless Sin.
41--A Mad Love.
42--Hilary's Folly; or, Her Marriage Vow.
43--Madolin's Lover.
44--The Belle of Lynn; or, The Miller's Daughter.
45--Lover and Husband.
46--Beauty's Marriage, and Between Two Sins.
47--The Duke's Secret.
48--Her Second Love.
49--Addie's Husband, and Arnold's Promise.
50--A True Magdalen; or, One False Step.
51--For a Woman's Honor.
52--Claribel's Love Story; or, Love's Hidden Depths.
53--A Fiery Ordeal.
54--The Gipsy's Daughter.
55--Golden Gates.
56--The Squire's Darling, and Walter's Wooing.
57--Violet Lisle.
58--Griselda.
59--One False Step.
60--A Heart's Idol.
61--The Earl's Error, and Letty Leigh.
63--Another Woman's Husband.
64--Wedded and Parted, and Fair But False.
65--His Perfect Trust.
66--Gladys Greye.
67--In Love's Crucible.
68--'Twixt Love and Hate.
69--Fair But Faithless.
70--A Heart's Bitterness.
71--Marjorie Dean.
72--Between Two Hearts.
73--Her Martyrdom.
74--Thorns and Orange Blossoms.
75--A Bitter Bondage.
76--A Guiding Star.
77--A Fair Mystery.
78--Another Man's Wife.
79--An Ideal Love.
80--The Earl's Atonement.
81--Between Two Loves.
82--A Dead Heart, and Love for a Day.
83--A Fatal Dower.
84--Lady Latimer's Escape, and Other Stories.
85--A Woman's Error.
86--Guelda.
87--Beyond Pardon.
88--If Love Be Love.
89--A Coquette's Conquest.
90--In Cupid's Net, and So Near and Yet So Far.
91--Under a Shadow.
92--At Any Cost, and A Modern Cinderella.
94--Margery Daw.
95--A Woman's Temptation.
96--The Actor's Ward.
97--Repented at Leisure.
98--James Gordon's Wife.
99--For Life and Love, and More Bitter Than Death.
100--In Shallow Waters.
101--A Broken Wedding Ring.
102--Dream Faces.
103--Two Kisses, and The Fatal Lilies.
105--A Hidden Terror.
106--Wedded Hands.
107--From Out the Gloom.
108--Her First Love.
109--A Bitter Reckoning.
110--Thrown on the World.
111--Irene's Vow.
112--His Wedded Wife.
113--Lord Elesmere's Wife.
114--A Woman's Vengeance.
115--A Queen Amongst Women, and An Unnatural Bondage.
116--The Queen of the County.
117--A Struggle for the Right.
118--The Paths of Love.
119--Blossom and Fruit.
120--The Story of an Error.
121--The White Witch.
123--Lady Muriel's Secret.
124--The Hidden Sin.
125--For a Dream's Sake.
126--The Gambler's Wife.
127--A Great Mistake.
128--Society's Verdict.
129--Lady Gwendoline's Dream.
130--The Rival Heiresses.
131--A Bride from the Sea, and Other Stories.
132--A Woman's Trust.
133--A Dream of Love.
134--The Sins of the Father.
135--For Love of Her.
136--A Loving Maid.
137--A Heart of Gold.
138--The Price of a Bride.
139--Love in a Mask.
140--A Woman's Witchery.
141--The Burden of a Secret.
142--One Woman's Sin.
143--How Will It End?
144--The Hand Without a Wedding Ring.
145--A Sinful Secret.
146--Lady Marchmont's Widowhood.
147--The Broken Trust.
148--Lady Ethel's Whim.
149--A Wife's Peril.
150--The Tragedy of Lime Hall.
151--Lady Ona's Sin.
152--A Bitter Courtship.
153--A Tragedy of Love and Hate.
154--A Stolen Heart.
155--Every Inch a Queen.
156--A Maid's Misery.
157--Love's Redemption.
158--The Sunshine of His Life.
159--The Lost Lady of Haddon.
160--The Love of Lady Aurelia.
161--His Great Temptation.
162--An Evil Heart.
163--Gladys' Wedding Day.
164--Lost for Love.
165--On With the New Love.
168--A Fateful Passion.
169--A Captive Heart.
170--A Deceptive Lover.
171--An Untold Passion.
172--A Purchased Love.
173--The Queen of His Soul.
174--A Pilgrim of Love.
175--The Girl of His Heart.
176--A Wife's Devotion.
177--The Price of Love.
178--When Love and Hate Conflict.
180--A Misguided Love.
181--The Chains of Jealousy.
182--A Loveless Engagement.
183--A Heart's Worship.
184--A Queen Triumphant.
185--Between Love and Ambition.
186--True Love's Reward.
187--A Poisoned Heart.
188--What It Cost Her.
189--Paying the Penalty.
190--The Old Love or the New?
191--Her Honored Name.
192--A Coquette's Victim.
193--An Ocean of Love.
194--Sweeter Than Life.
195--For Her Heart's Sake.
196--Her Beautiful Foe.
197--A Soul Ensnared.
198--A Heart Forlorn.
199--Strong in Her Love.
200--Fair as a Lily.
205--Her Bitter Sorrow.
210--Hester's Husband.
215--An Artful Plotter.
228--A Vixen's Love.
232--The Dawn of Love.
236--Love's Coronet.
237--The Unbroken Vow.
238--Her Heart's Hero.
239--An Exacting Love.
240--A Wild Rose.
241--In Defiance of Fate.
242--Lack of Gold.
244--Two True Hearts.
245--Baffled by Fate.
246--Two Men and a Maid.
247--A Cruel Revenge.
248--The Flower of Love.
249--Mistress of Her Fate.
250--The Wooing of a Maid.
251--A Blighted Blossom.
252--Love's Conquest.
253--For Old Love's Sake.
254--Love's Debt.
255--Her Heart's Victory.
256--Tender and True.
257--The Love He Spurned.
258--Withered Flowers.
259--When Woman Wills.
260--Love's Twilight.
261--True to His First Love.
262--Suffered in Silence.
263--A Modest Passion.
264--Beyond All Dreams.
265--Loved and Lost.
266--The Bride of the Manor.
267--Love, the Avenger.
268--Wedded at Dawn.
269--A Shattered Romance.
270--With Love at the Helm.
271--Her Faith Rewarded.
272--Love Finds a Way.
273--An Ardent Wooing.
274--Love Grown Cold.
275--Love Hath Wings.
276--When Hot Tears Flow.
277--The Wages of Deceit.
278--Love and the World.
279--Love's Sweet Hour.
280--Faithful and True.
281--Sunshine and Shadow.
282--For Love or Wealth?
283--A Crown of Faith.
284--The Harvest of Sin.
285--A Secret Sorrow.
286--In Quest of Love.
287--Beyond Atonement.
288--A Girl's Awakening.
289--The Hero of Her Dreams.
290--Love's Burden.
291--Only a Flirt.
292--When Love is Kind.
293--An Elusive Lover.
294--The Hour of Temptation.
295--Where Love Leads.
296--Her Struggle With Love.
297--In Spite of Fate.
298--Can This Be Love?
299--The Love of His Youth.
300--Enchained by Passion.
301--The New Love or the Old?
302--At Her Heart's Command.
303--Cast Upon His Care.
304--All Else Forgot.
305--Sinner or Victim?
307--Answered in Jest.
308--Her Heart's Problem.
309--Rich in His Love.
310--For Better, For Worse.
311--Love's Caprice.
312--When Hearts Are Young.
314--In the Golden City.
315--A Love Victorious.
316--Her Heart's Delight.
317--The Heart of His Heart.
318--Even This Sacrifice.
319--Love's Crown Jewel.
320--Suffered in Vain.
321--In Love's Bondage.
322--Lady Viola's Secret.
323--Adrift on Love's Tide.
324--The Quest of His Heart.
325--Under Cupid's Seal.
326--Earlescourt's Love.
327--Dearer Than Life.
328--Toward Love's Goal.
329--Her Heart's Surrender.
330--Tempted to Forget.
331--The Love That Blinds.
332--A Daughter of Misfortune.
333--When False Tongues Speak.
334--A Tempting Offer.
335--With Love's Strong Bonds.
336--That Plain Little Girl.
337--And This is Love!
338--The Secret of Estcourt.
339--For His Love's Sake.
340--Outside Love's Door.
341--At Love's Fountain.
342--A Lucky Girl.
343--A Dream Come True.
344--By Love's Order.
345--Fettered for Life.
346--Beyond the Shadow.
347--The Love That Won.
348--Fair to Look Upon.
349--A Daughter of Eve.
350--When Cupid Frowns.
351--The Wiles of Love.
352--What the World Said.
353--Mabel and May.
354--Her Love and His.
355--A Captive Fairy.
356--Her Sacred Trust.
357--A Child of Caprice.
358--He Dared to Love.
359--While the World Scoffed.
360--On Love's Highway.
361--One of Love's Slaves.
362--The Lure of the Flame.
363--A Love in the Balance.
364--A Woman of Whims.
365--In a Siren's Web.
366--The Tie That Binds.
367--Love's Harsh Mandate.
368--Love's Carnival.
369--With Heart and Voice.
370--In Love's Hands.
371--Hearts of Oak.
372--A Garland of Love.
373--Among Love's Briers.
374--Love Never Fails.
375--The Other Man's Choice.
376--A Lady of Quality.
377--On Love's Demand.
378--A Fugitive from Love.
379--His Sweetheart's Promise
380--The Schoolgirl Bride.
381--Her One Ambition.
382--Love for Love.
383--His Fault or Hers?
384--New Loves for Old.
385--Her Proudest Possession.
386--Cupid Always Wins.
387--Love is Life Indeed.
388--When Scorn Greets Love.
389--Love's Potent Charm.
390--By Love Alone.
391--When Love Conspires.
392--No Thought of Harm.
393--Cupid's Prank.
394--A Sad Awakening.
395--What Could She Do?
396--Sharing His Burden.
397--Steadfast in Her Love.
398--A Love Despised.
399--One Life, One Love.
400--When Hope is Lost.
401--A Heart Unclaimed.
402--His Dearest Wish.
403--Her Cup of Sorrow.
404--When Love is Curbed.
405--A Pitiful Mistake.
406--A Love Profound.
407--A Bitter Sacrifice.
408--What Love is Worth.
409--When Life's Roses Bloom.
410--Her Only Choice.
411--Forged on Love's Anvil.
412--She Hated Him!
413--When Love's Charm is Broken.
414--Led by Destiny.
Published during January, 1913.
415--When Others Sneered.
416--Golden Fetters.
Published during February, 1913.
417--The Love That Prospered.
418--The Song of the Siren.
Published during March, 1913.
419--Love's Gentle Whisper.
420--The Girl Who Won.
Published during April, 1913.
421--The Love That Was Stifled.
422--The Love of a Lifetime.
Published during May, 1913.
423--Her One Mistake.
424--At War With Fate.
Published during June, 1913.
425--When Love Lures.
426--'Twixt Wealth and Want.
Published during July, 1913
427--Love's Pleasant Dreams.
In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the
books listed above will be issued, during the respective months, in New
York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers, at a distance,
promptly, on account of delays in transportation.
BEST COPYRIGHTS
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Years ago, one of our readers said that the S. & S. novels were "the
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the 3000 titles in the S. & S. lines.
Our novels are principally copyrights by the best authors, such as:
=CHARLES GARVICE=
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Transcriber's note:
Numerous printer errors have been corrected. There were so many printer
errors that these have been corrected without being documented. The
author's original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left
intact.