The New Magdalen

The sky is clear, the frost is

the conservatory, the monotony of the paneled wall is relieved by a quaintly patterned door of old inlaid wood, leading into the library, and thence, across the great hall, to the other reception-rooms of the house. A corresponding door on the left hand gives access to the billiard-room, to the smoking-room next to it, and to a smaller hall commanding one of the secondary entrances to the building. On the left side also is the ample fireplace, surmounted by its marble mantelpiece, carved in the prof

ruck two. The table i

er reader and companion. Third, a guest staying in the house, who has already appeared in these pages und

Everybody with the slightest pretension to exp

k, easily flowing talk, her inexhaustible spirits, her good-humored, gracious sociability of manner? Where is the modern hermit who is not familiarly acquainted, by hearsay at least, with the fantastic novelty and humor of her opinions; with her generous encouragement of rising merit of any sort, in all

on her right hand, playing with her luncheon

lievers in blood and breeding will be apt to guess that this is another noble lady. Alas! she is nothing but Lady Janet’s companion and reader. Her head, crowned with its lovely light brown hair, bends with a gentle respect when Lady Janet speaks. Her fine firm hand is easily and incessantly watchful to supply Lady Janet’s slightest wants. The old lady — affectionately familiar with her — speaks to

delicate and beautiful creature pines unde

the inmate of the London Refuge; the lost woman who has stolen her way back — after vainly trying to fight her way back — to Home and Name. There she sits in the grim shadow of her own terrible secret, disguised in anot

ething that has passed between them has set her thinking of the day

as the welcome which established her firmly in her false identity at the outset. Thanks to her own experience, and thanks to the “Journal” of events at Rome, questions about her life in Canada and questions about Colonel Roseberry’s illness found her ready with answers which (even if suspicion had existed) would have disarmed suspicion on the spot. While the true Grace was slowly and painfully winning her way back to life on her bed in a German hospital, the false

remembrances which haunted her perpetually as they were haunting her now. Her memory was

conservatory, Lad

nly, my

eyes of Horace followed her, as long as she was in view, with a curious contradictory expression of admiration and disapproval. When she had passed out of sight the admiration va

h pie, Horace,”

thank

re chick

re chi

thing te

more wine, if yo

at a draught. Lady Janet’s bright eyes watched him with sardonic attention; Lady Jane

our cigar-case. Those are bad signs in a young man. When you first came here you arrived invalided by a wound. In your place, I should not have exposed myse

n the

out of

is fork, rested his elbows

ful

a breach of good manners. She snatched up the nearest weapon of correction at hand — a t

ts in My house. I consider it to be a reflection on Me. If our quiet life here doesn’t suit you, say so plainly, and find something else to do.

ad. The war between France and Germany, he remarked, was still going on: the

which was genuine anger this time. “I detest the newspapers! I won’t allow the newspapers to en

as evidently in earnest. “What can you possibly mean?”

you make a discovery; they go to church and get married. And I, thou, he; we, you, they, all want one and the same thing — we want to see it in the papers. Are kings, soldiers, and diplomatists exceptions to the general rule of humanity? Not they! I tell you seriously, if the newspapers of Europe ha

ovelty, ma’am,” said Horace. “Would you

her young friend wi

th century?” she asked. “In the newspapers, did

anged the

t life at Mablethorpe House. I am not in the least tired, Lady Janet.” He looked toward the conservatory: the f

as Grac

gagement. Nothing will persuade he

he month was out Horace had declared himself, and had discovered that he spoke to willing ears. From that moment it was only a question of persisting long enough in the resolution to gain his point. The marriage engagement was ratified — most reluctantly on the lady’s side — and there the further progress of Horace Holmcroft’s suit came to an end. Try as he might, he failed to persuade his betrothed wife to fix the day for the marriage. There were no obstacles in her way. She had no near relations of her own to consult. As a connection of Lady Janet’s by marriage, Horace’s mother and sisters were ready to receive her with all the honors due to a new member of th

m afraid she has some motive for deferring our marri

anet s

ou think that

e suddenly changes color and becomes silent and depressed. Just now, when she left the table (didn’t you notic

which she had not noticed herself. “You foolish boy!” she said, “the meaning is plain enough. Grace has

to ask you to persuade her? My mother and my sisters have written to her, and have produced no effect. Do me the greatest of all kindnesses — speak to her to-da

his bright blue eyes, and the warm amber tint in his light Saxon hair. Men — especially men skilled in observing physiognomy — might have noticed in the shape of his forehead and in the line of his upper li

ldless marriage. In past times, when the boy Horace had come to her from school, she had cherished a secret fancy (too absurd to be communicated to any living creature) that he ought to have been her son, and might have been her son, if she had married his father! She smiled charmingly, old as she was — she yielded as his mother might have yielded — when the young man took her hand and entreated her to interest herself in his marriage. “Must I reall

, and cultivate the favorite vice of the nineteenth century.” Horace attempted to exp

et took a turn in the roo

w her own mind, it was, in either case, necessary to come to a distinct understanding, sooner or later, on the serious question of the marriage. The difficulty was, how to approach the subject without giving offense. “I don’t u

d to trust to the inspiration of the moment for exerting it in the right way. “Grace!” she called out, approaching the conservatory

ladyship

eak to you. Come a

e way to a sofa, and placed her co