The Hero

e. Society in Little Primpton was exclusive, with the result that the same people met each other day afte

s; and the keener the wind, the harder the frost, the more proudly does it hold its head. But on this particular day the gathering was confined to the immediate neighbours, and when the Parsons arrived they found, beside their hosts, only the Clibb

ary, "thanks so much for t

curate, smiling blandly. "I know you

The Master Christian,'" Mary ex

f putting it on the l

t the beginning of the year, and passing it on in return for another after a certain interval,

I always think one ought to possess Marie Corelli's books.

authority, so that his literary j

more important things in life than books; but I do think she's splendid. I can't help feel

nk she was a woma

answered: "Le geni

id not quite understand the rema

e newspapers sneer at her," said Mrs. Jackson.

ome minds are so contemptibly small that they are simply cr

certain self-satisfaction, for they had the fearless g

that there is a vile conspiracy to blacken her, and for my part I am quite prep

cessful novelists," added Mr. Dryland,

ink that people can be so utterly base. Those who revile

has always been persecuted. Look at Keats and Shelley. The critics abused them just as they abuse Marie Corelli. Even Sh

ld get through Hamlet without yaw

e in her own hand; what can she care for the petty snarling of critics when the wreath of immortality is on her brow. I don't hesitate to say it, I'm not ashamed of my opinion; I consider Miss Corelli every bit as grea

s. Jackson. "When I read her I feel

raising his voice, "can you find in a play of Shakespeare'

a lofty moral purpose. That is the justification of fiction. The novelist has a high vocation, if he could only see it; he can inculcate submission to authority, hope, charity, obedience-

at is!" said

ery Christian ought to read 'Barabbas.' It gives an entirely new view of Christ. It puts the in

" cried Mary. "They all make me feel so much

urmured Mrs. Clibborn quietly, as though

and among the others there was a litt

e. But the most painful part of it was that the good lady always remained perfectly uncon

d then I tried another. I forget what it was, but there was something in it about a bed of roses, and I though

r awkwardly; while Mary, ashamed at her mother's want of taste, kept her eyes glued to the carpet But Mrs. Clibborn's folly was

our Marie Corelli by h

've never rea

all cried

id Mr. Dryland. "I have them all. Why, no one's e

, and the dear people smiled at one another signific

l of it, and the care of holding a cup, with a piece of cake unsteadily balanced in the saucer, prevented them from indulging in very brilliant conversational fe

en the proce

was considered a fine pianist in Little Primpton. She attacked the notes with marked resolution, keeping the loud pedal down throughout; her eyes were fixed on the music with an intense, determined air, i

e enthusiastically, as Mary stopped, rather out of breath, for sh

ly music I r

beautiful," said Colonel Parsons, w

ite composer," she replie

t seems to throb through all his music. It

d was a Jew, wasn

so apt to f

t sense of propriety. In her execution one perceived the high purpose which animated her whole conduct; it was pure and wholesome, and thoroughly English. And her piano-playing served also as a moral lesson, for none could listen without remembering that life was not

rying to make conversa

ll Mary

't bear amateurs. I wi

silliest woman he had ever known, should say the only sensible things he had heard

a very wonderful

Jam

orward her hand for him to take; but James

ly like me," murmured Mrs. Clibb

invited to si

ary, smiling. "For my sake.

was irritated that he should be forced to make a fool of himself. Mr. Dryland sang badly, but perfectly satisfied with himself, needed no pressing when his

y to wrath when he cannot put the balls into absurd little holes. Mary was an adept, and took pleasure in showing James how the thing should be done. He noticed that she an

ke up, and in a group

ary, if you don't mind," sa

like the fragments cast to the wind of some widowed, ample garment. It had grown cold, and James, accustomed to a warmer air, shivered a little. The country suddenly appeared cramped and circumscribed; in the fading light a dulness of colour came over tree and hedgerow which was singularly depressing. They walked in silence, while James looked for words. All day he had been trying to find some manner to express himself, but h

Mary who

een worrying a litt

hy

remember, when we were visiting my patients-I think I

said, looking at her. "I have no

but it does me good to apologise. Will you t

ourse

o anything you don't like, or don't a

ly that he no longer loved her, and wi

I'm a very terrifying

nt impossible; another day had go

urmured under his breat

d Mary turned to say good-bye. She bent forward,

between supper and prayers. The rattle of dice came to James indistinctly, as in a dream, and he imagined fantastically that unseen powers were playing for his life. He sat with his head between his hands, staring at the flames as though to find in

ou thinking

kly, as though afraid that his se

, for she too suffered from a shyness which made the subjects she had n

ink of getting

s st

ried to make a joke of it. "Upon my word

d to you that you're maki

d against the mantelpiec

sorry to do t

s, and you've not said a w

'm not very d

d!" cried the Colo

nterfere with your private concerns, but I think it's only thoughtlessness on your part; and I'm sure you don't wish to make Mary mise

u to speak to me?

er do anything of the kind. She would

aused a

to her to-mo

now she's going to be in all the morning. Colonel

e a good o