The Duchess of Rosemary Lane

th Nature's carpet of virgin snow covering and protecting the seedlings in the soil beneath. White and graceful devices beautify the woods, the traceries of which are

nd haggard, and the expression on her features is one of despair and agony. In the clear light of the healthy winter's day she walks up and down, and round and round the little room where love once dwelt, and where she called up fair v

o her from her lover, who vowed that nothing should ever part them--from her lover, who had stolen "her soul with many vows of love, and ne'er a true one." And ne'er a true one! Ah, kind Heaven, can it be possible? Can such treac

e stable-boy. "If she'd only be still

her which almost maddens her, and a thousand feverish pulses in her being are beating in cruel sympathy. Is love left in the world? Is faith

go, when the ponies and basket-carriage were sold; but he refused to leave. He lingers about the house, picks up his food anyhow, sleeps anywhere, and durin

e. The lad follows her at a distance. She does not know that she has forgotten her cloak, and she heeds not the snow. The fire burning within her warms her with a terrible, da

letters for

hind the counter, who replies with sma

with eager imploring. She

e are no letters

hop, as though to find some other excuse for having entered, pick

is following him. It is a man, and the lad turns and confronts h

" cries the lad, being him

the man, adding under his brea

owing that lady fo

is answered

thing to do wi

d think

ere she lives. I a

em, I should

tranger's face. It is a well-looking, honest, ruddy

t?" asks t

ien

she had--

d mind, I don't say she hadn't--if

wing a deep breath, "he has

ne not intended to be heard, reach the lad's sharp ears,

blurts out, "are

t mean, a

dubious, not b

gentleman; every gentleman is not a true man." The lad grins. Some understanding of

then, a

r as regards that

was turned off when the ponies was sold, but couldn't go. Thought she might make use of me in some way, you see. She never give me a hard word--never. Not like

d the cottage, and Nelly ente

of cold, coming out without her shawl, I'll stand on my head for a week. But I can

looks kindl

r them, and never let them play the game of lords and la

and her fingers mechanically clutch the paper. The pain dies away, and she sits exhausted on her chair. Listlessly and without purpose she looks at the paper, seeing at first but a dim confusion of words; but presently something in the column she is gazing at presents itself to her mind in a coherent form. S

o her heart. "Ah, he has sent you,

who played his part in the Spring and Summer

y word she speaks, every movement she makes, implies fear. She bears the appearan

ask if I ca

u!

ult you by telling you that my feelings ar

ence. Then the lines about her lips relax, and she speaks again, with

ve me, I wish to kno

you can serve me? Meaning i

in truth an

e bears truthful witness to the evidence of his lips,

elieve you. I must, or I shall go mad. If you do not mean me to

top and s

to have aroused her to life. His eyes glitter as he reads the paragraph, which announces that on this evening Mr. Temple w

o that place

-ni

ee him. I must spea

ou are not fit to tr

ve said, I must do. You don't know what hangs upon it." Her lips contract wit

es to shape the thought which holds

rdener's son. "How long is

e mon

e writte

e nothing more,

now six o'clock. In four hours the le

is side; she looks s

ur mother

es

he shudders at the name--"and of y

oved

d at her

in my arms w

speak to

ew w

e sacred

A

a moment; he looks

about to say will live in your mind till the last hour of your life, with the last words your mother s

ion in her white face, and

n hour. Wrap yourself up well, for the wind is enough to freeze one. Put

first time during the day, for the first time for many

o weak that the young gardener has to support her as she walks from the house; he lifts her with ease in his strong arms into the conveyanc

ener's son. "Stop here till we return. He can sle

she answers

moment th

in sight for a little while, but is

now where they've gone to. I'll follow them the best way I can."

ight gleams from the cottage windows. Echoes of voices are heard from within some laughing, some singing, some quarrelling. The gardener's son notices all the signs as they rattle past; Nelly is indifferent to them. They stop at a wayside inn, to give t

ly, "and another milepost! That's quick work, that last mile. What's the matter with the

his thought is expressed by the young gardener, who concludes his remarks with, "Poor creature!" Nelly shudders at the words and the pitying tone in which they are uttered. White are the roads they traverse, leaving a clear

tage window a short distance off, and he draws up at the door. Yet even as he lifts Nelly

ted," he

ries, with feverish ea

strength--a cup of tea, a little brandy, anything--and she is compelled to yield. He knocks at the cot

the labourer. "The missus has

ely words of love is singing her baby to sleep. Nelly catches her breath as the song and its meaning fall upon her ears and understanding, and in an agony of agitation she begs the young gardener to ta

s wildly, "let me go!

ith the mother's love-light in her eyes. But instead

do you belong to? You ought to be ashamed of yourself"--(this to the

an observant glance at Nelly, a glance which brings a t

n a chair, with his eyes to the ground. For a minute or so the men do not stir from the positions they have assumed; then, as though moved by a common thought, they s

ers the labourer's wife to the young g

e, and on Nelly's also, as

eparted, she turns to her husband, and kisses his weather-worn face, with a grateful feeling in her b

the travellers ar

ays the young gardener, cheerf

companion. It might make his heart fai

ss. On they go, through wide and narrow spaces, clothed in purest white, and John now begins to wonder how this night's work will end. The reflection disturbs him, and he shakes the

" he says, in a tone of satisf

ls to the ground. John jumps out hastily, and lifts Nelly from the conveyance. The willing animal, in obedien

d," says John; "wh

nt. The lights which they could see from their elevation in the conveyance are no longer visible to them. Nelly

m lips contracted w

carry yo

by every means in his power. Half an hour passes, and a church clock strikes ten. The church is quite close to them--a pretty, old-time place of worship, w

to the gate o

she wh

wers, bending

iend to me. Will you con

ngth has utterly left her, that she cannot walk another dozen yards. But she has something to say, and by a supreme effor

form, and knowing instinctively, as he places his arms about

nother step. My

must

porch. Lay me the

ve y

mpt to carry me into the town, I shall die! If you do n

heard language like this--he h

k a woman with a kind heart, an

trength of a death's agony she fights

to her lips, for the snow falls scarcely le

s, "seek him, and b

insensible and motionless, with her white face turned up

r within the holy hood of the house of prayer. Once or twice he speaks to her, but receives no answer; and once, with a sudden fear upon him, he places his ear to h

d rest lightly upon her, like white-winged heralds of love and pity. In the churchyard are tombs of many designs--some lying low in humility, some rearing their heads with an arrogance befitting, mayhap, the clay they cover when it was animated with life. Lies there beneath these records the dust of any woman's heart, which

of her position, shall she look for succour, for practical

has had a triumph to-night. A thousand persons have listened to his praises, and have indorsed them--proud to see him, proud to know him, proud to have him am

the white tombs of the de

is close upon her, and then he only see

s over her; his hand touches her cheek as he puts aside a curl

he cries. "I

man, seeking to know, could answer the question at this moment

n him. He starts from his stooping posture with a look of alarm,

e men is the young gardener; the other is a doctor, whom

de of the insensible girl,

he says, almo

d!" excla

en by Nelly herself. She moans a

warm rugs with him. The doc

e her h

N

ctor f

t do something. Go to my house as quickly as you can, and bring--

s from his pocket a book, writes instructions upon

n must bring the couch and the blankets

or beckons the women to him,

s sight. But presently a sound reaches his ears that makes him tremble. It is a baby's cry. Another soul is added to the world's many. In the stillness of the beautiful ni

E PROLOGUE.