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The Bay State Monthly, Vol. II, No. 6, March, 1885 by Various

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"You have brought good news?"

"No," he said. "I am afraid you will not call it good news." He looked
away as he spoke, but after a moment turned toward her, and their eyes
met. Each read the meaning in the other's face too plainly to make
reserve as to the real state of things possible. "The cause of all this
cruel delay is explained at last," he went on. "The Sea-Gull on her way
back to England was wrecked. All Bolston's papers are lost. He had a
fever brought on by cold and exposure, and after he had lain for weeks
in an Irish inn, he waked into life with scarcely his sense of identity
come back to him. He writes that he has begun to recover himself,
however, and that by the time we send the papers again, new copies, he
shall be able to attend to the business as well as ever. For our work,
he might as well be at the bottom of the sea."

Elizabeth turned pale.

"When did you learn this?" she asked.

"A fortnight ago. I ought to have told you of it before, but I hated to
pain you."

She looked at him firmly. Then smiled a little through her paleness.

"Yes, it does pain me," she said. "But I don't despair. We are not
married, you and I, Mr. Archdale, and I wish Katie would throw aside her
nonsensical scruples. What matter whether Mr. Harwin was a minister? Why
will she not let it go that it was all fun, and marry you? I think she
ought."

"I think so, too," he said. He did not add his suspicions that Katie was
acting upon the covert suggestions of his father which had so disturbed
her conscience that she declared she must be satisfied that the whole
thing was a falsehood of Harwin's.

"I wish we could find him," said Elizabeth.

"So do I", answered Archdale under his breath. She looked at him quickly
and away again, feeling that her last wish had not been a wise one.
"Yet" pursued Archdale, "you see that if Harwin's story is false, the
whole matter drops there, and that would make it simpler, to say the
least of it. Katie does not like the idea of having the court obliged to
decide about it. She says it seems like a divorce."

Elizabeth flushed.

"Do I like it?" she said. "But anything is better than this."

"Yes," he answered, then seemed as if he would like to take back his
frank confession. She smiled at him.

"Don't try to soften it, Mr. Archdale. We both mean that. You speak
honestly because you are honest and understand what I want, too; because
you are wise enough to believe in the absurdity of this whole affair."

"You did not think it absurd at first," he answered.

"I was overwhelmed. I had no time to consider."

"No," he said, "only time to feel."

"Don't speak of that day," and she shuddered. "If I were to live a
thousand years, there never could be another so horrible."

He had risen to go. He stood a moment silent. Then:

"You are so reassuring," he said. "Yet, how can either of us be assured?
Perhaps you are my wife."

"Never," she said, and looked at him with a sudden coldness in her face.

"If a minister has married us," he answered, "nobody has yet unmarried
us."

The gravity of her expression impressed him.

"God has not married us," she said. "I shall never admit that." There
was a moment's silence. "Poor Katie!" she added.

"Yes, poor Katie,--and Mistress Royal."

Elizabeth smiled sadly.

"You remember that?" she asked. "It would not be strange if you forgot
everybody but Katie, and yourself."

"It would be strange if I forgot you, since you are,--what you are."

"I foresee," she answered, "that we shall be good friends. By and by,
when you and Katie are well established in your beautiful new house I
shall visit you there; Katie invited me long ago, and you and I are
going to be good friends."




CHAPTER XII

PERPLEXITIES.


Although Elizabeth had been so brave before Archdale, yet as soon as he
had gone she sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands, as
if by this she could shut out the visions of him from her mind. She
lived in the land of the Puritans, and Indiana had not been discovered.
She knew that those words which ought to have been so sacred but which
she had spoken so lightly were no longer light to her, but that in the
depths of her heart they weighed like lead and gave her a sense of guilt
that she could not throw off. Even if they proved nothing in law, they
had already brought a terrible punishment, and if,--if--. With a low cry
she started up. Life had grown black again. But she was not accustomed
to give way to emotions, still less to forebodings. In a few moments she
went back to her embroidery, and to Mrs. Eveleigh.

Archdale left Mr. Royal's house with a new comprehension of the woman he
had married in jest. Somehow, he had always considered that Katie and he
were really the only sufferers. Young, petted, rich, and handsome, it
had not come forcibly home to him before, however much his courtesy
might have assumed it, that this young woman whom, though he thought she
did well enough, he had no high opinion of, could actually suffer in the
idea of being his wife. But he saw it now through all her brave bearing,
and his vanity received its death-wound that morning.

Three days afterwards he was at Katie's home; he tried to feel that he
had the old right to visit her. "Your friend is so brave," he said, "she
puts courage into me. Katie, why don't you feel so, too?"

"Ah!" said the girl looking at him tearfully, "how can you ask that? It
is she who has the right to you, and I have not."

"She wants it as little as mortal can," he answered. "I think except as
your betrothed she does not even like me very well, although she was so
kind when I came away." And he repeated Elizabeth's parting prophesy.

"She and I are the two extremes," returned the girl. "If Mr. Harwin is a
minister, it will seem to me, as I told you, just as if you and
Elizabeth had been divorced."

"Nonsense, love, you cannot separate what has never been joined
together." He kissed away the tears that brimmed over from Katie's eyes.
Yet as he did so, he was not sure that he had the right to do it, for
the shadow of another woman seemed to come between them. He had
confessed his dread to Elizabeth, but to this girl it was impossible; to
her he must be all confidence. How different were these two women toward
whom he stood in such peculiar relations, betrothed to one, possibly
married to the other. If this last were true which of them would suffer
the more? A week ago his imagination would not have seized upon
Elizabeth's feelings at all; now he was convinced that it would be no
less hard for her than for Katie; hard through her friendship and her
pride. But this one's tender little heart would break. After all, it was
only of her that he could think. The waiting was growing unendurable.
Yet he felt that his father was right when he said that the easiest
way, the shortest in the end, was to prove if possible that Harwin's
story of his vocation was fabricated. Indeed, there was no case for
appeal to the Court unless that were established. Let that fall through,
and the lovers were free to marry.

"Have you heard" he asked after a time, "that Sir Temple and Lady Dacre
have written that they are coming to visit us,--us, Katie? You remember
they had an invitation to our wedding,--they shall have another,
dearest,--and could not come then, but they propose paying us a visit in
our own home at Seascape where they suppose we are living now, you and
I. I told you about my staying with them in England and asking them to
visit me when I was married. I was thinking then of my chances of being
engaged to you, Katie."

"Yes, you told me of them," she said, and after a pause added, "You will
have to write them the truth."

"It is too late for that to do any good. They follow close on the heels
of the letter; that is, by the next ship."

"Then I suppose Aunt Faith will take them, either at your father's, or
at Seascape. Which will it be, Stephen?"

"That house! It can never be opened until you do it, Katie; you know
that well enough."

The girl sighed. Yet with all the sadness of her lot it was delightful
to be loved and mourned over in this way; mourned over, and yet perhaps
not lost.

"I don't know about that being the best way," she returned slowly. "You
know Stephen, Uncle Walter is peculiar, and you could not entertain your
guests yourself; you would not have freedom. Really, it would not be
quite as nice for you."

"Always thinking of me," he cried. "It seems now that the only freedom I
care about is the freedom to make you my wife, Katie."

"Yes," she sighed again and was silent a moment. Then she said, "But
Stephen, if Aunt Faith is there, you know it won't be like anybody else,
and you can show them the house I am going to have. Do you believe
that?" she broke out suddenly. "Do you really believe that? This
uncertainty is killing me--don't imagine that I could not wait for
years, I am not dying for you, Stephen; I should not do such a thing, of
course. But not to know! I must know soon; life is unendurable under
such a strain."

"Poor little girl, she was not made, surely, to bear suffering," thought
Archdale. And he went away assured that she was most of all to be
pitied, that she was least protected from the North wind which was
blowing against them all three. As to the house, she should certainly
have her way about it. He saw that she was sacrificing her own feelings
for him. She did not understand that it was making matters a great deal
harder, she thought that she was making it pleasanter for him. Well, she
should have the satisfaction of believing she had done so. It did not
occur to him that the girl had taken the most effectual way of awaking a
sentimental interest in the persons who were imagining that they were to
be her guests. Katie was one of those people who illustrate the use of
the velvet glove, for in spite of her sprightliness, she was considered
the gentlest little creature in the Colonies.




CHAPTER XIII.

OVER THE THRESHOLD.


Florence, Lady Dacre, with her hand on Archdale's arm walked across the
plank from ship to shore, her husband on the other side of her and her
maid following with Sir Temple's valet, who was devotedly carrying all
the bundles, and interspersing his useful attentions with auguries as to
the "hignorance of the Hamerican Colonies." Lady Dacre walked on with a
light step, and eyes that took note of every thing.

"So, this is Boston?" she said. "I have always wanted to see it. You
will think me in fun, but really, do you know, it has an odd sort of
aggressive look to me! We imagine a certain humility in Colonies, but
your people are more English than Englishmen. That is your carriage,
there on the pier? How kind in you to come for us. And that is your
coachman? Now, even he has a look that, on the whole, he is as good as
you."

"He does not feel so," returned Archdale, smiling.

"Oh, no, I suppose not; it must be the exhilirating air that gives
people that appearance. Such a sky as there is to-day! Do you have
beautiful weather like this all the time?"

"No, sometimes we have a thunder shower."

Sir Temple laughed.

"Good enough for you, Florence," he cried. "What are you so absurd for?"

"For fun. I suppose you know Governor Shirley?" she added after an
instant.

"Slightly. But he is an intimate friend of Mr. Royal,--one of my
father's friends."

"Ah! yes. Well, what is the difference?"

"Then, last year," said Sir Temple, "we met some people in London." He
named several whom Archdale knew.

"And there are two others here now," cried Lady Dacre, "or perhaps I
ought not to say two persons, but one and his shadow. People call him a
reckless sort of a fellow--the man, not the shadow,--but I think him
charming. It is Mr. Edmonson, the best whist player I ever saw."

"And Lord Bulchester?"

"Ah! you know them. Perhaps we are going to meet them at your house?
That will be delightful."

"Lady Dacre has a perfect passion for whist," explained her husband.

"You will certainly meet them there if they will do me the honor to
become my guests," returned Archdale. Then something that he had heard
came back to him, and brought a sudden frown to his face, but it was too
late to retract. So, after he had made his friends comfortable at an
inn, for they were to dine before starting on their journey, he wrote
his invitation and dispatched it by his servant with instructions to
bring back an answer. "If the rumor I heard is true, he will not
accept," he said to himself.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

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A GOOD INVESTMENT,

And the safest thing in hard times, is to have an Orange-Grove. This can
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ESTATE seem to be the important feature which generally decides a man's
prosperity. Such investments are secure and permanent, and not liable to
the fluctuations that personal property is subject to.

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How Scientologists pressurise publishers
Articles published by guardian.co.uk Books

Proceeds from JK Rowling's new book to go to east European children's charity
David V Barrett: Over and over again, critical publications have been blocked

Michael Rosen sulutes the NHS at 60 with a poem

When the clock chimed midnight last night bookshops began to sell the Harry Potter phenomenon's latest instalment, a modest collection of fairy stories that is expected to put JK Rowling at the top of the bestsellers list once again this Christmas.

Booksellers sought to mark the publication of The Tales of Beedle the Bard - a set of short stories that featured in the final Harry Potter novel - by arranging events such as children's tea parties and breakfast readings. There was an exclusive party last night in London for 500 hardcore Harry fans. JK Rowling herself will host a tea party for 220 primary school children in Edinburgh this afternoon.

The collection is a reprinting of five fairy stories that Rowling originally hand-wrote and illustrated on vellum as a gift for six close friends associated with the Potter oeuvre. All six versions were hand-bound, their covers inlaid with semi-precious stones. The stories are derived from a magical book used by Harry to finally defeat his adversary Lord Voldemort in the seventh and final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which was the fastest-selling book ever.

Unlike the profits from the novels in the core Harry Potter series, the proceeds from Beedle the Bard are going to an east European children's charity chaired by Rowling, called the Children's High Level Group. Based on a European commission-backed organisation of the same name run by MEP Emma Nicholson to coordinate efforts to rehome 100,000 Romanian children kept in appalling conditions in state institutions, the charity focuses on rebuilding children's services in five east European countries.

The seven Harry Potter novels have sold 400m copies worldwide and spawned five movies along with associated merchandise, helping to build their small publishers, Bloomsbury, into a major force in the book industry. The Deathly Hallows helped Bloomsbury's children's division earn £40m profits last year. Bloomsbury hopes to sell between 7.5m and 8m copies worldwide from the first print run of Beedle the Bard, which is already translated into 27 languages, raising at least £12m for the children's charity.

About 80,000 children, many disabled or from oppressed ethnic minorities such as the Roma, live in state institutions in Romania, Moldova, Georgia, the Czech republic and Armenia, the charity's director, Georgette Mulheir, said yesterday.

Rowling said she hoped the new book would "not only be a welcome present to Harry Potter fans, but an opportunity to give these abandoned children a voice. It will encourage young people across the world to think about those who are less fortunate, and help change many young lives for the better."

The Tales of Beedle the Bard has already raised at least £1.9m for the charity after Amazon won the bidding at a Sotheby's auction for the seventh and last handwritten version of the book last year, donated by Rowling. The major booksellers are now selling the stories for £3.95, after Amazon provoked a discounting war by offering the book as a recession-busting loss leader at half the publisher's recommended price of £6.95.

The official price includes a £1.61 donation from each copy to the Rowling-backed charity, leaving booksellers in the UK effectively using their own profits to contribute a large part of the £12m expected to go to the Children's High Level Group.

Last year's Sotheby's auction has meant Rowling's handwritten versions are valued at £2m.

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