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THE NEW ABELARD
il '^^ m a n c e
BY
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AL-THOR OF THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ' ' GOD AND THE MAN' ETC
IN THREE VOLUMES— VOL. IIL
Xonbon
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1884
[A U rights reserved^
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AND PARLIAMENT STREET
d
MHZ
CONTENTS V.3
OF
THE THIRD VOLUME.
CHAPTER
PAGE
XXII. FKOM THE POST-BAG .... 1
XXIII. alma's WANDEBINGS 11
XXIV. GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN . . .32
XXV. A CATASTROPHE 57
XXVI. THE LAST LOOK 78
XXVII. THE SIKEN 95
XXVIII. THE ETERNAL CITY . . . .129
XXIX. THE NAMELESS GRAVE . . . . 154
XXX. IN PARIS ...... 164
XXXI. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS . . . . 190
XXXII. ANOTHER OLD LETTER . . . .203
1A ^.r OiOQ
THE NEW ABELARD.
CHAPTEE XXII.
FROM THE POST-BAG.
I.
Sir George CraiJc, Bart., to Alma Craik.
My dear Niece, — The receipt of your letter,
dated ' Lucerne,' but bearing the post-mark of
Geneva, has at last relieved my mind from the
weight of anxiety which was oppressing it.
Thank Heaven you are safe and well, and bear
your suffering with Christian resignation. In
a little time, I trust, you will have left this
dark passage of your experience quite behind
VOL. III. B
2 THE NEW ABE LARD.
you, and return to us looking and feeling like
your old self. George, who now, as always,
shares my affectionate solicitude for you, joins
me in expressing that wish. The poor boy is
still sadly troubled at the remembrance of
your misconception, and I sometimes think
that his health is affected. Do, if you can, try
to send him a line or a message, assuring him
that your unhappy misunderstanding is over.
Believe me, his one thought in life is to secure
your good esteem.
There is no news — none, that is to say, of
any importance. We have kept oiu- promise
to you, and your secret is still quite safe in our
custody. The man to whom you owe all this
misery is still here, and still, I am informed,
prostituting the pulpit to his vicious heresies.
If report is to be believed, his utterances have
FROM THE POST-BAG. 3
of late been more extraordinary than ever, and
he is rapidly losing influence over his own
congTegation. Sometimes I can scarcely con-
quer my indignation, knowing as I do that
with one word I could effectually silence his
blasphemy, and drive him beyond the pale of
society. But in crushing him I should dis-
grace you, and bring contempt upon our name ;
and these considerations, as well as my pledge
to keep silence, make any kind of public action
impossible. I must therefore wait patiently
till the inevitable course of events, accelerated
by an indignant Providence, destroys the de-
stroyer of your peace.
In the mean time, my dear Alma, let me
express my concern and regret that you should
be wandering from place to place without a
protector. I know your strength of mind, of
THE NEW ABELARD..
course ; but you are young and handsome,
and the world is censorious. Only say the
word, and although business of a rather im-
portant nature occupies me in London, I will
put it aside at any cost, and join you. In the
absence of my dear brother, I am your natural
guardian. While legally your own mistress,
}0u are morally under my care, and I would
make any sacrifice to be with you, especially
at this critical moment of your life.
I send this letter to the address you have
given me at Lucerne. I hope it will reach
you soon and safely, and that you will, on
seeing it, fall in with my suggestion that I
should come to you without delay.
With wnrmest love and sympathy, in which
your cousin joins, believe me as ever, — Your
affectionate uncle,
George Ckaik.
FROM THE POST-BAG. 5
IL
From Alma Craik to Sir George Craik, Bart.
My dear Uncle, — I have just received
your letter. Thank you for attending to my
request. With regard to your suggestion that
you should come to me, I know it is meant in
all kindness, but as I told you before leaving
London, I prefer at present to be quite alone,
with the exception of my maid Hortense. I
will let you know of my movements from time
to time, — Your affectionate niece.
Alma Craik.
ni.
Alma Craik to the Rev. Ambrose Bradley.
Your letter, together with one from my
uncle, found me at Lucerne, and brought me
t once grief and comfort : grief, that you still
6 THE NEW ABELARD.
reproach yourself over what was inevitable ;
comfort, that you are, as you assure me, still
endeavouring to pursue your religious work.
Pray, pray, do not write to me in such a strain
again. You have neither wrecked my life nor
broken my heart, as you blame yourself for
doin<]^ ; I learned long asro from our Divine
o ' DO
Example that the world is one of sorrow, and
I am realising the truth in my own experience,
that is all.
You ask me how and where I have spent
my days, and whether I have at present any
fixed destination. I have been wandering, so
to speak, among the gravestones of the Catholic;
Church, visiting not only the great shrines and
cathedrals, but lingering in every obscure
roadside chopel, and halting at every Calvary,
in southern and western France. Thence I
FROM THE POST-BAG. 7
have come on to Switzerland, where rehgioti
grows drearier, and hfe grows dismaller, in the
shadow of the mountains. In a few days I
shall follow in your own footsteps, and go on
to Italy — to Eome.
Write to me when you feel impelled to
write. You shall be apprised of my where-
abouts from time to time. — Yours now as ever,
Alma.
P.S. — When I sat down to write the above,
I thought I had so much to say to you ;
and I have said nothing! Something numbs
expression, though my thouglits seem full to
overflowing. I am like one who longs to
speak, yet fears to utter a syllable, lest her
voice should be clothed with tears and sobs.
God help me ! All the world is changed, and
I can hardly realise it, yet !
THE NEW ABELARD.
IV.
Ambrose Bradley to Alma Craik.
Dearest Al^ia, — You tell me in your
letter that you have said nothing of the
thoughts that struggle within you for utter-
ance ; alas ! your words are only too eloquent,
less in what they say than in what they leave
unsaid. If I required any reminder of the
mischief I have wrought, of the beautiful
dream that I have destroyed, it would come to
me in the pathetic reticence of the letter I have
just received. Would to God that you had
never known me ! Would to God that, having
known me, you would have despised me as I
deserved ! I was unworthy even to touch the
hem of your garment. I am like a wretch
FROM THE POST-BAG, 9
who has profaned the altar of a saint. Your
patience and devotion are an eternal rebuke.
I could bear your bitter blame ; I cannot bear
your forgiveness.
I am here as you left me ; a guilty, con-
science-stricken creature struo-o-ling; in a world
of nightmares. Nothino; now seems substan-
tial, permanent, or true. Every time that I
stand up before my congregation I am like a
shadow addressing shadows ; thought and lan-
guage both fail me, and I know not what
platitudes flow from my lips ; but when T am
left alone again, I awaken as from a dream to
the horrible reality of my guilt and my de-
spair.
I have thouo-ht it all over a^iain and again,
trying to discover some course by which I
might bring succour to myself and peace to
lo THE NEW ABELARD.
her I love ; and wliicbever way I look, I see
but one path of escape, the ray less descent of
death. For, so long as I live, I darken your
sunshine. My very existence is a reminder to
3^ou of what I am, of what I might have been.
But there, I will not pain you with my
]jenitence, and I will hush my self-reproaches
in deference to your desire. Though the staff
you placed in my hand has become a reed,
and though I seem to have no longer any
foothold on the solid ground of life, I will try
to struggle on.
I dare not ask you to write to me — it
seems an outrage to beg for such a blessing ;
yet I know that you will pity me, and write
again. — Ever yours,
Ambrose Bradley.
II
CHAPTER XXIII.
alma's wanderings.
Scoff not at Eome, or if thou scoff beware
Her veugeauce waiting in the he iven and air ;
Her love is blessing, and her hate, despair.
Yet see ! how low the hoary mother lies,
Prone on her face beneath the lonely skies —
On her head ashes, dust upon her eyes.
Men smile and pass, but many pitying stand.
And some stoop down to kiss her witliered hand,
Whose sceptre is a reed, whose crown is sand.
Think'st thou no pulse beats in that bounteous breast
Which once sent throbs of rapture east and west ?
Nay, but she liveth, mighty tho' opprest.
Her arm could reach as low as hell, as high
As the white mountains and the starry sky ;
She filled the empty heavens with her cry.
Wait but a space, and watch — her trance of pain
Shall dry away — her tears shall cease as rain —
Queen of the nations, she shall smile again!
The Ladder op Sx. AuGtrsTiNE.
Bradley's letter was fowarded from Lucerne
12 THE NEW ABELARD.
after some little delay, and readied Miss Craik
at Brieg, just as she was preparing to proceed
by private conveyance to Doino d'Ossola. She
had taken the carriage and pair for herself and
her maid, a young Frenchwoman ; and as the
vehicle rounded its zigzag course towards the
Klenenhorn, she perused the epistle line by
line, until she had learned almost every word
by heart.
Then, with the letter lying in her lap, she
gazed sadly, almost vacantly, around lier on
the gloomy forests and distant hills, the pre-
cipices spanned by aerial bridges, the quaint
villages clinging like birds'-nests here and
there, the dark vistas of mountain side gashed
by torrents frozen by distance to dazzling
white.
Dreary beyond measure, though the skies
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 13
were blue and the air full of golden sunlight,
seemed the wonderful scene : —
"SVe make the world we look on, and create
The summer or the winter with our seeing !
And cold and wintry indeed was all that
Ahna beheld that summer day.
Xot even the glorious panorama unfolded
beneath her gaze on passing the Second Eefuge
had any charms to please her saddened sight.
Leaving the lovely valley of the Ehone, spark-
ling in sunlight, encircled by the snow-
crowned Alps, with the Jungfrau towering
paramount, crowned with glittering icy splen-
dour and resting against a heaven of deep
insufferable blue, she passed through avenues
of larch and fir, over dizzy bridges, past the
lovely glficier of tlie Kaltwasser, till she
reached the high ascent of the Fifth Eefuge.
14 THE NEW ABELARD,
Here the coarse spirit of the age arose
before her, in the shape of a party of English
and American tourists crowdin^f the dihgence
and descending noisily for refreshment.
A little later she passed the barrier toll,
and came in sight of the Cross of 'Vantage.
She arrested the carriage, and descended for
a few mmiites, standing as it were suspended
in mid air, in full view of glacier upon glacier,
closed in by the mighty chain of the Bernese
Alps.
Never had she felt so utterly solitary. The
beautiful world, the empty sky, swam before
jier in all the loveliness of desolation, and turn-
ing her face towards Aletsch, she wept bitterl}^
As she stood thus, she was suddenly con-
scious of another figure standing near to her,
as if in rapt contemplation of the solemn
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 15
scene. It was tliat of a middle-aged man,
rather above the middle stature, who carried
a small knapsack on his shoulders and leant
upon an Alpine staff. She saw only his side
face, and his eyes were turned away ; yet,
curiously enough, his form had an air of
listening watchfulness, and the moment ehe
was conscious of his presence he turned and
smiled, and raised his hat. She noticed then
that his sunburnt face was clean shaven, like
that of a priest, and that his eyes were black
and piercing, though remarkably good-
humoured.
' Pardon, Madame,' he said in French, ' but
I think we have met before.'
She had turned away her head to hide her
tears from the stranger's gaze. Without wait-
ing for her answer, he pioceeded.
i6 THE NEW ABELARD.
' In the hotel at Brieg. I was staying
there when Madame arrived, and I left at day-
break this morning to cross the Pass on foot.'
By this time she had mastered her agitation,
and could regard the stranger with a certain
self-possession. His face, though not handsome,
was mobile and expressive ; the eyebrows were
black and prominent, the forehead was high,
tlie mouth large and well cut, with glittering
white teeth. It was difficult to tell the man's
a<Te ; for thoug-h his countenance was so fresh
that it looked quite young, his forehead and
cheeks, in repose, showed strongly-marked
lines ; and though his form seemed strou^jf and
agile, he stooped greatly at the shoulders. To
complete the contradiction, his hair was as white
as snow.
What mark is it that Eome puts upon lier
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 17
servants, that we seem to know them under
almost any habit or disguise ? One glance
convinced Alma that the stranger either be-
longed to some of the holy orders, or was a
lay priest of the Eomish Church.
' I do not remember to have seen you
before, Monsieur,' she replied, also in French,
with a certain hauteur.
The stranger smiled again, and bowed
apologetically.
' Perhaps I was wrong to address Madame
without a more formal introduction. I know
that in England it is not the custom. But here
on the mountain, far away from the conventions
of the world, it would be strange, would it not,
to meet in silence ? We are like two souls that
encounter on pilgrimage, both looking wearily
towards the Celestial Gate.'
VOL. III. C
1 8 THE NEW ABELARD.
* Are you a priest, Monsieur ? ' asked Alma
abruptl}'.
The stranger bowed again.
' A poor member of the Church, the Abbe
Brest. I am journeying on foot through the
Simplon to the Lago Maggiore, and thence,
with God's blessing, to Milan. But I shall rest
yonder, at the New Hospice, to-night.'
And he pointed across the mountain towards
the refuge of the monks of St. Bernard, close to
the region of perpetual snow. The tall figiu^e
of an Augustine monk, shading his eyes and
looking up the road was visible ; and from the
refectory within came the faint tolling of a bel
mingled from time to time with the deep bark-
ino[ of a dooj.
' The monks receive travellers still ? ' asked
Alma. ' I suppose the Hospice is rapidly be-
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 19
coming, like its compeers, nothing more or less
than a big hotel ? '
' Madame '
' Please do not call me Madame. I am
unmarried.'
She spoke almost without reflection, and it
was not until she had uttered the words that
their significance dawned upon her. Her face
became crimson with sudden shame.
It was characteristic of the stranger that he
noticed the change in a moment, but that,
immediately on doing so, he turned away his
eyes and seemed deeply interested in the distant
prospect, while he replied : —
' I have again to ask your pardon for my
stupidity. Mademoiselle, of course, is English ? '
' Yes.'
' And is therefore, perhaps, a little pre-
c2
20 THE NEW ABE LARD.
judiced against those who, hke the good monks
of the Hospice, shut themselves from all human
companionship, save that of the wayfarers whom
they live to save and shelter ? Yet, believe me,
it is a life of sacred service ! Even here, among
the lonely snows, reaches the arm of the Holy
IMother, to plant this cross by the wayside, as a
symbol of her heavenly inspiration, and to build
that holy resting-place as a haven for those who
are weary and would rest.'
He spoke with the same soft insinuating
smile as before, but his eye kindled, and his
pale face flushed with enthusiasm. Alma, who
had turned towards the carriage which stood
awaiting her, looked at him with new interest.
Something in his words chimed in with a secret
lonsino; of her heart.
' I have been taught to believe. Monsieur,
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 21
that your faith is practically dead. Every-
where we see, instead of its living temples,
only the ruins of its old power. If its spirit
exists still, it is only in places such as this, in
company with loneliness and death.'
' Ah, but Mademoiselle is mistaken ! ' re-
turned the other, following by her side as she
walked slowly towards the carriage. ' Had
you seen what I have seen, if you knew what I
know, of the great Catholic reaction, you would
think differently. Other creeds, gloomier and
more ambitious, have displaced ours for a time
in your England ; but let me ask you — yon,
Mademoiselle, who have a tridy religious spirit
— you who have yourself suffered — what have
those other creeds done for humanity ? Believe
me, little or nothing. In times of despair and
doubt, the world will again turn to its first
22 THE NEW ABELARD.
Comforter, the ever-patient and ever-loving
Church of Christ.'
They had by this time reached the carriage
door. The stranger bowed again and assisted
Ahna to her seat. Then he raised his hat with
profound respect in sign of farewell. The
coachman was about to drive on when Alma
signed for him to delay.
' I am on my way to Domo d'Ossola,' she
said. ' A seat in my carriage is at your service
if you would prefer going on to remaining at
the Hospice for the night.'
' Mademoiselle, it is too much ! I could
not think of obtruding myself upon you ! I, a
stranger ! '
Yet he seemed to look longingly at the
comfortable seat in the vehicle, and to require
little more pressing to accept the offer.
ALMA'S WANDERJNGS. 23
'Pray do not hesitate,' said Alma, smiling,
' unless you prefer the company of the monks
of the mountain.'
' After that, I can hesitate no longer,'
returned the Abbe, looking radiant with
delis'ht ; and he forthwith entered the vehicle
and placed himself by Alma's side.
Thus it came to pass that my heroine
descended the Pass of the Simplon in company
with her new acquaintance, an avowed member
of a Church for which she had felt very little
sympathy until that hour. To do him justice,
I must record the fact that she found him a
most interesting companion. His knowledge of
the world was extensive, his learning little
short of profound, his manners were charming.
He knew every inch of the way, and pointed
out the objects of interest, digressing lightly
24 THE NEW ABELARD,
into the topics they awakened. At every
turn the prospect brightened. Leaving the
Avild and baiTen slopes behind them, the
travellers passed through emerald pasturages,
and through reaches of foliage broken by
sounding torrents, and at last emerging from
the great valley, and crossing the bridge of
Crevola, they found themselves surrounded on
every side by vineyards, orchards, and green
meadows. When the carriage drew up before
the door of the hotel at Domo d'Ossola, Alma
felt that the time had passed as if under
enchantment. Although she had spoken very
little, she had quite unconsciously informed her
new friend of three facts — that she was a
wealthy young Englishwoman travelling
through Europe at her own free will ; that she
had undergone an unhappy experience, involv-
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 25
ing, doubtless, some person of the opposite
sex ; and that, in despair of comfort from
creeds colder and less forgiving, she was just in
a fit state of mind to seek refuge in the bosom
of the Church of Eome.
The acquaintance, begun so curiously in
the Simplon Pass, was destined to continue.
At Domo d'Ossola, Alma parted from the Abbe
Brest, whose destination was some obscure
village on the banks of Lago Maggiore ; but a
few weeks later, when staying at Milan, she
encountered him again. She had ascended the
tower of the Duomo, and was gazing down on
the streets and marts of the beautiful city, when
she heard a voice behind her murmuring her
name, and turning somewhat nervously, she
encountered the bright black eyes of the
wandering Abbe.
26 THE NEW ABELARD. .
He accosted her with his characteristic
honliomie.
' Ah, Mademoiselle, it is you ! ' he cried
smiling. ' We are destined to meet in the
high places — liere on the tower of the
cathedral, there on the heights of the Sim-
plon ! '
There was something so unexpected, so
mysterious in the man's reappearance, that
Alma was startled in spite of herself, but she
greeted him courteously, and they descended
the tower steps together. The Abbe kept a
solemn silence as they walked through the
sacred building, with its mighty w^alls of white
marble, its gorgeous decorations, its antique
tombs, its works in bronze and in mosaic ; but
when they passed from the porch into the
open sunhght, he became as garrulous as ever.
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 27
They walked along together in the direction of
the Grand Hotel, where Alma was staying.
'Have you driven out to the cathedral at
Monza ? ' inquired the Abbe in the course of
their conversation.
' No ; is it worth seeing ? '
' Certainly. Besides, it contains the sacred
crown of Lombardy, the iron band of which is
made out of nails from the true cross.'
' Indeed ! ' exclaimed Alma with a smile
that was incredulous, even contemptuous. She
glanced at her comj^anion, and saw that he was
smiling too.
It was not until she had been some weeks
away from England that Alma Craik quite
realised her position in the world. In the
first wild excitement of her flight her only
28 THE NEW ABELARD.
feeling was one of bewildered agitation,
mingled witli a mad impulse to return upon
her own footsteps, and, reckless of the world's
opinion, take her place by Bra.iley's side. A
word of encouragement from him at that
period would have decided her fate. But after
the first pang of grief was over, after she was
capable of regretful retrospectio i, her spirit
became numbed with utter despair. She found
herself solitary, friendless, hopeless, afflicted
with an incurable moral disease to which she
was unable to give a name, but which made
her long, like the old anchorites and penitents,
to seek some desert place and yield her hfe to
God.
In this mood of mind she turned for solace
to religion, and found how useless for all prac-
tical purposes was her creed of beautiful -ideas.
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 29
Her faith in Cliristian facts had been shaken
if not destroyed ; the Christian myth had the
vagueness and strangeness of a dream ; yet,
true to her old instincts, she haunted the
temples of the Churcli, and felt like one wan-
dering tlirough a great graveyard of the dead.
Travelling quite alone, for her maid was in
no sense of the words a confidante or a com-
panion, she could not fail to awaken curious
interest in many with whom she was thrown
into passing contact. Her extraordinary per-
sonal beauty was heightened rather than ob-
scured by her singularity of dress ; for though
she wore no wedding-ring, she dressed in black
like a widow, and had the manners as well as
the attire of a person profoundly mourning.
At the hotels she invariably engaged private
apartments, seldom or never descending to the
30 THE NEW ABELARD.
public rooms,- or joining in the tables- d'hote.
The general impression concerning her was
that she was an eccentric young Englishwoman
of great wealth, recently bereaved of some
person very near and dear to her, possibly her
husband.
Thus she lived in seclusion, resisting all
friendly advances, whether on the part of
foreigners or of her own countrymen ; and
her acquaintance with the Abbe Brest would
never have passed beyond a few casual cour-
tesies had it not begun under circumstances so
peculiar and in a place so solitary, or had the
man himself been anything but a member of
the mysterious Mother Church. But the
woman's spirit was pining for some kind of
guidance, and the magnetic name of Eome
had already awakened in it a melancholy
ALMA'S WANDERINGS. 31
fascination. The strange priest attracted her,
firstly, by his eloquent personality, secondly,
by the authority he seemed to derive from a
power still pretending to achieve miracles :
and though in her heart she despised the pre-
tensions and loathed the dogmas of his Church,
she felt in his presence the sympathy of a
prescient mind. For the rest, any companion-
ship, if hitellectual, was better than utter social
isolation.
So the meeting on the tower of the Duomo
led to other meetings. The Abbe became her
constant companion, and her guide through
all the many temples of the queenly city.
THE NEW ABELARD.
CHAPTER XXIV.
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN.
The earth, has bubbles as the water hath,
And these are of them ! — Macbeth.
While the woman he had so cruelly deceived
and wronged was wandering from city to city,
and trying in vain to iind rest and consolation,
Ambrose Bradley remained at the post where
she had left him, the most melancholy soul
beneath the sun. All his happiness in his w^ork
being gone, his ministration lost the fervour
and originahty that had at first been its domi-
nant attraction.
Sir George had not exaggerated when he
GLIMPSES OF THE UASEEN. 33
said that the clergyman's flock was rapidly
falling away from him. New lights were
arising ; new religious whims and oddities
were attracting the restless spirits of the metro-
pohs. A thought-reading charlatan from the
New World, a learned physiologist proving the
oneness of the sympathetic system with polar-
ised light, a maniacal non-jurist asserting the
prerogative of affirmation at the bar of the
House of Commons, became each a nine-days'
wonder. The utterances of the new gospel
were forgotten, or disregarded as flatulent and
unprofitable ; and Ambrose Bradley found his
occupation gone.
For all this he cared little or nothino-. He
was too lost in contempLnion of his own moral
misery. All his thoug]it and prayer being I0
escape from this, he tried various distractions —
VOL. III. D
34 THE NEW ABELARD.
the theatre, for example, with its provincial
theory of edification grafted on the dry stem of
what had once been a tree of hteratnre. He
was utterly objectless and miserable, when, one
morning, he received the following letter : —
' Monmouth Crescent, Bayswater.
'My dear Sir, — Will you permit me to
remind you, by means of this letter, of the
notes of introduction presented recently by me
to you, and written by our friends, and
, in America? My sister gives a seance
to-morrow evening, and several notabilities of
the scientific and literary world have promised
to be present. If you will honour us with
your company, I think you will be able to
form a disinterested opinion on the importance
of the new biology, as manifestations of an
extraordinary kind are confidently expected.
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 35
— With kind regards, in which my sister joins,
I am, most faithfully yours,
'Salem Mapleleafe,
' Solar Biologist!
' P.S. — The seance commences at five
o'clock, in this domicile.'
Bradley's first impulse was to throw the
letter aside, and to write a curt but polite
refusal. On reflection, however, he saw in
the proposed seance a means of temporary
distraction. Besides, the affair of the myste-
rious photograph had left him not a little
curious as to tlie machinery used by the
brother and sister — arcades amho^ or impostors
both, he was certain — to gull an uudiscerning
public.
At a little before five on the followino-
evening, therefore, he presented himself at
D 2
36 THE NEW ABELARD.
the door of the house in Monmouth Crescent,
sent up his card, and was ahuost immediately
shown into tlie drawing-room. To his surprise
he found no one tliere, but he had scarcely
glanced round the apartment when the door
opened, and a slight sylph-like figure, clad in
white, appeared before him.
At a glance he recognised the face he had
seen on the fading photograph.
' How do you do, Mr. Bradley ? ' said
Eustasia, holding out a thin transparent hand,
and fixing her light eyes upon his face.
'I received your brother's invitation,' he
replied rather awkwardly. ' I am afraid I
am a little before my time.'
' Well, you're the first to arrive. Salem's
upstairs washing, and will be down directly.
He's real pleased to know you've come.'
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 37
She flitted lightly across the room, and sat
down close to the window. She looked white
and worn, and all the life of her frame seemed
concentrated in her extraordinary eyes, which
she fixed upon the visitor with a steadiness
calculated to discompose a timid man.
' Won't you sit down, Mr. Bradley ? ' she
said, repeating the name with a curious fami-
Harity.
' You seem to know me well,' he replied,
seating himself, ' though I do not think we
have ever met.'
' Oh, yes, we have ; leastways, I've often
heard you preach. I knew a man once in the
States, who was the very image of you. He's
dead now, he is.'
Her voice, with its strong foreign inflexion,
rang so strangely and plaintively on the last
38 THE NEW ABE LARD.
words, that Bradley was startled. He looked
at the girl more closely, and was struck by her
unearthly beauty, contrasting so oddly with
her matter-of-fact, offhand manner.
'Your brother tells me that you are a
sibyl,' he said, drawing his chair nearer. ' I
am afraid, Miss Mai:)leleafe, you will find me
a disturbing influence. I have about as much
faith in solar biology, spiritualism, spirit-
agency, or whatever you like to call it, as I
have in — well, Mumbo- Jumbo.'
Her eyes still looked brightly into his, and
her wan face was ht up with a curious
smile.
' That's what they all say at first ! Guess
you think, then, that I'm an impostor? Don't
be afraid to speak your mind ; I'm used to it ;
I've had worse than hard names thrown at
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 39
me ; stones and all that. I was stabbed once
down South, and I've the mark still ! '
As she spoke, she bared her white arm to
the elbow, and showed, just in the fleshy part
of the arm, the mark of an old scar.
' The man that did that drew his knife in
the dark, and pinioned my arm to the table.
The very man that was like you'
And lifting her arm to her lips she kissed
the scar, and murmured, or crooned, to herself
as she had done on the former occasion in the
presence of her brother. Bradley looked on
in amazement. So far as he could perceive
at present, the woman was a half-mad creature,
scarcely responsible for what she said or
did.
His embarrassment was not lessened when
Eustasia, still holding the arm to her lips.
40 THE NEW ABELARD.
looked at him through thickly gathering tears,
and then, as if starting from a trance, gave
vent to a wild yet musical laugh.
Scarcely knowing what to say, he con-
tinued the former topic of conversation.
' I presume you are what is called a clair-
voyante. That, of course, I can understand.
But, do you really believe in supernatural
manifestations ? '
Here the voice of the little Professor, who
had quietly entered the room, supplied an
answer.
'Certainly not, sir. The office of solar
biology is not to vindicate, but to destroy,
supernaturahsm. You mean superhuman,
M'hich is quite another thing.
* All things abide in Nature, nought subsists
Beyond the infinite celestial scheme.
AlottiS in the sunbeam are the lives of men,
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 41
But in tlie moonlight and the stellar ray,
In every burning flame of every sphere,
Exist intelligible agencies
Akin to thine and mine.
That's how the great Bard puts it in a nutshell.
Other lives in other worlds, sir, but no life out
or beyond Nature, which embraces the solid
universe to the remotest point in space.'
Concluding with this flourish, Professor
Mapleleafe dropped down into commonplace,
wrung the visitor's hand, and wished him a
very good-day.
' How do you feel, Eustasia ? ' he continued
with some anxiety, addressing his sister. ' Do
you feel as if the atmosphere this afternoon
was properly conditioned .^ '
' Yes, Salem, I think so.'
The Professor looked at his watch, and
simidtaneously there came a loud rapping at
42 THE NEW ADELARD.
the door. Presently three persons entered, a
tall, powerful-looking man, who was introduced
as Doctor Kendall, and two elderly gentlemen ;
then a minute later, a little gray-haired man,
the well-known Sir James Beaton, a famous
physician of Edinburgh. The party was com-
pleted by the landlady of the house, who
came up dressed in black silk, and wearing a
widow's cap.
' Now, then, ladies and gentlemen,' said the
little Professor ghbly, ' we shall, with your
permission, begin in the usual manner, by
darkening the chamber and forming an ordinary
circle. I warn you, however, that this is trivial,
and in the manner of professional mediums.
As the seance advances and the power deepens,
we shall doubtless be lifted to higher ground.'
So saying he drew the heavy curtains of the
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 43
window, leaving the room in semi-darkness.
Then the party sat down around a small cir-
cular table, and touched hands ; Bradley sitting
opposite Eustasia, who had Dr. Kendall on her
right and Sir James Beaton on her left. The
usual manifestations followed. The table rose
bodily into the air, bells were rung, tiny
sparkles of light flashed about the room.
This lasted about a quarter of an hour, at
the end of which time Mapleleafe broke the
circle, and drawing back a curtain, admitted
somehght into the room. It was then discovered
that Eustasia, sitting in her place, with her
hands resting upon the table, was in a state of
mesmeric trance ; and ghastly and sibylline
indeed she looked, with her great eyes wide
open, her golden hair fallen on her shoulders,
her face shining as if mysteriously anointed.j
44 THE NEW A BE LARD.
' Eustasia ! ' said the Professor softly.
The girl remained motionless, and did not
seem to hear.
' Eustasia ! ' he repeated.
This time her lips moved, and a voice, that
seemed shriller and clearer than her own,
replied : —
' Eustasia is not here. I am Sira.'
'WhoisSira?'
' A spirit of the third magnitude, from the
region of the moon,'
A titter ran round the company, and Sir
James Beaton essayed a feeble joke.
' A lunar spirit — we shall not, I hope, be
de lunatico inquii^endo.''
' Hush, sir ! ' cried the Professor ; then he
continued, addressing the medium his sister,
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 45
' Let me kuow if the conditions are perfect or
imperfect ? '
* I cannot tell,' was the reply.
' Do you see anything, Sira ? '
' I see faint forms floating on the sunbeam.
They come and go, they change and fade. One
is like a child, with its hand full of flowers.
They are lilies — 0, I can see no more. I am
blind. There is too much light.'
The Professor drew the ciu-tain, darkening
the chamber. He then sat down in his place
at the table, and requested alh present to touch
hands once more. So far, Bradley had looked
on with impatience, not unmingled with disgust.
What he saw and heard was exactly what he
had heard described a hundred times.
With the darkening of the room, the mani-
46 THE NEW ADELARD.
festations recommenced. The table moved
about like a tiling possessed, the very floor
seemed to tremble and upheave, the bells rang,
the lights flashed.
Then all at once Bradley became aware of
a strange sound, as if the whole room were full
of life.
' Keep still ! ' said the Professor. ' Do not
break the chain. Wait ! '
A long silence followed ; then the strange
sound was heard again.
' Are you there, my friend ? ' asked the
Professor.
There was no reply.
' Are the conditions right ? '
He was answered by a cry from the me-
dium, so wild and strange that all present were
startled and awed.
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 47
' See ! see ! '
' What is it» Sira ? ' demanded the Professor.
' Shapes like angels, carrying one that looks
like a corpse. They are singing — do you not
hear them ? Now they are touching me — they
are passing their hands over my hair. I see my
mother ; she is weeping and bending over me.
Mother ! mother ! '
Simultaneously, Bradley himself appeared
conscious of glimpses like human faces flashing
and fading. In spite of his scepticism, a deep
dread, which was shared more or less by all
present, fell upon him. Then all at once he
became aware of something like a living
form, clad in robes of dazzling whiteness, pass-
ing by him. An icy cold hand was pressed
to his forehead, leaving a clannny damp hke
dew.
48 THE NEW ABELARD.
'I see a shape of some kind,' he cried.
' Does anyone else perceive it ? '
* Yes ! yes ! yes ! ' came from several voices.
' It is the spirit of a woman,' murmured the
medium.
' Do you know her .? ' added the Professor.
'No ; she belongs to the hving world, not
to the dead. I see far away, somewhere on
this planet, a beautiful lady lying asleep ; she
seems full of sorrow, her pillow is wet with
tears. Tliis is the lady's spirit, brought hither
by the magnetic influence of one she loves.'
' Can you describe her to us more
closely ? '
'Yes. She has dark hair, and splendid
dark eyes; she is tall and lovely. The lady
and the spirit are alike, the counterpart of each
other.'
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 49
Once more Bradley was conscious of the
white form standing near him ; he reached out
his hands to touch it, but it immediately
vanished.
At the same moment he felt a touch like
breath upon his face, and heard a soft musical
voice murmuring in his ear —
' Ambrose ! beloved ! '
He started in wonder, for the voice seemed
that of Alma Craik.
' Be good enough not to break the chain ! '
said the landlady, who occupied the chair at
his side.
Trembling violently, he returned his hands
to their place, touching those of his immediate
neighbours on either side. The instant he did
so, he heard the voice again, and felt the touch
like breath.
VOL. III. E
so THE NEW ABELARD.
' Ambrose, do you know me ? '
' Who is speaking ? ' he demauded.
A hand soft as velvet and cold as ice was
passed over liis hair.
' It is I, dearest ! ' said the voice. ' It is
Alma I '
' What brings you here ? ' he murmured,
almost inaudibly.
' I knew you were in sorrow ; — I came to
bring you comfort, and to assure you of my
affection.'
The words were spoken in a low, just
audible voice, close to his ear, and it is doubt-
ful if they were heard by any other member
of the company. In the meantime the more
commonplace manifestations still continued ;
the room was full of strange sounds, bells ring-
ing, knocking, shuffling of invisible feet.
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 51
Bradley was startled beyond measure.
Either her supernatural presence was close by
him, or he was the victim of some cruel trick.
Before he could speak again, he felt the pres-
sure of cold lips on his forehead, and the same
strange voice murmm^ing farewell.
Wild with excitement, not unmingled with
suspicion, he again broke the chain and sprang
to his feet. There was a sharp cry from the
medium, as he sprang to the window and drew
back the curtain, letting in the daylight. But
the act discovered nothing. All the members
of the circle, save himself, were sitting in their
places. Eustasia, the medium, was calmly
leaning back in her chair. In a moment, how-
ever, she started, put her hand quickly to her
forehead as if in pain, and seemed to emei-ge
from her trance.
E 2
52 THE NEW ABE LARD.
' Salem,' she cried in her own natural voice,
' has anylliing happened ? '
' Mr. Bradley has broken the conditions,
that's all,' returned the Professor, with an air
of offended dignity. ' 1 do protest, ladies and
gentlemen, against that interruption. It has
brought a most interestinf;p seance to a violent
close.'
There was a general murmur from the
company, and dissatisfied glances were cast at
the offender.
' I am very sorry,' said the clergyman. ' I
yielded to an irresistible influence.'
' The spmts won't be trifled with, sir,' cried
Mnpleleafe.
' Certainly not,' said one of the elderly
gentlemen. 'Solemn mysteries like these
should be approached in a fair and a — hum —
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 53
a respectful spirit. For my own part, I am
quite satisfied with what I have seen. \\.
convinces me of — hum — the reality of these
phenomena.'
The other elderly gentleman concurred.
Dr. Kendall and Sir James, who had been
comparing notes, said that they would reserve
their final judgment until they had been pre-
sent at another seance. In the mean time
they would go so far as to say that what they
had witnessed was very extraordinary indeed.
' How are you now, Eustasia ? ' said the
Professor, addressing his sister.
' My head aches. I feel as if I had been
standing for hours in a burning sun. When you
called me back I was dreaming so strangely.
I thought I was in some celestial place, walk-
ing hand in hand with the Lord Jesus.'
54 THE NEW ABE LARD.
Bradley looked at the speaker's face. It
looked full of clfiii or witch-like rather than
angelic light. Their eyes met, and Eiistasia
gave a curious smile.
' Will you come again, Mr. Bradley ? '
' I don't know. Perhaps ; that is to say, if
you will permit me.'
' I do think, sir,' interrupted the Professor,
' that you have given offence to the celestial
intelligences, and I am not inclined to admit
you to our circle again.'
Several voices murmured approval.
' You are wrong, brother,' cried Eustasia,
' you are quite wrong,'
' What do you mean, Eustasia .^ '
' I mean that Mr. Bradley is a medium
himself, and a particular favourite with spirits
of the fir>-t order.'
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN. 55
The Professor seemed to reflect.
' Well, if that's so (and you ought to know),
it's another matter. But he'll have to promise
not to break the conditions. It ain't fair to
the spirits ; it ain't fair to his fellow-
inquirers.'
One by one the company departed, but
Bradley still lingered, as if he had something
still to hear or say. At last, when the last
visitor had gone, and the landlady had grimly
stalked away to continue her duties in the
basement of the house, he found himself alone
with the brother and sister.
He stood hesitating, hat in hand.
' May I ask you a few questions ? ' he said,
addressing Eustasia.
' Why, certainly,' she replied.
' While you were in the state of trance did
56 THE NEW ABELARD.
you see or hear anything that took place in
tliis room ? '
Eustasia shook her head.
' Do you know anything whatever of my
private hfe ? '
' I guess not, except what I've read in the
papers.'
' Do you know a lady named Craik, who
is one of the members of my congregation ? '
The answer came in another shake of the
head, and a blank look expressing entire igno-
rance. Either Eustasia knew nothing what-
ever, or she was a most accomplished actress.
Puzzled and amazed, yet still suspecting fraud
of some kind, Bradley took his leave.
57
CHAPTEE XXV.
A CATASTROPHE.
' After life's fitful fever, she sleeps well I '
The few days followiDg the one on which the
spiritiiahstic seance was held were passed by-
Bradley in a sort of dream. The more he
thought of what he had heard and seen, the
more puzzled he became. At times he seemed
half inclined to believe in supernatural colla-
boration, then he flouted his belief and laughed
contemptuously at himself. Of coiurse it was
all imposture, and he had been a dupe.
Then he thought of Eustasia, and the
58 THE NEW ABELARD.
interest which she had at first aroused in him
rapidly changed to indignation and contempt.
Very soon these people ceased to occupy
his thoughts at all ; so self-absorbed was he,
indeed, in his own trouble that he forgot them
as completely as if they had never been. After
all they were but shadows which had flitted
across his path and faded. Had he been left
to himself he would assuredly never have
summoned them up again.
But he was evidently too valuable a con-
vert to be let go in that way. One morning
he received the following note, written on
delicate paper in the most fairylike of fragile
hands :
'My dear Mr, Bradley, — We hold a
seance to-morrow night at six, and hope you'll
come ; at least, / do ! Salem don't particularly
A CATASTROPHE. 59
want you, since you broke tlie conditions, and
he regards you as a disturbing influence. /
know better : the spirits hke you, and I feel that
with you I could do great things ; so I hope
you'll be here.
' EusTASiA Mapleleafe.'
Bradley read the letter through twice, then
he gazed at it for a time in trembhng hesi-
tation. Should he go ? Why not ? Suppose
the people were humbugs, were they worse
than dozens of others he had met? and they
had at least the merit of bringing back to him
the presence of the one being who was all in
all to him. His hesitation lasted only for a
moment — the repulsion came. He threw the
letter aside.
A few days later a much more significant
incident occurred. As Bradley was leavmg
6o THE NEW ABELARD.
his house one morning he came face to face
with a veiled woman who stood before his
door. He was about to pass : the lady laid a
retaining hand upon his arm and raised her
veil.
It was Eustasia.
' Guess you're surprised to see me,' she
said, noticing his start ; ' suppose I may come
in, though, now I'm here ? '
Bradley pushed open the door, and led the
way to his study. Eustasia followed him ;
having reached the room, she sat down and
eyed him wistfully.
' Did you get my letter ? ' she asked.
' Yes.'
* You didn't answer it ? '
'No.'
'Why not?'
A CATASTROPHE. 6i
Bradley hesitated.
' Do you want me to tell you ? ' he said.
' Why, certaioly — else why do I ask you ?
but I see you don't wish to tell me. Why ? '
' Because I dislike giving unnecessary
pain.'
' Ah ! in other words you believe me to be
a humbug, but you haven't the cruelty to say
so. Well, that don't trouble me. Prove me
to be one, and you may call me one, but give
me a fair trial first.'
' What do you mean ? '
' Come to some more of our seances, will
you ? do say you'll come ! '
She laid her hand gently upon liis arm, and
fixed her eyes almost entreatingly upon him.
He stared at her like one fascinated, then
shrank before her glance.
62 THE NEW ABE LARD.
' Wliy do you wish me to come ? ' he said.
' You kuow my thoughts and feehngs on this
subject. You and I are cast in different
moulds ; we must go different ways.'
She smiled sadly.
' The spirits will it otherwise,' she said ;
while under her breath she added, 'and so
do I.'
But he was in no mood to yield that day.
As soon as Eustasia saw this she rose to go.
When her thin hand lay in his, she said softly :
'Mr. Bradley, if ever you are in trouble
come to us ; you will find it is not all humbug
then V
Eustasia returned home full of hope. ' He '
will come,' she said ; ' yes, he wdll assuredly
come.' But days passed, and lie neither came
nor sent ; at last, growing impatient, she called
A CATASTROPHE. 63
again at his house ; then she learned that he
had left London.
' He has flown from me,' she thought ; ' he
feels my influence, and fears it.'
But in this Eustasia was quite wrong. He
was flying not from her but from himself.
The wretched life of self-reproach and misery
which he was compelled to lead was crushing
him dowm so utterly that unless he made some
efibrt he w^ould sink and sicken. Die ? Well,
after all, that would not have been so hard ;
but the thought of leaving Alma was more than
he could bear. He must live for the sake of the
days which might yet be in store for them both.
He needed change, however, and he sought
it for a few days on foreign soil. He went
over one morning to Boulogne, took rooms in
the Hotel de Paris, and became one of the
64 THE NEW ABELARD.
swarm of tourists which was there filling the
place.
The bathing season was then at its height,
and people were all too busy to notice him ; he
walked about like one in a dream, watching
the pleasure-seekers, but pondering for ever on
the old theme.
After all it was well for him that he had
left England, he thought — the busy garrulous
life of this place came as a relief after the
dreary monotony of town. In the evenings
he strolled out to the concerts or open-air
dances, and observed the fisher girls, with their
lovers moving about in the gaslight ; while in
the mornings he strolled about the sand watch-
ing with hstless amusement the bathers who
crowded down to the water's edge like bees in
swarmiu£f time.
A CATASTROPHE. 65
One morniug, feeling more sick at heart
than usual, he issued from the hotel and bent
his steps towards the strand. On that day
the scene was unusually animated. Flocks
of fantastically-dressed children amused them-
selves by making houses in the sand, while
their honnes watched over them, and their
mammas, clad in equally fantastic costumes,
besieged the bathing-machines. Bradley
walked for a time on the sands watching the
variegated crowd ; it was amusing and dis-
tracting, and he was about to look around for
a quiet spot in which he could spend an hour
or so, when he was suddenly startled by nn
apparition.
A party of three were making tlieir way
towards the bathing-machines, and were even
then within a few yards of him. One was a
VOL. III. p
66 THE NEW ABELARD.
child dressed in a showy costume of serge, with
long cuils falling upon his shoulders ; on one
side of him was a French bonne, on the other a
lady extravagantly attired in the most gorgeous
of sea-side costumes. Her cheeks and lips were
painted a bright red, but lier skin was white as
alabaster. She was laughing heartily at some-
thing which the little boy had said, when sud-
denly her eyes fell upon Bradley, who stood
now within two yards of her.
It was his wife.
She did not pause nor shrink, but she
ceased laughing, and a peculiar look of thinly
veiled contempt passed over her face as she
walked on. '
' MamaiiJ said the child in French, ' who is
that man, and why did he stare so at you ? '
The lady shrugged her shoulders, and
lauirhed again.
A CATASTROPHE. 67
' He stared because he had nothing better
to look at, I suppose, cMri ; but come, I shall
miss my bath ; you had best stay here with
Augustine, and make sand-hills till I rejoin you.
Au revoir, Bebe.'
She left the child with the nurse, hastened
on and entered one of the bathing-machines,
which was immediately drawn down into the
sea.
Bradley still stood where she had left him,
and his eyes remained fixed upon the machine
which held the woman whose very presence
poisoned the air he breathed. All his old
feelings of repulsion returned tenfold ; the very
sight of the woman seemed to degrade and drag
him down.
As he stood there the door of the machine
opened, and she came forth again. This time
F 2
68 THE NEW ABELARD.
she was the woucler of alL Her shapely hmbs
were partly naked, and her body was covered
with a quaintly cut bathing-dress of red. She
called out some instructions to her nurse ; then
she walked down and entered the sea.
Bradley turned and walked away. He
passed up the strand and sat down listlessly on
one of the seats on the terrace facing the water.
He took out Alma's last letter, and read it
through, and the bitterness of his soul increased
tenfold.
When would his misery end ? he thought.
Why did not death come and claim his own,
and leave him free? Wherever he went his
existence was poisoned by this miserable
woman.
' So it must ever be,' he said bitterly. ' I
A CATASTROPHE. 69
must leave this place, for the very sight of her
almost drives me mad.'
He rose and was about to move away, when
he became conscious, for the first time, that
something unusual was taking place. He heard
sounds of crying and moaning, and everybody
seemed to be rushing excitedly towards the
sand. What it was all about Bradley could not
understand, for he could see nothing. He stood
and watched ; every moment the cries grew
louder, and the crowd upon the sands increased.
He seized upon a passing Frenchman, and
asked what the commotion meant.
' Ras de maree, monsieur!' rapidly explained
the man as he rushed onward.
Thoroughly mystified now, Bradley resolved
to discover by personal inspection what it all
meant. Leaving the terrace he leapt upon the
70 THE NEW ABELARD.
shore, and gained the waiting crowd upon the
sand. To get an explanation from anyone here
seemed to be impossible, for every individual
member of the crowd seemed to have gone
crazy. The women threw up their hands and
moaned, the children screamed, while the men
rushed half wildly about the sands.
Bradley touched the arm of a passing
Englishman.
' What is all this panic about? ' he said.
' The ras de inaree I '
' Yes, but what is the ras de ynaree P '
' Don't you know ? It is a sudden rising
of the tide ; it comes only once in three years.
It has surprised the bathers, many of whom are
drowning. See, several machines have gone to
pieces, and the others are floating like drift-
wood ! Yonder are two boats out picking up
A CATASTROPHE. 71
tlie people, but if the waves continue to rise
like this they will never save them all. One
woman from that boat has fainted ; no, good
heavens, she is dead.'
The scene now became one of intense ex-
citement. The water, rising higher and higher,
was breaking now into waves of foam ; most of
the machines were dashed about like corks
upon the ocean, their frightened occupants
giving forth the most fearful shrieks and cries.
Suddenly there was a cry for the lifeboat ;
immediately after it dashed down the sand,
drawn by two horses, and was launched out
upon the sea ; while Bradley and others occupied
themselves in attending to those who were laid
fainting upon the shore.
But the boats, rapidly as they went to work,
proved insufficient to save the mass of fright-
72 THE NEW ABELARD.
ened humanity still struggling with the waves.
The screams and cries became heartrending as
one after another sank to rise no more. Sud-
denly there was another rush.
' Leave the women to attend to the
rescued,' cried several voices. ' Let the men
swim out to the rescue of those who are ex-
hausted in the sea.'
There was a rush to the water ; among
the first was Bradley, who. throwing off his
coat, plunged boldly into the water. Many
of those who followed him w^ere soon over-
come by the force of the waves and driven
back to shore ; but Bradley was a powerful
swimmer, and went on.
He made straight for a figure which,
seemingly overlooked by everyone else, was
drifting rapidly out to sea. On coming nearer
A CATASTROPHE. 72,
he saw, by the long bhick hair, which floated
around her on the water, that the figure was
that of a woman. How she supported herself
Bradley could not see ; she was neither swim-
ming nor floating ; her back was towards him,
and she might have fainted, for she made no
sound.
On comincf nearer he saw that she was
supporting herself by means of a plank, part
of the debris which had drifted from the
broken machines. By this time he was quite
near to her ; — she turned her face towards
him, and he almost cried out in pain.
He recognised his wife !
Yes, there she was, helpless and almost
fainting — her eyes were heavy, her lips blue ;
and he seemed to be looking straight into the
face of death. Bradley paused, and the two
74 THE NEIV ABELARD.
gazed into each other's eyes. lie saw that
her strength was going, but he made no
attempt to put out a hand to save her. He
thought of the past, of the curse this woman
had been to him ; and he knew that by merely
doing nothing she would be taken from
him.
Should he let her die? Why not? If he
had not swum out she most assuredly would
have sunk and been heard of no more. Again
he looked at her and she looked at him : her
eyes were almost closed now : having once
looked into his face she seemed to have
resigned all hopes of rescue.
No, he could not save her — the temptation
was too great. He turned and swam in the
direction of another figure which was floating
helplessly upon the waves. He had only
A CATASTROPHE. 75
taken three strokes when a violent revulsion
of feehng came ; with a terrible cry he turned
again to the spot where he had left the fainting
and drowning woman. But she was not there
— the plank was floating upon the water — that
was all.
Bradley dived, and reappeared holding the
woman in his arms. Then he struck out with
her to the shore.
It was a matter of some difficulty to get
there, for she lay like lead in his hold. Hav-
ing reached the shore, he carried her up the
beach, and placed her upon the sand.
Then he looked to see if she was conscious.
Yes, she still breathed ; — he gave her some
brandy, and did all in his power to restore her
to life. After a while she opened her eyes,
and looked into Bradley's face.
76 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Ah, it is you ! ' she inurrniired faintly,
then, with a long-drawn sigh, she sank back,
dead !
Still dripping from his encounter with the
sea, liis face as white as the dead face before
him, Bradley stood like one turned to stone.
Suddenly he was aroused by a heartrending
shriek. The little boy whom he had seen with
the dead woman broke from the hands of his
nurse, and sobbing violently threw himself
upon the dead body.
' Maman ! rnaman ! ' he moaned.
The helpless cries of the child forced upon
Bradley the necessity for innuediate action.
Having learned from the nurse the address
of the house where ' Mrs. Montmorency ' was
staying, he had the body put upon a stretcher
and conveyed there. He himself walked be-
A CATASTROPHE. 77
side it, and the child followed, screaming and
crying, in his nurse's arms.
Having reached the house, the body was
taken into a room to be properly dressed,
while Bradley tried every means in his power
to console the child ! After a while he was
told that all was done, and he went into the
chamber of death.
78 THE NEW ABELARD.
CHAPTEE XXVI.
THE LAST LOOK.
Dead woman, shrouded white as snow
AVhile Death the shade broods darkly nigh,
Place thy cold hand in mine, and so —
* Good-bye.'
No prayer or blessing born of breath
Came from thy lips as thou didst die ;
I loath'd thee living, but in death —
' Good-bye ! '
So close together after all.
After long strife, stand thou and I,
I bless thee, wliile I faintly call —
' Good-bye ! '
Good-bye the past and all its pain,
Kissing thy poor dead hand, I cry —
Again, again, and yet again —
' Good-bye ! ' — The Exile : a Poem.
It would have been difficult to analyse
accurately the emotions which filled the bosom
THE LAST LOOK. 79
of Ambrose Bradley, as he stood and looked
upon the dead face of the woman who, accord-
ing to the law of the land and the sacrament
of the Church, had justly clahned to be his
wife. He could not conceal from himself that
the knowledge of her death brought relief
to him and even joy ; but mingled with that
relief were other feelings less reassuring — pity,
remorse even, and a strange sense of humilia-.
tion. He had never really loved the woman,
and her conduct, previous to their long separa-
tion, had been such as to kill all sympathy in
the heart of a less sensitive man, while what
might be termed her unexpected resurrection
had roused in him a bitterness and a loathing
beyond expression. Yet now that the last
word was saidj^ the last atonement made, now
that he beheld the eyes that would never open
8o THE NEW ABELARD.
again, and the lips that would never again
litter speech or sound, his soul was stirred to
infinite compassion.
After all, he thought, the blame had not
been hers that they had been so ill-suited to
each other, and afterwards, when they met in
after years, she had not wilfully sought to
destroy his peace. It had all been a cruel
fatality, from the first : another proof of tlie
pitiless laws which govern liuman nature, and
make men and women suffer as sorely for
errors of ignorance and inexperience as for
crimes of knowledge.
He knelt by the bedside, and taking her
cold hand kissed it solemnly. Peace was
between them, he thought, then and for ever.
S}ie too, with all her faults and all her follies,
had been a fellow- pilgrim by his side towards
THE LAST LOOK. 8i
the great bourne whence no pilgrim returns,
and she had reached it first. He remembered
now, not the woman who had flaunted her
shamelessness before his eyes, but the pretty
girl, almost a child, whom he had first known
and fancied that lie loved. In the intensity
of his compassion and self-reproach he even
exaggerated the tenderness he had once felt
for her ; the ignoble episode of their first
intercouse catching a sad brightness reflected
from the heavens of death. And in this mood,
penitent and pitying, he prayed that God
mijjht forcrive them both.
When he descended from the room, his
eyes were red with tears. He found the little
boy sobbing wildly in the room below,
attended by the kindly Frenchwoman who
kept the house. He tried to soothe him, but
VOL. III. G
82 THE NEW ABELARD.
found it impossible, his grief being most pain-
ful to witness, and violent in the extreme.
' Ah, monsieur, it is indeed a calamity ! '
cried the woman, ' Madame was so good a
mother, devoted to her child. But God is
good — the little one has a father still ! '
Bradley understood the meaning of her
words, but did not attempt to undeceive her.
His heart was welling over with tenderness
towards the pretty orphan, and he was think-
ing too of his own harsh judgments on the
dead, who, it was clear, had possessed many
redeeming virtues, not the least of them being
her attachment to her boy.
' You are right, madame,' he replied, sadly,
' and the little one shall not lack fatherly love
and care. Will you come with me for a few
moments ? I wish to speak to you alone.'
THE LAST LOOK. 83
He placed Ms hand tenderly on the child's
head, and again tried to soothe him, but he
shrank away with petulant screams and cries.
Walking to the front entrance he waited till
he was joined there by the landlady, and they
stood talking in the open air.
' How long had she been here, madame ? '
he asked.
'For a month, monsieur,' was the rep^.
' She came late in the season for the baths,
with her honne and the little boy, and took my
rooms. Pardon, but I did not know madame
had a husband living, and so near.'
' We have been separated for many years.
I came to Boulogne yesterday quite by
accident, not dreaming the lady was here.
Can you tell me if she has friends in
Boulogne ? '
G 2
84 THE NEW ABELARD.
' I do not tliink so, monsieur. She lived
quite alone, seeing no one, and lier only
thought and care was for the little boy. She
was a proud lady, very rich and proud ; no-
thing was too good for her, or for the child ;
she lived, as the saying is, en princesse. But
no, she had no friends ! Doubtless, being an
Enghsh lady, though she spoke and looked
like a compatriote, all her friends were in her
own land.'
'Just so,' returned Bradley, turning his
head away to hide his tears ; for he thought to
himself, ' Poor Mary ! After all, she was
desolate like myself ! How pitiful that I, of all
men, should close her eyes and follow her to
her last repose ! '
' Pardon, monsieur,' said the woman, ' but
madame, perhaps, was not of our Church ?
She was, no doubt, Protestant ? '
THE LAST LOOK. 85
It was a simple question, but simple as it
was Bradley w^as startled by it. He knew
about as much of his dead wife's professed
belief as of the source whence she had drawn
her subsistence. But he replied :
' Yes, certainly. Protestant, of course.'
' Then monsieur will speak to the English
clergyman, who dwells there on the hill '
(here she pointed townward), ' close to the
Enghsh church. He is a good man. Monsieur
Eobertson, and monsieur will find '
' I will speak to him,' interrupted Bradley.
' But I myself am an English clergyman, and
shall doubtless perform the last offices, when
the time comes.'
The woman looked at him in some
astonishment, for his presence was the reverse
of clerical, and his struggle in and with the sea
had left his attire in most admired disorder •
86 THE NEW ABELARD.
but she remembered the eccentricities of the
nation to which he belonged, and her wonder
abated. After giving the woman a few more
general instructions, Bradley walked slowly and
thouglitfuUy to his hotel.
More than once already his thoughts had
turned towards Alma, but he had checked
such thoughts and crushed them down in the
j3resence of death ; left to himself, however, he
could not conquer them, nor restrain a certain
feeling of satisfaction in his newly-found
freedom. He would write to Alma, as in duty
bound, at once, and tell her of all that had
happened. And then? It was too late,
perhaps, to make full amends, to expect full
forgiveness ; but it was his duty to give to
her in the sight of the world the name he had
once given to her secretly and in vain.
THE LAST LOOK. 87
But the man's troubled spirit, sensitive to a
degree, shrank from the idea of building up
any new happiness on the grave of the poor
woman whose corpse he had just quitted.
Although he was now a free man legally, he
still felt morally bound and fettered. All his
wish and prayer was to atone for the evil he
had brought on the one being he reverenced
and loved. He did not dare, at least as yet, to
think of uniting his unworthy life with a life so
infinitely more beautiful and pure.
Yes, he would write to her. The question
was, where his letter woidd find her, and how
soon ?
When he had last heard from her she was
at Milan, but that was several weeks ago ; and
since then, though he had written twice, there
had been no response. She was possibly
88 THE NEW ABELARD.
travelling farther southward ; in all possibility,
to Rome.
The next few days passed drearily enough.
An ^examination of some letters recently
received by the deceased discovered two facts
— first, that she had a sister, living in Oxford,
with whom she corresponded ; and, second,
that her means of subsistence came quarterly
from a firm of sohcitors in Bedford Eow, London.
Next day the sister arrived by steamboat, ac-
companied by her husband, a small tradesman.
Bradley interview^ed the pair, and found them
decent people, well acquainted with their rela-
tive's real position. The same day he received
a communication from the solicitors, notifying
that the annuity enjoyed by ' Mrs. Mont-
morency ' lapsed with her decease, but that a
large sum of money had been settled by the
THE LAST LOOK. 89
late Lord Ombermere upon the child, the
interest of the sum to be used for his main-
tenance and education, and the gross amount
with additions and under certain reservations,
to be at his disposal on attaining his majority.
On seeking an interview with the Eev. Mr.
Eobertson, the minister of the English Church,
Bradley soon found that his reputation had
preceded him.
' Do I address the famous Mr. Bradley, who
some time ago seceded from the English
Church ? ' asked the minister, a pale, elderly,
clean-shaven man, bearing no little resemblance
to a Eoman Catholic priest.
Bradley nodded, and at once saw the not
too cordial manner of the other sink to freezing
point.
' The unfortunate laely was your wife ? '
90 THE NEW ABE LARD.
' Yes ; but we had been separated for many
years.'
'Ah, indeed ! ' sighed the clergyman with a
long-drawn sigh, a furtive glance of repulsion,
and an inward exclamation of ' no wonder ! '
' Although we lived apart, and although, to
be frank, there was great misunderstanding
between us, all that is over for ever, you
understand. It is in a spirit of the greatest
tenderness and compassion that I wish to
conduct the funeral service — to which I
presume there is no objection.'
Mr. Eobertson started in amazement, as if
a bomb had exploded under his feet.
' To conduct the funeral service ! But you
have seceded from the Church of England.'
' In a sense, yes ; but I have never done
so formally. I am still an English clergyman.'
THE LAST LOOK. 91
'I could never consent to such a thing,'
cried the other, indignantly. 'I should look
upon it as profanity. Your published opinions
are known to me, sir ; they have shocked me
inexpressibly; and not only in my opinion,
but in that of my spiritual superiors, they are
utterly unworthy of one calling himself a
Christian.'
'Then you refuse me permission to offi-
ciate ? '
'Most emphatically. More than that, I
shall require some assurance that the lady did
not share your heresies, before I Avill sufler the
interment to take place in the precincts of my
church.'
' Is not my assurance sufficient .^ '
' No, sir, it is not I ' exclaimed the clergy-
man with scornful dignity. ' I do not wish to
92 THE NEW ABELARD.
say anj'tliing olTensive, but, speaking as a
Christiau and a pastor of the English Cliiirch,
I can attach no Aveight whatever to the
assurances of one who is, in tlie pubhc
estimation, nothing better than an avowed
infideL Good morning ! '
So saying, with a last withering look, the
clergyman, turned on his heel and walked
away.
Seeing that remonstrance was useless, and
might even cause public scandal, Bradley
forthwith abandoned his design ; . but at his
suggestion his wife's sister saw the incumbent,
and succeeded in convincing him that Mrs.
Montmorency had died in the true faith. The
result of Mr. Eobertson's pious indignation
was soon apparent. The sister and her
husband, who had hitherto treated Bradley
THE LAST LOOK. 93
with marked respect, now regarded him with
sullen dislike and suspicion. They could not
prevent him, however, from following as chief
mourner, when the day of the funeral
came.
That funeral was a dismal enough ex-
perience for Ambrose Bradley. Never before
had he felt so keenly the vanity of his own
creed and the isolation of his own opinions, as
when he stood by the graveside and hstened
to the last solemn words of the English biurial
service. He seemed like a black shadow in
the sacred place. The words of promise and
resurrection had little meaning for one who
had come to regard the promise as only beau-
tiful ' poetry,' and the resurrection as only a
poet's dieam. And though the sense of his
own sin lay on his heart like lead, he saw no
94 THE NEW ABELARD.
benign Presence blessing the miserable woman
who had departed, upraising her on wings of
gladness ; all he perceived was Death's infinite
desolation, and the blackness of that open
grave.
95
CHAPTEE XXVII
THE SIREN.
Weave a circle round him thrice. . . .
For he on honey-dew hath fed, \
And drmik the milk of Paradise. — Kubla Khan.
Bradley's first impulse, on quitting Boulogne,
was to hasten at once on to Italy, seek out
Alma, and tell her all that had occurred ; but
that impulse was no sooner felt than it was
conquered. The man had a quickening con-
science left, and he could not have stood just
then before the woman he loved without the
bitterest pain and humiliation. No, he would
write to her, he would break the news gently
96 THE NEW A BE LARD.
by letter, not by word of mouth ; and after-
wards, perhaps, when his sense of spiritual
agony had somewhat worn away, he would go
to her and throw himself upon her tender
mercy. So instead of flying on to Italy he
returned by the mail to London, and thence
wrote at length to Alma, giving her full details
of his wife's death.
By this time the man was so broken in
spirit and so changed in body, that even his
worst enemies might have pitied him. The
trouble of the last few months had stript him
of all his intellectual pride, and left him
supremely sad.
But now, as ever, the mind of the man,
though its hght was clouded, turned in the
direction of celestial or supermundane things.
Eeaders who are differently constituted, and
THE SIREN. 97
who regard such speculations as trivial or irre-
levant, will doubtless have some difficulty in
comprehending an individual who, through
all vicissitudes of moral experience, invariably
returned to the one set purpose of spiritual
inquiry. To him one thing was paramount,
even over all his own sorrows — the solution of
the great problem of human life and immor-
tality. This was his haunting idea, his mono-
mania, so to speak. Just as a physiologist
would examine his own blood under the
microscope, just as a scientific inquirer would
sacrifice his own life and happiness for the
verification of a theory, so would Bradley ask
himself, even when on the rack of moral tor-
ment. How far does this suffering help me to a
solution of the mystery of life ?
True, for a time he had been indifferent,
VOL. III. H
98 THE NEW ABELARD.
even callous, drifting, on the vague current
of agnosticism, he knew not whither ; but that
did not last for long : the very constitution
of Bradley saved him from tliat indifferent-
ness which is the chronic disease of so many
modern men.
Infinitely tender of heart, he liad been
moved to the depths by his recent experience ;
he had felt, as all of us at some time feel, the
sanctifying and purifying power of Death. A
mean man would have exulted in the new
freedom Death had brought ; Bradley, on the
other hand, stood stupefied and aghast at his
own liberation. On a point of conscience he
could have fought with, and perhajos conquered,
all the prejudices of society ; but when his very
conscience turned against him he was paralysed
with doubt, wonder, and despair.
THE SJREA. 99
He returned to Loudon, and there awaited
Alma's answer. One day, urged by a sudden
impulse, he bent his steps towards the mys-
terious house in Bayswater, and found Eustasia
Mapleleafe sitting alone. Never had the little
lady looked so strange and spirituelle. Her
elfin-like face looked pale and worn, and her
great wistful eyes were surrounded with dark
melancholy rings. But she looked up as he
entered, with her old smile.
' I knew you would come,' she cried. ' I
was thinking of you, and I felt the celestial
agencies were going to bring us together.
And I'm real glad to see you before we go
away.*
* You are leaving London ? ' asked Bradley,
as he seated himself close to her.
'Yes. Salem talks of going back home
H 2
loo THE NEW ABELARD.
before winter sets iu and the fof];s beo;in, I
don't seem able to breathe riglit iu this air. If
I stopped here long, I think I should die.'
As she spoke, she passed her thin trans-
parent hand across her forehead, with a curious
gesture of pain. As Bradley looked at her
steadfastly she averted his gaze, and a faint
hectic flush came into her cheeks. .
' Guess you think it don't matter much,' she
continued with the sharp nervous laugh pecu-
liar to her, ' whether I live or die. Well, Mr.
Bradley, I suppose you're right, and I'm sure I
don't care much how soon I go.'
' You are very young to talk like that,'
said Bradley gently ; ' but perhaps I mis-
understand you, and you mean that you would
gladly exchange this life for freer activity and
larger happiness in another ? '
THE SIREN. loi
Eustasia laughed again, but this time she
looked full into her questioner's eyes.
'I don't know about that,' she replied.
' What I mean is that I am downright tired,
and should just like a good long spell of sleep.'
' But surely, if your belief is true, you look
for something more than that ? '
' I don't think I do. You mean I want to
join the spirits, and go wandering about from
one planet to another, or coming down to
earth and making people uncomfortable ?
That seems a stupid sort of life, doesn't it ? —
about as stupid as this one? I'd rather tuck
my head under my wing, like a little bird, and
go to sleep for ever ! '
Bradley opened his eyes, amazed and a
little disconcerted by the lady's candour.
Before he could make any reply she continued,
in a low voice :
I02 THE NEW ABELARD.
' You see, I've got no one in the world to
care for me, except Salem, my brother. He's
good to me, he is, but that doesn't make up for
everything. I don't feel like a girl, but hke
an old woman. I'd rather be one of those
foolish creatures you meet everywhere, who
think of nothing but millinery and Hirtation,
than what I am. That's all the good the spirits
have done me, to spoil my good looks and
make me old before my time. I hate them
sometimes ; I hate myself for listening to them,
and I say what I said before — that if I'm to
live on as tliey do, and go on in the same
curious way, I'd sooner die ! '
' I wish you would be quite honest with
me,' said Bradley, after a brief pause. ' I see
you are ill, and I am sure you are unhappy.
Suppose much of your illness, and all your
THE SIREN. 103
iinhappiness, came from your acquiescence in
a scheme of folly and self-deception ? You
already know my opinion on these matters to
which you allude. If I may speak quite
frankly, I have always suspected you and your
brother — but your brother more than you — of
a conspiracy to deceive the public ; and if I
were not otherwise interested in you, if I did
not feel for you the utmost sympathy and com-
passion, I should pass the matter by without a
word. As it is, I would give a great deal if
I could penetrate into the true motives of your
conduct, and ascertain how far you are self-
deluded.'
' It's no use,' answered Eustasia, shaking
her head sadly. ' I can't explain it all even
to myself; impossible to explain to you.'
' But do you seriously and verily believe in
I04 THE NEW ABE LARD.
the truth of these so-called spiritual manifes-
tations ? '
' Guess I do,' returned the lady, with a
decided nod.
' You believe in them, even while you
admit their stupidity, their absurdity ? '
'If you ask me, I think hfe is a foolish
business altogether. That's why I'd like to be
done with it ! '
' But surely if spiritualism were an ac-
cepted fact, it would offer a solution of all the
mysterious phenomena of human existence?
It would demonstrate, at all events, that our
experience does not cease with the body,
which limits its area so much.'
Eustasia sighed wearily, and folding her
thin hands on her knee, looked wearily at the
fire, which flickered faintly in the grate. With
THE SIREN. 105
all her candour of speech, she still presented to
her interlocutor an expression of mysterious
evasiveness. Nor was there any depth in her
complaining sorrow. It seemed rather petu-
lant and shallow than really solemn and pro-
found.
' I wish you wouldn't talk about it,' she
said, 'Talk to me about yourself, Mr, Brad-
ley, You've been in trouble, I know ; they
told me. I've liked you ever since I first saw
you, and I wish I could give you some help.'
Had Bradley been a different kind of man,
he would scarcely have misunderstood the
look she gave him then, full as it was of pas-
sionate admiration Avhich she took no care to
veil. Bending towards him, and looking into
his eyes, she placed her hand on his ; and the
warm touch of the tremulous fingers went
io6 THE NEW ABELARD.
through him with a curious thrill. Nor diel
she withdraw the hand as she continued :
' I've only seen one man in the world like
you. He's dead, he is. But you're his image.
I told Salem so the day I first saw you. Some
folks say that souls pass from one body into
another, and I almost believe it when I think
of him and look at you!
As she spoke, with tears in her eyes and a
higher flush on her cheek, there was a footstep
in the room, and looking up she saw her
brother, who had entered unperceived. His
appearance was fortunate, as it perhaps saved
her from some further indiscretions. Bradley,
who had been too absorbed in the thoughts
awakened by her first question to notice the
peculiarity of her manner, held out his hand to
the new-comer.
THE SIREN. 107
' Glad to see you again,' said the Professor.
' I suppose Eustasia lias told you that we're
going back to the States ? I calculate we
haven't done much good by sailing over. The
people of England are a whole age behind the
Americans, and won't be ripe for our teaching
till many a year has passed.'
' When do you leave London ? '
' In eight days. We're going to take pass-
age in the " Maria," which sails to-morrow
week.'
' Then you will give no more seaiices ? I
am sorry, for I should have liked to come
again.'
Eustasia started, and looked eagerly at her
brother.
' Will you come to-night ? ' she asked
suddenly.
io8 THE NEW A BE LARD.
' To-night ! ' echoed Bradley. ' Is a seance
to be held ? '
' No, DO,' interrupted Mapleleafe.
' But yes,' added Eustasia. ' We shall be
alone, but that will be all the better. I
should not like to leave England without con-
vincing Mr. Bradley that there is something in
your solar biology after all.'
' You'll waste your time, Eustasia,' re-
marked the Professor drily. 'You know
what the poet says ?
A man convinced against his will
Is of the same opinion still.
And I guess you'll never convert Mr. Bradley.'
' I'll try, at any rate,' returned Eustasia,
smiling ; then turning to the clergyman w4th
an eager wistful look, she added, ' You'll come,
won't you ? To-night at seven.'
THE SIREN. 109
Bradley promised, and immediately after-
wards took his leave. He had not exaggerated
in expressing his regret at the departure of the
curious pair; for since his strange experience
at Boulogne he was intellectually unstrung,
and eager to receive spiritual impressions, even
from a quarter which he distrusted. He un-
consciously felt, too, the indescribable fascina-
tion which Eustasia, more than most w^omen,
knew how to exert on highly organised persons
of the opposite sex.
Left alone, the brother and sister looked at
each other for some moments in silence ; then
the Professor exclaimed half angrily :
' You'll kill yourself, Eustasia, that's what
you'll do ! I've foreseen it all along, just as I
foresaw it when you first met Ulysses S.
Stedman. You're clean gone on this man, and
no THE NEW ABELARD.
if I wasn't ready to protect you, Lord knows
you'd make a fool of yourself again.'
Eustasia looked up in his face and laughed.
It was curious to note her change of look and
manner ; her face was still pale and elfin-like,
but her eyes were full of malicious light.
' Never mind, Salem,' she replied. ' You
just leave Mr. Bradley to me.'
' He's not worth spooning over, said
Mapleleafe indignantly ; ' and let me tell you,
Eustasia, you're not strong enough to go on
like this. Think of your state of health !
Doctor Quin says you'll break up if you don't
take care ! '
He paused, and looked at her in conster-
nation. She was lying back in the sofa with
her thin arms joined behind her head, and
' crooning ' to herself, as was her frequent Jiabit.
THE SIREN. Ill
This time the words and tune were from a
famihar play, which slie had seen represented
at San Francisco.
Black spirits and white,
Blue spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
Yoa that mingle may !
' I do believe you're downright mad! '
exclaimed the little Professor. ' Tell me the
truth, Eustasia — do you love this man
Bradley ? '
Eustasia ceased singing, but remained in the
same attitude.
' T loved him who is dead,' she replied,
' and I love Mr. Bradley because lie is so hke
the other. If you give me time I will win him
over ; I will make him love me.'
' What nonsense you're talking ! '
' Nonsense ? It's the truth ! ' cried Eus-
112 THE NEW ABELARD.
tasia, springing up and facing her brother.
' Why should I not love him ? Why should he
not love me ? Am I to spend all my life like
a slave, with no one to care for me, no one to
give me a kind word ? I won't do it. I want
to be free, I'm tired of sitting at home all
day alone, and playing the sibyl to the fools
you bring here at night. Lord knows I
haven't long to live ; before I die I want to
draw in one good long breath of love and joy !
Perhaps it will kill me as you say — so much
the better — I should like to die like that ! '
' Eustasia, will you listen to reason ? ' ex-
claimed the distracted Professor. 'You're
following a will-o'-the-wisp, that's what you
are ! This man don't care about any woman in
the world but one, and you're wasting your
precious time.'
THE SIREN. Ill
' I know my power, and you know it too,
Salem. I'm going to bring him to my feet.'
' How, Eustasia ^ '
' Wait, and you will see ! ' answered the
girl, with her low, nervous laugh.
* Think better of it ! ' persisted her brother.
' You promised me, after Ulysses S. Stedman
died, to devote all your life, strength, and
thought to the beautiful cause of scientific
spiritualism. Nature has made you a living
miracle, Eustasia ! I do admire to see one so
gifted throwing herself away, just like a school-
girl, on the first good-looking man she meets ! '
' I hate spiritualism,' was the reply. ' What
has it done for me ? Broken my heart, Salem,
and wasted my life. I've dwelt too long with
ghosts ; I want to feel my life as other women
do. And I tell you I will ! '
VOL. III. I
114 THE NEW ABELARD.
' The poor Professor shook his lieacl du-
biously, but saw that there was no more to be
said — at any rate just then.
At seven o'clock that evening Bradley re-
turned to the house in Bayswater, and found
the brother and sister waiting for him.
Eustasia wore a loose-fitting robe of black
velvet, cut low round the bust, and without
sleeves. Her neck and arms were beautifully
though delicately moulded, white and glisten-
ing as satin, and the small serpent-like head,
with its wonderfully brilliant eyes, was sur-
mounted by a circlet of pearls.
Bradley looked at her in surprise. Never
before had she seemed so weirdly pretty.
The Professor, on the other hand, despite
his gnome-like brow, appeared unusually igno-
THE SIREN. 115
ble aud commonplace. He was ill at ease,
too, and cast distrustful glances from time to
time at his sister, whose manner was as brilliant
as her appearance, and who seemed to have
cast aside the depression which she had shown
during the early part of the day.
After some little desultory conversation,
Bradley expressed his impatience for the seance
to begin. The landlady of the house, herself
(as the reader is aware) an adept, was therefore
summoned to give the party, and due prepa-
rations made by drawing the window-blinds
and extinguishing the gas. Before the lights
were quite put out, however, the Professor
addressed his sister.
'Eustasia, you're not well ! Say the word,
and I'm sure Mr. Bradley will excuse you for
to-night.'
I 2
116 THE NEW ABELARD.
The appeal was in vain, Eustasia persisting.
The seance began. The Professor and Mrs.
Piozzi Smith were vis-a-vis, while Eustasia, her
back towards the folding-doors communicat-
ing to the inner chamber, sat opposite to
Bradley.
The clergyman was far less master of him-
self than on the former occasions. No sooner
did he find himself in total darkness than his
heart began to beat with great muffled throbs,
and nervous thrills ran through his frame.
Before there was the slightest intimation of any
supernatural presence, he seemed to see before
him the dead face of his wife, white and awful
as he had beheld it in that darkened chamber
at Boulogne. Then the usual manifestations
began ; bells were rung, faint lights flashed
hither and thither, the table roimd which they
THE SIREN. 117
were seated rose in the air, mysterious hands
were passed over Bradley's face. He tried to
retain his self-possession, but found it impos-
sible ; a sickening sense of horror and fearful
anticipation overmastered him, so that the
clammy sweat stood upon his brow, and his
body trembled like a reed.
Presently the voice of the little Professor
was heard saying :
' Who is present ? Will any of our dear
friends make themselves known ? '
There was a momentary pause. Then an
answer came in the voice of Eustasia, but
deeper and less clear.
' I am here.'
* Who are you ? '
' Laura, a spirit of the winged planet
Jupiter. I speak through the bodily mouth of
ii8 THE NEW ABELARD.
our clenr sister, who is far away, walking witli
my brethren by the hike of gohleu fire.'
' Are you alone ? '
' No ! others are present — I see them passing
to and fro. One is bright and beautiful. Her
face is glorious, but she wears a raiment like a
shroud.'
' What does that betoken ? '
' It betokens that she has only just died,'
A shiver ran through Bradley's frame.
Could the dead indeed be present ? and if so,
Avhat dead ? His thoughts flew back once more
to that miserable death-chamber by the sea. The
next moment something like a cold hand touched
him, and a low voice murmured in his ear :
' Ambrose ! are you listening ? It is I ! '
' Who speaks ? ' he murmured under breath.
' Alma ! Do you know me ? '
THE SIREN. 119
Was it possible ? Doubtless his phantasy
deceived him, but he seemed once more to hear
the very tones of her he loved.
' Do not move ! ' continued the voice. ' Per-
haps this is a last meeting for a long time,
for I am called away. It is your Alma's spirit
that speaks to you ; her body lies dead at
Eome.'
A wild cry burst from Bradley's lips, and
he sank back in his chair, paralysed and over-
powered.
' It is a cheat ! ' he gasped. ' It is no spirit
that is speaking to me, but a living woman.'
And he clutched in the direction of the
voice, but touched only the empty air.
'If you break the conditions, I must
depart ! ' cried the voice faintly, as if from a
distant part of the room.
I20 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Shall I break up the seance ? ' asked the
Professor.
' No ! * cried Bradley, again joining his
hands with those of his neiglibours to complete
the circle. ' Go on ! go on ! '
' Are our dear friends still present ? ' de-
manded the Professor.
' I am here,' returned the voice of Eustasia.
' I see the spirit of a woman, weeping and
wringing her hands ; it is she that wears the
shroud. She speaks to me. She tells us that
her earthly name was a word which signifies
holy.'
' In God's name,' cried Bradley, ' what does
it mean? She of whom you speak is not
dead ? — no, no ! '
Again he felt the touch of a clammy hand,
and again he heard the mysterious voice.
THE SIREN. 121
' Death is nothing ; it is only a mystery —
a change. The body is nothing ; the spirit is
all-present and all-powerful. Keep quiet ; and
I will try to materialise myself even more,'
He sat still in shivering expectation ; then
he felt a touch hke breath upon his forehead,
and two lips, warm with life, were pressed close
to his, while at the same moment he felt what
seemed a human bosom heaving against his
own. If this phenomenon was supernatural,
it was certainly very real ; for the effect was
of warm and living flesh. Certain now that
he was being imposed upon, Bradley de-
termined to make certain by seizing the
substance of the apparition. He had scarcely,
however, withdrawn his arms from the circle,
when the phenomenon ceased ; there was a
loud cry from the others present ; and on the
122 THE NEW ABELARD.
cas beins lit, Eustasia and the rest were seen
sitting quietly in their chairs, the former just
recoverina* from a state of trance.
'I warned you, Eustasia,' cried the Pro-
fessor indignantly. ' I knew Mr. Bradley was
not a fair inquirer, and would be certain to
break the conditions.'
' It is an outrage,' echoed the lady of the
house. ' The heavenly intelligences will never
forgive us.'
Without heeding these remonstrances,
Bradley, deathly pale, was gazing intently at
Eustasia. She met his gaze quietly enough,
but her heightened colour and sparkling eyes
betokened that she was labouring under great
excitement.
' It is infamous ! ' he cried. ' I am certain
now that this is a vile conspiracy.'
THE SIREN. 123
• ' Take care, sir, take care ! ' exclaimed the
Professor, ' There's law in the land, and '
'Hush, Salem!' said Eustasia gently.
'Mr. Bradley does not mean what he says.
He is too honourable to make charges which
he cannot substantiate, even against a helpless
girl. He is agitated by what he has seen to-
night, but he will do us justice when he has
thought it over.'
Without replying, Bradley took up his hat
and moved to the door ; but, turning suddenly,
he again addressed the medium :
' I cannot guess by what means you have
obtained your knowledge of my private life,
but you are trading upon it to destroy the
happiness of a fellow-creature. God forgive
you ! Your own self-reproach and self-con-
tempt will avenge me ; I cannot wish you any
124 THE NEW ABELARD.
sorer piiiiisliment than the infamy and degra-
dation of the life yon lead,'
With these words he wonld have departed,
bnt, swift as lightning, Eustasia flitted across
the room and blocked his way.
' Don't go yet ! ' she cried. ' Of what do
you accuse me ? Why do you blame me for
what the spirits have done ? '
'The spirits!' he repeated bitterly. 'I'm
not a child, to be so easily befooled. In one
sense, indeed, you have conjured up devils,
who some day or another will compass your
own destruction.'
' That's true enough — they may be devils,'
said Eustasia. ' Salem knows — we all know —
that we can't prevent the powers of evil from
controlling the powers of good, and coming in
their places. Guess some of them have been at
THE SIREN. 125
work to-uiglit. Mr. Bradley, perhaps it's our
last meeting on earth. Won't you shake hands ? '
As she spoke her wild eyes were full of
tears, which streamed down her face. Acting
under a sudden impulse, Bradley took her out-
stretched hand, held it firmly, and looked her
in the face.
' Confess the cheat, and I will freely for-
give you. It was you personated one who is
dear to me, and whom you pretended to be a
spirit risen from the grave.'
' Don't answer him, Eustasia ! ' exclaimed
the Professor. ' He ought to know that's
impossible, for you never left your seat.'
' Certainly not,' said Mrs. Piozzi Smith.
But Bradley, not heeding the interruption,
still watched the girl and grasped her passive
hand.
126 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Answer me ! Tell me the truth 1 '
'How can I tell you?' answered Eustasia.
' I was tranced, and my spirit was far away.
I don't even know what happened,'
With a contemptuous gesture, Bradley re-
leased her, and walked from the room. All
his soul revolted at the recent experience ; yet
mingled with his angry scepticism was a certain
vague sense of dread. If, after all, he had not
been deceived, and something had happened
to Alma ; if, as the seance seemed to suggest,
she was no longer living ! The very thought
almost turned his brain. Dazed and terrified,
he made Ms way down the dark passage and
left the house.
No sooner had he gone than Eustasia
uttered a low cry, threw her arms into the air,
and sank swooning upon the floor.
THE SIREN. 127
Her brother raised her in a moment, and
placed her upon the sofa. It was some
minutes before she recovered. When she did
so, and gazed wildly around, there was a tiny
fleck of red upon her lips, like blood.
She looked up in her brother's face, and
began laughing hysterically.
' Eustasia ! Tor God's sake, control
yourself ! You'll make yourself downright ill ! '
Presently the hysterical fit passed away.
' Leave us together, please ! ' she said to the
grim woman of the house. ' I — I wish to
speak to my brother.'
Directly the woman had retired, she took
her brother by the hand.
' Don't be angry with me, Salem ! ' she said
softly. ' I'm not long for this world now, and
I want you to grant me one request.'
128 THE NEW ABELARD.
' What is it, Eustasia ? ' asked the Professor,
touched by her strangely tender manner.
' Don't take me away from England just
yet. Wait a little while longer.'
' Eustasia, let me repeat, you're following a
will-o'-the-wisp, you are indeed ! Take my
advice, and never see that man again ! '
' I must — I will ! ' she cried. ' Salem,
I've used him cruelly, but I love him ! I shall
die now if you take me away ! '
129
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE ETERNAL CITY.
In the night of the seven-hill'd city, disrobed, and uncrown'd,
and undone,
Thou meanest, Eizpah, Madonna, and countest the bones of
thy son.
The bier is vacant above thee, His corpse is no longer thereon,
A wind came out of the dark, and he fell as a leaf, and is gone !
They have taken thy crown, Rizpah, and driven thee forth
with the swine.
But the bones of thy Son they have left thee — yea, wash them
with tears — they are thine !
Thou moanest an old incantation, thou troublest earth with thy
cries. . . .
Ah, God, if the bones should hear thee, and join once again,
and arise ! — Rome : a Poem.
As the clays passed, Bradley found his state of
suspense and anxiety intolerable. Day after
day he had hoped to hear from Alma, until at
length disappointment culminated in despair.
VOL in. K
130 THE NEW ABELARD.
He thcu determined he should know with
certainty what had become of her, and re-
solved to go to Milan.
What he had seen at the seance had im-
pressed him more than he would admit to
himself. He could not believe that any evil
had happened — he would not believe it with-
out the most positive evidence of the fact. So
he said to himself one hour, and the next his
heart grew sick with an uncontrollable dread ;
and he refused to hope that the revelation of
the seance was a delusion.
He left his home and proceeded to the
station in the former mood, but the train had
hardly moved from the j)latform when - his
despair seized him, and if he could he would
have relinquished the journey. Alternating
thus between hope and despair, he travelled
THE ETERNAL CITY. 131
without a break, and in clue course he reached
Milan.
His inquiries about Ahna were promptly
answered.
The beautiful and wealthy English lady
was well known. She had, until quite recently,
been the occupant of a splendid suite of
apartments in the best quarter of the city ; but
she had gone.
Bradley heard all this, and almost savagely
he repeated after his informant, an old Italian,
waiter who spoke English well, the word
* Gone ! '
'â – Gone where ^ ' he demanded. ' You must
know where she has gone to ? '
' Yes, Signor ; she has gone to Eome ! '
' To Eome ! And her address there is .^ '
' That I do not know, Signor.'
k2
132 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Have me taken to the house she occupied
when here,' Bradley ordered ; and he was
driven to the house Ahna had dweU in.
There also he failed to learn Alma's address.
All that was known was that she had gone to
Eome ; that her departure had been sudden,
and that she had said she would not return to
Milan.
Dismissing the carriage that had brought
him, he walked back to bis hotel.
It was night ; the cool breeze from the
Alps was delightfully refreshing after the sultry
heat of the day; the moon was full and the fair
old city was looking its fairest, but these things
Bradley heeded not. Outward beauty he could
not see, for all his mind and soul was dark —
the ancient palaces, the glorious Cathedral, the
splendid Carrara marble statue of Leonardo,
THE ETERNAL CITY. 133
and the bronze one of Cavour, were passed
unnoticed and uncared for. One thing only
was in his mind — to get to Eome to find Alma.
One thing was certain : she had left Milan in
good health, and must surely be safe still
' Ah ! ' he said to himself, ' when did she
leave Milan? Fool that I am, not to have
learned,' and, almost running, he returned to
the house and inquired.
He was disappointed with the information
he received. Alma had left Milan some time
before the seance in London had been held.
Entering a restaurant, he found that he
could get a train to Eome at midnight. He
returned to his hotel, ate a morsel of food,
drank some wine, and then went to the railway
station.
It was early morning when he entered the
134 THE NEW ABELARD.
Eternal City, and the lack of stir upon the
streets troubled and depressed him. It accen-
tuated the difference between his present visit
and the last he had made, and he cried in his
heart most bitterly that the burden of his
sorrow was too great/
He was about to tell the driver of the fiacre
to take him to his old quarters on the Piazza
di Spagna, when he changed his mind. If he
went there he would be in the midst of his
countrymen, and in his then mood the last
beincf he wished to see was an Eun;lishman.
So he asked the driver to take him to
any quiet and good boarding-house he knew,
and was taken to one in the Piazza Sta. Maria
in Monti.
In the course of the day he went out to
learn what he could of Alma.
THE ETERNAL CITY. 135
He met several acquaintances, but they had
neither seen nor heard of her ; indeed, they
were not in her circle, and though they had
seen or heard of her, they would hardly have
remembered. Bradley well knew the famihes
Alma would be hkely to visit, but he shrank
from inquiring at their houses ; he went to the
doors of several and turned away without
asking to be admitted.
By-and-by he went into the CafTe Nuovo,
and eagerly scanned the papers, but found no
mention of Alma in them. A small knot of
young Englishmen and Americans sat near to
him, and he thought at last that he caught the
name of Miss Craik mentioned in their conver-
sation.
He listened with painM attention, and
found that they were speaking of some one the
Jesuits had ' hooked,' as they put it.
136 THE NEW ABELARD.
' And, by Jove, it was a haul ! ' one young
fellow said. ' Any amount of cash, I am told.'
' That is so,' replied one of his comrades ;
' and the girl is wonderfully beautiful, they
say.'
Bradley started at this, and listened more
intently than before.
' Yes,' the first speaker said, ' she is beauti-
ful. I had her pointed out to me in Milan, and
I thought her the best-looking woman I had
ever seen.'
' Excuse me,' said Bradley, stepping up to
the speakers. ' I — I w^ould like to know the
name of the lady you refer to.'
' Oh, certainly ; her name is Miss Alma
Craik.'
' Alma living ! ' Bradley shrieked, and
staggered, like one in drink, out of the caffe.
THE ETERNAL CITY. 137
Dazed and half maddened, lie found his
way to the lodging. He locked the door of his
room and paced the floor, now clenching his
hands together, then holding his forehead in
them as if to still its bounding pain.
' Taken by the Jesuits ! ' he muttered.
' Then she is dead indeed — ay, worse than
dead ! '
He paused at length at the window and
looked out. The next instant he sprang back
with a look of utter horror on his face.
' What if she is over there ! ' he gasped, and
sank into a chair.
By over there he meant the convent of the
Farnesiani nuns. From the window he could
see down the cul-de-sac that led to the convent.
He knew the place well ; he knew it to be well
deserving of its name, the Living Tomb, and that
138 THE NEW ABELARD.
of its inmates it was said ' they daily die and dig
their own graves.'
If Alma was indeed in there, then she was
lost.
Bradley shook off as far as he could his
feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, and
with frenzied haste he rose from the chair,
left the house, and went over towards the
convent.
He knew that the only way to communicate
with the inmates was to mount to a platform
above the walls of the houses, and to rap on a
barrel projecting from the platform. He had
once been there and had been admitted. He
forgot that then he had proper credentials, and
that now he had none.
He was soon on the platform, and not only
rapped, but thundered on the barrel.
THE ETERNAL CITY. 139
A muffled voice from the interior demanded
his business.
His reply was whether an Enghshwoman
named Craik was within the convent. To thaf
question he had no answer, and the voice
within did not speak again.
He stayed long and repeated his question
again and again in the hope of obtaining an
answer, and only left when he had attracted
attention, and was invited by the police to
desist.
What was to be done ? he asked himself as
he stood in the street. Do something he must,
but what ?
' I have it ! ' he said. ' I will go to the
Jesuit head-quarters and demand to be in-
formed ; ' and putting his resolve into action he
walked thither.
140 THE NEW ABELARD.
He was courteously received, aud asked his
business.
' M)^ business is a painful one,' Bradley
began. ' I wish to know if an English lady
named Craik has joined your church ? '
' She did retin^n to the true faith,' replied
the priest, raising his eyes to heaven, ' and for
her return the Holy Virgin and the Saints be
praised 1 '
' And now — where is she now f '
With painful expectancy he waited for the
priest to answer.
' Now ! now, Signor, she is dead I ' was the
reply.
Bradley heard, and fell prone upon the
floor.
On recovering from his swoon, Bradley
found himself surrounded by several priests,
THE ETERNAL CITY. 141
one of whom was sprinkling his face with
water, while another was beating the palms of
his hands. Pale and trembling, he strnggled
to his feet, and gazed wildly around him,
until his eyes fell upon the face of the aged
official whom he had just accosted. He en-
deavoured to question him again, but the little
Italian at his command seemed to have for-
saken him, and he stammered and gasped in
a kind of stupefaction.
At this moment he heard a voice accost
him in excellent English ; a softly musical voice,
full of beautiful vibrations.
'I am sorry, sir, at your indisposition. If
you will permit me, I will conduct you back to
your hotel.'
The speaker, hke his companions, had the
clean-shaven face of a priest, but his expression
142 THE NEW ABELARD.
was briglit and good-liumoured. His eye-
brows were black and prominent, but his hair
was white as snow.
Bradley clutched him by the arm.
' What — what does it mean ? I must have
been dreaming. I came here to inquire after
a dear friend — a lady; and that man told me —
told me '
' Pray calm yourself,' said the stranger
gently. ' First let me take you home, and then
I myself will give you whatever information you
desire.'
' No ! ' cried Bradley, ' I will have the truth
now ! '
And as he faced the group of priests his
eyes flashed and his hands were clenched con-
vulsively. To his distracted gaze they seemed
like evil spirits congregated for his torture and
torment.
THE ETERNAL CITY. 143
' What is it you desire to know? ' demanded
he who had spoken in EngHsh. As he spoke
he glanced quietly at his companions, with a
significant movement of the eyebrows ; and, as
if understanding the sign, they withdrew from
the apartment, leaving himself and Bradley
quite alone.
' Pray sit down,' he continued gently, be-
fore Bradley could answer his former question.
But the other paid no attention to the
request.
' Do not trifle with me,' he cried, ' but
tell me at once what I demand to know. I
have been to the convent, seeking one who is
said to have recently joined your church —
which God forbid ! When I mentioned her
name I received no answer ; but it is common
gossip that a lady bearing her name was re-
144 THE NEW ABELARD.
cently taken there. You can tell me if this is
true.'
The priest looked at him steadfastly, and,
as it seemed, very sadly.
' Will you tell me the lady's name ? '
' She is known as Miss Alma Craik, but she
has a right to another name, which she shall
bear.'
' Alas ! ' said the other, with a deep sigh
and a look full of infinite compassion, ' I knew
the poor lady well. Perhaps, if you have been
in correspondence with her, she mentioned ray
name — the Abbe Brest ? '
' Never,' exclaimed Bradley.
' What is it you wish to know concerning
her .P I wdll help you as well as I can.'
' First, I wish to be assured that that man
hed (though of course I know he lied) when he
THE ETERNAL CITY. 145
said that evil had happened to her, that — that
she had died. Next, I demand to know where
she is, that I may speak to her. Do not at-
tempt to keep her from me ! I will see her ! '
The face of the Abbe seemed to harden,
while his eyes retained their sad, steadfast gaze.
' Pardon me,' he said after a moment's
reflection, ' and do not think that I put the ques-
tion in rudeness or with any want of brotherly
sympathy — but by what right do you, a
stranger, solicit this information ? If I give it
you, I must be able to justify myself before my
superiors. The lady, or, as I should rather say,
our poor Sister, is, as I understand, in no way
related to you by blood .? '
' She is my wife I ' answered Bradley.
It was now the other's turn to express, or
VOL. III. L
146 THE NEW ABELARD.
at least assume, astonishment. Uttering an
incredulous exclamation, he raised his eyes to
heaven, and slightly elevated his hands.
' Do you think I lie ? ' cried Bradley sternly.
' Do you think I lie, like those of your church,
whose trade it is to do so ? I tell you I have
come here to claim her who is my wife, by the
laws of man and God ! '
Again the Abbe repeated his pantomime
expressive of pitiful increduhty.
' Surely you deceive yourself,' he said.
' Miss Craik was never married. She lived
immated, and in blessed virginity was baptised
into our church.'
' Where is she ? Let me speak to her ! '
cried Bradley, Avith a sudden access of his old
passion.
The Abbe pointed upward.
THE ETERNAL CITY. 147
' She is with the saints of heaven ! ' he said,
and crossed himself.
Again the unfortunate clergyman's head
went round, and again he seemed about to
fall ; but recovering himself with a shuddering
effort, he clutched the priest by the arm, ex-
claiming —
' Torture me no more ! You are juggling
with my life, as you have done with hers. But
tell me it is all false, and I will forgive you.
Though you are a priest, you have at least the
heart of a man. Have pity ! If what you have
said is true, I am destroyed body and soul —
yes, body and soul ! Have mercy upon me !
Tell me my darhng is not dead ! '
The Abbe's face went white as deatli, and
at the same moment his lustrous eyes seemed
to fill with tears. Trembhiig violently, ho
L 2
T48 THE NEW ABELARD.
took Bradley's hand, and pressed it tenderly.
Then releasing him, he glanced upward and
turned towards the door of the chamber.
' Stay here till I return,' he said in a low
voice, and disappeared.
Half SAVooning, Bradley sank into a chair,
covering his face with his hands. A quarter of
an hour passed, and he still remained in the
same position. Tears streamed from his eyes,
and from time to time he moaned aloud in
complete despair. Suddenly he felt a touch
upon his shoulder, and looking up he again
encountered the compassionate eyes of the
Abbe Brest.
' Come with me ! ' the Abbe said.
Bradley was too lost in his own wild fears
and horrible conjectiu^es to take any particular
note of the manner of the priest. Had he done
THE ETERNAL CITY. 149
SO, he would have perceived that it betrayed
no Httle hesitation and agitation. But he rose
eagerly, though as it were mechanically, and
followed the Abbe to the door.
A minute afterwards they were walking
side by side in the open sunshine.
To the bewildered mind of Ambrose Brad-
ley it all seemed like a dream. The sun-
light dazzled his brain so that his eyes could
scarcely see, and he was only conscious
of hurrying along through a crowd of living
ghosts.
Suddenly he stopped, tottering.
' What is the matter .^ ' cried the Abb^,
supporting him. ' You are ill again, I fear ;
let me call a carriage.'
And, suiting the action to the word, he
beckoned up a carriage which was just then
I50 THE NEW ADELARD.
passing. By this time Bradley had recovered
from his momentary faintness.
' Where are you taking me ? ' he demanded.
' Get in, and I will tell you ! ' returned the
other ; and when Bradley had seated himself,
he leant over to the driver and said something
in a low voice.
Bradley repeated his question, while the
vehicle moved slowly away.
' I am going to make inquiries,' was the
reply ; ' and as an assurance of my sympathy
and good faith, I have obtained permission
for you to accompany me. But let me now
conjure you to summon all your strength to
bear the inevitable ; and let it be your com-
fort if, as I believe and fear, something terrible
has happened, to know that there is much in
this world sadder far than death.'
THE ETERNAL CITY. 151
' I ask you once more,' said Bradley in a
broken voice, ' where are you taking me ? '
' To those who can set your mind at rest,
once and for ever.'
' Who are they ? '
' The Farnesiani sisters,' returned the Abbe.
Bradley sank back on his seat stupefied,
with a sickening sense of horror.
The mental strain and agony were growing
almost too much for him to bear. Into that
brief day he had concentrated the torture of
a lifetime ; and never before had he known
with what utterness of despairing passion he
loved the woman whom he indeed held to be,
in the sight of God, his wife. With frenzied
self-reproach he blamed himself for all that
had taken place. Had he never consented to
an ignoble deception, never gone through the
152 THE NEW ABELARD.
mockery of a marriage ceremony with Alma,
they might still have been at peace together ;
legally separated for the time being, but spiri-
tually joined for ever ; pure and sacred for
each other, and for all the world. But now —
now it seemed that he had lost her, body and
soul !
The carriage presently halted, and Bradley
saw at a glance that they were at the corner
of the cul-de-sac leading to the convent. They
alighted, and the Abbe paid the driver. A
couple of minutes later they were standing on
the platform above the walls of the houses.
All around them the bright sunshine burnt
golden over the quivering roofs of Eome, and
the sleepy hum of the Eternal City rolled ujj
to them like the murmur of a summer sea.
There they stood like two black spots on
THE ETERNAL CITY. 153
the aerial briglituess ; and again Bradley fell
into one of those waking trances which he had
of late so frequently experienced, and which
he had frequently compared, in his calmer
moments, to the weird seizures of the young
Prince, ' blue-eyed and fair of face,' in the
' Princess.'
He moved, looked, spoke as usual, showing
no outward indication of his condition ; but a
mist was upon his mind, and nothing was real ;
he seemed rather a disembodied spirit than a
man ; the Abbe's voice strange and far off,
though clear and distinct as a bell ; and when
the Abbe rapped on the barrel, as he himself
had done so recently, the voice tliat answered
the summons sounded like a voice from the
very grave itself.
154 THE NEW ABELARD.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE NAMELESS GRAVE.
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground
Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of Ocean shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to he resolved to earth again ;
And, lost each human trace, surrend'ring up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be a brother to th' insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod. — Thanatopsis.
It seemed a dream still, but a horrible sunless
dream, all that followed ; and in after years
Ambrose Bradley never remembered it without
a thrill of horror, finding it ever impossible to
disentangle the reality from illusion, or to
THE NAMELESS GRAVE, 155
separate the darkness of tlie visible experience
from that of his own mental condition. But
this, as far as he could piece the ideas together,
was what he remembered.
Accompanied by the mysterious Abbe, he
seemed to descend into the bowels of the
earth, and to follow the figure of a veiled and
sibylline figure who held a lamp. Passing
through dark subterranean passages, he came
to a low corridor, the walls and ceiling of
which were of solid stone, and at the further
end of which was a door containing an iron
grating.
The priest approached the door, and said
something in a low voice to some one beyond.
There was a pause ; then the door re-
volved on its hinges, and they entered, — to
find themselves in a black and vault-like
156 THE NEW ABELARD.
chamber, tlie darkness of which was Hterally
' made visible ' by one thin, spectral stream of
light, trickhng through an orifice in the arched
ceilini:^.
Here they found themselves in the presence
of a tall figure stoled in black, which the Abbe
saluted with profound reverence. It was to all
intents and purposes the figure of a woman,
but the voice which responded to the priest's
salutation in Italian was deep — almost — as that
of a man,
' What is your errand, brother ? ' de-
manded the woman after the first formal
greeting was over. As she spoke she turned
her eyes on Bradley, and they shone bright
and piercing through her veil.
* I come direct from tlie Holy Office,'
answered the Abbe, ' and am deputed to in-
THE NAMELESS GRAVE. 157
quire of you concerning one who was until
recently an inmate of this sacred place, — a
poor suffering Sister, who came here to find
peace, consolation, and blessed rest. This
English signor, who accompanies me, is deeply
interested in her of whom I speak, and the
Holy Office permits that you should tell him
all you know.
The woman again gazed fixedly at Bradley
as she rephed —
' She who enters here as an inmate leaves
behind her at the gate her past hfe, her worldly
goods, her kith and kin, her very name.
Death itself could not strip her more bare of
all that she has been. She becomes a ghost,
a shadow, a cipher. How am I to follow
the fate of one whose trace in the world has
disappeared ? '
' You are trifling with me ! ' cried Biadley.
158 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Tell me at once, is she or is she not an inmate
of this living hell ? '
' Do not blaspheme ! ' cried the Abbe in
English, while the veiled woman crossed her-
self with a shudder. ' It is only in compassion
for your great anguish of mind that our blessed
Sister will help you, and such words as you are
too prone to use will not serve your cause.
Sister,' he continued in Italian, addressing the
woman, ' the English signor would not willingly
offend, though he has spoken wildly, out of the
depth of his trouble. Now listen ! It is on the
record of the Holy Office that on a certain day
some few months ago an English lady, under
sanction, entered these walls and voluntarily
said farewell to the world for ever, choosing
the blessed path of a divine death-in-life to the
sins and sorrows of an existence which was
THE NAMELESS GRAVE. 159
surely life-in-death. The name slie once bore,
and the date on which she entered the con-
vent, are written down on this paper. Please
read them, and then perhaps you will be able
to guide us in our search,'
So saying, the Abbe handed to the woman
a folded piece of paper. She took it quietly,
and, stepping slowly to the part of the chamber
which was lit by the beam of chilly sunshine,
opened the paper and appeared to read the
writing upon it. As she did so, the dim and
doubtful radiance fell upon her, and showed
tlirough the black but semi-transparent veil the
dim outline of a livid human face.
Leaving the chamber, she approached a
large vaulted archway at its inner end, and
beckoned to the two men. Without a word
they followed.
i6o THE NEW ABELARD.
Still full of the wild sense of unreality, like
a man walking or groping his way in a land of
ghosts, Bradley walked on. Passing along a
dismal stone corridor, where, at every step he
took.
He dragged
Foot-echoes after Lim !
past passage after passage of vaulted stone,
dimly conscious as he went of low doors
opening into the gloomiest of cells, he hurried
in the w^ake of his veiled guide. Was it only
his distempered fancy, or did he indeed hear,
from time to time, the sound of low wailiugs
and dreary ululations proceeding from the
darkness on every side of him ? Once, as they
crossed an open space dimly lit by dreary
shafts of daylight, he saw a figure in sable
weeds, on hands and knees, with her lips
THE NAMELESS GRAVE. i6i
pressed close against the stone pavement ; but
at a word from his guide the figure rose with a
feeble moan and fluttered away down a corridor
into the surrounding darkness.
At last they seemed to pass from darkness
into partial sunshine, and Bradley found himself
standing in the open air. On every side, and
high as the eye could reach, rose gloomy walls
with overhanging caves and buttresses, leaving
only one narrow space above where the blue of
heaven was dimly seen. There was a flutter of
wings, and the shadows of a flight of birds
passed overhead — doves which made their
home in the gloomy recesses of the roofs and
walls.
Beneath was a sort of quadrangle, some
twenty feet square, covered with grass, which
for the most part grew knee-deep, interspersed
VOL. III. M
1 62 THE NEW ABELARD.
witli nettles and gloomy weeds, and wliicli was
in other places stunted and decayed, as if
withered by some hideous mildew or blight.
Here and there there was a rude wooden cross
stuck into the earth, and indicating what looked
to the eye like a neglected grave.
The Sister led the way through tlie long
undergrowth, till she reached the side of a
mound on which the grass had scarcely grown
at all, and on which was set one of those
coarse crosses.
' You ask me what has become of the poor
penitent you seek. She died in the holy faith,
and her mortal body is buried here!
With a wild shriek Bradley fell on his
knees, and tearing the cross from the earth
read the inscription rudely carved upon it : —
' Sister Alma.
Ohiit 18—.'
THE NAMELESS GRAVE. 163
That was all. Bradley gazed at the cross
in utter agony and desolation ; then shrieking
again aloud, fell forward on his face. The
faint light from the far-off blue crept down
over him, and over the two black figures,
who gazed in wonder upon him ; and thus
for a long time he lost the sense of life and
time, and lay as if dead.
M '1
1 64 THE NEW ABELARD
CHAPTER XXX.
IN TARIS.
Lay a garland on my hearse,
Of the dismal yew ;
Maidens, willow gardens bear ;
Say I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth ;
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth. — The Maid's Tragedy.
Professor Mapleleafe speedily saw that to
oppose his sister would be inopportune — might
perhaps even cause her decline and death.
He determined- therefore to humour her, and
to delay for a short time their proposed re-
turn to America.
IN PARIS. 165
* Look here, Eustasia,' he said to her one
day, ' I find I've got something to do in Paris ;
you shall come with me. Perhaps the change
there may bring you back to your old self
again. Anyhow we'll try it; for if this goes
on much longer you'll die ! '
' No, Salem, I shan't die till I've seen him
again ! ' she answered, with a faint forced
smile.
They set about making their preparations
at once, and were soon on their way to Paris.
The movement and change had given colour
to Eustasia's cheeks, and brought a pleasurable
light of excitement into her eyes, so that
already her brother's spirits were raised.
' She'll forget him,' he said to himself, ' and
we'll be what we were before he came ! '
But in this Salem was mistaken. Eustaeia
1 66 THE NEW ABELARD.
was not likely to forget Bradley. Indeed, it
was the tliouglit of seeing liim again that
seemed to give new life to her rapidly wasting
frame. She knew that he had left Eno-land ;
she thought that, like herself, he might be
travelling to get rid of his own distracting
thoughts ; so wherever she went she looked
about her to try and catch a glimpse of his face.
They fixed themselves in Paris, and Salem
soon dropped into the old life. He fell amongst
some kindred spirits, and the seances began
again ; Eustasia taking part in them to please
her brother, but no more. She was utterly
changed ; each day as it rolled away seemed
to take with it a part of her life, until her
wasted frame became almost as ethereal ised as
those of the spirits with whom she had dealt
so much.
IN PARIS. 167
With constant nursing an 1 brooding upon,
her fascination for tlie Enghf;hman increased ;
it seemed, indeed, to be the one thing which
kept her thin thread of hfe from finally breaking.
' If I could see him again,' she murmured
to herself, ' only once again, and then (as Salem
says) die ! '
The wish of her heart was destined to be
realised : she did at least see Bradley once
again.
She was sitting at home one day alone,
when the door of the room opened, and more
like a spectre than a man he walked in.
At the first glimpse of his face Eustasia
uttered a wild cry and staggered a few steps
forward, as if about to throw herself into his
arms ; but suddenly she controlled herself, and
sank half swoo ning into a chair.
i68 THE NEW ABELARD.
' You have come ! ' she said at length,
raising her eyes wistfully to his ; ' you have
come at last ! '
He did not answer, but kept his eyes fixed
upon hers with a look which made her shudder.
' How — how did you find me ? ' she asked
faintly.
' I came to Paris, and by accident I heard
of you,' he answered in a hollow voice.
Again there was silence. Bradley kept
his eyes fixed upon the sibyl with a look which
thrilled hep to the soul. There was something
about him which she could not understand ;
something which made her fear him. Lookin^^
at him more closely, she saw that he was
curiously changed ; his eyes were sunken and
hollow ; and though they were fixed upon her
they seemed to be looking at something far
IN PARIS. 169
away ; bis hair, too, had turned quite
grey.
She rose from her seat, approached him,
and gently laid her hand upon his arm.
' Mr. Bradley,' she said, ' what is it ? '
He passed his hand across his brow as if
to dispel a dream, and looked at her curiously.
' Eustasia,' he said, using for the first time
her Christian name, ' speak the truth to me
to-day ; tell me, is all this real ? '
' Is what real ? ' she asked, trembling. His
presence made her faint, and the sound of her
name, as he had spoken it, rang continually in
her ears.
' Is it not all a lie ? Tell me that what
you have done once you can do again ; that
you can bring me once more into the presence
of the spmt of her I love ! '
I70 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Of her you love ? ' said the girl, fixing
her large eyes wistfully upon his face. ' What
— what do you want me to do ? '
' Prove that it is not all a lie and a cheat :
if you are a true woman, as I trust, I want
you to bring back to me the spirit of my
darling who is dead ! '
She bhrank for a moment from him, a
sickening feeling of despair clouding all her
senses ; then she bowed her head.
' When will you come? ' she said.
' To-night.'
Eustasia sank into her chair, and, without
another word, Bradley departed.
At seven o'clock that night Bradley re-
turned, and found the sibyl waiting for him.
tShe was quite alone. Since the morning
her manner had completely changed ; her
IN PARIS. 171
hands were trembling, her cheek was flushed,
but there was a look of strange determination
about her lips and in her eyes. Bradley shook
hands with her, then looked around as if ex-
pecting others.
She smiled curiously.
' We are to be alone ! ' she said — ' quite
alone. I thought it better for you ! '
For some time she made no attempt to
move ; at length, noticing Bradley's impatience,
she said quietly —
' We will beoin.'
She rose and placed herself opposite
Bradley, and fixed her eyes intently upon him.
Then, at her request, he turned down the gas ;
they were in almost total darkness touching
hands.
For some time after Bradley sat in a
172 THE NEW ABELARD.
Strange dreain, scarcely conscious of anything
that was taking place, and touching the out-
stretched hands of Eustasia with his own.
Suddenly a soft voice close to his ear mur-
mured, —
' Ambrose, my love ! '
He started from his chair, and gazed wildly
about him. He could see nothing, but he
could feel something stirring close to him.
Then he staggered back like a drunken man,
and fell back in his chair.
' Alma ! ' he cried piteously, still conscious
of the medium's trembling hands, ' Alma, my
darling, come to me !'
For a moment there was silence, and
Bradley could hear the beating of his heart.
Then he became conscious of a soft hand
upon his head ; of lips that seemed to him like
IN PARIS. 173
warm human lips pressed against his fore
bead.
Gasping and trembling lie cried —
' Alma, speak ; is it you 1 '
The same soft voice answered him—
■♦ Yes, it is I ! '
The hand passed again softly over his head
and around his neck, and a pair of lips rich
and warm were pressed passionately against
his own. Half mad with excitement, Bradley
threw one arm around the figure he felt to be
near him, sprang to his feet while it struggled
to disengage itself, turned up the light, and
gazed full into the eyes of — Eustasia Maple-
leafe.
Never till his dying day did Bradley forget
the expression of the face which the sibyl now
174 THE NEW ABELAKjj.
tuniecl towards his owu, wliile, half crouching,
half struggling, she tried to free herself from
the grip of his powerful arms ; for though the
cheeks were pale as death, the eyes wildly-
dilated, they expressed no terror — rather a
mad and reckless desperation. The mask had
quite fallen ; any attempt at further disguise
would have been sheer w^aste of force and
time, and Eustasia stood revealed once and for
all as a cunning and dangerous trickster, a
serpent of miserable deceit.
Yet she did not quail. She looked at the
man boldly, and presently, seeing he continued
to regard her steadfastly, as if lost in horrified
wonder, she gave vent to her characteristic,
scarcely audible, crooning laugh.
A thrill of horror went through him, as if
he were under the spell of something diabolic.
IN PARIS. 17
For a moment he felt impelled to seize rier
by the throat and strangle her, or to savagely
dash her to the ground. Conquering the im-
pulse, he held her still as in a vice, until at last
he found a voice —
' Then you have lied to me ? It has all
been a lie from the beo;innincr ? '
' Let me go,' she panted, ' and I will answer
you ! '
' Answer me now,' he said between his set
«
teeth.
But the sibyl was not made of the sort of
stuff to be conquered by intimidation. A fierce
look came into her wonderful eyes, and her
lips were closely compressed together.
' Speak — or I may kill you !^ he cried.
' Kill me, then ! ' she answered. ' Guess I
don t care ! '
176 THE NEW ABELARD.
There was something in the wild face
which mastered him in spite of himself. His
hands relaxed, his arms sank useless at his
side, and he uttered a deep despairing groan.
Simultaneously she sprang to her feet, and
stood looking down at him.
' Why did you break the conditions ? ' she
asked in a low voice. ' The spirits won't be
trifled with in that way, and they'll never for-
give you, or me ; never.'
He made no sign that he heard her, but
stood moveless, his head sunk between his
shoulders, his eyes fixed upon the ground.
Struck by the sudden change in him, she
moved towards him, and was about to touch
him on the shoulder, when he rose, still white
as death, and faced her once more.
' Do not touch me ! ' he cried. ' Do not
IN PARIS. 177
touch me, and do not, if you have a vestige of
goodness left within you, try to torture me
again. But look me in the face, and answer
me, if you can, truly, remembering il, is the
last time we shall ever meet. When you have
told me the truth, I shall leave this place,
never to return ; shall leave you^ never to look
upon your face again. Tell me the truth,
woman, and I will try to forgive you ; it will
be very hard, but I will try. I know I have
been your dupe from the beginning, and that
what I have seen and heard has been only a
treacherous mirage called up by an adventuress
and her accomplices. Is it not so ? Speak !
Let me have the truth from your own lips.'
' I can't tell,' answered Eustasia coldly.
' If you mean that my brother and I have
conspired to deceive you, it is a falsehood.
VOL. III. N
178 THE NEW ABELARD.
We are simply agents iu the bauds of higher
agencies than ours.'
' Once more, cease that jargon,' cried
Bradley ; ' the time has long past for its use.
Will you confess, before we part for ever ?
You will not? Then good-bye, and God
forgive you.'
So saying he moved towards the door ; but
with a sharp, bird-like cry she called him
back.
' Stay ! you must not go ! '
He turned again towards her.
' Then will you be honest witli me ? It is
the last and only thing I shall ask of you.'
' I — I will try,' she answered in a broken
voice.
' You wiin '
' Yes ; if you will listen to me patiently.'
IN PARIS. 179
She sank into a chair, and covered her face
with her hands. He stood watching her, and
saw that her thin, white, trembhug fingers
were wet with tears.
' Promise,' she said, ' that what I am about
to say to you shall never be told to any other
living soul.'
' I promise.'
' Not even to my brother.'
' Not even to him!
There was a long pause, during which he
waited impatiently for her to continue. At
last, conquering her agitation, she uncovered
her face, and motioned to a chair opposite to
her ; he obeyed her almost mechanically, and
sat down. She looked long and wistfully at
him, and sighed several times as if in pain.
' Salem says I shan't live long,' she mur-
N '1
i8o THE NEW ADELARD.
mured tliouglitfully. ' To-night, more than
ever, I felt Hke dying.'
She paused and waited as if expecting him
to speak, but he was silent,
' Guess you don't care if I live or die ? ' she
added piteously, more like a sick child than a
grown woman — and waited again.
' I think I do care,' he answered sadly, ' for
in spite of all the anguish you have caused me,
I am sorry for you. But I am not myself, not
the man you once knew. All my soul is set
upon one quest, and I care for nothing more in
all the world. I used to believe there was a
God ; that there was a life after death ; that
if those who loved each other parted here,
they might meet again elsewhere. In my
despair and doubt, I thought that you could
give me assurance and heavenly hope ; and I
/A PARIS. i8i
clutched at the shadows you summoned up
before me. I know now how unreal they
were; I know now that you were playing
tricks upon my miserable soul.'
She hstened to him, and when he ceased
began to cry again.
'I never meant any harm to yow,' she
sobbed ! ' I — I loved you too well.'
' You loved me ! ' he echoed in amaze.
She nodded quickly, glancing at him with
her keen wild eyes.
' Yes, Mr. Bradley. When Salem first took
me to hear you preach, you seemed like the
spirit of a man I once loved, and who once
loved me. He's dead now, he is ; died over
there in the States, years ago. Well, after-
wards, when I saw you again, I began to make
believe to myself that you were that very man,
i82 THE NEW ABELARD.
and that he was living again in you. You
think me crazy, don't you? Ah well, you'll
think me crazier when you hear all the rest.
I soon found out all about you ; it wasn't very
hard, and our people have ways of learning
things you'd never guess. I didn't look far till
I found out your secret ; that you loved another
woman, I mean. That made me care for you
all the more.'
Her manner now was quite simple and
matter-of-fact. Her face was quite tearless,
and, with hands folded in her lap, she sat
quietly looking into his face. He listened in
sheer stupefaction. Until that moment no
suspicion of the truth had ever flashed upon
his mind. As Eustasia spoke, her features
seemed to become elfin-like and old, with a
set expression of dreary and incurable pain ;
IN PARIS. 183
l3ut she made her avowal without the shghtest
indication of shame or self-reproach, though
her manner, from time to time, was that of
one pleading for sympathy and pity.
She continued —
' You don't understand me yet, and I guess
you never will. I'm not a European, and I
haven't been brought up like other girls. I
don't seem ever to have been quite young.
I grew friends with the spirits when I wasn't old
enough to understand, and they seem to have
stolen my right heart away, and put another
in its place.'
'Why do you speak of such things as if
they were real? You know the whole thing
is a trick and a lie.'
' No, I don't,' she answered quickly. ' I'm
not denying that I've played tricks with them.
l84 THE NEW ABELARD.
just as they've played tricks witli me; but
they're downright real — they are indeed.
First mother used to come to me, when I was
very little ; then others, and in after-days I
saw liim ; yes, after he was dead. Then some-
times, when they wouldn't come, Salem helped
out the manifestations, that's all.'
' For God's sake, be honest with me ! ' cried
Bradley. ' Confess that all these things are
simple imposture. That photograph of your-
self, for example — do you remember? — the
picture your brother left in my room, and
which faded away when I breathed upon it ? '
She nodded her head again, and laughed
strangely.
' It was a man out West that taught Salem
how to do that,' she replied naively.
' Then it was a trick, as I suspected ? '
IN PARIS. 185
' Yes, I guess that was a trick. It was
something they used in fixing the hkeness,
which made it grow invisible after it had been
a certain time in contact with the atmospheric
air.'
Bradley uttered an impatient exclamation.
' And all the rest was of a piece with that !
Well, I could have forgiven you everything
but havhig personified one who is now lost to
me for ever.'
' I never did. I suppose you wished to see
her, and she came to you out of the spirit-
land.'
' Now you are lying to me again.'
' Don't you think I'm lying,' was the
answer ; ' for its gospel-truth I'm telling you.
I'm not so bad as you think me, not half so
bad;
1 86 THE NEW ABELARD.
Again shrinking from her, he looked at her
with anger and loathing.
' The device was exposed to-day,' he said
sternly. ' You spoke to me with her voice,
and when I turned up the light I found that
I was holding in my arms no spirit, but
yourself.'
' Well, I'm not denying that's true,' she
answered with another laugh. ' Something
came over me — I don't know how it happened
— and then, all at one, I was kissing you, and
I had broken the conditions.'
By this time Bradley's brain had cleared,
and he was better able to grasp the horrible
reality of the situation. It was quite clear to
him that the sibyl was either an utter impostor,
or a person whose mental faculties were
darkened by fitful clouds of insanity. What
IN PARIS. 187
startled and horrified him most of all was the
utter want of maidenly shame, the curious and
weird sang-froid, with which she made her
extraordinary confession. Her frankness, so
far as it went, was something terrible — or, as
the Scotch express it, ' uncanny.' Across his
recollection, as he looked and listened, came
the thought of one of these mysterious sibyls,
familiar to media3val superstition, who come
into the world with all the outward form and
beauty of women, but without a Soul, but who
might gain a spiritual existence in some myste-
rious way by absorbing the souls of men.
The idea was a ghastly one, in harmony with
his distempered fancy, and he could not shake
it away.
'Tell me,' said Eustasia gently, 'tell me
one thing, now I have told you so much. Is
1 88 THE NEW ADELARD.
that poor lady dead indeed — I mean the lady
you used to love ? '
The question Avent into his heart like a
knife, and with livid face he rose to his feet.
' Do not speak of her ! ' he cried. ' I can-
not bear it — it is blasphemy! Miserable
woman, do you think that you will ever be
forgiven for tampering, as you have done, with
the terrible truth of death? I came to you
in the last despairing hope that among all the
phantoms you have conjured up before me
there might be some realicy ; for I was bhnd
and mad, and scarcely knew what I did. If
it is any satisfaction to you, know that you
have turned the world into a tomb for me, and
destroyed my last faint ray of faith in a living
God. In my misery, I clung to the thought
of your spirit world ; and I came to you for
IN PARIS. 189
some fresh assurance that such a world might
be. All that is over now. It is a cheat and
a fraud like all the rest.'
With these words he left her, passing
quickly from the room. Directly afterwards
she heard the street door close behind him.
Tottering to the window, she looked down in the
street, and saw him stalk rapidly by, his white
face set hard as granite, his eyes looking
steadily before him, fixed on vacancy. As he
disappeai-ed, she uttered a low cry of pain,
and placed her hand upon her heart.
I90 THE NEW ABELARD.
CHAPTER XXXL
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
Give me thy hand, ten'estrial ; so ! Give me thy hand,
celestial ; so ! — Meri~y Wives of Windsor.
It was the close of a bright sunshiny day in
the spring of 18 — . The sun was setting
crimson on the lonely peak of the Zugspitz
in the heart of the Bavarian Highlands, and
the shadows of the pine woods which fringed
the melancholy gorges beneath were lengthen-
ing towards the valleys.
Through one of these mountain gorges,
following a rocky footpath, a man was rapidly
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 191
walkiug. He was roughly, almost rudely,
dressed in a sort of tourist suit. On his head
he wore a broadbrimmed felt hat of the
shape frequently worn by clergymen, and in
his hand he carried a staff like a shepherd's
crook.
Scarcely looking to left or right, but hasten-
ing with impatient paces he hurried onward,
less like a man hastening to some eagerly-
sought shelter, than like one flying from some
hated thing behind his back. His cheeks were
pale and sunken, his eyes wild and sad. From
time to time he slackened his speed, and looked
wearily around him — up to the desolate sunlit
peaks, down the darkening valley with its
green pastures, belts of woodland, and fields
of growing corn.
But whichever way he looked, he seemed
192 THE NEW ABELARD.
to find no joy in the prospect, indeed hardly
to behold the thing he looked on, but to gaze
through it and beyond it on some sorrowful
portent.
Sometimes where the path became unusually
steep and dangerous, he sprang from rock to
rock with reckless haste, or when its thread
was broken, as frequently happened by some
brawling mountain stream, he entered the
torrent without hesitation, and passed reck-
lessly across. Indeed, the man seemed utterly
indiSerent to physical conditions, but labouring
rather under some spiritual possession, com-
pletely and literally realising in his person the
words of the poet :
His own mind did like a tempest strong
Come to him thus, and drave the weary wight along.
The wild scene was in complete harmony
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 193
with his condition. It was still and desolate,
no sound seeming to break its solemn silence ;
but pausing and listening intently, one would
in reality have become conscious of many
sounds — the deep under-murmur of the moun-
tain streams, the ' sough ' of the wind in the
pine woods, the faint tinkling of goat-bells
from the distant valleys, the solitary cry of
rock doves from the mountain caves.
The man was Ambrose Bradley.
Kearly a year had elapsed since his sad
experience in Eome. Since that time he had
wandered hither and thither like another
Ahasuerus ; wishing for death, yet unable to
die ; burthened with the terrible weight of his
own sin and self-reproach, and finding .no
resting-place in all the world.
Long before, as the reader well knows, the
VOL. III. o
194 THE NEW ABELARD.
man's faith in the supernatural had faded.
He had refined away his creed till it had
wasted away of its own inanition, and when
the hour of trial came and he could have
called upon it for consolation, he was horrified
to find that it was a corpse, instead of a living
thing. Then, in his horror and despair, he had
clutched at the straw of spiritualism, only to
sink lower and lower in the bitter waters of
Marah. He found no hope for his soul, no
foothold for his feet. He had, to use his own
expression, lost the world.
It was now close upon night-time, and
every moment the gorges along which he was
passing grew darker and darker.
Through the red smokes of sunset one
lustrous star was just becoming visible on the
extremest peak of the mountain chain. But
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 195
instead of walking faster, Bradley began to
linger, and presently, coming to a gloomy
chasm which seemed to make further progress
dangerous, impossible, he halted and looked
down. The trunk of an uprooted pine-tree
lay close to the chasm's brink. After looking
quietly round him, he sat down, pulled out a
common wooden pipe, and began to smoke.
Presently he pulled out a letter bearing the
Munich post-mark, and with a face as dark as
night began to look it through. It was dated
from London, and ran as follows :
' Reform Club, March 5, 18 .
' My dear Bradley, — Your brief note duly
reached me, and I have duly carried out your
wishes with regard to the affairs of the new
church. I have also seen Sir George Craik,
and found him more amenable to reason than
02
196 THE NEW ABELARD.
I expected. Though he still regards you with
the intensest animosity, he has sense enough to
perceive that you are not directly responsible
for the unhappy affair at Rome. His thoughts
seem now chiefly bent on recovering his niece's
property from the clutches of the Italian
Jesuits, and in exposing the method by which
they acquired such dominion over the unhappy
lady's mind.
' But I will not speak of this further at
present, knowing the anguish it must bring
you. I will turn rather to the mere abstract
matter of your letter, and frankly open my
mind to you on the subject.
' What you say is very brief, but, from the
manner in which it recurs in your correspon-
dence, I am sure it represents the absorbing
topic of your thoughts. Summed up in a few
AAfO.VG THE MOUNTAINS. 197
words, it affirms your couclusioii that all
human effort is impossible to a man in your
position, where the belief in personal immor-
tality is gone.
' Now I need not go over the old ground,
with which you are quite as familiar as myself.
I will not remind you of the folly and the
selfishness (from one point of view) of formu-
latmg a moral creed out of what, in reality, is
merely the hereditary instinct of self-preserva-
tion. I will not repeat to you that it is nobler,
after all, to live impersonally in the beautiful
future of Humanity than to exist personally in
a heaven of introspective dreams. But I
should like, if you will permit me, to point
out that this Death, this cessation of conscious-
ness, which you dread so much, is not in itself
an unmixed evil. True, just at present, in the
198 THE NEW ABELARD.
sharpness of your bereavement, you see nothing
but the sliadow, and would eagerly follow into
its oblivion the shape of her you mourn. But
as every day passes, this desire to die will grow
less keen ; and ten years hence, perhaps, or
twenty years, you will look back upon to-day's
anguish with a calm, sweet sense of spiritual
gain, and with a peaceful sense of the suffi-
ciency of life. Then, perhaps, embracing a
creed akin to ours, and having reached a
period when the physical frame begins slowly,
and without pain, to melt away, you will be
quite content to accept — what shall I say ? —
Nirwana.
'What I mean, my dear friend, is this,
simply : that Death is only evil when it comes
painfully or prematurely ; coming in the
natural ordv3r of things, in the inevitable decay
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS, 199
of Nature, it is by no means evil. And so
much is this the case that, if you were to dis-
cover the consensus of opinion among the old,
who are on the threshold of the grave, you
would find the majority quite content that life
should end for ever. Tired out with eighty or
a hundred years of living, they gladly welcome
sleep. It is otherwise, of course, with the
victims of accidental disease or premature
decay. But in the happy world to which we
Positivists look forward, these victims would
not exist.
'Day by day Science, which you despise
too much, is enlarging the area of human
health. Think what has been done, even
within the last decade, to abolish both physical
and social disease ! Think what has yet to be
done to make life freer, purer, safer, happier !
200 THE NEW ADELARD.
I grant you the millciiuium of the Grand Etre is
still far off; but it is most surely coming, and
we can all aid, more or less, that blessed con-
summation — not by idle wailing, by useless
dreams, or by selfish striving after an im-
possible personal reward, but by duty punctu-
ally performed, by self-sacrifice cheerfully
undergone, by daily and nightly endeavours to
ameliorate the condition of Man.
' Men perish ; Man is imperishable. Per-
sonal forms change ; the great living personality
abides. And the time must come at last when
Man shall be as God, certain of his destiny, and
knowing good and evil.
' " A Job's comforter ! " I seem to hear you
cry. Well, after all, you must be your own
physician.
No man can save another's soul,
Or pay another's debt !
AJIOiVG THE MOUNTAINS. 201
But I wish that you, in your distracted wan-
dering after certainty, would turn your thoughts
our way, and try to understand what the great
Founder of our system has done, and will do,
for the human race. I am sure that the study
would bring you comfort, late or soon.
'I am, as ever, my dear Bradley,
' Your friend and well-wisher,
' John Cholmoxdeley.
' p.S. — What are you doing in Munich ? I
hear of curious doings this year at Ober-
Ammergau, where that ghastly business, the
Passion Play, is once more in course of pre-
paration.'
Bradley read this characteristic epistle wdth
a gloomy frown, which changed before he had
finished to a look of bitter contempt ; and, as
202 THE NEW A BE LARD.
he read, he seemed once more conscious of the
babble of Hterary club-laud, aud the affected
jargon of the new creeds of the future. Return-
ing the letter to his pocket, he continued to
smoke till it was almost too dark to see the
wreaths of fume from his own pipe.
The night had completely fallen before he
rose and proceeded on his way.
203
CHAPTER XXXII.
ANOTHER OLD LETTER.
Love ! if tlij destined sacrifice am I,
Oome, slay tliy victim, and prepare thy fires ;
Plunged in thy depths of mercy let me die
The death which every soul that lives desires.
Madame Guyon.
' I AM writing these lines in my bedroom in
the house of the Widow Gran, in the village
of Ober-Ammergau. They are the last you
will receive from me for a long time ; perhaps
the last I shall ever send you, for more and
more, as each day advances, I feel that my
business with the world is done.
' What brought me hither I know not. I
204 THE NEW ABELARD.
am sure it was Avitli no direct intention of
witnessing what so many deem a mere mum-
mery or outrage on religion ; but after many
wanderings hither and thitlier, I found myself
in the neighbourhood, and whether instinctively
or of set purpose, approaching this lonely
place.
' As I have more than once told you, I
have of late, ever since my past trouble, been
subject to a kind of waking nightmare, in
which all natural appearances have assumed a
strange unreality, as of shapes seen in dreams ;
and one characteristic of these seizures has been
a curious sense within my own mind that, vivid
as such appearances seemed, I should remember
nothing of them on actually awaking. A wise
physician would shake his head and murmur
" diseased cerebration ; " nor would his diagnosis
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 205
of my condition be less gloomy, on learning
that my physical powers remain unimpaired,
and seem absolutely incapable of fatigue. I
eat and drink little ; sleep less ; yet I have the
strength of an athlete still, or so it seems.
' I walked hither across the mountains,
having no other shelter for several nights than
the boughs of the pine-woods where I slept.
The weather was far from warm, yet I felt no
cold ; the paths were dangerous, yet no evil
befell me. If I must speak the truth, I would
gladly have perished — by cold, by accident, by
any swift and sudden means-
' But when a man thirsts and hungers for
death. Death, in its dull perversity, generally
spares him. More than once, among these
dizzy precipices and black ravines, I thought of
suicide ; one step would have done it, one
2o6 THE NEW ABELARD.
quick downward leap ; but I was spared tliat
last degradation — indeed, I know not liow.
' It was niglit time when I left tlie moun-
tains, and came out upon the public road. The
moon rose, pale and ghostly, dimly lighting
my way.
' Full of my own miserable phantasy, I
walked on for hours and descended at last to
the outlying houses of a silent village, lying at
the foot of a low chain of melancholy hiUs.
All was still ; a thin white mist filled the air,
floating upward from the valley, and forming
thick vaporous clouds around the moon.
Dimly I discerned the shadows of the houses,
but in none of the windows was there any
light.
' I stood hesitating, not knowing which way
to direct my footsteps or at which cottage door
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 207
to knock and seek shelter, and never, at any
moment of my recent experience, was the sense
of phantasy and unreahty so full upon me.
While I was thus hesitating I suddenly became
conscious of the sound of voices coming from
a small cottage situated on the roadside, and
hitherto scarcely discernible in the darkness.
Without hesitation I approached the door and
knocked.
* Immediately the voices ceased, and the
moment afterwards the door opened and a
figure appeared on the threshold.
' If the sense of unreality had been strong
before it now became paramount, for the figure
I beheld wore a white priestly robe quaintly
embroidered with gold, and a golden head-
dress or coronet upon his head. Nor was this
all. The large apartment behind liim — a kind
2o8 THE NEW ABELARD.
of kitclien, with rude benches around the ingle
— was ht by several lamps, and within it were
chistered a fantastic group of figures in white
tunics, plumed head-dresses of Eastern device,
and mantles of azure, crimson, and blue, which
swept the ground.
' " Who is there ? " said the form on the
threshold in a deep voice, and speaking German
in a strong Bavarian patois.
' I answered that I was an Englishman, and
sought a night's shelter.
' " Come in ! " said the man, and thus in-
vited I crossed the threshold.
' As the door closed behind me, I found
myself in the large raftered chamber, sur-
rounded on every side by curious faces.
Scattered here and there about the room were
rudely-carved figures, for the most part repre-
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 209
senting the Crucifixion, many of tliem im-
finished, and on a table near the window was a
set of carver's tools. Eudely coloured pictures,
all of biblical subjects, were placed here and
there upon the walls, and over the fireplace
hung a large Christ in ebony, coarsely carven.
' Courteously enough the fantastic group
parted and made way for me, while one of the
number, a woman, invited me to a seat beside
the hearth.
' I sat down like one in a dream, and
accosted the man who had invited me to enter.
' " What place is this ? " I asked. " I have
been walking all night and am doubtful where
I am."
' " You are at Ober-Ammergau ! " was the
xeply.
' I could have laughed had my spirit been
VOL. III. p
2IO THE NEW ABELARD.
less oppressed. For now, my brain clearing,
I began to understand what had befallen me.
I remembered the Passion Play and all that I
bad read concerning it. The fantastic figures
I beheld were those of some of the actors still
attired in the tinsel robes they wore upon the
stage,
' I asked if this was so, and was answered
in the affirmative.
' " We begin the play to-morrow," said the
man who had first spoken. "I am Johann
Diener the Chorfilhrer, and these are some of
the members of our chorus. We are up late,
you see, preparing for to-morrow, and trying
on the new robes that have just been sent to
us from Annheim. The pastor of the village
was here till a few minutes ago, seeing all
things justly ordered amongst us, and he would
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. m
gladly have welcomed you, for he loves the
English."
' The man's speech was gentle, his manner
kindly in the extreme, but I scarcely heeded
him, although I knew now what the figures
around me were — the merest supernumeraries
and chorus-singers of a tawdry show. They
seemed to me none the less ghostly and un-
real, shadows acting in some grim farce of
death.
* " Doubtless the gentleman is fatigued,"
said a woman, addressing Johann Diener, " and
would wish to go to rest."
' I nodded wearily. Diener, however,
seemed in some perplexity,
' " It is not so easy," he returned, " to find
the gentleman a shelter. As you all know, the
village is overcrowded with strangers. How-
p 2
212 THE NEW ABE LARD.
ever, if lie will follow me, I will take liira to
Joseph Mair, and see what can be done."
' I thanked him, and without staying to
alter his dress, he led the way to the door.
' We were soon out in the open street.
Passing several chalets, Diener at last reached
one standing a little way from the roadside, and
knocked.
' " Come in," cried a clear kind voice-
' He opened the door and I followed him
into an interior much resembling the one we
had just quitted, but smaller, and more full of
tokens of the woodcutter's trade. The room
was dimly lit by an oil lamp swinging from
the ceiling. Seated close to the fireplace,
with his back tow^ards us, engaged in some
nandy work, was a man.
'As we entered the man rose and stood
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 213
lookincf towards us. I started in wonder, and
uttered an involuntary cry.
'It was Jesus Clirist, Jesus the son of
Joseph, in his habit as he hved !
'I had no time, and indeed I lacked the
power, to separate the true from the false in
this singular manifestation. I saw before me,
scarce beheving what I saw, the Christ of
History, clad as the shape is clad in the famous
fresco of Leonardo, but looking at me with a
face mobile, gentle, beautiful, benign. At
the same moment I perceived, scarcely under-
standing its significance, tlie very crown of
thorns, of which so many a martyr since has
dreamed. It was lying on the coarse table
close to a number of wood-carving tools, and
close to it was a plate of some red pigment,
with which it had recently been stained.
214 THE NEW ABE LARD.
' Johann Diener advanced.
' '• I am glad to find you np, Joseph. This
English gentleman seeks shelter for the night,
and I scarcely knew whither to take him."
'"You will not find a bed in the place,"
returned the other; and he continued address-
ing me. " Since this morning our httle village
has been overrun, and many strangers have to
camp out in the open air. Never has Ober-
Ammergau been so thronged." ''
' I scarcely listened to him ; I was so lost
in contemplation of the awful personality he
represented.
' " Who are you ? " I asked, gazing at him
in amaze.
' He smiled, and glanced down at his dress.
' " I am Joseph Mair," he replied. " To-
morrow I play the Christus, and as you came
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 215
I Avas repairing some portion of the attire,
which I have not worn for ten years past."
' Jesus of JSTazareth ! Joseph Mair ! I un-
derstood all clearly now, but none the less did
I tremble with a sickening sense of awe.
'That night I remained in the house of
Joseph Mair, sitting on a bench in the ingle,
half dying, half dreaming, till daylight came.
Mair himself soon left me, after having set
before me some simple refreshment, of which
I did not care to partake. Alone in that
chamber, I sat like a haunted man, almost
credulous that I had seen the Christ indeed.
' I liave seen him ! I understand now all
the piteous humble pageant ! I have beheld
the Master as He lived and died ; not the
2i6 THE NEW ABE LARD.
creature of a poet's dream, not the Divine Ideal
I pictured in my blind and shadowy creed ;
l)ut Jesus who perished on Calvary, Jesus the
Martyr of the World.
' All day long, from dawn to sunset, T sat
in my place, watching the mysterious show.
Words might faintly foreshadow to you what I
beheld, but all words would fail to tell you
what I felt ; for never before, till these simple
children of the mountains pictured it before me,
had I reahsed the full sadness and rapture of
that celestial Life. How faint, miserable, and
unprofitable seemed my former creed, seen in
the light of the tremendous Eeality foreshadowed
on that stage, with the mountains closino- be-
hind it, the blue heaven bending tranquilly
above it, the birds singing on the branches
round about, the wind and sunshine shininii
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 217
over it and briiioino- thitlier all the o-entle
motion of the world. Now for the first time I
conceived that the Divine Story was not a poet's
dream, but a simple tale of sooth, a living ex-
perience which even the lowliest could under-
stand and before which the highest and wisest
must reverently bow.
' I seem to see your look of wonder, and
hear yoiu" cry of pitying pain. Is the man mad ?
you ask. Is it possible that sorrow has so
weakened his brain that he can be overcome
by such a summer cloud as the Passionspiel of
a few rude peasants — a piece of mummery
only worthy of a smile ! Well, so it is, or
seems. I tell you this " poor show " has done
for me what all intellectual and moral effort has
failed to do — it has brought me face to face
with the living God.
2i8 THE NEW ABELARD.
* This at least I know, that there is no via
media between the full acceptance of Christ's
miraculous life and dcatli, and acquiescence in
the stark materialism of the new creed of
scientific experience, whose most potent word
is the godless Nirwana of Schopenhauer.
' Man cannot live by the shadowy gods of
men — by the poetic spectre of a Divine Ideal,
by the Christ of Fancy and of Poesy, by the
Jesus of the dilettante, by the Messiah of a
fairy tale. Such gods may do for happy hours ;
their ghostliness becomes apparent in times of
spiritual despair and gloom.
' " Except a man be born again, he shall not
enter the kingdom of Heaven ! " I have heard
these divine words from the lips of one who
seemed the Lord himself; nay, who perchance
was that very Lord, putting on again the like-
ANOTHER OLD LETTER. 219
ness of a poor peasant's humanity, and clothing
himself with flesh as with a garment. I have
seen and heard with a child's eyes, a child's
ears ; and even as a child, I question no longer
but believe.
' Mea culpa ! mea culpa ! In the light
of that piteous martyrdom I review the great
sin of my life ; but out of sin and its penalty
has come transficpuration. I know now that
my beloved one was taken from me in mercy,
that I might follow in penitence and love.
Patience, my darling, for I shall come ; — God
grant that it may be soon ! '
220 THE NEW ABELARD.
CONCLUSION.
The following letter, written in the summer
of 18 — , by John Cholmondeley to Sir George
Craik, contains all that remains to be told
concerning the fate of Ambrose Bradley, some-
time minister of Fensea, and a seceder from the
Church of Enoiand : —
' My dear Sir, — You will remember our
conversation, when we last met in London,
concerning that friend of mine with whose
fortunes those of your lamented niece have
been unhappily interwoven. Your language
was then sufficiently bitter and unforgiving.
Perhaps you will tliink more gently on the
CONCLUSION. 221
subject wlieii you hear the news I have now
to convey to you. The Eev. Ambrose Bradley
died a fortnight ago, at Ober-Ammergau, in
the Bavarian highlands.
' From time to time, during his wandering*
in the course of the past year, we had been
in correspondence ; for, indeed, I was about
the only friend in the world with whom he
was on terms of close intimacy. Ever since
the disappearance of Miss Craik his sufferings
had been most acute ; and my own impression
is that his intellect was permanently weakened.
But that, perhaps, is neither here nor there.
' Some ten days ago, I received a com
munication from the village priest of Ober-
Ammergau, informing me that an Englishman
had died very suddenly and mysteriously in
the village, and that the only clue to his
222 THE NEW ABELARD.
friends and connexions was a long letter found
upon his person, addressed to me, at my
residence in the Temple. I innnediately
hastened over to Germany, and found, as 1
had anticipated, that the corpse was that of my
poor friend. It was lying ready for interment
in the cottage of Joseph Mair, a wood-carver,
and a leading actor in the Passion Play.
* I found, on inquiry, that Mr. Bradley
had been in the village for several weeks,
lodging at Mair's cottage, and dividing his
time between constant attendance at the
theatre, whenever the Passion Play was re-
presented, and long pedestrian excursions
among the mountains. He was strangely
taciturn, indifferent to ordinary comforts,
eating httle or nothing, and scarcely sleeping.
So at least the man Mair informed me, adding
CONCLUSION. 223
that he was very gentle and harmless, and to
all intents and purposes in perfect health.
' Last Sunday week he attended the theatre
as usual. That night he did not return to the
cottage of his host. Early next morning,
Joseph Mair, on going down to the theatre
with his tools, to do some carpenter's work
upon the stage, found the dead body of a man
there, lying on his face, with his arms clasped
around the mimic Cross ; and turning the dead
face up to the morning light, he recognised my
poor friend.
' That is all I have to tell you. His death,
hke his life, was a sad affair. I followed him
to his grave in the little burial-place of
Ober-Ammergau — where he rests in peace.
I am, &c.,
'John Cuolmondeley.
224 THE NEW ABELARD.
' Judoinrr from some talk I had before
leaving with the village priest, a worthy old
fellow Avho knew liim well, I believe poor
Bradley died in fidl belief of the Christian
faith ; but as I have already hinted to you,
his intellect, for a long time before his death,
was greatly w^eakened. Take him for all in
all, he was one of the best men 1 ever knew,
and might have been happy but for the unfor-
tunate " set " of his mind towards retrograde
superstitions.'
THE EXD.
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dence.
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Him.
Mirk Abbey.
Not V/ooed, but
Won.
£200 Reward.
Less Black than
We're Painted.
By Proxy.
Under One Roof.
High Spirits.
Carlyon's Year.
A Confidential
Agent.
Some Private
Views.
From Exile.
32
BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO &• W INDUS.
Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY EDGAR A. FOE.
The Mystery of Marie Roget.
BY E. C. I'KICE.
Valentina.
BY CHARLES READS.
\% is Never Too Late to Mend.
Hard Cash.
Peg Woffington.
Christie Johnstone.
Griffith Gaunt.
Put Yourself in His Place.
The Double Marriage.
Love Me Little, Love Me Long.
Foul Play.
The Cloister and the Hearth
The Course of True Love.
Autobiography of a Thief.
A Terrible Temptation.
The Wandering Heir.
A Simpleton.
A WomanHater.
Readiana.
BY MRS. RIDDELL.
Her Mother's Darling.
BY BAYLE ST. JOHN,
A Levantine Family.
BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
Gaslight and Dayli.^ht.
BY JOHN SAUNDERS.
Bound to the Wheel.
One Against the World.
Guy Waterman.
The Lion in the Path.
The Two Dreamers.
BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.
A Match in the Dark.
BY T. W. SPEIGHT.
The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.
BY R. A. STERN DALE.
The Afghan Knife.
BY BERTHA THOMAS.
Cressida. | Proud Malsie
The Violin-Player.
Cheap Popular Novels, continued—
BY WALTER THORNBURY.
Tales for the Marines.
BY T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE.
Diamond Cut Diamond.
BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
The Way We Live Now.
The American Senator.
BY MARK TWAIN.
Tom Sawyer.
An idle Excursion.
A Pleasure Trip on the Continent
of Europe.
BY SARAH TYTLER.
What She Came Through.
BY LADY WOOD.
Sablna.
BY EDMUND YATES.
Castaway.
The Forlorn Hope.
Land at Last.
ANONYMOUS.
Paul Ferroll.
Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.
Fcap. 8vo, picture covers, Is. each.
Jeff Briggs's Love Story. By Bret
Harte.
The Twins of Table Mountain. By
Bret Harte.
Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds. By
Julian Hawthorne.
Kathleen Mavourneen. By Author
of " That Lass o' Lovvrie's."
Lindsay's Luck. By the Author of
" That Lass o' Lowrie's."
Pretty Polly Pembertor. By the
Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's."
Trooping with Crows. By Mrs.
PiRKIS.
The Professor's Wife. By Leonard
Graham.
A Doutle Bond. By Linda Villari.
Esther's Glove. By R. E. Francillon.
The Garden that Paid the Rent.
By Tom Jerrold.
J. OGDEN and CO., printers, I72, ST. JOHN STREET, E.C.
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