Frances Hodgson Burnett

“ Among the women, with whom she was not exactly a favorite, it was still conceded that she was not a young woman whom it was easy to ignore. Her beauty—of which it was impossible to say that she was conscious—was of a type not to be rivaled. When she entered a room, glancing neither to right nor left, those who had seen her before unavoidably looked again, and those who had not were silent as she passed. There was a delicate suggestion of indifference in her manner, which might be real or might not. Her demeanor toward Haworth never altered, even to the extent of the finest shadow of change. ”

“ On their being joined by Haworth himself, Miss Ffrench decided inwardly that here upon his own domain he was not so wholly objectionable as she had fancied at first—even that he was deserving of a certain degree of approval. Despite the signs of elated excitement, her quick eye detected at once that he was more at his ease. His big frame did not look out of place; he moved as if he was at home, and upon the whole his rough air of authority and the promptness with which his commands were obeyed did not displease her.
"He is master," she said to herself. ”

“ Ffrench began to tremble.
"You've ventured a good deal of late, Haworth," he said, weakly. "You've done some pretty daring things, you know—and——"
Haworth turned on him.
"If I lose all I've made," he said, hoarsely, "shall I lose aught of yours, lad?"
Ffrench did not reply. He sat playing with his watch-chain nervously. He had cause for anxiousness on his own score, and his soul quaked within him.
"What is to be done?" he ventured at last.
"There's only one thing to be done," Haworth answered, pushing his chair back. "Stop it here—at th' start."
"Stop it?" Ffrench echoed, in amazement. ”

“ But the moment he caught sight of Murdoch an alarming change came upon him. His eyes opened to their fullest extent, his jaw fell and the color died out of his face. He rose hurriedly, dropped the youngest Briarley into his chair and darted out of the house, in such trepidation that his feet slipped under him when he reached the lower step, where he fell with a loud clatter of wooden clogs, scrambling up again with haste and difficulty and disappearing at once. ”

“ It always cost him a struggle to shut out the world and life and concentrate himself upon his labor in those days. A year before it would have been different, now there was always a battle to be fought. There were dreams to be held at bay and memories which his youth and passion made overwhelming forces.
But to-night, somehow, it was Christian Murdoch who disturbed him. There had been a terrible wistfulness in her voice—a wistfulness mingled with long-repressed fear, which had touched him more than all. ”

“ Any woman might have felt his well-bred homage a delicate compliment. He was received as an agreeable addition to society; he attended her upon all occasions. From the window of his work-room Murdoch saw him drive by with her in her carriage, saw him drop into the bank for a friendly chat with Ffrench, who regarded him with a mixture of nervousness and admiration.
Haworth, having gone away again, had not heard of him. Of late the Works had seen little of its master. He made journeys hither and hither, and on his return from such journeys invariably kept the place in hot water. ”

“ In the rush of his new plans and the hurry of the last few months, Haworth had had time to forget the man who had wished him "good luck," and whose pathetic figure had been a shadow upon the first glow of his triumph. He did not connect him at all with the young fellow before him. He turned away with a shrug of his burly shoulders.
"He doesn't look like an Englishman," he said. "He hasn't got backbone enough."
Afterward when the two accidentally came in contact, Haworth wasted few civil words. At times his domineering brusqueness excited Murdoch to wonder. ”

“ It occurred to Haworth that some sudden physical ailment had attacked him. He went up to his side.
"What have you found, lad?" he demanded.
The next instant his own eyes discovered what it was. An open carriage was just drawing up before the bank. Rachel Ffrench sat in it, and Saint Méran was with her.
He looked at them a second or so and then looked at Murdoch—at his wretched face and his hollow eyes. An unsavory exclamation burst from him.
"What!" he cried out after it. "There's another man, is there? Is it that?"
"Yes," was Murdoch's monotonous reply. "There's another man." ”

“ Before the iron gate a carriage had stopped. A servant in livery got down and opened the door, and Rachel Ffrench stepped out. The hands checked their shouting to look at her. She came up the yard slowly and with the setting sun shining upon her. It was natural that they should gaze at her as she approached, though she did not look at any of them—only at Haworth, who waited. They made a pathway for her and she passed through it and went up the step. Her rich dress touched more than one man as she swept by. ”

“ The spring sunshine was so bright outside that the room seemed quite dark when she came into it, and even after she had seated herself the only light in it seemed to emanate from the figure of Miss Ffrench herself, who stood opposite her in a dress of some thin white stuff and with strongly fragrant yellow hyacinths at her neck and in her hand.
"You are tired," she said. "You should not have walked." ”

“ They had been expecting to see a man,—perhaps Ffrench, perhaps Murdoch, perhaps even a representative of the small police force, looking as if he felt himself one too many in the gathering, or not quite enough,—and here was simply a tall young woman in a dazzling dress of some rich white stuff, and with something sparkling upon her hands and arms and in her high-dressed blonde hair. ”

“ Ffrench became rather excited. He flushed and spoke uneasily.
"There are plenty of gentlemen," he said. "We have gentlemen enough and to spare, but we have few men who can make a path through the world for themselves as he has done. For my part, I admire the man. He has the kind of force which moves me to admiration."
"I dare say," said Miss Ffrench, slowly, "that you would have admired the young workman I saw. ”

“ Once or twice during its delivery Murdoch glanced at Janey and Mrs. Briarley. The woman, during intervals of eager pacifying of the big baby, lifted her pale face and listened devoutly. Janey sat respectable and rigorous, her eyes fixed upon the pulpit, her huge shawl folded about her, her bonnet slipping backward at intervals, and requiring to be repeatedly rearranged by a smart hustling somewhere in the region of the crown. ”

“ It happened in one of her pensioners' cottages, and she rose from her chair trembling.
"I didn't think," she said, with unconscious pathos, "as the world could be so ignorant and wicked."
But as the ill-feeling became more violent, she met with the same story again and again, and often with new and worse versions in forms she could not combat. She began to be haunted by vague memories of things she had not comprehended. A sense of pain followed her. She was afraid, at times, to go to the cottages, lest she should be confronted with something which would overwhelm her. ”

“ Ordinary womanhood would scarcely in itself have appealed to the chivalric sentiment of Broxton, Molton and Dillup, but Rachel Ffrench driving slowly through the streets and past the "beer-house" doors, and turning her perfect, unmoved face for criticism to the crowd collected thereat, created a natural diversion. Those who had previously been in a sarcastic mood, lapsed into silence, the most inveterate 'bacco consumers took their pipes out of their mouths, feeling it necessary to suspend all action that they might look after her with a clearer appreciation. ”

“ A sudden passion of excitement seized upon her.
"I don't know why I should care," she cried. "There is no reason why she should not live as I have lived—but she will not—she will not. I have reached the end and she knows it. She sits and looks on and says nothing, but her eyes force me to speak. They forced me to come here—to try—to make a last effort. If Stephen Murdoch had lived——"
She stopped a moment.
"You are a poor man," she said. ”

“ The deadly bitterness which possessed him was terrible; he was livid with it.
"I've thought of a good many," he said. "I've looked on at 'em as they stood round her—chaps of her own sort, with money and the rest of it; but I never thought of you—not once."
"No," said Murdoch, "I dare say not."
"No—not once," the man repeated. "Get up, and let's take a look at you," he said. "Happen I've not had the right notion on you."
"Don't say anything you'll repent," said Murdoch. "It's bad enough as it is." ”

“ The end might be anything—calamity, failure, death!—but to-night he had taken his first step toward that end.
"To-night I shall begin as he began," he thought; "to-night."
He threw himself full length upon the grass, clasping his hands beneath his head, his face turned upward to the vast clearness and depth above him. He had known it would come some day, but he never thought of its coming in this way. The man who slept under the earth at his side had begun with hope; he began as one who neither hoped nor feared, yielding only to a force stronger than himself. ”

“ Haworth and his iniquities had been the spice of her later life. The fact that his name was being mentioned in a conversation never escaped her; she discovered it as if by magic and invariably commanded that the incident under discussion be repeated at the top of the reciter's voice for her benefit, occasionally somewhat to the confusion of the honest matron in question.
How it had happened that she had not betrayed all to Mrs. Haworth at once was a mystery to remain unsolved. During the little woman's visits to the cottage, Mrs. Briarley existed in a chronic condition of fear and trembling. ”

“ Haworth still stared at him dully.
"Nay," he returned, "that I cannot."
"I to stand before her as a man with a best side which might win her favor! What is there in me, that she should give me a thought when I am not near her? What have I done? What has my life been worth? It may be nothing in the end! Good God! nothing!"
He said it almost as if stunned. For the moment he was overwhelmed, and had forgotten.
"You're nigher to her than I am," said Haworth. "You think because you're one o' the gentleman sort——"
"Gentleman!" said Murdoch, speculatively. "I a gentleman?" ”

“ CRITICAL NOTICES.
"It is very seldom indeed that we meet with a book so distinctly marking the advent of a writer of high artistic power and fresh observation, as this of Mr. Cable's. After re-reading carefully, and with the keenest enjoyment, the stories now collected under one heading, we not only have no hesitation in pronouncing their author a genius with special and captivating endowments, but we feel it an imperative critical duty to so declare him."—Boston Courier. ”

“ Murdoch looked up the road for a few seconds before he replied. He was thinking over the events of the past week.
"I do not think it is true," he said, after this pause. "I don't think it can be. Haworth is not the man to do it."
But the idea was such a startling one, presented in this form, that it gave him a kind of shock; and as he went on his way naturally thinking over the matter, he derived some consolation from repeating aloud his last words:
"No, it is not likely. Haworth is not the man to do it." ”

“ Murdoch threw himself into the chair opposite to him.
"Go on," he said. "Say what you have to say."
Haworth bent forward a little.
"You've got on better than I'd have thought, lad," he said,—"better than I'd have thought."
"What!" hoarsely. "Does she treat me as she treats other men?"
"Nay," said Haworth, "not as she treats me—by the Lord Harry!" ”

“ Murdoch started from his chair. He took an excited turn across the room before he knew what he was doing.
"I never will," he said, "so help me God! The thing's done with and shut out of the world."
When he went away, Haworth accompanied him to the door. At the threshold he turned about.
"How do you like the look of things?" he demanded.
"I should be hard to please if I did not like the look of them," was the answer.
"Well, then, come again. You're welcome. I have it all to myself. I'm not favorite enow with the gentry to bring any on 'em here. You're free to come when th' fit takes you." ”

“ When Miss Ffrench returned to her carriage she wore a reflective look. When she had seated herself comfortably, she spoke aloud:
"No, there are ten chances to one that she will never see the other side at all. There is not a man or woman in Broxton who would dare to tell her. I would not do it myself."
When Haworth returned at night he heard the particulars of the visit, as he had known he should when Ffrench told him that it was his daughter's intention to call that day.
"The beautifulest young lady my old eyes ever saw, my dear," his mother said again and again. ”

“ The success which had restored her father's fortunes was his success.
"I can make her like a queen among 'em," he said,—"like a queen, by George,—and I'll do it."
Every triumph which fell to him he regarded only as it would have weight in her eyes. When society opened its doors to him, he said to himself, "Now she'll see that I can stand up with the best of 'em, gentlemen or no gentlemen!"
When he suddenly found himself a prominent figure—a man deferred to and talked of, he waited with secret feverishness to see what the effect upon her would be.
"It's what women like," he said. ”

“ Since the night of his return from his journey, Stephen Murdoch had been out no more. The neighbors watched for him in vain. The wooden case stood unopened in his room,—he had never spoken of it. Through the long hours of the day he lay upon the sofa, either dozing or in silent wakefulness, and at length instead of upon the sofa he lay upon the bed, not having strength to rise.
About three months after he had taken his place at Haworth's, Hilary came home one evening to find his mother waiting for him at the door. She shed no tears, there was in her face only a hopeless terror. ”

“ Ffrench began.
Haworth stopped him by flinging himself down in a chair near him—so near that their faces were brought within uncomfortably close range of each other. There was no avoiding his eye.
"You know what," he sneered. "None better."
"I——" Ffrench faltered.
"Blast you!" said Haworth. "You played her like bait to a fish—in your gentleman's fashion."
Ffrench felt a little sick. It was not unnatural that he should. A man of refined instincts likes less than any other man to be confronted brutally with the fact that he has, however delicately, tampered with a coarseness. ”

“ The yellow hyacinths fell from Miss Ffrench's hand on the carpet, and she looked down at them instead of at the upturned face.
"Who said it?" she asked.
But she was not answered.
"If it's true—not that I believe it, for I don't—if it's true, what is there left for me, as loved and honored him—where's my son I thanked God for day an' night? Where's my boy as paid me for all I bore? He's never been—he's never been at all. ”