Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
AUTHOR OF "THE LOST AMBASSADOR," "THE ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE," "JEANNE OF THE MARSHES," ETC.
_Copyright, 1910, 1911_, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_Printed by THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U. S. A._
[Illustration: "Sit still," he whispered. "Don't say anything. There is someone coming." FRONTISPIECE. _See p._ 166]
"The Moving Finger writes; and having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."
PROLOGUE--THE DREAMER 1 I. A LETTER PROVES USEFUL 11 II. OLD ACQUAINTANCES 17 III. "WHO IS MR. SATON?" 23 IV. A QUESTION OF OBLIGATION 32 V. A MORNING WALK 46 VI. PAULINE MARRABEL 54 VII. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 61 VIII. AN INSTANCE OF OCCULTISM 67 IX. A SENTIMENTAL TALK 74 X. THE SCENE CHANGES 80 XI. A BUSY EVENING 86 XII. A CALL ON LADY MARRABEL 97 XIII. LADY MARY'S DILEMMA 105 XIV. PETTY WORRIES 114 XV. ROCHESTER IS INDIGNANT 124 XVI. PLAIN SPEAKING 133 XVII. THE GREAT NAUDHEIM 141 XVIII. ROCHESTER'S ULTIMATUM 150 XIX. TROUBLE BREWING 158 XX. FIRST BLOOD 165 XXI. AFRAID! 172 XXII. SATON REASSERTS HIMSELF 178 XXIII. AN UNPLEASANT ENCOUNTER 186 XXIV. LOIS IS OBEDIENT 194 XXV. A LAST WARNING 202 XXVI. THE DUCHESS'S DINNER PARTY 209 XXVII. THE ANSWER TO A RIDDLE 215 XXVIII. SPOKEN FROM THE HEART 224 XXIX. THE COURAGE OF DESPERATION 232 XXX. A SURPRISING REQUEST 239 XXXI. BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY 248 XXXII. AT THE EDGE OF THE PRECIPICE 255 XXXIII. "YOU DO NOT BELIEVE IN ME!" 261 XXXIV. A WOMAN'S TONGUE 269 XXXV. ON LOIS' BIRTHDAY 278 XXXVI. THE CHARLATAN UNMASKED 284 EPILOGUE--THE MAN 294
"Sit still," he whispered. "Don't say anything. There is someone coming" _Frontispiece_
He came to a standstill by the side of the boy _Page_ 2
"Some water quick, and brandy," Rochester cried " 73
She swayed for a moment, and fell over on her side " 222
The boy sat with his back to a rock, his knees drawn up and clasped within fingers nervously interlocked. His eyes were fixed upon the great stretch of landscape below, shadowy now, and indistinct, like a rolling plain of patchwork woven by mysterious fingers. Gray mists were floating over the meadows and low-lying lands. Away in the distance they marked the circuitous course of the river, which only an hour ago had shone like a belt of silver in the light of the setting sun. Twilight had fallen with unexpected swiftness. Here and there a light flashed from the isolated farmhouses. On the darkening horizon, a warm glow was reflected in the clouds from the distant town.