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BY THE AUTHOR OF "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," "VIXEN," ETC. ETC. ETC.
I. PENELOPE II. ULYSSES III. ON THE WRONG ROAD IV. THE LAST STAGE V. FORTY YEARS AFTER VI. MAULEVRIER'S HUMBLE FRIEND VII. IN THE SUMMER MORNING VIII. THERE IS ALWAYS A SKELETON IX. A CRY IN THE DARKNESS X. 'O BITTERNESS OF THINGS TOO SWEET' XI. 'IF I WERE TO DO AS ISEULT DID' XII. 'THE GREATER CANTLE OF THE WORLD IS LOST' XIII. 'SINCE PAINTED OR NOT PAINTED ALL SHALL FADE' XIV. 'NOT YET' XV. 'OF ALL MEN ELSE I HAVE AVOIDED THEE' XVI. 'HER FACE RESIGNED TO BLISS OR BALE' XVII. 'AND THE SPRING COMES SLOWLY UP THIS WAY' XVIII. 'AND COME AGEN, BE IT BY NIGHT OR DAY' XIX. THE OLD MAN ON THE FELL XX. LADY MAULEVRIER'S LETTER-BAG XXI. ON THE DARK BROW OF HELVELLYN XXII. WISER THAN LESBIA XXIII. 'A YOUNG LAMB'S HEART AMONG THE FULL-GROWN FLOCKS' XXIV. 'NOW NOTHING LEFT TO LOVE OR HATE' XXV. CARTE BLANCHE XXVI. 'PROUD CAN I NEVER BE OF WHAT I HATE' XXVII. LESBIA CROSSES PICCADILLY XXVIII. 'CLUBS, DIAMONDS, HEARTS, IN WILD DISORDER SEEN' XXIX. 'SWIFT, SUBTLE POST, CARRIER OF GRISLY CARE' XXX. 'ROSES CHOKED AMONG THORNS AND THISTLES' XXXI. 'KIND IS MY LOVE TO-DAY, TO-MORROW KIND' XXXII. WAYS AND MEANS XXXIII. BY SPECIAL LICENCE XXXIV. 'OUR LOVE WAS NEW, AND THEN BUT IN THE SPRING' XXXV. 'ALL FANCY, PRIDE, AND FICKLE MAIDENHOOD' XXXVI. A RASTAQUOUÈRE XXXVII. LORD HARTFIELD REFUSES A FORTUNE XXXVIII. ON BOARD THE 'CAYMAN' XXXIX. IN STORM AND DARKNESS XL. A NOTE OF ALARM XLI. PRIVILEGED INFORMATION XLII. 'SHALL IT BE?' XLIII. 'ALAS, FOR SORROW IS ALL THE END OF THIS' XLIV. 'OH, SAD KISSED MOUTH, HOW SORROWFUL IT IS!' XLV. 'THAT FELL ARREST WITHOUT ALL BAIL' XLVI. THE DAY OF RECKONING
[Illustration: H. French, del.) (T. Symmons, sc. "The old man sat looking at Mary in silence for some moments."--Page 171.]
People dined earlier forty years ago than they do now. Even that salt of the earth, the elect of society, represented by that little great world which lies between the narrow circle bounded by Bryanstone Square on the north and by Birdcage Walk on the south, did not consider seven o'clock too early an hour for a dinner party which was to be followed by routs, drums, concerts, conversazione, as the case might be. It was seven o'clock on a lovely June evening, and the Park was already deserted, and carriages were rolling swiftly along all the Westend squares, carrying rank, fashion, wealth, and beauty, political influence, and intellectual power, to the particular circle in which each was destined to illumine upon that particular evening.