BLACK FRIDAY Illustrated by Harrison Fisher 12mo, Cloth $1.50
UNDER THE ROSE Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy 12mo, Cloth $1.50
THE STROLLERS Illustrated by Harrison Fisher 12mo, Cloth $1.50
I A CHANCE ENCOUNTER II AN ECHO OF THE PAST III A SUDDEN RESOLUTION IV A DANCE ON THE BEACH V AN INTERRUPTION VI A MESSAGE FOR MY LADY VII A DISTANT MENACE VIII THE OLD WATCH-TOWER IX A DISCOVERY X THE CLOISTER IN THE AIR XI THE GOVERNOR IS SURPRISED XII AT THE COCKLES XIII THE SEETHING OF THE SEA XIV THE PILGRIMAGE XV THE VOICE FROM THE GROUP XVI THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE PEOPLE XVII THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE HUNCHBACK XVIII THE MOUNTEBANK AND MY LADY XIX THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE GOVERNOR XX THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE SOLDIER XXI THE STAIRWAY OF SILVER XXII THE WHIRLING OF THE WHEEL XXIII AT THE VERGE OF THE APERTURE XXIV THE HALL OF THE CHEVALIERS XXV THE UNDER WORLD XXVI A NEW ARRIVAL XXVII A STROLL ON THE STRAND XXVIII THE HESITATION OF THE MARQUIS XXIX THE MARQUIS INTERVENES XXX A SOUND AFAR XXXI THE ATTACK ON THE MOUNT XXXII NEAR THE ALTAR XXXIII ON THE SANDS XXXIV SOME TIME LATER
"Don't you know, boy, you ought not to get in my way?"
The tide was at its ebb; the boats stranded afar, and the lad addressed had started, with a fish--his wage--in one hand, to walk to shore, when, passing into the shadow of the rampart of the Governor's Mount, from the opposite direction a white horse swung suddenly around a corner of the stone masonry and bore directly upon him. He had but time to step aside; as it was, the animal grazed his shoulder, and the boy, about to give utterance to a natural remonstrance, lifted his eyes to the offender. The words were not forthcoming; surprised, he gazed at a tiny girl, of about eleven, perched fairy-like on the broad back of the heavy steed.
"Don't you know you ought not to get in my way?" she repeated imperiously.
The boy, tall, dark, unkempt as a young savage, shifted awkwardly; his black eyes, restless enough ordinarily, expressed a sudden shyness in the presence of this unexpected and dainty creature.
"Well, you should have!" And again the little lady frowned, shook her disordered golden curls disapprovingly and gazed at him, a look of censure in her brown eyes. "But perhaps you don't know who I am," she went on with a lift of the patrician doll-like features. "I don't think you do, or you wouldn't stand there like a booby, without taking off your hat." More embarrassed, he removed a worn cap while she continued to regard him with the reverse of approval. "I am the Comtesse Elise," she observed; "the daughter of the Governor of the Mount."