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Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood - "The Bat"

Bayard Taylor - "Beauty and The Beast, and Tales From Home"

Charles Dickens - "Miscellaneous Papers"

Charles Dickens - "Holiday Romance"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

The Queen of Hearts

W >> Wilkie Collins >> The Queen of Hearts




Shortly after seven o'clock I sent a message to Jessie by her
maid, informing her that a good night's rest had done wonders for
me, and that I expected to see her in my study at half past
seven, as we had arranged the evening before. As soon as her
answer, promising to be punctual to the appointment, had reached
me, I took George into my study--left him in my place to plead
his own cause--and stole away, five minutes before the half hour,
to join my brothers in the breakfast-room.

Although the sense of my own happiness disposed me to take the
brightest view of my son's chances, I must nevertheless
acknowledge that some nervous anxieties still fluttered about my
heart while the slow minutes of suspense were counting themselves
out in the breakfast-room. I had as little attention to spare for
Owen's quiet prognostications of success as for Morgan's pitiless
sarcasms on love, courtship, and matrimony. A quarter of an hour
elapsed--then twenty minutes. The hand moved on, and the clock
pointed to five minutes to eight, before I heard the study door
open, and before the sound of rapidly-advancing footsteps warned
me that George was coming into the room.

His beaming face told the good news before a word could be spoken
on either side. The excess of his happiness literally and truly
deprived him of speech. He stood eagerly looking at us all three,
with outstretched hands and glistening eyes.

"Have I folded up my surplice forever," asked Owen, "or am I to
wear it once again, George, in your service?"

"Answer this question first," interposed Morgan, with a look of
grim anxiety. "Have you actually taken your young woman off my
hands, or have you not?"

No direct answer followed either question. George's feelings had
been too deeply stirred to allow him to return jest for jest at a
moment's notice.

"Oh, father, how can I thank you!" he said. "And you! and you!"
he added, looking at Owen and Morgan gratefully.

"You must thank Chance as well as thank us," I replied, speaking
as lightly as my heart would let me, to encourage him. "The
advantage of numbers in our little love-plot was all on our side.
Remember, George, we were three to one."

While I was speaking the breakfast-room door opened noiselessly,
and showed us Jessie standing on the threshold, uncertain whether
to join us or to run back to her own room. Her bright complexion
heightened to a deep glow; the tears just rising in her eyes, and
not yet falling from them; her delicate lips trembling a little,
as if they were still shyly conscious of other lips that had
pressed them but a few minutes since; her attitude irresolutely
graceful; her hair just disturbed enough over her forehead and
her cheeks to add to the charm of them--she stood before us, the
loveliest living picture of youth, and tenderness, and virgin
love that eyes ever looked on. George and I both advanced
together to meet her at the door. But the good, grateful girl had
heard from my son the true story of all that I had done, and
hoped, and suffered for the last ten days, and showed charmingly
how she felt it by turning at once to _me_.

"May I stop at the Glen Tower a little longer?" she asked,
simply.

"If you think you can get through your evenings, my love," I
answered. "'But surely you forget that the Purple Volume is
closed, and that the stories have all come to an end?"

She clasped her arms round my neck, and laid her cheek fondly
against mine.

"How you must have suffered yesterday!" she whispered, softly.

"And how happy I am to-day!"

The tears gathered in her eyes and dropped over her cheeks as she
raised her head to look at me affectionately when I said those
words. I gently unclasped her arms and led her to George.

"So you really did love him, then, after all," I whispered,
"though you were too sly to let me discover it?"

A smile broke out among the tears as her eyes wandered away from
mine and stole a look at my son. The clock struck the hour, and
the servant came in with breakfast. A little domestic
interruption of this kind was all that was wanted to put us at
our ease. We drew round the table cheerfully, and set the Queen
of Hearts at the head of it, in the character of mistress of the
house already.

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