A Blot on the Scutcheon

If the riders paused to ask whence the cries came it was only for an instant. The next they were on the ground beside those who stood, laughing, sobbing, thanking Heaven, and cr...

"I protest, Mistress Gabrielle, it is wanton cruelty of you to bury yourself alive in this dreary hole when all London is in darkness awaiting its sun of beauty to shine on it."...

Why, she would rather be an old maid like Miss Tabitha Mainwaring, or a nun in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and wear ugly black robes all her life, than be wife to a wretch...

St. Malo was too near, and tales were afloat of the work that the "widow" was busy with there. It was as though some terrible wolf prowled in the forests around.

If he went to England she should go with him. Yes! he had sworn that, and she might think herself a lucky woman that he would take her as Lady Denningham. He smiled over the tho...

At seventeen one's own company is apt to be wearisome; but then, as Morice said, there was no pleasing his sister. She refused to come to London under the chaperonage of my Lady...

As he spoke a grand equipage was driving into the courtyard--that gilded coach and famous team of greys were long remembered in Sussex--and from the coach descended an old, grey...

To begin with, the failure of his mission had been bitter. Most bitter of all, seeing the trickery played on him by his own cousin, a Varenac and a traitor!

However, he must leave to-day and ride for Varenac. Steenie would be on his way there, and Denningham too, not to mention Marcel Trouet, whose coming would not be delayed more t...

Gabrielle's arm was round her cousin's slender waist as they sat together in the deep embrasure of a window overlooking the clustering heads of the oak-trees, which grew around...

"Lack-a-day, if the old master could see it," groaned Bates to himself, as he ran hurrying across the hall, carrying the great silver loving-cup, which had been so carefully hoa...

Gabrielle started, blushing, as Lord Denningham, in a morning-suit of brown cloth, embroidered with gold thread, and with rich lace ruffles at neck and wrists, stood bowing befo...

A strangely perverse fate, too, for here she had changed destruction to salvation. The bullet, winging its way straight to the heart of Morice Conyers, had glanced aside on the...

The buxom daughter of mine host at the Goat and Compasses, not half-a-mile from Carlton House, had her own opinions. They were decided, and showed an unusual power of discernment.

"Slit me! if it's not Morry himself. You sly dog! What demned mischief have you been up to now, my friend, leaving Steenie and me to cool our heels in that old rat-trap of yours?"

"No, my people," he cried in clear, ringing tones, that could be heard even on the outskirts of the crowd. "I am no Citoyen, but your Marquis, the heir of your well-loved Marqui...

Outside the birds were singing carols of love to the roses after the joy of a summer shower. The scent of wet, brown earth was alluring to Michael, yet he sat still, knowing tha...

Yet he had felt a pang of remorse when he heard she was dead. He might even have sought out his son had not the old man, his father, adopted him. It was better for Michael to be...

They were new to their role, those others, and Madame de Quernais had always been one to command much respect and awe as the great lady of the place. Now it was strange, and a l...

Riding through the darkness of an autumn night with loose rein--a weary journey and dangerous too for the solitary traveller; but Michael Berrington recked nothing then of such...

A solitary traveller along a bleak and desolate road--solitary, that is, to all intents and purposes, since he could comprehend scarcely a word spoken by the sturdy Breton peasa...

A rough night, cold and wet, with a thin sleet falling and the wind blowing from the north-east full against the great coach which lumbered on its way from Oxford to London.

A low hall heavily raftered with black oak, and walls hung with tapestry and armour; a huge fire blazing on the open hearth, and two ladies seated near, in carved oaken seats, o...

In his hand he held a tiny bunch of primroses, in his heart was already enshrined a small oval face with hazel stars for eyes, and alluring dimples which might well have tempted...

The evening sunshine fell athwart the pleasant gardens of Berrington Manor, glorifying all. Stray beams of light stole through the mullioned windows of the old grey building, pe...

Marcel Trouet, trusted servant and officer of the Committee of Public Safety in Paris, evinced his disapprobation by flinging the contents of his glass on the floor and bellowin...

"I hope he will be here soon. Oh, Michael, I am so happy now that _he_ has learnt his lesson before it is too late, and will break with all those wicked friends."

Those three helpless women standing together under the shadow of the Calvary beside their dead. The crowd had gone. Some in pursuit of Floessel, others drifting away, shamed and...

So Michael found the way to Langton Hall and to little Mistress Gabrielle Conyers's heart. But never a word said he of his discovery, not even when Jake Williams upbraided him w...

"A fine host," sneered my Lord Denningham, with an oath,--"a right jovial and noble host, eh, Steenie? Demme it, man! I didn't come to this old rat-trap to look at you, and be p...

Gabrielle might be in danger, for already rumour was busy, telling of the ferment in the towns around, and the growing cries of "Vive la nation," "A bas les aristocrats!" Yet he...

Shock enough for the young man to whom Sir Henry meant everything of affection in life. Ten years had passed since he had come, a raw, uncouth lad fresh from the little Irish vi...

The vision was so wholly unexpected, so welcome, and yet most unwelcome, for behind the slim, girlish figure, muffled in its long travelling-coat, stood Michael Berrington and t...