Rupert Godwin

In a charming residence, half cottage, half manor-house, embosomed in the woodland scenery of Hampshire, lived a family who might have formed the model for a poet’s ideal of dom...

The express-train from Winchester bore Harley Westford quickly across the fair expanse of country between the old cathedral city and the smoky roof-tops of the metropolis. Past...

Wilmingdon Hall was no modern villa erected by a wealthy speculator, one of the merchant princes of the commercial age. It was a noble relic of the past; one of those stately ha...

“Come, my dear Captain,” he said, as he entered the spacious room, the walls of which were lined with books, whose costly and artistic bindings announced alike the wealth of a m...

Slowly, very slowly, did Mrs. Westford recover from that attack of brain-fever which had been brought on by the grief and excitement of her parting with her husband. It was no o...

Clara Westford recovered slowly, but she did recover; a faint flush came back to the wan cheeks, a new brightness lit up in the eyes that had been so haggard.

“Quite unconscious!” he exclaimed, as he lifted Mrs. Westford’s unresisting hand, and watched it fall inert and lifeless. “Death itself could scarcely be less conscious of surro...

They had gone forth that morning in all the light-hearted carelessness of youth, pleased with the beauty of the fair world in which they lived, scarcely able to believe that sor...

Bitter and profound was the grief felt by each member of that little household; but the heroic hearts battled bravely with their sorrow. Very little was said of the lost husband...

It was the eve of the 25th of March--that day whose approach had been so dreaded by Clara Westford and her children,--the day on which they were to be banished for ever from the...

They took nothing with them but their own personal property and the two portraits of Harley Westford. These Mrs. Westford knew she had no legal right to possess, but she stooped...

Five minutes before the clocks in the neighbourhood struck nine, on the appointed Monday morning Violet Westford knocked at the door of the villa in the Regent’s Park. She was a...

Late though it was when she returned home after Mrs. Trevor’s party. Violet knew that she must be punctual in her attendance on her pupils on the following morning. At eight o’c...

While Violet walked slowly homewards to the cheerless lodging in that dingy street near the Waterloo-road, a mail-phaeton dashed up to Mrs. Trevor’s pretty villa, and Sir Harold...

A cloud fell upon the little household in the purlieus of the Waterloo-road. Violet sought for fresh employment, but in vain. She was incapable of uttering a falsehood, and she...

To Violet Westford scarcely anything could have been more trying than the ordeal which she now had to undergo. What scene could be more strange to this delicate-minded, home-bre...

While Violet began her lowly career at the Circenses, Lionel made a new effort to earn a few pounds. His powers as an artist were of no mean order, and he made a desperate attem...

Lionel Westford yielded to the influence of the bright face which had looked at him so compassionately in the moment of his despair. He gave way to the temptation against which...

Violet attended the rehearsals at the Circenses with unfailing regularity, and won the warm praises of Mr. Maltravers, the stage-manager, both for her punctual habits and her qu...

The noble-hearted girl was determined that her mother should be kept in perfect ignorance of her grief. Had not that dear mother already suffered enough? Did she not still suffe...

The day that succeeded the night on which the Marquis of Roxleydale and his two friends had visited the Circenses happened to be Saturday, and Violet Westford had to attend at t...

Here every luxury and comfort were provided for him. He was earning money which he knew would ensure considerable comfort for his mother and sister in their humble lodging, or e...

Lionel Westford looked up at the building before him with an involuntary shudder; and yet there was nothing either strange or terrible in its aspect. It was only old, worn, and...

Rupert Godwin left Clara Westford with rage and vengeance burning in his breast. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” says the poet; but the mind of a bad man who finds him...

The Saturday evening which succeeded the interview in Miss Vanberg’s drawing-room was almost a happy one for Violet Westford: for on this evening Mr. Maltravers announced to her...

A strange conflict went on in Lionel Westford’s mind after that scene outside the northern wing of Wilmingdon Hall. At one moment the young man’s brain was occupied by thoughts...

The carriage in which Violet was seated drove at a rapid pace along the Strand; but, to the girl’s surprise and terror, it did not turn aside to cross Waterloo Bridge.

After his conversation with Mr. Godwin’s servant, Lionel Westford felt more than ever that duty and honour alike urged him to an immediate and most vigorous investigation of the...

Violet awoke, feverish and unrefreshed, from the heavy slumber into which she had fallen from sheer exhaustion. She awoke to see the broad summer sunlight streaming through the...

He determined to explore the secret passages and cellars, and the deserted chambers of the northern wing, in the dead of the night, while the household at Wilmingdon Hall was wr...

Mrs. Westford had by this time become well known to the people employed at the stage-entrance to the theatre, as she had come every night to wait for her daughter and accompany...

Her lovely rival was gone; that was all she cared about. The stage was now clear for herself. Mr. Maltravers was in a dilemma, and was glad to allow the handsome and dashing Est...

After his secret visit to the vaults below the northern wing, a perpetual fever of mind possessed Lionel Westford. He shrank from every chance of meeting with Julia Godwin. He b...

When the servant who had been in the habit of waiting upon Lionel Westford entered the young man’s bedroom late at night, in order to close the shutters of the apartment, he fou...

Rupert Godwin’s livid face was terrible to look upon, as he ascended the broad oak staircase that summer afternoon; but by a most powerful effort of his iron will he contrived t...

For some little time he stood with the picture still in his hand, wondering at the extraordinary chance which had brought it there. Then he set to work to examine the letters an...

The doctor from Hertford came at noon to see his patient. As he left the sick-chamber he was met by Julia, who had been watching for him at the door of her own apartment.

Esther Vanberg’s prophecy respecting the weather was fully realized. The sun shone with unusual and most un-English splendour upon that morning on which she had arranged to ride...

The medical man felt rather inquisitive as to the name and position of his patient and her companion. The Duke was unattended; but from the appearance of the horse he rode, and...

While Esther Vanberg lay very calm and still, with her hand linked in that of the Duke, the door was softly opened, and the surgeon appeared on the threshold of the chamber.

After the discovery of the deadly nature of that draught which Rupert Godwin had attempted to administer to the unconscious invalid, a dull stupor seemed to take possession of J...

Rupert Godwin did not quit Wilmingdon Hall quite so soon as he had told Mrs. Melville he intended to leave it; but he contrived that the widow should take her departure some tim...

While Gilbert Thornleigh was employed in putting the case of Harley Westford’s disappearance into the hands of the police, Clara sat in her shabby lodging, brooding over the tro...

Esther Vanberg was buried in a churchyard north-west of London, a rustic spot on the summit of a hill--a churchyard in which a poet might love to lie and dream away the summer h...

Dismal walls of an unusual height, and ornamented at the top with iron spikes, surrounded a dreary wilderness of tangled bushes and tall lean poplars, which was designated a gar...

Rupert Godwin was too desperately circumstanced, and too hardened a sinner, to be much affected by the revelation made by the Duke of Harlingford with regard to Esther Vanberg’s...

“My dear sir,” wrote Jacob, “things are looking very black in the City, and the old rumour is beginning to get afloat again. You had better come to the office and look into matt...

“When you flung your victim to his dark hiding-place in the cellar under the northern wing,” said the old clerk, addressing himself slowly and deliberately to his employer, “you...