I. [Despair]
II. [Flight]
III. [A Refuge of Straw]
IV. [Up River]
V. [Separation]
VI. [The Outcast's Brother]
VII. [The First Letter]
VIII. [A Touch of Sympathy]
IX. [The Squire Defies Conventions]
X. [The Hunt is Up]
XI. [Felix Takes Advice]
XII. [Rona's Knight]
XIII. [The Finished Product]
XIV. ["You Never Were Mine"]
XV. [A Difficult Situation]
XVI. [Happenings in a Strange Land]
XVII. ["I was the Man Selected"]
XVIII. [The Kirgiz Yourtar]
XIX. [The Despair of Vronsky]
XX. [What is this Love?]
XXI. [Denzil Does His Duty]
XXII. [Forebodings]
XXIII. [The Escape of Aunt Bee]
XXIV. [Veronica "On Her Own"]
XXV. [The Convalescence of Denzil]
XXVI. [Strangers Yet]
XXVII. [Two in the Campagna]
XXVIII. [The Primrose Path]
XXIX. [A Double Dilemma]
XXX. [Veronica is Surprised]
CHAPTER I
DESPAIR
The sense that every struggle brings defeat,
Because Fate holds no prize to crown success:
That all the oracles are dumb, or cheat,
Because they have no secret to express:—
That none can pierce the vast black veil uncertain
Because there is no light behind the curtain,
That all is vanity and nothingness!
The City of Dreadful Night.
The curtain rises on an empty stage.
Managers assure those of us who try to write plays nowadays that we must lay our scenes in well-to-do circles if we wish to attract an audience.
The scene before us now has few recommendations, either as a romantic or a tragic background. It is not quite wretched enough to suggest dark deeds; it is not nearly old enough to convey a hint of mystery: it is merely the back parlor of a London lodging-house of the meaner kind.
On a certain murky day in March it lay bare to the eye of anyone who was desirous of exploring.
The street of which it formed a narrow section was small and dreary. The front parlor window of this particular house was discreetly veiled with curtains which had once been white. Between them stood an artificial aspidistra in a ginger-colored pot, envied by some of the other dwellers in the immediate neighborhood.
This front parlor, at the date in question, was unlet. It had folding-doors, affording the sole entrance to a very small room behind, generally let as a bedroom, with the front room as sitting-room. For the past month this back parlor had been tenanted by one who was far too poor to think of needing more than one room in which to starve. Moreover, he was there on the understanding that he would vacate should a better let offer itself.