XX stories

Front matter

Hit

CORNELL

UNIVERSITY

Preface

The object of this volume is to show a certain number of popular modern authors at their best as writers of short stories. Time was when it was said, and generally believed, that the novelists of this country could not write short stories. Most certainly they exercised no inclination to try ; or if a few of them did so on occasion, they found their work lying unprofitably on their hands. The three-volume novel was the only kind of fiction that the British reading public cared to welcome. But Mr Rudyard Kipling changed all that. The instant success of his Anglo-Indian stories created a demand for short stories, which has kept on growing to such an extent that we now find authors of the highest reputation turning out volumes of short stories in place of the three-volume novel which formerly represented their average year's work. The direct tendency of this changed state of affairs is towards the gradual disappearance of the three-volume novel altogether. Since the introduction of the short story, the reading public have rightly come to regard " padding " as an article of doubtful value.

vi Preface.

The stories here brought together make no pretence to being new. They are reprints. Care has, however, been employed in the selection, so that each story should be representative of the particular style of its author. " Polly," by Margaret Watson, is a good example of the homelypathetic style of short story. Now that Mr John Hollingshead ha!s forsaken theatrical management, and returned to his old love, we may expect to find him producing his annual volume of short stories ; albeit " My Lost Home " will be hard to beat. It is only in strict justice to the author to state that this story preceded Mrs Gaskell's " Manchester Marriage " by a year or two, and, of course, Tennyson's " Enoch Arden." Another prolific story-teller well known in the theatrical world, the late Mr Henry Herman, is here represented by "Two Strokes of the Pen," one of the last and best of all his short stories. This is taken from The Postman's Daughter and Other Stories, by permission of the publishers, Messrs Frederick Warne & Co. Though Mr W.

Moy Thomas has during recent years been content to fill the position of musical and dramatic critic on the staff of a great daily newspaper, it may not be long before he rejoins the ranks of the story-tellers. His contribution to this volume, " A Guild Clerk's Tale," affords an apt illustration of his style. Mr Barry. Pain's "Bill," reprinted

Preface. vii

from In a Canadian Canoe, by permission of Messrs Henry & Co., is one of those stories which in the Preface to that -work he describes as " background " to the humour of which his book is chiefly composed. " Slightly Deaf," by Bracebridge Hemyng, is one of the best of the Awful Stories from the pen of this author, published by Messrs Diprose, Bateman & Co. Mr George Manville Fenn's " Breach of Promise of Marriage," from The New Mistress, is reproduced in these pages by permission of Messrs Chatto & Windus, in conjunction with the author. Mr H. Sutherland Edwards has worked long and successfully as a war correspondent, leader writer, musical critic, and novelist. Latterly he has commenced to write short stories. His " Marriage of Anna Ivanovna" presents a faithful picture of Russian society of the present day. That such a staid novelist as Mr F. W. Robinson should condescend to write^ short stories will be a matter of surprise to many of his readers. The times have changed indeed. Already we are promised a volume of short stories in which "An Odd Fix'' will be one of the number. " A Champion of England," by Brandon Thomas, suffers nothing from the fact that it is true in every particular. Though best known as a playwright, Mr Thomas has done much good work in the way of short stories for the viii Preface.

magazines in the past. All that need be said concerning "The Romance of a Melody" is that it originated in a dream. "The Episode of the Pilot," by F. C. Burnand, is only one of the many good stories contained in that amusing narrative, Rather at Sea, lately issued from the press of Messrs Bradbury, Agnew & Co. "Angela" exhibits the topsy-turvyism of Mr W. S. Gilbert in quite a new light ; there is a pathos about the little story for which the numerous admirers of this whimsical writer .may not be altogether prepared. As might be expected, " A Fallen Star," by A. W. Pinero, is a story of theatrical life. This was originally contributed to the Era Almanack about fifteen years ago. In "The Wearing of the Green," Mr Justin M'Carthy is seen to good advantage as a writer of Irish stories. The^te Mr Savile Clarke wrote many excellent stories during his busy lifetime, but none prettier than " The Cigarette," here reproduced by the kindness of Mrs Clarke. Most readers of" The Man in Possession " will agree with the critics in the opinion that the mantle of Charles Dickens has fallen on the shoulders of Mr B. L. Farjeon, who now writes so rarely. This homely tale is extracted from Breadand- Cheese and Kisses, perhaps the most successful of his Christmas Annuals. "The Purser's Story," by Robert Barr, is not the least diverting, of the stories comprising the volume entitled. In a

Preface. ix

Steamer Chair, recently published by Messrs Chatto & Windus. " A Silent Sacrifice," by W. W. Fenn, inculcates the potent lesson that selfabnegation is the true secret of human happiness. Lastly, " The Chumplebunnys on the Ocean Wave " illustrates the versatility of Mr W. Beatty- Kingston, whose pen is more generally employed upon humorous verse. This story is an extract from his book The Chumplebunnys and other Oddities, published by Messrs Chapman & Hall.

To all those authors and publishers who have so courteously granted him permission to reprint the foregoing copyright stories, the Editor's thanks are

due, and hereby tendered.

L. W.

London, August 1895.

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Contents

PAGE

Polly Margaret Watson i

My Lost Home John Hollingshead 17

I

" Don't fret, darling. Better times are in store for us. There is a break in the clouds already. Have patience dearie, a little more patience."

A pair of mournfully lustrous eyes looTced at him from the deep bluish sockets of a white face — a face upon which cruel pain and prolonged suffering had writ their mark, and yet had been unable quite to efface the traces of delicate beauty that once had radiated there — a patient, pitiful face, soft in its creamy pallor. The halfopen lips quivered, and the eyes roamed vacantly, as if the load of anguish were too hard to bear.

" I am patient, Willy," she breathed, " but it is hard — almost beyond my strength. I don't mind for myself, I will soon be past it, but you — you."

He gripped the thin white hand nervously.

" Don't speak like that, darling," he replied in a hoarse whisper. "For Heaven's sake, don't! We will fight through it. Dark is the hour before the dawn, but the sunrise is all the more welcome."

He was a stalwart young fellow of five or six and twenty, perhaps, though his pale cheeks and bloodless lips betokened a life of privatioh. The room in which

c he sat by the suffering woman's bedside was of the poorest. No carpet clothed the floor. The old deal table, and the rickety chairs were such as no second-, hand dealer would have bought. It was winter-time, and the snow lay thick on the house-tops, but the grate was black and empty, and the breath clouded into the air of the room like steam.

The man, seeing that his ailing wife shivered beneath - the thin old woollen coverlet, quietly walked to the door, took hft overcoat from the peg on which it hung, and silently spread it over her and tucked it in where he could, for additional warmth.

"There now," he said, "you'll be better like that, and when I come back I shall have money to buy coals and food, and medicine ; you see if I don't ! "

She looked at him with a frightened pleading in her big, deep-sunken eyes.

" You are not going out like that without your overcoat?" she asked piteously; "in this fearful weather, , too."

She made a feeble movement to disembarrass, herself of the additional coverirlg, but he replaced the garment, and stroked her dark tresses, and pressed a kiss. upon' her forehead.

" t)on't you trouble yourself about me, my darling," he remonstrated softly. " I can run to keep myself warm, I should be so hot that an overcoat would be a regular^ nuisance, that it would. Good-bye, dearie. God bless yOu — God bless you ! "

Another kiss, and he had taken his hat and was gone, before she could stay him by loving chiding. The painstretched face darkened as that beam of light and hope had departed from the chamber, and left it cold indeed.

^ Once in the street the man walked rapidly, swinging . his arms to and fro in the effort to warm himself. ,

"I wonder whether that man really means business this time?" he said to himself. "He has deceived me so often, and I did not even dare to tell poor Nellie that I have had a letterfrom him. Another disappokitment like the last might kill her. But I'll make him buy the thing. I'll sell it to him for whatever he'll give. A fivepound note might save poor Nellie's life, and that'? worth a couple of years' work at any time."

The steaming odour of a coffee-shop reached his nostrils, and he inhaled it with a longing relish, as" if it were meat and drink. He put a fumbling hand into his trousers pocket, withdrew it in trembling disappointment, and searched his waistcoat pockets, and withdrew it again.

" I haven't a brown," he muttered, "not a red cent. I should have so liked to have a cup of coffee." He drew himself up on a sudden. " Never mind," he said to himself cheerfully ; " we shall have two or three when Mr Wilkins has stumped up."