shall, ma’am, if every mantua-making wench in Tidbury stitches her fingers off for it! and there’s an end of my speech-making!’ Having said this, the Squire dropped back into his chair with a gasp of satisfaction.
‘Now we are all happy!’ he exclaimed, filling his glass; ‘and now we’ll set in to enjoy our port in earnest — eh, my good friend?’
‘Yes; all happy!’ echoed old Reuben, patting Annie’s hand, which lay in his; ‘but I think I should be still happier, though, if I could only manage not to remember that horrible dream!’
‘Not remember it!’ cried Mr Colebatch, ‘we’ll all remember it — all remember it together, from this time forth, in the same pleasant way!’
‘How? How?’ exclaimed Mr Wray, eagerly.
‘Why, my good friend!’ answered the Squire, tapping him briskly on the shoulder, ‘we’ll all remember it gaily, as nothing but a STORY FOR A CHRISTMAS FIRESIDE!’
The Queen of Hearts
Chapter III. OUR QUEEN OF’ HEARTS
Brother Owen’s Story of the Siege of the Black Cottage
Brother Griffith’s Story of the Family Secret
Brother Morgan’s Story of the Dream-Woman
Brother Griffith’s Story of Mad Monkton
Brother Morgan’s Story of the Dead Hand
Brother Griffith’s Story of the Biter Bit
Brother Owen’s Story of the Parson’s Scruple
Brother Griffith’s Story of a Plot in Private Life
Brother Morgan’s Story of Fauntleroy
Brother Owen’s Story of Anne Rodway
Letter of Dedication
TO
EMILE FORGUES.
At a time when French readers were altogether unaware of the existence of any books of my writing, a critical examination of my novels appeared under your signature in the Revue des Deux Mondes. I read that
