A Woman's Burden. Fergus Hume

MUTUAL COMPLIMENTS AND A CONFESSION.

       CHAPTER VII.

       MRS. DARROW SYMPATHISES.

       CHAPTER VIII.

       MRS. PARSLEY SEES A GHOST.

       CHAPTER IX.

       MORE TROUBLE.

       CHAPTER X.

       THE MAJOR'S POINT OF VIEW.

       CHAPTER XI.

       IN THE DEPTHS.

       CHAPTER XII.

       JABEZ SEEKS AN OLD FRIEND.

       CHAPTER XIII.

       THE END OF GERALD ARKEL.

       CHAPTER XIV.

       A QUEER STORY QUEERLY TOLD.

       EPILOGUE.

       Selections from Jarrold & Sons' List.

       JOCELYN ERROLL.

       BY CURTIS YORKE,

       Author of "That Little Girl," "A Romance of Modern London," "The Wild Ruthvens," etc., etc.

       Fourth Edition.

       A Famous Polish Novel.

       ANIMA VILIS.

       A TALE OF THE GREAT SIBERIAN STEPPE.

       By MARYA RODZIEWICZ.

       Translated from the Polish by Count S. C. de Soissons.

       With a Fine Photogravure Portrait of the Author.

       Second Edition.

       CYRANO DE BERGERAC.

       A fascinating and powerful romance of this interesting personality.

       CAPTAIN SATAN

       ADVENTURES OF CYRANO DE BERGERAC.

       From the French of LOUIS GALLET.

       With special Photogravure Portrait of CYRANO DE BERGERAC.

       Second Edition.

       IN TIGHT PLACES.

       BY MAJOR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS,

       Author of "Forbidden by Law," etc., etc.

       Fourth Edition.

       Fergus Hume's Novels.

       THE "GREENBACK" SERIES OF POPULAR 3/ 6 NOVELS.

       BY AUTHORS OF THE DAY.

PROLOGUE.

       Table of Contents

CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

A QUEER ADVENTURE.

       Table of Contents

      It was midnight—midnight on Waterloo Bridge. A plague was over the city—the concentrated vomit of a million and more chimneys wrapped all in an Egyptian darkness.

      The miracle of Moses could not have produced a deeper gloom—an atmosphere more impenetrable. It clung to the skin, it even pressed against the eyeballs. It might in truth have been that very outer darkness which we are taught is reserved for those amongst us who are sinners.

      Big Ben and his brethren of the steeples struck a muffled twelve, seeming to insist upon their strokes the more as if they knew their dials were hidden from all sight. The very gas lamps entered into rivalry, some looming out mere splotches of dirty yellow light, while here and there one more modern than its fellows managed successfully to penetrate the gloom. The bridge leapt across the river from fog-bank to fog-bank, like the bridge in Mira's vision, and if the chill mist lifted a trifle toward the centre, it was but a matter of a few feet. And above it all presumably there shone the stars and moon in their spacious firmament, they and their kindly influence shut out, it might be for ever, by the relentless pall.

      And in the darkness on the bridge, there crawled and lurked and squatted the noisome creatures of the night. They could hear the sullen lapping of the unseen river against the piles, as it swept full tide from the sea. To their ears, sharpened by hunger and misery, the waters were all articulate, inviting them to exchange their stony resting-place for its softer bed below. And they pondered greatly at the invitation. Were it not better to accept it, and let their half-starved bodies drift seaward with the morning ebb? Nothing, they thought, and truly, could be worse than their present plight. Were it not better to end existence now and for all time? Yet so does the mind of man shrink from the unknown—revolt against the almighty plunge from light to darkness, that of all those hungry miserable creatures, not one got further than the pondering—not one was there who would brave the momentary wrench which should part him from this earthly wretchedness, and give him peace, oblivion even, and that because he did not know, and dared not solve the problem.

      So the waters surged on ruthlessly through the arches into the heart of the land, and the fog grew thicker, colder, and more clammy over the city.

      Yet humdrum respectability had its representative here withal; and that in the person of an elderly, genteel, moneyed, and apparently unexceptionable gentleman, who should surely rather have been tucked away between blankets, than abroad at such a time and on such a night. For ragged poverty, bedless and foodless, to camp on these stone benches, and seek oblivion there, was in the ordinary course of existence as it runs its way in the daily