For the Ghastly and Beautiful 1st

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 Copyright © 2022 M.F. Adele

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or any
electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval
systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, businesses, incidents, and
events are either used in a fictitious manner or stem from the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to real events or real people, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

Cover design by:

Carol Marques Cover Designs

Edited by:
Kaye Kemp Book Polishing

Published by:
Langston Press, LLC

Latest content update:

April 20, 2022
 Contents

Disclaimer
Name Pronunciations

1. Adelaide
2. Connak
3. Adelaide
4. Imryll
5. Adelaide
6. Adelaide
7. Talodus
8. Adelaide
9. Adelaide
10. Adelaide
11. Ecaeris
12. Adelaide
13. Adelaide
14. Connak
15. Adelaide
16. Adelaide
17. Adelaide
18. Imryll
19. Talodus
20. Ecaeris
21. Adelaide
22. Adelaide
23. Adelaide
24. Adelaide

Also by MF Adele
About the Author
 Disclaimer

For the Ghastly and Beautiful is the second book in the trilogy,
Where the Mongrels Are. This is the beginning of the series,
Where They Are, which follows four female characters. The
Where They Are series is set in a fantasy world and contains
paranormal themes such as elemental powers and mythical
creatures.

This is a reverse harem romance, meaning it does involve a

polyamorous relationship.

This is a trilogy-wide disclaimer for Where the Mongrels Are.

Current books include: abduction, enemies-to-lovers, insta-lust,

attempted sexual assault, graphic violence, blood, and murder.
Current books include mentions of: rape memories, drugs,
and abuse of rehabilitation services.

More trigger warnings may be added to this disclaimer as Ada’s story

progresses.

If any of the scenarios listed trigger or offend you, please do

not read this series. If you have any questions about
content, please contact me for clarification.
AuthorMFAdele@gmail.com
 To my grandfather

Thank you for letting me read

the beginning of Ada’s story to you.
I wish I could have read more…
But I heard you grunting in laughter as I
awkwardly fumbled through those few dirty jokes.
And don’t even get me started about the nurse listening.

Anyway…

I finished this book for you.

I would apologize for taking so long,
but you took my heart with you,
and I just recently found it again…
Name Pronunciations

Ada — Add-Uh
Ecaeris — Eh-care-Us
Talodus — Toh-lah-Dus
Imryll — Em-Rull
Connak — Con-Uck
Isolde — Is-Old
Selmar — Sell-Mar
Rinya — Ren-Yah
Spiran — Spy-Rin
Lyell — Lie-Elle
Cotear — Coe-tear
Chapter 1
Adelaide
 DAY TWENTY-FOUR

T he steady beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor rouses me

from a fitful sleep. I stretch my hand out, patting around for
the warmth that’s missing. I can smell the woodsy scent of
Connak and the sun-dried leather of Talodus.
But I can’t feel them.
When I squint into the bright light, my lids are as scratchy as the
blanket covering my legs. I blink several times, hoping to clear my
blurry vision. My heart crashes against my rib cage as I glance
around.
This can’t be right.
I was lying between Talodus and Connak before I left them. The
tug of the ocean on my soul brought me stumbling through the
forest to the water’s edge. There, I found Isolde waiting for me on
the bench of the earthly jon boat in the pouring rain.
Now, I’m lying in a hospital bed with an IV taped to my arm. My
clothes are gone, replaced by a thin, sage green gown. My skin is
dry and cold.
I survey the private room from one side to the other, noticing
how bare it looks. The sun shines through a filmy window, the rays
highlighting a styrofoam pitcher with a pink plastic lid. I swallow,
and my throat is raw, toeing the line of painfully uncomfortable.
My attention snaps to the door as the handle makes a soft
clicking noise. The monitors beep faster, signaling my rapidly
quickening heart rate. It only serves to strengthen my anxiety.
 What the fuck is happening?
“You’re awake,” the nurse gushes before she’s even crossed the
threshold.
She turns, shouting at someone behind her, “Sue, call the doctor
in. Ms. Storm is awake!”
All pretense of privacy is abandoned as she leaves the door open
to rush to my side. She checks the machines, gasping and praising
as she says that everything appears good to her.
“Dr. Heart should be here any minute. He was just saying bye to
his husband. It’s his first week at Tampa General Hospital, but he’s a
lovely doctor,” she spills.
I don’t care.
“Why am I here?” I croak.
The cough that follows makes my entire body ache precisely as it
did a month ago when I stumbled onto the shore of Spiran.
But that wasn’t a dream.
I flip my hands over, spying the tiny cuts on my palms that I got
from the forest floor last night. I’d tripped over a vine as I followed
the call of the water and never had a chance to check my knees for
scrapes.
The scar on my right forearm is another glaringly obvious alarm
bell. The thickened skin from refusing Imryll’s care stares back at
me, and I know in my gut that this isn’t real.
Something is wrong.
“That was a nasty cut when you got here,” the nurse murmurs
when she catches me rubbing my fingers across it. “I’m surprised it
didn’t scar worse. The edges were jagged, and the doctor did the
best he could to stitch it up.”
“Why am I here?” I repeat, agitation heavy in my voice. The
emotion weighs me down as my breath saws through my lungs.
“Everything is fine, dear. Just lay back and rest until the doctor
gets here. He can answer some of your questions, but we don’t
know much. You’ve been in a coma for some time now.”
I sit up quickly, shaking my head to ease the dizziness. As I
throw the covers off my legs, the nurse rounds the end of the bed.
 “Ms. Storm, you need to slow down. You’ve been injured and
immobile since you’ve been here. You’re not thinking clearly.”
I swing my legs over the side of the hospital bed and start
picking at the tape on my arm. The nurse tries to pull my hand
away, but I swat at her.
“Don’t touch me,” I growl. “I want answers. Now. And I want out
of here.”
“You can’t leave,” she calmly replies.
Something is off about her voice. She means her words, though
her tone rings false in my ears. It’s a lie.
I jerk the IV out of my arm with a wince. Blood drips down my
left elbow as I run my right hand through my dirty hair. I stand on
shaking legs and shove her out of my way, but the force causes me
to lose my balance. She presses the call button on the bed as she
roughly pushes me back.
A woman’s voice comes over the speaker. “Dr. Heart is on his way
in.”
The nurse grunts as I struggle. “Send in a few more bodies. Ms.
Storm isn’t having a good day.”
I grind my teeth as she puts her hands on my shoulders to hold
me down. “Calm yourself, or I’ll have to strap you to the bed.”
Like fuck.
I kick my legs as another nurse scurries in. She hastily grabs my
feet, slamming them onto the bed and laying her chest across my
shins. I make an aggressive, frustrated noise in the back of my
throat.
Two more nurses come in, and a third woman pushes a medicine
cart in front of her. I strengthen my efforts, refusing to be sedated.
“Stop fighting!”
“Let go of me,” I shriek.
“Ready,” the nurse with the cart calls, syringe in hand as she
walks closer to me.
The door opens behind her, and the footsteps I hear seem to
echo around the room, overshadowing all the racket we’re making.
“That won’t be necessary,” a soothing voice commands.
 The weight on my chest lessens as recognition sweeps through
me.
“Dr. Heart, this is protocol. Until she can calm down on her own
—”
“She will; give her a moment. She’s in shock.”
Imryll.
He sits on the edge of the hospital bed, and tears roll down my
cheeks as his grass-green eyes lock onto mine. He grins, winking
slyly as the nurse warns him about my behavior.
“You should be careful, Dr. Heart. She’s pulled her IV out and
been extremely aggressive. I had to call for help to get her back in
the bed.”
His warm hand grips mine tightly, and I sigh as he leans up to
kiss my forehead. It’s not something he’s ever done before, but I
melt into him, regardless. Because Imryll is my safety, my breath of
fresh air when I’m suffocating.
And I am suffocating right now.
A plastic bag has been pulled over my head, cutting off my
oxygen and killing my mind. I understand nothing, not even the
imploring green irises that bore into me.
“Dr. Heart,” one nurse admonishes.
“She’s my wife.” He turns to glare at her as he uses the Earthly
term.
I’m surprised by the malevolence radiating from Imryll, even as
his thumb gently traces over the back of my hand. When she steps
away, he calms slightly. His eyes are incredibly cold, making the
nurse falter.
“I—I thought the man in the hall was your husband,” she
stutters.
I can’t help the snort that escapes me.
Imryll turns an amused expression on to me as he replies, “He’s
still out there. Tell him his husband would like him to come in here.”
She darts out of the room, followed by the other nurses. The first
woman gawks at us as Imryll smiles down at me. I think… Maybe I
should be taken aback by his sudden switch in demeanor, but I can’t
find it in me to fear him or worry while he’s here.
 While they’re here.
I smirk at the thought and quietly ask, “Who’s with you?”
He shrugs mischievously as the door flies open. That’s my
answer. I know only one person who would make an entrance like
that.
“Not that it matters, but will you tell these women that I am not
—” Ecaeris stops mid-rant and whispers my name like a prayer.
“Ada.”
The Mongrel Prince glides across the room so fast it appears as if
his feet don’t touch the floor. He’s by my side before I can blink.
“I feared,” he states simply, closing his eyes and sealing his lips.
I understand everything that he isn’t saying.
He thought I left. That I sailed to the dark island hoping to go
home.
All that time I spent wishing to be back in my world, and now all
I want is to go... Home. With them to Spiran, not here. Not Earth.
“I’m ready to leave,” I tell them, and Ecaeris looks at me as if I’ve
ripped his heart out before I can continue. “I want to go home. I
don’t want to be here.”
I let my gaze flow around the room and raise my brows when
neither of them moves. Imryll’s smile widens, brighter than before,
but Ecaeris still looks gutted. When he says nothing, my brows go
from high to furrowed, pinch together in aggravation.
Imryll groans at us. “Stop being such mongrels.”
“She can’t leave,” the nurse says again, this time directing her
words to the guys.
Ecaeris ignores her. “How am I being a mongrel?”
I roll my eyes, knowing the ceiling offers no answers for me.
There is no easy way for me to be blunt about changing my mind.
“I want to go home, Ecaeris,” I repeat, feeling like a broken
record.
“I heard you,” he snaps quietly, still fuming at Imryll.
The doctor’s grin grows more expansive, and I sigh at the hot-
headed prince.
“With you.”
 I watch his eyebrows dance across his forehead as he processes
those two words without looking away from Imryll. He slowly turns
his head to stare at me, seeming as if he misheard what I said. I
glare at him, refusing to repeat myself yet again.
“Did you hear her that time?” Imryll smarts.
“Shh,” Ecaeris hushes him.
He barely acknowledges his friend as he narrows his mismatched
eyes on me. I smirk at his challenge.
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Say it again,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
He’s battling a smile. I see his cheeks twitching as he watches
me. I shake my head, keeping careful control over my facial
features.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
“Funny,” I comment, pointing at my chest quickly. “I won’t either.
Maybe you should let Dr. Heart check your ears.”
He closes his eyes, and his chest rises and falls rapidly with his
fraying patience. I purse my lips, fighting laughter when I see Imryll
cover his mouth.
“With us?” Ecaeris asks with surprising tenderness.
I nod, but his eyes are still closed. “Yes.”
The nurse growls, her face reddening in her anger. “She cannot
leave here.”
“To our home?”
I nod again, parroting his words while correcting his meaning.
“To our home.”
His eyes fly open, and he frantically glances between Imryll and
me before he drops to his knees at my bedside.
“You need to wake up, Ada. Now.”
My mouth gapes open at his abrupt change. I’m perplexed,
speechless. And the feeling only grows when Imryll agrees with him.
“He’s right. None of us should be here.”
“She cannot leave,” the insistent nurse shouts.
“Tell the darkness to go away, Ada,” Imryll instructs.
 I jerk my head back, widening my eyes at him in stunned
disbelief. “What?”
“This is a dream,” Ecaeris whispers to me, taking my hand as he
stands.
He swipes at the blood on my arm, showing me that his fingers
were still clean. His expression is more severe than any I’ve seen
him wear before. His voice is a calm blanket, wrapping around me as
his lips brush my ear.
“You need to wake up, Ada. She’s suffocating you. Time is
running out. Come back to us.”
Chapter 2
Connak
 DAY TWENTY-FOUR

A da appears so frail while Talodus cradles her in his arms. Her

head rests in the crook of his elbow. Her chin nearly touches
her chest as her legs dangle, wiggling slightly with his steps.
Before today, it hasn’t been clear to me how fragile she truly is.
But hidden beneath that earthly fragility is a Mongrel.
Strong, adaptable, and intuitive.
I’ve never wanted to protect someone—keep someone—as badly
as I do right now. I know I’m not the only one, and that makes
these feelings easier to bear. I can’t guarantee her safety on my
own, but one look at Talodus tells me nothing and no one would
touch her and live to breathe another day.
His resolve is frightening, his grip on her unfaltering as he storms
through the palace halls. Tal is as bad as Imryll when it comes to
holding his emotions at bay, silencing his needs to make sure
everyone else is taken care of.
They need her as much as I do. Ecaeris even more so.
We’re all just waiting for him to notice.
I push ahead of Talodus, opening the door to a dark room. The
bed is clean and tidy, left untouched since Ecaeris moved to the
guards’ barracks.
It’s only after Talodus lays Ada down that I see his hands are
shaking. Concern pours from his gaze, much like the torrential rains
we followed her through. He doesn’t move away, simply lingering at
the bedside as he regains some composure.
 “I’m worried, Nook,” he whispers, not sparing me a glance.
I place my hand on his shoulder, giving him the only physical
comfort he’ll take. He heaves a sigh so deep his entire body shifts.
“That power exchange was too much,” Tal murmurs. “She’s
human. They aren’t—”
“Ada is more Mongrel than any of us. Don’t be so negative.”
“All the humans here say that they’re a weaker species.”
I shrug, though he’s still not facing me. “Maybe. But she’s been
using the water element since she arrived. Is water not capable of
being both strong and fragile? Will you not give her a chance to
prove that she’s meant to be here?”
“Isolde was worried as well.”
“Isolde has her own motives, Tal. You know how secretive she
can be. You didn’t answer my questions.”
His attention snaps to me, brows narrowed. “I understand as well
as you do what it means to be a water elemental. I know what she’s
capable of. I also know what she can handle.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
Talodus shakes his head in exasperation. “Then who? Who will
keep her from hurting herself?”
“We will,” I assure him. “But so will she. Ada is not weak. We
don’t know what she went through before she came to Spiran. Let
her make her own choices, Talodus. If you try to shield her, you will
push her away.”
“What are you saying?”
“Treat her as an equal. Treat her as you would me. Let her make
her mistakes and learn from them. A few scrapes and scratches hurt
no one.”
He steps away from the bed, leaning against the wall with his
arms crossed. “So what? Step in before she dies? Or after?”
“Don’t be like that. You’re not the only one that’s worried. You’re
not the only one who has grown to enjoy the company of the
hurricane. We all thrive in the storm.”
“What if the storm is our undoing?” he asks, his gaze softening
as his attention strays back to Ada.
 “Then I’ll die a satisfied mongrel, for I’ve never felt more alive—
more seen—than when I stand before the eye of this storm.”
“Aye,” he agrees. “I feel as though I’m juggling boulders. I know
the slip is coming; I know it will hurt. But I keep catching the falling
stones, careless of my shaking legs or my straining arms. I merely
want to keep her from the pain.”
Does he not see her as I do? What she carries with her? She
stayed because she had nothing to go back to. This is her second
chance at happiness—life.
“She knows pain already, Tal. You need only peer into her eyes to
see it.”
“I’ve seen it, felt her reactions to the trauma she’s endured.”
“Healing the past and shielding the future are two different
things, neither of which you can do for her. She may want a hand to
hold, but she has to walk on her own two feet.”
“When did you become so insightful?”
I run my fingers through my damp hair, tugging at the knots.
“When I decided to heal myself. I’ll always bear the scars, but
they’re no longer festering wounds that keep me down.”
After a moment of wordless understanding, Talodus frowns.
“Should we try to wake her?”
“Yeah. Be gentle. Don’t scare her.”
Talodus touches her face gingerly, rubbing his knuckles from her
temple to her chin. She doesn’t react. He shakes her shoulder, and
again, nothing. His blue irises solidify as his apprehension leaks
through.
I squeeze her hand, lifting and dropping her arm. Then I ran a
thin line of icy water over her face. The only motion she makes is
her eyes twitching behind her lids.
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Tal asks.
I don’t have an answer.
I long to see her lashes flutter, her cheeks tint pink, her ruby lips
quirk before she says something sarcastic. I want those delicate
hands to trace my scars, to help me remember I can be damaged
and still be whole.
“Dammit. Where’s Imy when we need him?”
 “Here,” the doc calls from the hall. “I’m here.”
Ecaeris rushes into the room behind Imryll, sliding across the
floor with still-damp shoes. “Is she awake?”
“Does she sound awake to you?” I reply as Talodus says, “No.”
“Did you try to wake her?” Imy inquires, checking her pulse.
“Yes,” Tal responds quickly as I snark, “No, of course not. We’ve
been watching her sleep like creeps.”
Imryll snorts. “You wouldn’t be the only one since she’s been
here.”
Ecaeris cuts his eyes at Tal and me, suspicious. “How did you get
to her so fast?”
“We followed her to the shore where she met Isolde,” Talodus
states. “There was a power exchange with Spiran, but she was
under the water for too long. I’ve never seen a mongrel hold their
breath that long.”
“I haven’t either,” I absentmindedly agree, observing Imy for any
sign that Ada isn’t improving.
“Something happened, something strange,” Tal continues. “Isolde
was taken aback by what was going on, but she tried to hide it.”
I point my finger at him. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. But
I can’t figure out what to ask her to get the truth. We all know how
she adores her games and making us work out the issues for
ourselves. This is getting out of hand, though.”
“Right,” Talodus chimes in. “Whatever she’s hiding about Ada
could help us keep her safe.”
“She is hiding something,” Ecaeris acknowledges.
“But what?” Imryll speculates.
“I don’t know,” Ecaeris whispers to himself. “If what we just did
was any indication—”
“What did you do?” Tal interrupts.
“I’d like to hear an explanation for that as well,” Imy mutters.
Ecaeris glances at me, and I already know what he’s going to tell
them. He’s brought me back a few times in the past.
“It started when we were children. Occasionally, I would get
pulled into your nightmares. We don’t know what the power is, but
it’s there. I felt as though I was needed, and I reacted by trying to
take you with me, Imryll. I’ve taken no one with me before, but I’ve
woken people up. That’s probably why you felt the urgency to agree
with me when I told Ada to come back to us.”
“What kind of nightmare was she in?” I question, not giving the
guys time to wonder about his extra ability. “She hasn’t moved or
made a sound.”
“I think… I think the darkness held her.” The Mongrel prince
slides down the wall, sitting on the floor as he rubs his eyes.
“Actually, No. I’m sure the darkness had her. Imryll knew too. I could
feel her suffocating, being drained of energy and power. We
wouldn’t have been kicked from her nightmare if she hadn’t woken
from it.”
“Well, she hasn’t woken up…” Talodus let his sentence hang,
holding his arm over our sleeping storm.
Ecaeris doesn’t look up as he amends his statement. “I see that.
I don’t mean awake and alert; I mean, out of that particular
nightmare.”
“So the darkness is gone?” Imy hopefully inquires.
“I don’t know.”
I shift the focus again. “What happened in the nightmare?”
“She was in a clinic of sorts. I believe it’s called a hospital,”
Ecaeris explains. “But she was already fighting when we reached her.
She didn’t want to be there, to be back on Earth. Sfear—”
“Don’t say her name,” Talodus cuts in.
I roll my eyes as Ecaeris peers at Tal, unimpressed by children’s
fears.
“She didn’t want to let Ada go. You know that’s just a—what
does Will call it? A superstition? Her name doesn’t call her to us.”
“You don’t know that.” The burly man crosses his arms again, set
in his ways.
“That isn’t our immediate concern,” I remind them.
Ecaeris sighs. “I know.”
“We can’t leave her in the guards’ barracks anymore,” Talodus
tells us. “Not only is she not safe there, but she may be dangerous
until she’s taught proper control.”
“We’ll move her in here.”
 I grin at the prince. “Into your room?”
“No,” he snaps back. “The one across the hall. Or any of them.
Whichever one she likes the most. I don’t care. There’s a dozen to
choose from. She can have her pick.”
“Someone needs to be with her day and night,” Imryll quietly
admits.
My grin spreads. “She’s going to hate that.”
Ecaeris shrugs. “She’ll learn to live with it until we find the stalker
and she has a firm grip on her element.”
“Connak said she’s been using water since she got here,” Talodus
informs him. “Control shouldn’t be too hard to teach her. She’s a
quick study.”
“Yes, but she didn’t have this much power before.” He glances
up, tilting his chin in Ada’s direction. “Can’t you feel it when you get
near her? It’s different, stronger than I’ve ever come into contact
with.”
I nod, accepting his assessment. “How are we splitting the days
this time?”
“I’ll move back in here and take most of the nights.” Ecaeris
props his elbows on his knees, massaging his temples with the heels
of his hands. “At least we won’t have to interact so much then.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I hum to aggravate him.
“Don’t.”
Imryll smirks. “She is fond of you when you’re quiet.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Who are you lying to?”
Ecaeris ignores his comment. “We need to figure out how to keep
her happy while guarding her.”
“Connak also told me we can’t shield her from everything. We’ll
smother her,” Talodus helpfully states.
I talk around him, still teasing the prince of delusions. “Oh, so
you like her now?”
“What?” He scoffs. “No. But she’s clearly important.”
“Sure, Ecaeris. Whatever you say.”
“He’s a terrible liar,” Imy whispers behind his hand.
Ecaeris growls at us. “Just go get her things, Connak. Please.”
“Are you coming with me?”
He stares blankly at me, letting nothing cross his features.
“Fine. Come on, Tal. Let’s leave the prince to sulk.”
Chapter 3
Adelaide
 DAY TWENTY-FOUR

I mryll and Ecaeris blink out of existence, leaving me startled and

unsteady. I miss the support, but only for a moment.
The nurse walks forward, and I don’t hesitate. I deck her
right in the face, one solid swing landing against her cheek. I’ve
never considered myself the violent type—although the Mongrel
Prince makes me wonder how far I would go. I’m about to find out,
even if this is a nightmare.
I hit her again, smirking when her head snaps back. She gawks
at me… and I sort of wish I could remember her name, though I
know this whole thing is a ruse.
The guys said this was the darkness. I think they were hinting at
Spiran’s sister, she who shall not be named. The Harry Potter
reference makes me grin. I may not have a wand, but I do have
some sort of newly gained water magic.
Angry waves crash in my mind as the tide rises. This element of
mine helps provide life and sustenance. At the opposite end, the
depths wait to swallow its victims whole, delivering them to the
abyss of a pitch black grave.
I don’t realize I’m still fighting the nightmare until I’m kneeling
on top of her, trying to punch through hot water.
It pours from every corner of the room. It beats against the
window in thunderous drops, cascades from the ceiling tiles, and
spills from the edges of the doors. It seeps out of the plugs and
lightswitches too, but no sparks fly.
 “You can’t contain me,” I shout, then lower my voice as I calm. “I
am the rivers and the rain, the tsunamis and the hurricanes. I am
water; you need me to survive.”
The nurse evaporates into a cloud of gray mist and is gone.
Just… Poof. No more.
I stumble to the door on jelly-like legs. It seems too easy, but I
hope leaving is this simple.
It isn’t.
I suppose nothing worthwhile ever is.
And getting back home is beyond worthwhile.
The door closes behind me. I’m suddenly thrust into a dome
under the ocean. Fish swim above me, fleeing as the kraken swats
at them with her tentacles. I spin, taking in the illuminated sights
when the source of light catches my eye.
A dazzling creature floats toward me, and the dome shifts. Rocks
roll up from the ocean floor, forming a flat top inches from the
ground.
“Please tell me that isn’t a sacrificial altar?” I mutter.
Tinkling laughter rings around me as the creature steps through
the dome. The woman. Maybe. She glows so brightly that I can’t
make out her facial features, but her body is that of a woman.
“Are you going to kill me now?” I inquire, already thinking of a
way to fight back. Clearly, water won’t harm her; she walked across
the depths of the oceans like I walk on flat, waterless land. Except
with more grace.
She doesn’t answer, and that frustrates me.
“Look. I’ve already died once today, so if you’re going to kill me,
make it quick. I’m tired and hungry and confused.”
“I am sorry that I had to kill you to change you,” the woman says
softly. “I’m afraid it was necessary.”
“You killed me?” I question, then slap my hand over my mouth.
“Holy shit. You’re Spiran?”
“Indeed. The power I gave you would have eaten you alive had I
not altered you during the process.”
I laugh, snort, then shake my head quickly. “I’m sorry. I thought
I heard you say you altered me? How did you change me by
drowning me? Other than giving me another traumatic event to add
to my resume.”
“You’re no longer the mortal you were when you got here. But
because of my hasty actions, my sister was able to take over your
mind while you were weakened.”
“She caused the nightmare?”
The goddess before me smiles mischievously. “Yes. She wasn’t
expecting you to fight back, though.”
“So, she messes with my mind, and you play with my emotions?
That’s what has been happening, right?”
I bite my lips, aiming to taste blood. I need to watch my mouth,
but the accusations aren’t speculation anymore. Isolde told me it’s
Spiran who’s messing with me, visiting me… and now talking to me.
Thoughts of delusions and psychosis echo in my mind. If I
weren’t two-hundred percent sure this place and these experiences
were real, I’d swear I was hopped up on antipsychotics in a loony
bin somewhere.
After contemplating my question, she concedes with a nod of her
head, her waist-length white hair falling to cover the right side of her
face.
“I suppose you could view it that way.”
“I do.”
“You are a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
“Normally, I’m in a much better mood.” I flare my nostrils at the
goddess. “Death really did me in.”
Spiran grins, pearly teeth flashing in the light she casts through
the darkness. “I understand why the Mongrels are so captivated by
you now.”
“Have you been playing with my emotions?” I know I’m cutting
straight to the chase, and it’s rude; I just don’t care anymore.
“A little. But I’ve had only the best intentions behind my
interference, for you and those who are drawn to you.”
“Why?”
“You had to learn to trust again. And they needed someone who
could help them. They’re scarred and hardened, believing they are
bound by duty. Yet one woman can bring forth so many personalities
from their self-imposed shells.”
I rest my palm on my forehead as I dig my fingers into my damp
hair. It’s still wet from the rainstorm, which leads me to believe not
much time has passed.
“Why would you—” I stumble over how to articulate my thoughts
to the goddess. “How can I trust them if you’ve planted all those
feelings?”
“I did nothing of the sort,” she snaps, indignation heavy in her
tone. “Intuition draws you to a select group of people. I simply
pushed you a little closer to the ones you liked. I don’t tamper with
emotions outside of that, and I’ll stop what I was doing. You’ll see
that you’re still just as intrigued by the people who surround you.”
I rub my hands over my face, feeling the roughness left from the
salt water. I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry, but my chest feels
immovable and my eyes burn with the coming tears of hysteria.
It’s not regret over my decision to stay that upsets me. It’s not
understanding the actions of the divine. But who could? I don’t even
understand my own actions or thoughts half the time… Which is
what causes the oh-so-classic question to pop out of my mouth.
“Why me?”
She shrugs, but it’s more like bouncing light near her shoulders.
“You picked up the spear.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I was being dirty.”
“But were you?” Spiran inquires, humor making her voice a
playful echo around me.
“I’m not the person you’re looking for,” I state, but the words
taste wrong. Thick ash coats my tongue, the acrid flavor making my
throat tighten.
“A bowl is a bowl. It doesn’t matter what fancy name you attach
to it.”
“Quoting fortune cookies sounds weird coming from the goddess
of an entire world,” I snark.
This deity killed me hours ago, but I still find myself somewhat
enjoying her company, no matter how perplexed I am by some of
her truths. Somewhat being the keyword.
 “You can say you’re not the person I’m looking for, but that’s not
the path you’re walking—”
I narrow my eyes at her, hearing the abrupt cut in her answer.
She wants to say more; she doesn’t know how much I can handle.
“Say what you want to say.”
She fluffs the length of her gown before frowning. “You chose
the spear on Earth, in a traveling museum, when you were a child. I
simply waited until you were ready to give up before I brought you
here. Am I wrong for that? You were so close to harming yourself. I
couldn’t let you do it.”
The guilt and mourning slam into me anew, and I know she’s
right. That fishing trip would have been my last. I don’t know when I
would have done it, or how, but I can’t say I wasn’t thinking of
ending my life. I haven’t felt like that in a few weeks now, haven’t
even thought about it.
“If I’d have been happy, what would you have done?”
Her frown deepens. “I would have left you to live your life on
Earth.”
I nod, slowly digesting everything. “Okay.”
“Okay?” she parrots.
“What would you have me say? There’s so much to think
through, and you still haven’t answered my question truthfully. You
told me how you picked me, not why.”
The pursing of her lips doesn’t hide the curves of her cheeks. She
studies me intently, and I meet her head-on. This seems to make
her happy, though I don’t immediately understand why.
“I need a fearless and unpredictable water bearer. I need a
matriarch from a new era who isn’t afraid of change, who can dive
headfirst into the unknown while remaining calm and grounded. You
are that person, Adelaide.”
“How do you know?” I challenge.
She scoffs, her knowledge bordering on condescension. “How do
you not?”
“I—”
“You do know,” Spiran interrupts. “You aren’t ready to accept it,
but you felt it as soon as you touched this world. How many humans
do you think wash upon my shore terrified but not accepting, not
willing to change for a second chance at life?”
That question sobers me to my core. “What about the others
who were caught in the waterspout with me? Are they okay? Alive
and thriving or struggling to find their footing?”
“They are alive, though one struggles more than the others. It's
no fault of her own; Nesta has not been welcoming to the young
woman. She denies that she’s grown weak over the last millennia,
and she refuses to mentor her replacement.”
“What?”
“Yes. It is unfortunate, but Isolde has been accommodating. I
suspect you’ll be getting a visitor in the coming weeks.”
I wave my hand for her to stop. “Did you say replacement? As in
to replace the current queen?”
“Oh. I forgot myself, but I see you’ve caught my slip.”
“Are you telling me—”
“Ada, don’t stress yourself. Isolde knows, and she’s ready.”
I jerk my head back, the verbal slap ringing in my ears. “I’m not.”
“We know…” she trails off and holds her hand out to me. “Let me
show you something before I leave.”
“Leave? Like leave-leave or just visit someone else for a while?” I
ask, even as I place my hand in her warm embrace.
“I am the island,” she whispers as her light washes around me.
“We can go nowhere, for they all need us to survive.”
I blink, clearing the speckles from my vision, when I notice a
familiar boat beneath me. My dad stands at the end, passing me the
tackle box and fishing poles.
Tears stream down my face as I relive the last time I was truly
happy.
I had asked my dad to take me fishing, because I couldn’t bear
sitting in the hospital room with my mom any longer. I wanted to be
one with the water and forget the world, forget the troubles. She
had sent us on our way, a tender smile gracing her lips that didn’t
reach her dim hazel eyes.
My dad grins as he climbs into the boat and shoves away from
the pier. The sun is shining brightly, casting playful light shows in his
auburn hair. The small engine gives a half-hearted roar as we head
to our favorite drop-off.
“I hope we catch some fish,” he says, pointing to the crickets and
glittering, fake worms. “Load us up, baby girl. We’re almost there.”
My heart aches for the ten-year-old Ada. I hear my adult voice
seep into the childlike tone. “When I’m all grown up, can we still do
this, Dad?”
“Every day, and twice on Sundays.”
I laugh. “That’s too often. I won’t have time to swim then. But
maybe we can pick some Addy-Daddy days?”
“Addy-Daddy days, huh? I like that.”
We cast our lines and wait… And wait... And wait… Until there’s a
tug at the other end.
“I have a bite, Dad,” I squeal quietly, trying not to spook all the
fish. “A bite!”
I reel it in with all my might, and despite this being a memory, I
feel the ache in my biceps. I grimace at the squirmy fish. Dad
chortles at my expression, masterfully unhooking the little sea bass
to release it.
“Let’s make this day a yearly Addy-Daddy day, okay? But be
prepared, baby girl, because with luck like that, I’m taking you to my
next tournament.”
“Every year? Even when I’m an adult?”
His phone rings, and he digs it out of the tackle box as he
promises, “Even when you rule the ocean and tides, baby.”
Chapter 4
Imryll
 DAY TWENTY-FOUR

E caeris wasn’t the least bit enlightening after the guys left, much
to my disappointment. I had questioned him on this new-to-me
power, but he had only stated that he’d had it all his life.
Connak seemed to know about it, though Talodus knew less than I
did.
Why would he hide something like that from us?
I prop myself against the pillows on Ada’s right side, thinking
about the what-ifs of the situation. I have to fight to keep myself
from drifting back into a comfortable slumber.
I’m supposed to be observing Ada.
Whatever power Ecaeris used felt as if it had drained my energy.
I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer, couldn’t make my limbs
cooperate to stand. Ada’s warmth surrounded us, her floral scent
light under the salt water stuck to her skin.
I’m not the first to fall asleep, but I know Ecaeris will wake me if
he leaves.
My head bobs as the bed dips. I tense my muscles, startled and
hoping that I didn’t disturb Ada. When she stirs beside me, I sit
straight up.
Ada leans against the headboard, her knees tucked under her
chin as she silently cries. She stares at the wall, lost and unaware
that I’m here. Something in her hazel eyes pierces my soul, allowing
old wounds to surface.
 Later, I’ll reminisce about the pain-filled memories of my past.
Right now, there is no way to focus on anything except the
heartbreak pouring into the room.
“Ada?” I quietly call. “Are you okay?”
My chest clinches as she sniffles.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I shake my head and repeat the question. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She sighs. “No. I’m overwhelmed.”
“I would ask about what, but I think I might know.”
“You don’t.”
I study her profile, feeling perplexed. Tears stream down her
cheeks, and as badly as I want to wipe them away, I refrain.
“So, it’s not about being tossed onto a new world filled with
strange creatures and unknown dangers?”
I aim for a playful tone. But as she cuts her eyes at me, I see a
spark in her irises. She’s not just upset; she’s angry about
something.
“Island life is nothing compared to meeting a goddess, having
her admit to killing you, and then throwing your most painful
childhood memories in your face.”
“I don’t know where to begin—”
“Yeah.” She scoffs. “It’s a lot to unpack.”
“You met Spiran?”
Ada turns her upper body, her right shoulder resting against the
headboard as she looks at me. Her cheeks are pink and tear-stained,
letting me know she’s been up much longer than I thought.
“Oh, yeah.” She frowns. “But I’m not going to walk around
advertising that information. Do you have mental health institutions
here? Because, on Earth, that’s where they’d put me if I ran through
town saying I’d been speaking to the divine.”
“Spiran speaks, Ada.” I take her hand, thankful when she doesn’t
pull away. “We all know that; it’s not a hidden fact. She’s just very
particular about whom she talks to and when.”
“I’ve noticed. She wanted to apologize for killing me. How am I
supposed to respond to that? ‘No problem. Shit happens.’ Fuck that.
She did it to change me; apparently, I’m no longer mortal.”
 My eye twitches slightly, and I try to cover it by squinting. “She
said that?”
“And more. I’m a little bitter over her apology, though.” Ada
huffs, ruffling strands of her vermillion hair. “When I questioned her
about it, she force-fed me a memory of the day my mother died.”
I flounder for words before settling on, “Do you think there was a
message in the memory?”
“I received the message loud and clear. It’s the day she started
watching me closely, the day her concern for my well-being grew.
There was also something my dad said to me hundreds of times, but
that was the day the meaning changed.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her shoulders sag. “I know.”
“Will you explain it to me?”
My inquiry is soft, too close to coaxing for my own comfort. But I
can’t leave her without comprehending what’s bothering her. She
squeezes my hand, and I release the breath I was holding.
“He used to promise that he’d be with me even when I ruled the
ocean and tides. He died four months ago, and that’s why Spiran
took me when she did. She wouldn’t have taken me if I was happy,
and I was pretty happy until the accident.
“Afterward, I was adrift with no idea what I was doing with my
life. I felt guilty, and I struggled to mourn, which made me feel more
guilt. I became depressed, suicidal… And I knew if I could just hold
on until the anniversary of my mom’s death, and take that fishing
trip one last time… Then I could lose it all and harbor no regrets.”
She stares at the ceiling, and I give her a few minutes to collect
her thoughts.
“It was stupid,” she whispers. “I’m mad at a goddess for killing
me, because that was the one thing I wanted, and she truly kept me
from doing it. She saved me, then killed me, and in the process took
away my option, my ability to end my own life.
“I haven’t thought about it since I’ve been here. Honestly, I’ve
been too busy with surviving and adapting and dealing with her
meddling in my emotions to dwell on anything. I was already
prepared to give up my earthly possessions; mortality was all I had
left.”
“Taking without asking makes you upset?” I question, still trying
to understand. “Had you chosen to give up your mortality, then you
wouldn’t be angry?”
Ada shrugs. “Maybe… Or maybe I’d have found something else
to be angry over.”
“She assumed that since you wanted to stay, you must want
everything she had to offer? I don’t know if that’s right, but that’s
what it sounds like.”
The edges of her lips lift. It’s the smallest effort to show her tone
as truth, but not directed at me. “Consent is important, Imryll.”
“I’m not disagreeing, just attempting to understand the situation.
For what it’s worth, we’re happy you stayed.”
“Until I say something about fire or smoke.” She wipes her
cheeks, then rolls her eyes as she hooks her thumb at the sleeping
prince. “And this Mongrel calls me a Shade, like it’s some grave
insult.”
“He won’t.”
“No, I won’t,” Ecaeris repeats.
Her fingers spasm, though she ignores her trepidation and snaps
back. “Oh, really? I wish I believed you, but you don’t believe it
either. So, let’s go ahead and get the name calling out of the way.
Now that I don’t have to worry about you waking up and walking in
while I’m trying to bathe, I’d like to wash the salt off my skin.”
He grins at Ada in such a way that I know he’s about to say
something utterly ridiculous. And I’m not going to stop him.
I realize that occasionally she needs a pleasant distraction, and
I’m not that person for her. I’d rather be the one she confides in.
Besides, having her yell at me once out of anger was enough. It
makes me want to hear her shout in a different manner… One I’m
still considering, even if the idea is daunting.
“I know you’re not a Shade now,” Ecaeris confidently states.
“How so?” she asked sarcastically.
“Because a Shade wouldn’t have died so easily.”
 I rub my hand over my face, expecting her to shout at him or call
him an asshole. “You just don’t know when to shut your mouth, do
you?”
Ada brushes her thumb over my palm, turning a sweet smile to
Ecaeris as she raises her brows. “Hey. Did you ever find all those
fucks I left on the beach?”
“Nope. But I did look.” He sounds so satisfied.
She glances down and away. “Shame… I really wish I could give
you one right now.”
“A fuck?” Ecaeris asks, amused but confused.
“You know…” She trails off as she leans against me. “Just
something to make you think I cared about what you have to say.”
“You’re awake, are you not?” he pops back, his smirk full of
devastating wit.
Ada’s shoulders tighten, sensing the same change in him. And all
I can do is grin like a fool, because I know what he’s about to say.
But I’m also excited to hear how she shuts him down. I never know
what will come out of her mouth next, and that unpredictability is
intoxicating.
“It would seem so,” I interject, pushing them to bicker for my
own entertainment.
“That’s what I thought.” Ecaeris shrugs, seemingly pleased. “At
least you can follow instructions.”
“Imryll?” she politely calls.
“Yes?” I hum, my chest vibrating against her back.
She gazes at me over her shoulder, thrown off by my tone. But
how can I explain that her voice is breathing life into me? I stayed
distant before, not knowing if she would leave. Now that she’s not, I
want more of her time. I want to hear her speak, no matter who
she’s talking to or what they’re talking about.
“Can you go find me some rocks?”
I blink at her, half a smile stuck on my face as I try to make
sense of such a request.
“To celebrate first times and all that?” Ecaeris asks, knowing
exactly why she wants rocks.
I worry for his health.
 “One of these days…” She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“I’m going to choke you.”
He chuckles as he stands and stretches. “You already have, or
did you forget how you nearly killed me?”
I clear my throat. “She choked you?”
“In front of my mother,” he admits, dropping his arms to his
sides.
“So, not sexual? Or…” I leave my comment hanging, laughing at
their expressions.
“What? No.” Ecaeris is outraged.
Ada glances between us. “Why is that where your mind goes?”
“You two are together often enough that I assumed—”
She throws her head back, laughing until happy tears roll down
her cheeks. “He likes to pester me.”
“That’s not entirely untrue,” he acknowledges. “I was waiting for
her to slip up.”
“It’s turning out to be an unhealthy obsession, Doctor. You should
take him to the clinic for an exam. I’m worried that he may be
mentally compromised.”
He scoffs at her. “My head is fine.”
“Until I get my hands on those rocks.”
She sits in the center of his bed, perfectly poised as she
threatens the Mongrel prince. And we all know he won’t do anything
about it, because none of us knows if she’s serious or not.
Chapter 5
Adelaide
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Aunt Patty's
paying guests
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Aunt Patty's paying guests

Author: Eglanton Thorne

Illustrator: W. Rainey

Release date: September 29, 2023 [eBook #71761]

Language: English

Original publication: London: The Religious Tract Society, 1907

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT

PATTY'S PAYING GUESTS ***
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

PAULINA THREW HERSELF ON HER KNEES BESIDE ME.

Frontispiece.
 AUNT PATTY'S
PAYING GUESTS

BY

EGLANTON THORNE

Author of "Her Own Way," "The Blessedness of Irene Farquhar,"

"My Brother's Friend," etc.

WITH FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. RAINEY, R.I.

 LONDON

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard E.C.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. AN UNWELCOME DECREE

II. MY EQUIPMENT

III. "GAY BOWERS"

IV. LAYING OUR PLANS

V. A RESPONSE TO THE ADVERTISEMENT

VI. THE FIRST ARRIVAL

VII. THE AMERICANS

VIII. A PRINCELY GIFT

IX. MISS COTTRELL'S ALIAS

X. COUSIN AGNETA'S LOVE STORY

XI. THE UNFORESEEN BEFALLS

XII. AT HOBBES'S COTTAGE

XIII. OLIVE'S HAPPINESS

XIV. A PICNIC

XV. AN ACT OF INDISCRETION

XVI. MISJUDGED

XVII. A GALA DAY AT GREENTREE

XVIII. AN ELOPEMENT

XIX. MISS COTTRELL'S ELATION

XX. A PROPOSAL

XXI. THE RETURN OF THE AMERICANS

XXII. CALAMITY

XXIII. TWILIGHT TALKS

XXIV. WEDDING BELLS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAULINA THREW HERSELF ON HER KNEES BESIDE ME.
Frontispiece

"YOU SHOULD SEND HER INTO THE COUNTRY AND GIVE HER
A BICYCLE."

AUNT MET PROFESSOR FAULKNER IN THE HALL.

"OH, I WRENCHED MY SHOULDER A BIT," HE SAID.

JOSIAH DICKS AND MISS COTTRELL PACING ARM IN ARM.

 AUNT PATTY'S PAYING GUESTS
CHAPTER I
AN UNWELCOME DECREE

"NO books for twelve months at least," said Dr. Algar, our family
physician. "This overworked little brain needs repose. So remember,
Nan—no books."

"No books?" I repeated in utter dismay. "But that is impossible—quite

impossible, Dr. Algar!"

"Oh, I do not mean that you may not read a storybook now and then,
or amuse yourself with the magazines," he said calmly, "but anything
like study I absolutely forbid."

His words fell on my ears like a sentence of doom. How could I give
up my studies? My intellectual work was more to me than anything
else, though of late it had become a burden, and I could not bear to
renounce the hopes and ambitions on which my heart was set. For
months I had been working my hardest in preparation for
Matriculation. I wanted to take honours, for I thought that distinction
would help me to obtain a good post as teacher in a school. I worked
under disadvantages, for I had a daily engagement as governess
which occupied the best part of each day. My pupils were very
young, and their instruction did not involve for me any mental strain;
but they were tiresome, spoiled children, and I often returned home
from teaching them feeling irritated. Tea generally revived me, and I
devoted the evening to study.
As the time fixed for the examination drew nearer, I sometimes rose
at six, and did an hour's work before breakfast. It was not easy to
leave my bed in the raw cold of the early morning and dress by
gaslight. In spite of the little oil-stove which I used to kindle in my
room, the cold seemed to benumb all my faculties. After a while I
decided that it was better to work late at night, and I would sit up
wrestling with some mathematical problem long after the other
members of the household were wrapped in slumber. Soon I began
to be conscious of a sick, dizzy sensation when I rose; severe
headaches often interrupted my studies; it became increasingly
difficult for me to concentrate my thoughts.

"How cross Nan is!" I used to hear my younger sisters whisper to

each other, and my conscience told me that the words were true,
and reproached me also for the way in which I lost patience with my
little pupils.

At last there came an hour when everything faded from me as I sat

at my desk. My spirit seemed to go away to the very bounds of
existence. As from a great distance I came back to consciousness,
with a singing in my ears and a feeling of deadly sickness, and
beheld the faces of mother, Olive, and our maid-of-all-work looking
down on me.

"What is the matter? What is it all about?" I asked vaguely.

"You fainted, darling—just an ordinary fainting-fit, nothing more,"

mother said.

It was such an unusual thing for mother to use terms of endearment

that I knew when she called me "darling" that I must have alarmed
her very much, and I almost fainted again from the shock of finding
myself such a centre of anxious interest. Mother gave me a strong
dose of sal-volatile, which soon brought me round. I was put to bed,
but for the rest of the evening, some one kept watch beside me. My
swoon had lasted a long time, and, since even ordinary fainting fits
do not occur without a cause, Dr. Algar was on the morrow called in
to examine me, with the result recorded above.
"I hate story-books," I said crossly. "Cannot you give me a tonic that
will pick me up?"

He shook his head as he smiled on me with a very kindly look in his

eyes.

"The tonic you need, my dear, is rest and play, or at least the change
of work which is said to be as good as play. She wants to go out to
grass, and kick up her heels like a young pony, Mrs. Darracott. You
should send her into the country, and give her a bicycle, or let her go
where there are golf links, and learn to play. In fact, she needs to live
an open-air life as far as that is possible in our climate."

I looked at mother and tried to smile, but merely succeeded, I

believe, in making a dismal grimace. How unreasonable the old
doctor was! He might as well have ordered champagne and oysters
for a dweller in the slums. How could my parents afford to send me
into the country for an indefinite period? Mother's face wore a
troubled expression as she said gently:

"I understand, doctor. I will talk it over with her father, and we will see
what we can do. I blame myself for not seeing that Annie was doing
too much; but she takes such delight in her studies that I fancied
they would not overtax her strength. You will not, then, give her
medicine?"

"Yes," he said, "I will write a prescription for her that will steady her
nerves and help her to sleep. You have not been sleeping well of
late, my dear."

I looked at him, wondering how he knew this, for it was true. I had
not been actually wakeful, but my work had followed me into the land
of dreams, and I had been adding up never-ending columns of
figures or struggling with incomprehensible problems in a state of
semi-consciousness. Tears sprang to my eyes as I admitted that he
was right.
"Never mind, my dear," said the old doctor as he patted me on the
shoulder, and looked down on me with eyes full of sympathy. "You
feel badly now, I know, but you'll soon be better. Do as I tell you, and
in twelve or fifteen months' time you will be able to take up your work
again."

Twelve or fifteen months! Had he the least idea how long a period
that seems to a girl of nineteen? And I had so counted on the result
of my examination. The aerial edifice I had reared on this foundation
tumbled in ruins about me and I was in despair.

He must have discerned my state of mind, for he said quickly, "Now

mind, you must not brood over your troubles, or you will retard your
recovery. Find some light employment that will occupy your thoughts.
Do you care for gardening?"

"I hate it," I said pettishly, as I recalled certain tiresome half-hours I

had spent in pottering round his garden with Uncle George and
undertaking irksome tasks at his request.

"Well, well," said the doctor soothingly, "you can't know much about it
here in London. Are you fond of needlework?"

I shook my head with a sense of disgust, and mother laughed a low,

mirthless laugh. She knew how I detested needlework.

Dr. Algar refrained from further suggestions, and presently took his
departure. When he had gone mother and I looked at each other for
a moment, and then I fell to sobbing. All my strength seemed to have
departed from me when I fainted, and I felt in a state of utter
collapse. Dr. Algar spoke of it as "nervous prostration."

"Come, come, Nan, this won't do," said my mother severely; "you
must be brave and face your trouble like a woman. It's a great
disappointment, I know, but crying won't help matters, and it might
be so much worse."

"I can't see how it could be worse," I cried perversely.

"Can't you?" said mother, with a quaver in her voice. "I can very
clearly."

Then, as I continued to sob, she fetched me a glass of hot milk and a

biscuit, for the doctor had advised my taking as much light
nourishment as possible. Certainly I felt better when I had taken it,
though the prospect of the future did not brighten.

"Mother," I said, "what nonsense Dr. Algar talks! How could you send
me away into the country? And I am sure I do not want to go. I
should be miserable away from you all."

"That would depend on where you went," said my mother. "I wish I
could ask your Aunt Patty to take you; but with her husband so sadly
she will not want another invalid on her hands."

"Oh, mother, don't call me an invalid!" I exclaimed impatiently.

She smiled and went on as if I had not spoken.

"No, if your uncle were well, it would be different; but as things are, I
cannot send you. I do not see what is to be done; but I must talk it
over with your father."

Then she went away to attend to her domestic duties, and I lay back
on my pillows, feeling utterly limp and wretched. Mother had bidden
me be brave, but I was far from brave at that hour. My mood was
one of flat rebellion against the doctor's decree. A whole year without
study! How could I bear it? It was preposterous. He need not think I
was going to obey him. It would mean that I should be earning
nothing all that time, a burden on my parents' straitened means, an
additional care to my mother, whose anxieties were so numerous.

I was the second in a family of five girls and one small pickle of a
boy. We lived in a long, uninteresting road, which, being treeless,
was called an avenue, running between Wandsworth Road and
Clapham Common. Ours was a refined but by no means a luxurious
home. My father was a man of science and the curator of a learned
society. His position was an honourable one, and brought him into
connection with many eminent and interesting persons, but,
unfortunately for his wife and children, the salary attached to the
office was small. So it was that in our home there was a never-
ending struggle to make ends meet. Sometimes the ends gaped
hopelessly wide apart, and strain as we would, it was impossible to
bring them together. Then it became a question of what we could do
without.

It is wonderful how many things with which we cumber our lives are
really unnecessary and can be dispensed with if we choose. I
remember that once we did without a servant for twelve months. It
was a question of doing so, or of taking me from school a year
sooner than my parents had intended, and there was no doubt in my
mother's mind as to which was the more important, the progress of
my education or the smoother running of the domestic machinery.
She and Olive did the work of the house with the help of a rough girl
who came in for a few hours every morning. Olive had been
attending a cookery class, and she hailed this opportunity of showing
her skill. So dainty were the dishes she set before us that we
children rather liked the change of administration.

It was a happy circumstance that we were all fairly gifted with a

sense of humour. As charity covereth a multitude of sins, so this gift,
said to be rare in womankind, enables one to combat successfully
with a host of petty annoyances. We laughed together over the
pinchings of our poverty, and we took pride in the contrivances by
which we presented a brave front to the world. Thus it was that our
pecuniary straits made us neither sordid nor sour. There are many
worse experiences than that of being poor. As I look back on those
old days, I am often moved to thank God that we had not an easy,
luxurious upbringing. The difficulties that marked our home life were
unheroic, but they drew us closely together and taught us many
useful lessons we might not otherwise have learned.

Olive, the eldest of the family, was mother's right hand. She was not
only, as I have said, a clever cook; her skill in needlework surpassed
her culinary accomplishments. I have rarely seen finer sewing and
stitching than Olive could put into her daintiest work. Moreover, she
could boast a valuable attainment in a household of girls, the art of
dressmaking. It was wonderful how cleverly she would remodel old
garments and make them look like new ones. What we owed to this
gift of hers I cannot tell. Between us all we kept her needle busy.

Happily Olive had an engagement to act as reader and amanuensis

for an old lady, which took her from home every afternoon and thus
prevented her becoming a slave of the needle. Mrs. Smythe, who
lived in a large house overlooking the Common, was a cultured
woman, with a fine literary taste, so Olive learned much in her
society, and was saved from the narrowness and barrenness of mind
which is too often the fate of the domestic drudge.

Not that Olive was exactly one's idea of a drudge. She was a tall,
well-set-up girl, with fine, dark eyes, and an abundance of brown hair
which was always beautifully dressed. The last statement might be
made of Olive herself. Her clothes were never costly, unless the cost
had been defrayed by some one else, but they were always smart.
She knew how to wear them, as people say. Sewing or cooking,
whatever Olive was about, her appearance was sure to be neat and
trim, her dress adapted to the occasion and eminently becoming.

Dear old Olive! What a blessing she was to us all! Old she was not at
this time, though, for she had not yet passed her twenty-first
birthday. She and I were great chums. I think she understood even
better than mother what this disappointment was to me. I read it in
her eyes when presently she brought her work—a frock she was
finishing for Ethel, the youngest of the five—and seated herself
beside my bed, for the doctor had advised my lying still all that day.
But Olive did not say much by way of sympathy. Like mother she
bade me be brave. Mother herself was the bravest of women, and
we had all been trained to despise cowardice, physical or moral.

"After all, Nan, you won't need pity if you go into the country early in
the year," she said. "It's not very nice in London just now. You will
escape the dreadful March we get in town, and be able to watch the
gradual on-coming of the spring in the woods and lanes. I wish you
could go to 'Gay Bowers.'"

"Yes," I said drearily; "it would be more endurable if I were with Aunt
Patty."

She was our father's only sister, and our favourite aunt. We were
less fond of her husband, some twenty years her senior, and now
getting old and infirm. He was a great sufferer from gout, an affliction
that is not conducive to serenity and amiability of mind. I had always
admired the patience with which my aunt bore with his outbursts of
temper.

"Poor Aunt Patty!" said Olive. "I guess she is having a rough time of
it now. She said in her last letter, which came the day before
yesterday, that uncle was worse than she had ever seen him."

"Then she certainly does not want me there as I am now," I sighed.

"Oh, Olive, I feel like a washed-out handkerchief! It is awful to be
utterly useless, only a burden on father and mother, when I had
hoped soon to be earning a good salary and able to support myself
entirely."

"It seems hard, no doubt," said Olive; "but what you've got to do now,
Nan, is just to trust. This must be one of the 'all things' that are going
to work for your good. Now is the time to show that your faith in God
is real and not a mere profession."

I looked at Olive in surprise. Such words had never fallen from her
lips before. Frank and free of speech as she appeared, she was not
one to say much of the things she held most sacred. But I did not
need words to assure me of the reality of my sister's religion.

Just then mother's voice was heard from below calling urgently for
Olive. She ran off to obey the summons, and I lay still with closed
eyes, wondering whether I had any true faith in God. I had long
believed, as I thought, in the love of God, but to what extent had that
faith been a living influence in my life? Was it now weighed in the
balance and found wanting? The opening of the door made me look
up. There stood Olive wearing her hat and coat, and an expression
which told me something had happened.

"What is the matter, Olive?" I asked hastily.

"Where are you going?"

"To the museum to take father this telegram, which has just come
from 'Gay Bowers,'" she said. "It brings sad news, Nan. Uncle
George is dead."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, inexpressibly shocked, "and we were just talking

of him. How dreadful for Aunt Patty!"

"Yes; we think the end must have come suddenly," Olive said. "But I
cannot stay to talk now."

And she was gone.

 "YOU SHOULD SEND HER INTO THE COUNTRY,

AND GIVE HER A BICYCLE."

I saw nothing more of mother or Olive for some hours. Father came
home early, and they were busy speeding his departure to catch a
train at Liverpool Street, for he wanted to go to his sister in her
trouble without delay. The children, Dora, Ethel, and Fred, came to
visit me when they returned from their walk, and lingered in the room
longer than I desired their company. It seemed to gratify them to see
me lying in bed at that unusual hour. I do not think they believed
much in my illness.

They were disposed to discuss Uncle George's death from every

point of view. Fred particularly wanted to know whether uncle had
made a will, and if I knew who would have his horses and cattle and
the dogs, of which my young brother was particularly fond. He
leaned his whole weight on the footboard of my bed, and swung to
and fro as he asked those questions, thus inflicting the utmost torture
on my shattered nerves. I was summoning what little firmness I yet
retained in order to insist on their leaving me at once, when, to my
relief, father appeared and sent them away.

It was like father that in the bustle of departure, he found leisure to

come and sit beside me for a few minutes and express his tender
sympathy.

"I am very sorry for you, Nan," he said, "but you must not fret. It is a
comfort to me to know that the doctor says you have no organic
disease. It is just a question of taking it easy for a while, and, at your
age, you can spare the time."

"Oh, can I?" was my reply. "I don't think so, father."

"Perhaps not," he said, with a melancholy smile, "but when you are
my age you will know what a blessed thing it is to be young. All
things are possible to the young in the present age, it seems to me.
Think of your poor Aunt Patty now. What a sorrow to lose the one
who has shared her life for thirty years!"

"I am very sorry for her, father. Will you give her my love and tell her
so?"

He nodded gravely.

"She has been a good wife to George Lucas, and he was good to
her, though a bit grumpy at times," he said. "Poor fellow! I believe he
suffered more than we knew. And he had a good deal to worry him. I
don't know what your aunt will do. I am afraid she will be poorly off,
for farming has been so bad of late, and your uncle, owing to his ill-
health and growing infirmities, has let his affairs get into a sad
muddle. I should not wonder if she has to leave 'Gay Bowers.'"