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SPEAK GENTLY ANONYMOUS POET These lines have been taken from the poem Speak gently written by an Anonymous poet. In this poem poet asks us to speak in soft and mild tone to all. Because kind words go deep into the heart of listener. The effect of speaking gently is good and long lasting.

In these lines poet says that when we speak with others we should use kind words. If we want to rule the people, we should get their obedience by love. Because obedience secured by love is better than that which is the result of fear. He further says that we should use mild words and not harsh and unkindwords, because harsh words may spoil our good deeds. In these line poet says that one should speak to a little child in soft and mild tone, it is certain that he will love him. If some one is teaching some thing to him, it might be taught in polite manner and soft accent, because who knows how long he will remain here. In these line poet says that one should speak to a little child in soft and mild tone, it is certain that he will love him. If some one is teaching some thing to him, it might be taught in polite manner and soft accent, because who knows how long he will remain here. In these lines poet says that kind words, though they seem insignificant but they have magical effect on people. Because kind words touch the depth ofhuman hearts. The reward of speaking gently will be gained in the next world. 2. A NATIONS STRENGTH R.W EMERSON Central Idea: This tiny beautiful poem has been written by R.W. Emerson. In this short poem, he reveals the secret of a nations success. The success of a nation lies with its man power that is its people and not with gold and jewels. Summary: This is a very little poem consisting only n two stanzas. But it has a very deep message in it. The poet has revealed the secret that how we can make a nation strong. He is of the view that its the people of a nation not its wealth, gold, jewels and other natural
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resources that make it strong. The people who make their nation strong are great. They are not selfish. They work for the prosperity of the nation. They fight for truth and for the sake of honor of their nation. They believe that whatever they do publically or individually, their actions are the representatives of the character, honor, and respect of their nation. They do not do anything that can dampen the image and reputation of their nation. To make their nation great and strong, they d ont need wealth and jewels. It is their power and determination that makes it strong. We have a rich history of the nations who were small but they had great people in them and those people brought their nations to the heights of progress and prosperity. In the last stanza, the poet describes the characteristics of brave people. He says that these people do not sleep. They work while others sleep because they dont have time to waste. They are the daring people who face all the challenges and problems of life manfully. They are not cowards like others who step back from the challenges. They build the pillars of a nation very strong. They lay the foundations of their nation very deep. And then they lift the nation to the heights of skies. These are the great people who are the actual heroes of the world. If a nation has such people in it, then no one can stop this nation from making Theres a good time coming, boys, 3. THERE IS A GOOD TIME COMING These lines have been taken from the poem Theres a good time coming written by Charles Mackay.The poet believes that a good time is about to come, when there will be no wars, powerful will not rule the world and the pen will take place of sword.

In these lines poet addresses the boys and assures them that good time is about to come in near future. We may not be able to see that good day, but it will be seen by our next generation. The earth will be brightening by the effect of good time.

In these lines poet says that cannon balls will make the fact clear. In order to achieve the truth, battle no doubt could be fought, but constructive thoughts are stronger weapon which can make us to win the battle of truth. So, the good time is about to come, we should wait for a little time. In these lines poet says that good time is about to come In those days the pen will take place of sword, only right things will hold good against power and during that period
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every one will enjoy its own rights. In these lines poet says that in that period a person will be honoured and respected on the basis of individual merits and not on the heredity basis. This change is in process we have to wait for little time. In these lines poet says that a good time is about to come when mankind will hate the war as the force of injustice and unfairness. The result will be that there will be peace and prosperity in the world. In these lines poet says that when the good time will come there will be no wars and quarrels between nation of the world for the sake of power and domination and there will be no human killings for the sake of glory. You have to wait little more. In these lines poet says that let us give help to bring about good time in the world. Each one of us should aim at bringing about good time in the world. In these lines poet says that we should keep in our mind that within our own limited spheres of life, if we extend sincere co-operation and helps though smallest but with almost devotion, it would matter a lot and would motivate to those times to come soon. He assures that it will be strong one day when the good time actually comes in the world. 4. CASABIANCA REFERENCE This poem is written by Felicia Dorethea Hemans (1973-1835). She was born at Liverpool, but the family moved to Wales where she was brought up. She was quick in mind and had a fine memory. As a poet, she has been compared to Long fellow. Like Couper, she loved the pathetic, and there is great enthusiasm for chivalry and heroism in her work. She also stressed moral values. THEME A man of courage is full of faith. or Patriotism is a great virtue that makes people forgive their selfness. CENTRAL IDEA The central idea of this poem is the the noble characteristics like chivalirism, obedience and morality demand the impossible, the obsolete and the death which itself transfigured into eternal life. Deep-rooted faithfulness is majestic and unmatched which makes a man rise above all personal affiliation. - See more at:

http://www.pkcareer.com/article/39/2/11/lesson-19-casabianca-10th-class-englishnotes.html#sthash.oLTd0XXE.dpuf SUMMARY These lines have been taken from the poem Casabianca written by Felicia Dorothea Hemans.
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In the poem poetess conveys the message of bravery, sacrifice, responsibility, patriotism and discipline through the story of Casabianca.

In these lines poetess tells that Casabianca was standing on the board of the ship which was on fire. He was standing alone while all others had left the ship. The flames of fire rising on all sides. These flames were shining over dead bodies of the soldiers killed in the battle.

In these lines poetess tells that the boy stood on theboard of the ship inspite of burning flames. He looked very hardsome in the light of these flames. It seemed that he was born to govern over storms. He had inherited nobility from his fore fathers. Though he was of tender age, he looked brave and proud to carry out the command of father.

In these lines poetess says that flames rushed at Casabianca. But he had resolved not to leave the place unless his father permitted him. His father was laying dead in the lower part of the ship so his voice could be heard no more.

In these lines poetess tells that the boy called his father in a loud voice. He asked whether, the duty assigned to him was complete or not. He did not know that commander of the ship was unaware about the condition of his son.

In these lines poetess tells that the boy again cried and asked his father if he could go. He wanted to say more but his voice was drowned in the midst of heavy noise of guns and the flames rushed on very fast.

In these lines poetess says that the flames rushed at the boy. He felt their heat on his fore head and in waving hair. Though he knew, that his death was near but he stood quite and calm. He looked around him from place of death with bold heart though he was disappointed.

In these lines poetess says that the boy once again cried out in loud voice. He wanted to know if it was necessary for him to stay there. Just then the flames rushed through sails and ropes.

In these lines poetess tells that the flames surrounded the ship and covered it on all sides. They even reached the flag which was flying very high. They also surrounded the brave boy like the flags shadows in the sky.

In these lines poetess tells that suddenly a loud noise was heard there and no one can imagine that where the body of brave boy was. Only the winds could say which were blowing around the boy that where was he.

In these lines poetess tells that part played by mast, rudder and the flag flying on mast is praise worthy. But the noblest thing which died there was the young obedient and disciplined heart, that was Casabianca. 5. THE DAFFODILS One day poet was walking near a lake suddenly he saw a large number of daffodils. They were moving their heads gently in the cool breeze. The waves of the lake were also dancing. But the dance of flowers surpassed the shining waves. The poet was over joyed and kept on looking at them but could not guess how rich he had grown a their sight. Since then his lonely hours are filled with joy at the mere recollection of these flowers. 6. THE MILLER OF DEE There was a miller. He had a windmill. He ground the corn of the people on his wind mill and made his living. When he was at his work he sang songs to amuse him self. He sang that he was not jealous of any body and no body was jealous of him. He loved his wife and four children. One day the King met him and asked him the cause of his happiness. The Miller frankly told him that neither he was jealous of any body nor any body was jealous of him. Again he loves his wife and children. He was neither in debt. The King was much pleased with him and remarked that the dirty cap of miller was better than his crown and his wind mill was better than his Kingdom. The King called him the pride of England. 7. STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING Once a poet riding on a horse passes through the forest, where the snow was gently falling and covering it. He stops to enjoy natural beauty of the forest. The poet says that he knows forests owner who lives in a village. He could not see him stopping
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there. His horse would think it strange to stop by woods because there was no farm house between forest and lake. It was considered darkest evening of the year. The sound which he could hear was of the blowing winds and falling flakes of snow. The horse moved the bells of harness in order to confirm whether his master has made any mistake. The scene of forest was very charming but poet remembered his promise which he has to fulfill. He has yet to travel a long distance before he may go to bed. BLUE BIRD There was a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches gilded all over with gold. But this man was so unlucky as to have a blue beard, which made him so frightfully ugly that all the women and girls ran away from him. One of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were perfect beauties. He desired of her one of them in marriage, leaving to her choice which of the two she would bestow on him. They would neither of them have him, and sent him backward and forward from one another, not being able to bear the thoughts of marrying a man who had a blue beard, and what besides gave them disgust and aversion was his having already been married to several wives, and nobody ever knew what became of them. Blue Beard, to engage their affection, took them, with the lady their mother and three or four ladies of their acquaintance, with other young people of the neighborhood, to one of his country seats, where they stayed a whole week. There was nothing then to be seen but parties of pleasure, hunting, fishing, dancing, mirth, and feasting. Nobody went to bed, but all passed the night in rallying and joking with each other. In short, everything succeeded so well that the youngest daughter began to think the master of the house not to have a beard so very blue, and that he was a mighty civil gentleman. As soon as they returned home, the marriage was concluded. About a month afterward, Blue Beard told his wife that he was obliged to take a country journey for six weeks at least, about affairs of very great consequence, desiring her to divert herself in his absence, to send for her friends and acquaintances, to carry them into the country, if she pleased, and to make good cheer wherever she was. "Here," said he, "are the keys of the two great wardrobes, wherein I have my best furniture; these are of my silver and gold plate, which is not every day in use; these
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open my strong boxes, which hold my money, both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels; and this is the master-key to all my apartments. But for this little one here, it is the key of the closet at the end of the great gallery on the ground floor. Open them all; go into all and every one of them, except that little closet, which I forbid you, and forbid it in such a manner that, if you happen to open it, there's nothing but what you may expect from my just anger and resentment." She promised to observe, very exactly, whatever he had ordered; when he, after having embraced her, got into his coach and proceeded on his journey. Her neighbors and good friends did not stay to be sent for by the new married lady, so great was their impatience to see all the rich furniture of her house, not daring to come while her husband was there, because of his blue beard, which frightened them. They ran through all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, which were all so fine and rich that they seemed to surpass one another. After that they went up into the two great rooms, where was the best and richest furniture; they could not sufficiently admire the number and beauty of the tapestry, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables, and looking-glasses, in which you might see yourself from head to foot; some of them were framed with glass, others with silver, plain and gilded, the finest and most magnificent ever were seen. They ceased not to extol and envy the happiness of their friend, who in the meantime in no way diverted herself in looking upon all these rich things, because of the impatience she had to go and open the closet on the ground floor. She was so much pressed by her curiosity that, without considering that it was very uncivil to leave her company, she went down a little back staircase, and with such excessive haste that she had twice or thrice like to have broken her neck. Coming to the closet-door, she made a stop for some time, thinking upon her husband's orders, and considering what unhappiness might attend her if she was disobedient; but the temptation was so strong she could not overcome it. She then took the little key, and opened it, trembling, but could not at first see anything plainly, because the windows were shut. After some moments she began to perceive that the floor was all covered over with clotted blood, on which lay the bodies of several dead women, ranged against the walls. (These were all the wives whom Blue Beard had married and murdered, one after another.) She thought she should have died for fear, and the key, which she pulled out of the lock, fell out of her hand.

After having somewhat recovered her surprise, she took up the key, locked the door, and went upstairs into her chamber to recover herself; but she could not, she was so much frightened. Having observed that the key of the closet was stained with blood, she tried two or three times to wipe it off, but the blood would not come out; in vain did she wash it, and even rub it with soap and sand; the blood still remained, for the key was magical and she could never make it quite clean; when the blood was gone off from one side, it came again on the other. Blue Beard returned from his journey the same evening, and said he had received letters upon the road, informing him that the affair he went about was ended to his advantage. His wife did all she could to convince him she was extremely glad of his speedy return. Next morning he asked her for the keys, which she gave him, but with such a trembling hand that he easily guessed what had happened. "What!" said he, "is not the key of my closet among the rest?" "I must certainly have left it above upon the table," said she. "Fail not to bring it to me presently," said Blue Beard. After several goings backward and forward she was forced to bring him the key. Blue Beard, having very attentively considered it, said to his wife, "How comes this blood upon the key?" "I do not know," cried the poor woman, paler than death. "You do not know!" replied Blue Beard. "I very well know. You were resolved to go into the closet, were you not? Mighty well, madam; you shall go in, and take your place among the ladies you saw there." Upon this she threw herself at her husband's feet, and begged his pardon with all the signs of true repentance, vowing that she would never more be disobedient. She would have melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful was she; but Blue Beard had a heart harder than any rock! "You must die, madam," said he, "and that presently." "Since I must die," answered she (looking upon him with her eyes all bathed in tears), "give me some little time to say my prayers." "I give you," replied Blue Beard, "half a quarter of an hour, but not one moment more." When she was alone she called out to her sister, and said to her:

"Sister Anne" (for that was her name), "go up, I beg you, upon the top of the tower, and look if my brothers are not coming over; they promised me that they would come to-day, and if you see them, give them a sign to make haste." Her sister Anne went up upon the top of the tower, and the poor afflicted wife cried out from time to time: "Anne, sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?" And sister Anne said: "I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which looks green." In the meanwhile Blue Beard, holding a great sabre in his hand, cried out as loud as he could bawl to his wife: "Come down instantly, or I shall come up to you." "One moment longer, if you please," said his wife, and then she cried out very softly, "Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see anybody coming?" And sister Anne answered: "I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which is green." "Come down quickly," cried Blue Beard, "or I will come up to you." "I am coming," answered his wife; and then she cried, "Anne, sister Anne, dost thou not see anyone coming?" "I see," replied sister Anne, "a great dust, which comes on this side here." "Are they my brothers?" "Alas! no, my dear sister, I see a flock of sheep." "Will you not come down?" cried Blue Beard "One moment longer," said his wife, and then she cried out: "Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see nobody coming?" "I see," said she, "two horsemen, but they are yet a great way off." "God be praised," replied the poor wife joyfully; "they are my brothers; I will make them a sign, as well as I can, for them to make haste." Then Blue Beard bawled out so loud that he made the whole house tremble. The distressed wife came down, and threw herself at his feet, all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders. "This signifies nothing," says Blue Beard; "you must die"; then, taking hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up the sword with the other, he was going to take off her head. The poor lady, turning about to him, and looking at him with dying eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to recollect herself.
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"No, no," said he, "recommend thyself to God," and was just ready to strike . . . At this very instant there was such a loud knocking at the gate that Blue Beard made a sudden stop. The gate was opened, and presently entered two horsemen, who, drawing their swords, ran directly to Blue Beard. He knew them to be his wife's brothers, one a dragoon, the other a musketeer, so that he ran away immediately to save himself; but the two brothers pursued so close that they overtook him before he could get to the steps of the porch, when they ran their swords through his body and left him dead. The poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength enough to rise and welcome her brothers. Blue Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all his estate. She made use of one part of it to marry her sister Anne to a young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another part to buy captains commissions for her brothers, and the rest to marry herself to a very worthy gentleman, who made her forget the ill time she had passed with Blue Beard.[1] [1] Charles Perrault. Moral: Curiosity, in spite of its appeal, often leads to deep regret. To the displeasure of many a maiden, its enjoyment is short lived. Once satisfied, it ceases to exist, and always costs dearly. Another moral: Apply logic to this grim story, and you will ascertain that it took place many years ago. No husband of our age would be so terrible as to demand the impossible of his wife, nor would he be such a jealous malcontent. For, whatever the color of her husband's beard, the wife of today will let him know who the master is. Empty Drum A man got married to a woman who the King of that place coveted. The King decided to try overworking the man till he died so he could then marry his wife. But each time the man completed his task on time. Even when the tasks were impossible like building a cathedral in a day or a river with ships in it by nightfall his wife assured him it would be done and it was as she said. But then the King came up with an extraordinary task. He asked the man to, "go there, don't know where and bring that, don't know what". The wife assured him and giving him a wallet and a spindle, told him to go to the Grandam who was the old peasant woman, mother of all soilders, take her advice, go and get whatever she asks and come straight to the palace as that is where she will be after the King's soldiers kidnap her. He meets some soldiers and asks them how to get what he wanted but they just tell him that they don't know where they go nor what they seek.
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When he meets the Grandam he gives her what his wife gave him and told her his story. She tells him to go to a city. There he should get the object that men obey more than father and mother and if the King says it is not the right thing it should be broken to little pieces and thrown into the river. At the city when a boy did not listen to his parents he heard the sound of an empty drum and went out. The man steals the drum and goes to the palace but the King said it wasn't what he wanted. So the man played the drum and went towards the river and the King's soldiers followed him. The King was afraid and let the man's wife go and asked him to stop but he just did as he was told. Once the drum was thrown in the soldiers ran away and the man went back home with his wife and the King too ceased to disturb him. This was more of a fairy tale if nothing else. But there probably was some inner meaning to it. I think Tolstoy tries to tell us that we must never give up hope and should keep on working and our tasks will be over on time. The drum is a metaphor for dicipline or rules which when followed can remove chaos. The wallet and spindle were metaphors too I'm sure which probably were money and a hobby respectively. Of course it's also possible that there is no metaphor at all and this is a folk tale and nothing more. Title: The Sphinx Without a Secret Author: Oscar Wilde [More Titles by Wilde] One afternoon I was sitting outside the Cafe de la Paix, watching the splendour and shabbiness of Parisian life, and wondering over my vermouth at the strange panorama of pride and poverty that was passing before me, when I heard some one call my name. I turned round, and saw Lord Murchison. We had not met since we had been at college together, nearly ten years before, so I was delighted to come across him again, and we shook hands warmly. At Oxford we had been great friends. I had liked him immensely, he was so handsome, so high-spirited, and so honourable. We used to say of him that he would be the best of fellows, if he did not always speak the truth, but I think we really admired him all the more for his frankness. I found him a good deal changed. He looked anxious and puzzled, and seemed to be in doubt about something. I felt it could not be modern scepticism, for Murchison was the stoutest of Tories, and believed in the Pentateuch as firmly as he believed in the House of Peers; so I concluded that it was a woman, and asked him if he was married yet. 'I don't understand women well enough,' he answered. 'My dear Gerald,' I said, 'women are meant to be loved, not to be understood.' 'I cannot love where I cannot trust,' he replied. 'I believe you have a mystery in your life, Gerald,' I exclaimed; 'tell me about it.' 'Let us go for a drive,' he answered, 'it is too crowded here. No, not a yellow carriage, any other colour--there, that dark green one will do'; and in a few moments we were trotting down the boulevard in the direction of the Madeleine. 'Where shall we go to?' I said.
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'Oh, anywhere you like!' he answered--'to the restaurant in the Bois; we will dine there, and you shall tell me all about yourself.' 'I want to hear about you first,' I said. 'Tell me your mystery.' He took from his pocket a little silver-clasped morocco case, and handed it to me. I opened it. Inside there was the photograph of a woman. She was tall and slight, and strangely picturesque with her large vague eyes and loosened hair. She looked like a clairvoyante, and was wrapped in rich furs. 'What do you think of that face?' he said; 'is it truthful?' I examined it carefully. It seemed to me the face of some one who had a secret, but whether that secret was good or evil I could not say. Its beauty was a beauty moulded out of many mysteries--the beauty, in fact, which is psychological, not plastic--and the faint smile that just played across the lips was far too subtle to be really sweet. 'Well,' he cried impatiently, 'what do you say?' 'She is the Gioconda in sables,' I answered. 'Let me know all about her.' 'Not now,' he said; 'after dinner,' and began to talk of other things. When the waiter brought us our coffee and cigarettes I reminded Gerald of his promise. He rose from his seat, walked two or three times up and down the room, and, sinking into an armchair, told me the following story:'One evening,' he said, 'I was walking down Bond Street about five o'clock. There was a terrific crush of carriages, and the traffic was almost stopped. Close to the pavement was standing a little yellow brougham, which, for some reason or other, attracted my attention. As I passed by there looked out from it the face I showed you this afternoon. It fascinated me immediately. All that night I kept thinking of it, and all the next day. I wandered up and down that wretched Row, peering into every carriage, and waiting for the yellow brougham; but I could not find ma belle inconnue, and at last I began to think she was merely a dream. About a week afterwards I was dining with Madame de Rastail. Dinner was for eight o'clock; but at half-past eight we were still waiting in the drawing-room. Finally the servant threw open the door, and announced Lady Alroy. It was the woman I had been looking for. She came in very slowly, looking like a moonbeam in grey lace, and, to my intense delight, I was asked to take her in to dinner. After we had sat down, I remarked quite innocently, "I think I caught sight of you in Bond Street some time ago, Lady Alroy." She grew very pale, and said to me in a low voice, "Pray do not talk so loud; you may be overheard." I felt miserable at having made such a bad beginning, and plunged recklessly into the subject of the French plays. She spoke very little, always in the same low musical voice, and seemed as if she was afraid of some one listening. I fell passionately, stupidly in love, and the indefinable atmosphere of mystery that surrounded her excited my most ardent curiosity. When she was going away, which she did very soon after dinner, I asked her if I might call and see her. She hesitated for a moment, glanced round to see if any one was near us, and then said, "Yes; to-morrow at a quarter to five." I begged Madame de Rastail to tell me about her; but all that I could learn was that she was a widow with a beautiful house in Park Lane,
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and as some scientific bore began a dissertation on widows, as exemplifying the survival of the matrimonially fittest, I left and went home. 'The next day I arrived at Park Lane punctual to the moment, but was told by the butler that Lady Alroy had just gone out. I went down to the club quite unhappy and very much puzzled, and after long consideration wrote her a letter, asking if I might be allowed to try my chance some other afternoon. I had no answer for several days, but at last I got a little note saying she would be at home on Sunday at four and with this extraordinary postscript: "Please do not write to me here again; I will explain when I see you." On Sunday she received me, and was perfectly charming; but when I was going away she begged of me, if I ever had occasion to write to her again, to address my letter to "Mrs. Knox, care of Whittaker's Library, Green Street." "There are reasons," she said, "why I cannot receive letters in my own house." 'All through the season I saw a great deal of her, and the atmosphere of mystery never left her. Sometimes I thought that she was in the power of some man, but she looked so unapproachable, that I could not believe it. It was really very difficult for me to come to any conclusion, for she was like one of those strange crystals that one sees in museums, which are at one moment clear, and at another clouded. At last I determined to ask her to be my wife: I was sick and tired of the incessant secrecy that she imposed on all my visits, and on the few letters I sent her. I wrote to her at the library to ask her if she could see me the following Monday at six. She answered yes, and I was in the seventh heaven of delight. I was infatuated with her: in spite of the mystery, I thought then--in consequence of it, I see now. No; it was the woman herself I loved. The mystery troubled me, maddened me. Why did chance put me in its track?' 'You discovered it, then?' I cried. 'I fear so,' he answered. 'You can judge for yourself.' 'When Monday came round I went to lunch with my uncle, and about four o'clock found myself in the Marylebone Road. My uncle, you know, lives in Regent's Park. I wanted to get to Piccadilly, and took a short cut through a lot of shabby little streets. Suddenly I saw in front of me Lady Alroy, deeply veiled and walking very fast. On coming to the last house in the street, she went up the steps, took out a latch-key, and let herself in. "Here is the mystery," I said to myself; and I hurried on and examined the house. It seemed a sort of place for letting lodgings. On the doorstep lay her handkerchief, which she had dropped. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Then I began to consider what I should do. I came to the conclusion that I had no right to spy on her, and I drove down to the club. At six I called to see her. She was lying on a sofa, in a tea-gown of silver tissue looped up by some strange moonstones that she always wore. She was looking quite lovely. "I am so glad to see you," she said; "I have not been out all day." I stared at her in amazement, and pulling the handkerchief out of my pocket, handed it to her. "You dropped this in Cumnor Street this afternoon, Lady Alroy," I said very calmly. She looked at me in terror but made no attempt to take the handkerchief. "What were you doing there?" I asked. "What right have you to question me?" she answered. "The right of a man who loves you," I replied; "I came here to ask you to be my wife." She hid her face in her hands, and burst into floods of tears. "You must tell me," I continued. She stood up, and, looking me straight in the face, said, "Lord Murchison, there is nothing to tell you."--"You went to meet some one," I cried; "this is your mystery." She grew dreadfully white, and said, "I went to meet no one."--"Can't you tell the truth?" I
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exclaimed. "I have told it," she replied. I was mad, frantic; I don't know what I said, but I said terrible things to her. Finally I rushed out of the house. She wrote me a letter the next day; I sent it back unopened, and started for Norway with Alan Colville. After a month I came back, and the first thing I saw in the Morning Post was the death of Lady Alroy. She had caught a chill at the Opera, and had died in five days of congestion of the lungs. I shut myself up and saw no one. I had loved her so much, I had loved her so madly. Good God! how I had loved that woman!' 'You went to the street, to the house in it?' I said. 'Yes,' he answered. 'One day I went to Cumnor Street. I could not help it; I was tortured with doubt. I knocked at the door, and a respectable- looking woman opened it to me. I asked her if she had any rooms to let. "Well, sir," she replied, "the drawing-rooms are supposed to be let; but I have not seen the lady for three months, and as rent is owing on them, you can have them."--"Is this the lady?" I said, showing the photograph. "That's her, sure enough," she exclaimed; "and when is she coming back, sir?"--"The lady is dead," I replied. "Oh sir, I hope not!" said the woman; "she was my best lodger. She paid me three guineas a week merely to sit in my drawing-rooms now and then." "She met some one here?" I said; but the woman assured me that it was not so, that she always came alone, and saw no one. "What on earth did she do here?" I cried. "She simply sat in the drawing-room, sir, reading books, and sometimes had tea," the woman answered. I did not know what to say, so I gave her a sovereign and went away. Now, what do you think it all meant? You don't believe the woman was telling the truth?' 'I do.' 'Then why did Lady Alroy go there?' 'My dear Gerald,' I answered, 'Lady Alroy was simply a woman with a mania for mystery. She took these rooms for the pleasure of going there with her veil down, and imagining she was a heroine. She had a passion for secrecy, but she herself was merely a Sphinx without a secret.' 'Do you really think so?' 'I am sure of it,' I replied. He took out the morocco case, opened it, and looked at the photograph. 'I wonder?' he said at last.

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