The young men, startled, did not wait for a second bidding; they followed the two girls immediately up-stairs.
"No one has been up these stairs but Doris and ourselves since you went down them a week ago," declared Hermione, as they entered the laboratory. "Now look at the lid of the mahogany desk—my father's desk."
They all went over to it, and Emma, pointing, seemed to ask what they thought of it. They did not know what to think, for there on its even surface they beheld words written with the point of a finger in the thick dust which covered it; and the words were legible and ran thus:
"In your anger you swore to remain within these walls; in your remorse see that you keep that oath. Not for love, not for hatred, dare to cross the threshold, or I will denounce you in the grave where I shall be gone, and my curse shall be upon you."
"My father's words to me in the dreadful hour of his death," whispered Hermione. "You may rememberthem, Mr. Etheridge; they were in the letter I wrote you."
Frank did remember them quite well, and for a moment he, like Edgar, stood a little dazed and shaken by a mystery he could not immediately fathom. But only for a moment. He was too vigorous, and his determination was too great, for him to be daunted long by even an appearance of the supernatural. So leaping forward, with a bright laugh, he drew his hand across the menacing words, and, effacing them at once, cried with a confident look at Hermione:
"So will I erase them from your heart if you only will let me, Hermione."
But she pointed with an awful look at her hair.
"Can you take these spots out also? Till you can, do not expect me to follow the beck of any hand which would lead me to defy my father's curse by leaving this house."
At this declaration both men turned pale, and unconsciously moved towards each other with a single thought. Had they looked at the door, they would have seen the inquisitive face of Doris disappear towards the staircase, with that air of determination which only ends in action. But they only saw each other and the purpose which was slowly developing in each of their minds.
"Come, Hermione," urged Frank, "this is no place for you. If you are going to stay in this house, I am going to stay with you; but this room is prohibited; you shall never enter it again."
He did not know how truly he spoke.
"Come," said Edgar, in his turn, to Emma, "we have had all the horrors we want; now let us go down-stairs and have a little cheerful talk in the sitting-room."
And Emma yielded; but Hermione hung back.
"I dread to go down," said she; "this seems the only place in which I can say farewell."
But Frank was holding out his hand, and she gradually gave in to its seduction and followed him down-stairs into the sitting-room, which was fast growing dusky.
"Now," said he, without heeding Emma and the Doctor, who had retreated to one of the farther windows, "if you wish to say farewell, I will listen to you; but before you speak, hear what I have to say. In a certain box which came with me this day from New York, and which is now at Mr. Lothrop's, there lies a gown of snowy satin made with enough lace to hide any deficiencies it may have in size or fit. With this gown is a veil snowy as itself, and on the veil there lies a wreath of orange blossoms, while under the whole are piled garments after garments, chosen with loving care by the only sister I have in the world, for the one woman in that world I wish to make my wife. If you love me, Hermione, if you think my devotion a true one, fly from this nest of hideous memories and superstitious fears, and in that place where you are already expected, put on these garments I have brought you, and with them a crown of love, joy, andhope, which will mean a farewell, not to me, but to the old life forever."
But Hermione, swaying aside from him, cried: "I cannot, I cannot; the rafters would fall if I tried to pass the door."
"Then," said Frank, growing in height and glowing with purpose, "they shall fall first on me." And seizing her in his arms, he raised her to his breast and fled with her out of the room and out of the house, her wild shriek of mingled terror and love trailing faintly after them till he stopped on the farther side of the gate, which softly closed behind them.
Emma, who was taken as much by surprise as her sister had been, looked at the empty place where Hermione had so lately stood, and cowered low, as if the terrible loneliness of the house, nowshewas gone, crushed upon her like a weight. Then she seized Edgar by the hand and ran out also; and Edgar pulled the great door to behind them, and the Cavanagh mansion, for the first time in a year, was a shell without inmates, a body without soul.
They found Hermione standing in the dark shadows cast here in the street by the overhanging trees. Frank's arm was about her and she looked both dazed and pleased.
When she saw Emma she started.
"Oh, it releases you too," she cried; "that is happiness. I did not like to see you suffer for my sins." Then she drooped a little, then she looked up, and a burdenseemed to roll away from her heart. "The rafters did not fall," she murmured, "and you, Frank, will keep all spectres away from me, won't you? He can never reach me when I am by your side."
"Never, never," was the glad reply. And Frank began to draw her gently up the street. "It is but a step," said he, "to Mr. Lothrop's; no one will ever notice that you are without a hat."
"But——"
"You are expected," he whispered. "You are never to go back into your old home again."
Again he did not know how truly he spoke.
"Emma, Emma," appealed Hermione, "shall I do this thing, without any preparation, any thought, anything but my love and gratitude to make it a true bridal?"
"Ah, Hermione, in making yourself happy, you make me so; therefore I am but a poor adviser."
"What, will you be married too, to-night, at the minister's house with me?"
"No, dear, but soon, very soon, as soon as you can give me a home to be married in."
"Then let us make her happy," cried Hermione. "It is the only reparation I can offer for all I have made her suffer."
WhenEdgar closed the front door of the Cavanagh mansion behind himself and Emma, the noise he made was slight, and yet it was heard by ears that were listening for it in the remote recesses of the kitchen.
"The gentlemen are gone," decided Doris, without any hesitation. "They could not move Miss Hermione from her resolves, and I did not think they could. Nothing can move her but fire, and fire there shall be, and that to-night."
Stealing towards the front of the house, she listened. All was quiet. She instantly concluded that the young ladies were in the parlor, and glided back to a certain closet under the stairs, into which she peered with a satisfied air. "Plenty of stuff there," she commented, and shivered slightly as she thought of putting a candle to the combustible pile before her. Shutting the door, she crept to another spot where lay a huge pile of shavings, and again she nodded with satisfaction at the sight. Finally, she went into the shed, and when she came back she walked like one who sees the way clear to her purposes.
"I promised Mr. Huckins I would not start the blazetill after midnight," said she almost audibly, as she passed again towards the front. "He was so afraid if the fire got started early that the neighbors would put it out before any harm was done. But I haven't the nerve to do such a thing with the young ladies up-stairs. They might not get down safely, or I might not have the power to wake them. No, I will fire it now, while they are in the parlor, and trust to its going like tinder, as it will. Won't the young gentlemen thank me, and won't the young ladies do the same, when they get over the shock of being suddenly thrown upon the world."
Chuckling softly to herself, she looked up-stairs and finally ran quietly up. With a woman's thoughtfulness she remembered certain articles which she felt were precious to the young ladies. To gather these together would be the work of a moment, and it would ease her conscience. Going first to Hermione's room, she threw such objects as she considered valuable into a sheet, and tied them up. Then she tossed the bundle thus made out of one of the side windows. Running to Emma's room, she repeated her operations; and letting her own things go, hastened down-stairs and went again into the kitchen. When she reissued it was with a lighted candle in her hand.
Meantime from the poplar walk two eyes were gazing with restless eagerness upon the house. They belonged to Huckins, who, unknown to Etheridge, unknown to Doris even, had returned to Marston for the purpose ofwatching the development of his deadly game. He had stolen into the garden and was surveying the place, not so much from any expectation of fire at this hour, as because his whole interest was centred in the house and he could not keep his eyes from it.
But suddenly, as he looks, he detects something amiss, and starting forward, with many muttered exclamations, he draws nearer and nearer to the house, which he presently enters by means of the key he draws from his pocket. As he does so, a faint smell of smoke comes to his nostrils, causing him to mutter: "She is three hours too soon; what does she mean by it?"
The door by which he had entered was at the end of a side hall. He found the house dark, but he was so accustomed to it by this time, that he felt no hesitancy as to his steps. He went at first to the sitting-room and looked in; there was no one there. Then he proceeded to the parlor, which was also empty. "Good," thought he, "they are up-stairs"; and he slid with his quiet step to the staircase, up which he went like the ghost or spectre which he had perhaps simulated the night before. There was a door at the top of the first landing, and he had some thoughts of simply locking this, and escaping. But, he said to himself, it would be much more satisfactory to first make sure that the two girls were really above, before he locked them in; so he crept up farther, and finally came to Hermione's room. The door was shut, but from the light which shone through the keyhole (alight which Doris had left there in her haste and trepidation), he judged Hermione to be within, so he softly turned the key that was in the lock, and glided away to Emma's apartment. This was also closed, but there was a light there, also from the same cause, so there being no key visible he drew a heavy piece of furniture across the doorway, and fled back to the stairs. As he reached them, a blinding gust of smoke swept up through the crevices beneath his feet, but he thought he saw his way clearly, and rushed for the landing. But just as he reached it, the door—the door he had intended to close behind him—shut sharply in his face, and he found himself imprisoned. With a shriek, he dashed against it; but it was locked; and just as he staggered upright again from his violent efforts to batter it down, a red-hot flame shot up through a gap in the staircase and played about his feet. He yelled, and dashed up the stairs. If he were to suffer for his own crime, he would at least have companions in his agony. Calling upon Emma and Hermione, he rushed to the piece of furniture with which he had barred the former's apartment, and frantically drew it aside. The door remained shut; there was no agonized one within to force it open the moment the pressure against it was relieved. Stupefied, he staggered away and ran up the twisted staircase to Hermione's room. Perhaps they were here, perhaps they were both here. But all was silent within, and when he had entered and searched the space before him, even beneathand behind the curtains of the bed for its expected occupant, and found no one there, he uttered such a cry as that house had never listened to, not even when it echoed to its master's final yell of rage and despair.
Doris meanwhile was suffering her own punishment below. When she had lighted the three several piles she had prepared, she fled into the front of the house to spread the alarm and insure the safety of her young mistresses. Passing the staircase she had one quick thought of the likelihood there might be of Hermione or Emma dashing up those stairs in an endeavor to save some of their effects, so she quietly locked the door above in order to prevent them. But when she had done this she heard a shriek, and, startled, she was about to unlock it again when a vivid flame shot up between her and the door making any such attempt impossible. Aghast with terror, fearing that by some error of calculation she had shut her young ladies up-stairs after all, she went shrieking their names through the lower rooms and halls, now filling with smoke and lurid with shooting jets of flame. As no response came and she could find no one in any of the rooms, her terror grew to frenzy and she would have dashed up-stairs at the risk of her life. But it was too late; the stairs had already fallen, and the place was one volcano of seething flame.
HadHermione been allowed time to think, she might have drawn back from such a sudden marriage. But Frank, who recognized this possibility, urged her with gentle speed down the street, and never ceased his persuasions till they stood at the minister's door. Mrs. Lothrop, who had a heart for romance, opened it, and seeing the blushing face and somewhat dishevelled appearance of Hermione, she cast one comprehending look at Frank, and drew them in joyfully.
"You are to be married, are you not?" she asked, welcoming the whole four with the gayest of bows. "I congratulate you, dear, and will take you right away to my best room, where you will find your box and everything else you may need. I am so glad you decided to come here instead of having us go to you. It is so pleasant and so friendly and the Doctor does so dread to go out evenings now."
Small chatter is ofttimes our salvation. Under this little lady's fire of bright talk Hermione lost the tragic feelings of months and seemed to awake to the genialities of life. Turning her grand head towards the smiling little womanshe let her own happiness shine from the corners of her mouth, and then following the other's lead, allowed herself to be taken to a cosy chintz-furnished room whose home-like aspect struck warm upon her heart and completed the work of her rejuvenation.
Emma, who was close behind her, laughed merrily.
"Such a chrysalis of a bride," cried she. "Where are the wings with which to turn her into a butterfly?"
Mrs. Lothrop showed them a great box, and then left them. Emma, lifting the lid, glanced shyly at Hermione, who blushed scarlet. Such a lovely array of satin, lace, and flowers! To these girls, who had denied themselves everything and been denied everything, it was a glimpse of Paradise. As one beautiful garment after another was taken out, Hermione's head drooped lower in her delight and the love it inspired, till at last the tears came and she wept for a few minutes unconstrainedly. When this mood had passed, she gave herself up to Emma's eager fingers, and was dressed in her bridal garments.
The clock was striking ten when Frank's impatience was rewarded by the first glimpse of his bride. She came into the room with Emma and Mrs. Lothrop, and her beauty, heightened by her feelings to the utmost, was such as to fill him with triumph and delight.
To Edgar it was a revelation, for always before, he had seen the scar before he did her; but now he was compelled to see her first, for the scar was hidden under fold upon fold of lace.
"No wonder Frank is daft over her," thought he, "if she always looks like this to him."
As for Frank, he bowed with all his soul to the radiant vision, and then, leading her up to Mr. Lothrop, awaited the sacred words which were to make them one. As they were being uttered, strange noises broke out in the street, and the cry of "Fire! fire!" rang out; but if the bride and bridegroom heard the ominous word they did not betray the fact, and the ceremony proceeded. It was soon over, and Frank turned to kiss his wife; but just as Emma advanced with her congratulations, the front door burst open and a neighbor's voice was heard to cry in great excitement:
"The Cavanagh house is burning, and we are all afraid that the girls have perished in the flames."
It was Emma who gave the one shriek that responded to these words. Hermione seemed like one frozen. Edgar, dashing to the door, looked out, and came slowly back.
"Yes, it is burning," said he. "Emma will have to go with you to New York."
"It is a judgment," moaned Hermione, clinging to Frank, who perhaps felt a touch of superstitious awe himself. "It is a judgment upon me for forgetting; for being happy; for accepting a deliverance I should not have desired."
But at these words Frank regained his composure.
"No," corrected he, "it is your deliverance madecomplete. Without it you might have had compunctions and ideas of returning to a place to which you felt yourself condemned. Now you never can. It is a merciful Providence."
"Let us go and see the old house burn," she whispered. "If it is a funeral pyre of the past, let us watch the dying embers. Perhaps my fears will vanish with them."
He did not refuse her; so Emma relieved her of her veil and threw about her a long cloak, and together they stepped into the street. The glare that struck their faces made them shrink, but they soon overcame the first shock and hastened on.
The town was in a tumult, but they saw nothing save the flaming skeleton of their home, with the gaunt outlines of the poplars shining vividly in the scarlet glow.
As they drew near to it the front of the house fell in, and Hermione, with a shriek, pointed to the corner where the laboratory had been.
"My father! my father! See! see! he is there! He is denouncing me! Look at his lifted arms! Itisa judgment, it is——"
Her words trailed off in choking horror. They all looked, and they all saw the figure of an old man writhing against a background of flame. Was it a spectre? Was it the restless ghost of the old professor showing itself for the last time in the place of his greatest sin and suffering? Even Edgar was silent, and Frank refused to say, while the girls, sinking upon their knees withinarticulate moans and prayers, seemed to beg for mercy and cry against this retribution, when suddenly Hermione felt herself clasped in two vigorous arms, and a voice exclaimed in the husky accents of great joy:
"You are here! You are here! You are not burned! O my dear young mistresses, my dear, dear young mistresses!"
Hermione, pushing the weeping Doris back, pointed again towards the toppling structure, and cried:
"Do you see who is there? My father, Doris, my father! See how he beckons and waves, see——"
Doris, startled, gave a cry in her turn:
"It is Mr. Huckins! O save——"
But the words were lost in the sudden crash of falling walls. The scene of woe was gone, and the dayspring of hope had risen for the two girls.
A Selection from theCatalogue ofG. P. PUTNAM'S SONSComplete Catalogue senton applicationWorks by Anna Katharine GreenTHE LEAVENWORTH CASE.A Lawyer's Story.New Illustrated Edition. Cr. 8vo.$1.50"She has worked up acause célèbrewith a fertility of device and ingenuity of treatment hardly second to Wilkie Collins or Edgar Allan Poe."—Christian Union.BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.16o, cloth$1 00".. She has never succeeded better in baffling the reader."—Boston Christian Register.THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.A Story of New York Life.16o, cloth$1 00"'The Sword of Damocles' is a book of great power, which far surpasses either of its predecessors from her pen, and places her high among American writers. The plot is complicated and is managed adroitly... In the delineation of characters she has shown both delicacy and vigor."—Congregationalist.X. Y. Z. and 7 TO 12: DETECTIVE STORIES.16o,$1 00"Well written and extremely exciting and captivating... She is a perfect genius in the construction of a plot."—N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.HAND AND RING.16o, cloth$1 00"It is a tribute to the author's genius that she never tires and never loses her readers... It moves on clean and healthy.... It is worked out powerfully and skilfully."—N. Y. Independent.A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.16o, cloth$1 00"A most ingenious and absorbingly interesting story. The readers are held spell-bound until the last page."—Cincinnati Commercial.THE MILL MYSTERY.16o, cloth$1 00THE HOUSE OF THE WHISPERING PINES.Cr. 8vo. Colored Frontispiece. Cloth$1.50"As good as 'The Leavenworth Case.'"—N. Y. Globe.THE OLD STONE HOUSE, AND OTHER STORIES.16o, cloth75 cents"It is a bundle of quite cleverly constructed pieces of fiction, with which an idle hour may be pleasantly passed."—N. Y. Independent.CYNTHIA WAKEHAM'S MONEY.With frontispiece. 16o, cloth$1 00"'Cynthia Wakeham's Money' is a story notable even among the many vigorous works of Anna Katharine Green."—New York Sun.MARKED "PERSONAL."16o, cloth$1 00"The ingenious plot is built up with all the skill of the writer of 'The Leavenworth Case' to the very last chapter, which contains the surprising solutions of several mysteries."MISS HURD: AN ENIGMA.16o, cloth$1 00"A strong and interesting novel in an entirely new field of romance."THE DOCTOR, HIS WIFE, AND THE CLOCK.32o, limp cloth50 cents"The story is entertainingly told..."—Cincinnati Tribune.DR. IZARD.16o, cloth$1 00"Those who have read her other books will not need to be urged to read this; they will be eager to do so, and we assure them a very interesting story."—Boston Times.THAT AFFAIR NEXT DOOR.16o, cloth$1 00"Startling in its ingenuity and its wonderful plot."—Buffalo Enquirer.LOST MAN'S LANE.16o, cloth$1 00AGATHA WEBB.16o, cloth$1 25ONE OF MY SONS.16o, cloth, illustrated$1 50THE DEFENCE OF THE BRIDE, AND OTHER POEMS.16o, cloth$1 00RISIFI'S DAUGHTER.A Drama. 16o, cloth$1 00G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York and LondonWho?By Elizabeth KentAuthor of "The House Opposite"Cr. 8vo. Frontispiece in Color by John Cassel$1.25 net. By mail, $1.40A more thrilling detective story than "Who?" has seldom appeared. Not only does it deal with the story of a crime such as the ablest detective would find it difficult to solve, but there is an added mystery concerning the identity of one of the principal suspects, regarding which the reader's opinion will change a dozen times before arriving at the truth. Every page teems with incidents, forming a succession of dramatic scenes that will keep the reader's interest at white heat throughout.G. P. Putnam's SonsNew YorkLondonThe Adventures of Miss GregoryBy Perceval Gibbon12o. With 8 Illustrations. $1.35 net By mail, $1.50The rousing volume of dare-devil enterprise that Perceval Gibbon has written is a book full of freshness and surprise. Miss Gregory knocks about the world, and wherever she goes she is in the thick of things. At one time it is a Nihilist plot which fascinates her; at another time, a plague-stricken community that calls her. She is in Africa when the slaver is secretly plying his trade, and again, in wicked Beíra, at the opportune moment she interposes her calm, forceful personality between an aggressive ruffian and his friendless victim. Wherever she goes she attracts adventure to her. The book which recounts her extraordinary experiences is full of graphic pictures of men and women in widely separated parts of the globe, and the characterization of these is as forceful and impressive as the narrative in which they play their parts is swift in movement and enthralling in theme.G. P. Putnam's SonsNew YorkLondon
A Selection from theCatalogue ofG. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Complete Catalogue senton application
THE LEAVENWORTH CASE.A Lawyer's Story.
New Illustrated Edition. Cr. 8vo.$1.50
"She has worked up acause célèbrewith a fertility of device and ingenuity of treatment hardly second to Wilkie Collins or Edgar Allan Poe."—Christian Union.
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.16o, cloth$1 00
".. She has never succeeded better in baffling the reader."—Boston Christian Register.
THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.A Story of New York Life.
16o, cloth$1 00
"'The Sword of Damocles' is a book of great power, which far surpasses either of its predecessors from her pen, and places her high among American writers. The plot is complicated and is managed adroitly... In the delineation of characters she has shown both delicacy and vigor."—Congregationalist.
X. Y. Z. and 7 TO 12: DETECTIVE STORIES.16o,$1 00
"Well written and extremely exciting and captivating... She is a perfect genius in the construction of a plot."—N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.
HAND AND RING.16o, cloth$1 00
"It is a tribute to the author's genius that she never tires and never loses her readers... It moves on clean and healthy.... It is worked out powerfully and skilfully."—N. Y. Independent.
A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.16o, cloth$1 00
"A most ingenious and absorbingly interesting story. The readers are held spell-bound until the last page."—Cincinnati Commercial.
THE MILL MYSTERY.16o, cloth$1 00
THE HOUSE OF THE WHISPERING PINES.Cr. 8vo. Colored Frontispiece. Cloth$1.50
"As good as 'The Leavenworth Case.'"—N. Y. Globe.
THE OLD STONE HOUSE, AND OTHER STORIES.16o, cloth75 cents
"It is a bundle of quite cleverly constructed pieces of fiction, with which an idle hour may be pleasantly passed."—N. Y. Independent.
CYNTHIA WAKEHAM'S MONEY.With frontispiece. 16o, cloth$1 00
"'Cynthia Wakeham's Money' is a story notable even among the many vigorous works of Anna Katharine Green."—New York Sun.
MARKED "PERSONAL."16o, cloth$1 00
"The ingenious plot is built up with all the skill of the writer of 'The Leavenworth Case' to the very last chapter, which contains the surprising solutions of several mysteries."
MISS HURD: AN ENIGMA.16o, cloth$1 00
"A strong and interesting novel in an entirely new field of romance."
THE DOCTOR, HIS WIFE, AND THE CLOCK.32o, limp cloth50 cents
"The story is entertainingly told..."—Cincinnati Tribune.
DR. IZARD.16o, cloth$1 00
"Those who have read her other books will not need to be urged to read this; they will be eager to do so, and we assure them a very interesting story."—Boston Times.
THAT AFFAIR NEXT DOOR.16o, cloth$1 00
"Startling in its ingenuity and its wonderful plot."—Buffalo Enquirer.
LOST MAN'S LANE.16o, cloth$1 00
AGATHA WEBB.16o, cloth$1 25
ONE OF MY SONS.16o, cloth, illustrated$1 50
THE DEFENCE OF THE BRIDE, AND OTHER POEMS.16o, cloth$1 00
RISIFI'S DAUGHTER.A Drama. 16o, cloth$1 00
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York and London
Who?By Elizabeth KentAuthor of "The House Opposite"Cr. 8vo. Frontispiece in Color by John Cassel$1.25 net. By mail, $1.40
A more thrilling detective story than "Who?" has seldom appeared. Not only does it deal with the story of a crime such as the ablest detective would find it difficult to solve, but there is an added mystery concerning the identity of one of the principal suspects, regarding which the reader's opinion will change a dozen times before arriving at the truth. Every page teems with incidents, forming a succession of dramatic scenes that will keep the reader's interest at white heat throughout.
G. P. Putnam's SonsNew YorkLondon
The Adventures of Miss GregoryBy Perceval Gibbon12o. With 8 Illustrations. $1.35 net By mail, $1.50
The rousing volume of dare-devil enterprise that Perceval Gibbon has written is a book full of freshness and surprise. Miss Gregory knocks about the world, and wherever she goes she is in the thick of things. At one time it is a Nihilist plot which fascinates her; at another time, a plague-stricken community that calls her. She is in Africa when the slaver is secretly plying his trade, and again, in wicked Beíra, at the opportune moment she interposes her calm, forceful personality between an aggressive ruffian and his friendless victim. Wherever she goes she attracts adventure to her. The book which recounts her extraordinary experiences is full of graphic pictures of men and women in widely separated parts of the globe, and the characterization of these is as forceful and impressive as the narrative in which they play their parts is swift in movement and enthralling in theme.
G. P. Putnam's SonsNew YorkLondon
Transcriber's Note:Punctuation has been standardised. Spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original publication except as follows:Page 19before her head could and itschanged tobefore her head couldadditsPage 87advisable to have an an inventorychanged toadvisable to haveaninventoryPage 120heeded neither his works norchanged toheeded neither hiswordsnorPage 135so may their hearts be. Wontchanged toso may their hearts be.Won'tPage 144Hermoine, and then I couldchanged toHermione, and then I couldPage 209"since Hariet Smith ischanged to"sinceHarrietSmith is
Transcriber's Note:
Punctuation has been standardised. Spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original publication except as follows:
Page 19before her head could and itschanged tobefore her head couldaddits
Page 87advisable to have an an inventorychanged toadvisable to haveaninventory
Page 120heeded neither his works norchanged toheeded neither hiswordsnor
Page 135so may their hearts be. Wontchanged toso may their hearts be.Won't
Page 144Hermoine, and then I couldchanged toHermione, and then I could
Page 209"since Hariet Smith ischanged to"sinceHarrietSmith is