COMEDIES OF COURTSHIP By Anthony Hope "It is a familiar fact that the intensity of a passion varies with the proximity of the appropriate object." Mr. Leslie Stephen, 'Science of Ethics' "How the devil is it that fresh features Have such a charm for us poor human creatures?" Lord Byron, 'Don Juan' Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1896 Copyright, 1896 Charles Scribner's Sons Copyright, 1894, 1896, by Anthony Hope NOTE "The Wheel of Love," published in Scribner's Magazine during the past year, and "The Lady of the Pool," both protected by American copyright, are here printed for the first time in book form. The four other stories appeared without their author's consent or knowledge, with their titles changed beyond recognition, and combined with other unauthorized material, in a small volume printed by an American firm. They are here given for the first time in their proper form and by my authority. Anthony Hope. CONTENTS The Wheel of Love The Lady of the Pool The Curate of Poltons A Three-Volume Novel The Philosopher in the Apple Orchard The Decree of Duke Deodonato THE WHEEL OF LOVE CHAPTER I THE VIRTUOUS HYPOCRITES AT first sight they had as little reason for being unhappy as it is possible to have in a world half full of sorrow. They were young and healthy; half a dozen times they had each declared the other more than common good-looking; they both had, and never knew what it was not to have, money enough for comfort and, in addition that divine little superfluity wherefrom joys are born. The house was good to look at and good to live in; there were horses to ride, the river to go a-rowing on, and a big box from Mudie's every week. No one worried them; Miss Bussey was generally visiting the poor; or, as was the case at this moment, asleep in her arm-chair, with Paul, the terrier, in his basket beside her, and the cat on her lap. Lastly, they were plighted lovers, and John was staying with Miss Bussey for the express purpose of delighting and being delighted by his fiancee, Mary Travers. For these and all their mercies certainly they should have been truly thankful. However the heart of man is wicked. This fact alone can explain why Mary sat sadly in the drawing-room, feeling a letter that was tucked inside her waistband and John strode moodily up and down the gravel walk, a cigar, badly bitten, between his teeth, and his hand over and again covertly stealing toward his breast-pocket and pressing a scented note that lay there. In the course of every turn John would pass the window of the drawing-room; then Mary would look up with a smile and blow him a kiss, and he nodded and laughed and returned the salute. But, the window passed, both sighed deeply and returned to lingering those hidden missives. "Poor little girl! I must keep it up," said John. "Dear good John! He must never know," thought Mary.