London Pride OR WHEN THE WORLD WAS YOUNGER by M. E. Braddon _Author of “LADY AUDLEY’S SECRET,” “VIXEN,” “ISHMAEL,” ETC._ 1896 Contents CHAPTER I. A HARBOUR FROM THE STORM CHAPTER II. WITHIN CONVENT WALLS CHAPTER III. LETTERS FROM HOME CHAPTER IV. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW CHAPTER V. A MINISTERING ANGEL CHAPTER VI. BETWEEN LONDON AND OXFORD CHAPTER VII. AT THE TOP OF THE FASHION CHAPTER VIII. SUPERIOR TO FASHION CHAPTER IX. IN A PURITAN HOUSE CHAPTER X. THE PRIEST’S HOLE CHAPTER XL. LIGHTER THAN VANITY CHAPTER XII. LADY FAREHAM’S DAY CHAPTER XIII. THE SAGE OF SAYES COURT CHAPTER XIV. THE MILLBANK GHOST CHAPTER XV. FALCON AND DOVE CHAPTER XVI. WHICH WAS THE FIERCER FIRE? CHAPTER XVII. THE MOTIVE—MURDER CHAPTER XVIII. REVELATIONS CHAPTER XIX. DIDO CHAPTER XX. PHILASTER CHAPTER XXI. GOOD-BYE, LONDON CHAPTER XXII. AT THE MANOR MOAT CHAPTER XXIII. PATIENT, NOT PASSIONATE CHAPTER XXIV. “QUITE OUT OF FASHION” CHAPTER XXV. HIGH STAKES CHAPTER XXVI. IN THE COURT OF KING’S BENCH CHAPTER XXVII. BRINGERS OF SUNSHINE CHAPTER XXVIII. IN A DEAD CALM CHAPTER I. A HARBOUR FROM THE STORM. The wind howled across the level fields, and flying showers of sleet rattled against the old leathern coach as it drove through the thickening dusk. A bitter winter, this year of the Royal tragedy. A rainy summer, and a mild rainy autumn had been followed by the hardest frost this generation had ever known. The Thames was frozen over, and tempestuous winds had shaken the ships in the Pool, and the steep gable ends and tall chimney-stacks on London Bridge. A never-to-be-forgotten winter, which had witnessed the martyrdom of England’s King, and the exile of her chief nobility, while a rabble Parliament rode roughshod over a cowed people. Gloom and sour visages prevailed, the maypoles were down, the play-houses were closed, the bear-gardens were empty, the cock-pits were desolate; and a saddened population, impoverished and depressed by the sacrifices that had been exacted and the tyranny that had been exercised in the name of Liberty, were ground under the iron heel of Cromwell’s red-coats. The pitiless journey from London to Louvain, a journey of many days and nights, prolonged by accident and difficulty, had been spun out to uttermost tedium for those two in the heavily moving old leathern coach. Who and what were they, these wearied travellers, journeying together silently towards a destination which promised but little of pleasure or luxury by way of welcome—a destination which meant severance for those two?