Cobwebs and Cables

Cobwebs and Cables, by Hesba
Stretton

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cobwebs and Cables, by Hesba
Stretton This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
Title: Cobwebs and Cables
Author: Hesba Stretton
Release Date: November 13, 2006 [EBook #19802]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COBWEBS
AND CABLES ***

Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

COBWEBS
AND

CABLES.
BY
HESBA STRETTON,
AUTHOR OF "THROUGH A NEEDLE'S EYE," "IN PRISON AND
OUT," "BEDE'S CHARITY," ETC.
NEW YORK: DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.

AUTHOR'S CARD.
It is my wish that Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Company alone should
publish this story in the United States, and I appeal to the generosity
and courtesy of other Publishers, to allow me to gain some benefit from
my work on the American as well as English side of the Atlantic.
HESBA STRETTON.

CONTENTS.

PART I.

CHAPTER
I.
ABSCONDED
II. PHEBE MARLOWE

III. FELICITA
IV. UPFOLD FARM
V. A CONFESSION
VI. THE OLD BANK
VII. AN INTERRUPTED DAY-DREAM
VIII. THE SENIOR PARTNER
IX. FAST BOUND
X. LEAVING RIVERSBOROUGH
XI. OLD MARLOWE
XII. RECKLESS OF LIFE
XIII. SUSPENSE
XIV. ON THE ALTAR STEPS
XV. A SECOND FRAUD
XVI. PARTING WORDS
XVII. WAITING FOR THE NEWS
XVIII. THE DEAD ARE FORGIVEN
XIX. AUTHOR AND PUBLISHER
XX. A DUMB MAN'S GRIEF
XXI. PLATO AND PAUL
XXII. A REJECTED SUITOR

XXIII. ANOTHER OFFER
XXIV. AT HOME IN LONDON
XXV. DEAD TO THE WORLD

PART II.

CHAPTER
I.
AFTER MANY YEARS
II. CANON PASCAL
III. FELICITA'S REFUSAL
IV. TAKING ORDERS
V. A LONDON CURACY
VI. OTHER PEOPLE'S SINS
VII. AN OLD MAN'S PARDON
VIII. THE GRAVE AT ENGELBERG
IX. THE LOWEST DEEPS
X. ALICE PASCAL
XI. COMING TO HIMSELF
XII. A GLIMPSE INTO PARADISE

XIII. A LONDON GARRET
XIV. HIS FATHER'S SIN
XV. HAUNTING MEMORIES
XVI. THE VOICE OF THE DEAD
XVII. NO PLACE FOR REPENTANCE
XVIII. WITHIN AND WITHOUT
XIX. IN HIS FATHER'S HOUSE
XX. AS A HIRED SERVANT
XXI. PHEBE'S SECRET
XXII. NEAR THE END
XXIII. THE MOST MISERABLE
XXIV. FOR ONE MOMENT
XXV. THE FINAL RESOLVE
XXVI. IN LUCERNE
XXVII. HIS OWN CHILDREN
XXVIII. AN EMIGRATION SCHEME
XXIX. FAREWELL
XXX. QUITE ALONE
XXXI. LAST WORDS

COBWEBS AND CABLES


PART I.

CHAPTER I.
ABSCONDED.
Late as it was, though the handsome office-clock on the chimney-piece
had already struck eleven, Roland Sefton did not move. He had not
stirred hand or foot for a long while now; no more than if he had been
bound fast by many strong cords, which no effort could break or untie.
His confidential clerk had left him two hours ago, and the undisturbed
stillness of night had surrounded him ever since he had listened to his
retreating footsteps. "Poor Acton!" he had said half aloud, and with a
heavy sigh.
As he sat there, his clasped hands resting on his desk and his face
hidden on them, all his life seemed to unfold itself before him; not in
painful memories of the past only, but in terrified prevision of the black
future.
How dear his native town was to him! He had always loved it from his
very babyhood. The wide old streets, with ancient houses still standing
here and there, rising or falling in gentle slopes, and called by quaint
old names such as he never heard elsewhere; the fine old churches
crowning the hills, and lifting up delicate tall spires, visible a score of
miles away; the grammar school where he had spent the happiest days
of his boyhood; the rapid river, brown and swirling, which swept past
the town, and came back again as if it could not leave it; the ancient
bridges spanning it, and the sharp-cornered recesses on them where he
had spent many an idle hour, watching the boats row in and out under

the arches; he saw every familiar nook and corner of his native town
vividly and suddenly, as if he caught glimpses of them by the
capricious play of lightning.
And this pleasant home of his; these walls which inclosed his
birth-place, and the birth-place of his children! He could not imagine
himself finding true rest and a peaceful shelter elsewhere. The spacious
old rooms, with brown wainscoted walls and carved ceilings; the tall
and narrow windows, with deep window-sills, where as a child he had
so often knelt, gazing out on the wide green landscape and the far
distant, almost level line of the horizon. His boy, Felix, had knelt in one
of them a few