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I wouldn't speak to him because his mother is a servant.''He didn't!''He did; but not exactly like that, but .

. . well, that's what he ... yes'-her head was bobbing-'yes, that's what he meant . . . that's what he said.

He said, no matter how you treated Lily, she is a servant.'Bridget sighed. Deep waters here, deep waters all around. Her voice was low now as she spoke: 'Well, there might be something in what he suggests,'

she said, 'because you know, you will meet different people.'That's what he said: I'll be meeting all kinds of people, and I won't want to talk to him.'Bridget sighed again. 'As I've just said, yes, you will meet all kinds of people, but I hope you're not the kind of person who will throw over your old friends.''Of course I won't, Mammy. But he's awful; and he always thinks he's right. He talks so clever he makes me mad.'

473Bridget rose from the chair and went to the bookshelves and began to rearrange the books. That's what she was fearful of, her daughter getting mad at this young boy who was no longer a young boy, not in his mind anyway. Douglas had said he couldn't imagine from where he had inherited his brain, that it wasn't likely it had come from his mother's side, although of course there could never be any proof of that. And yet, he had maintained that there were no startlingly brilliant members of his own family either.Her daughter's feeling for this boy, Bridget knew, was something very like her own when she had first seen Joe. But then she had been sixteen and Joe something new on her horizon. Her daughter had been brought up with young Joseph; they had been like brother and sister. But they were not brother and sister.She had for the first time been forced to bring the matter to the fore by telling Lily they thought it was best that Amy should go to a boarding school. There had been no need to explain why; nor did she explain that it was she who was plumping for the boarding school; Douglas had said, 'Must we do 474this? In any case, it's calf love and it'll likely peter out; but if it doesn't, would it be so bad?'And she had answered, 'Not in the ordinary way, but there are so many underlying factors. The boy doesn't know from where he sprang; he thinks he is Joe Skinner's son,' to which Douglas had replied, 'Well, let's face it, my dear, that'll come out some time or other. It's bound to. That boy's got a head on his shoulders and he is not going to be easily fobbed off. And besides my side of the business, there are her people, you know. And up till now she hasn't allowed them to come in contact with him. But . . . well, he'll get about.

And there is the future.'Yes, there was the future, and because of it she wanted to protect her daughter . .

. but again, from what? It wasn't only the close relationship, it wasn't only that Lionel Filmore was the boy's father, because as Douglas had already pointed out to her, if there was any bad blood in the boy, then there could be equally as much in Amy, because it all stemmed from the one tree.'Mammy?''Yes, dear?'

475'Why must I go to a boarding school? I thought you liked Miss Tripp.''Yes, my dear, I do like Miss Tripp, but I think that the teaching there is limited. And Cresswell House has such a good name. Your father has looked into it.''I don't think Daddy is all that keen,''Oh, he is, he is. He wants your education to be of the best.''I could always do things and be sent home.'They were looking at each other now, and they both laughed, and Bridget said, 'Yes, you could, dear; and I'd send you straight back.''You wouldn't!' The child had her arms around Bridget's waist now. Looking up into her mother's face and her mouth wide with laughter, she said, 'Not after the third time, for they wouldn't let me in.''Go on; you're an imp.' Bridget pushed her daughter away from her, then watched her run from the schoolroom, crying, 'I'm going to see Daddy.'Bridget didn't leave the room but walked across to the window and waited. And after a moment or so she saw the small figure

476emerging from the gardens and running down the field to the workshops, where the little farmhouse was now occupied by Sam and his wife and grandson, Harry, who was fourteen years old and had lived with his grandparents since being orphaned five years ago . . .Amy burst into the workshop, gasping from her running. And when Sam looked up from his knees, where he had been chipping at the base of what looked like a obelisk, he said, 'Out of puiF again, Miss Amy? You'll go up in smoke one of these days with your run-ninV'It's only balloons that go up in smoke, Sam.''Oh, is it? Oh, we learn somethin' every day.''. . . Daddy.' She now tripped to the end of the barn and to where Douglas was bending over a long wooden table on which there were various sheets of paper; and he turned his head and said, 'Hello, trouble.''Daddy.''Yes, dear?' His attention was on the paper again and the pencil in his hand began to 477trace a line, but stopped when she said in a small voice, 'I want to talk to you.'He straightened his back, sighed and said, 'Well, this isn't the place, dear, is it?''Well, I don't know of a better one, Daddy, because when you're in the house you're always with Mammy, and what I want to ask you I can't ask you in front of her, because she always . . . well, fobs me off.''Well, if the questions are annoying, I'm likely to do the same.'She came close to his side now and put her hand through his arm, saying, 'They're not annoying, Daddy. Can't we take a walk outside?''No, we can't, dear. Look, I am very, very busy.

This is an important order and it has to be completed in a certain time.'When his daughter withdrew her hand from his arm and turned away, he quickly caught her shoulder and said, 'Come around here/ and drew her round to the other side of the table and, sitting down on a long wooden form, he said, 'Well, fire away. What is it you want to ask me?''You won't be mad at me?'

478That all depends.''Well, I don't care if you are mad at me as long as you answer my question.''And that all depends, too, I mean whether I answer your question. But, go on, ask it,''Well . . . and'-now she was sticking her finger into his chest-'I don't listen in to people talking, and I don't do it on purpose; i

Why don't you take me? And, too, I am supposed to have an uncle there who is your brother, and his wife is related to Mammy. It's all very^ puzzling. People have quarrels and rows *•> families but they get over the

482head of yours that you are very precious to both of us. We love you dearly, so very dearly. You're all we have, but you are all we want.5Swiftly now she threw her arms around his neck, kissed him, then, turning, fled from the shop.Douglas stayed by the table for some time, but he didn't resume his work.

And when presently he went down the shop Sam, as if talking to the stone, said, 'Queer kettle of fish.

Young Harry's all mixed up an' all. Tis the times. I can't remember bein' like that in me young days. I think I must have been born when I was about twenty-five.'Douglas laughed as he said, 'It's a very good age to be born, Sam,' the while thinking that Amy wasn't the only one with good hearing . . .It was later that night when, lying wrapped in each other's arms, Bridget said, 'What a strange thing for her to say. It isn't as if she has been neglected. In fact, she's been spoilt.''She's like her mother, she's very perceptive.'Bridget did not take this up, but asked, 'If

483he wasn't there, if he left her or was dead, would you go back to the house?''Yes. Yes, I would; but he would have to be one or the other of the things you have just said, left or dead.''Well, in that case, my dear, you know what I think and I've thought for a long time.''No. What do you think, sweetheart?''I think there is something behind the fact that Victoria found out about the money. I feel there is something else that you're withholding from me. I'm right, aren't I?'It was a good minute before he answered, 'I won't say you're not right, dear, but I can say only this: what there is lies between him and me and I want it to remain like that. And I promise you this, it's the only thing in my life that I shall ever withhold from you.''Then I will ask you this. Is what happened to his detriment alone or to ... the detriment of you both?''It is to his detriment alone.''Well, that's all I wanted to know. Good night, my love.''Good night, my dearest, dearest Bridget.'

T.AKflE PRINTFIG.COOKSON, CATHERINETHE BLACK CANDLE.v.lIPRINTED INUSA"

Keep this card in the book pocket Book is due on the latest date stampedDuBOIS PUBLICSI 8.

BBADY STREETDuBOIS, PA. 15801

(continued from front flap)characters, Bridget unexpectedly becomes involved with the two brothers of a declining aristocratic family and their resounding legacies of good and evil, love and hate, privilege and deprivation that unfold over three generations. With her special insight into the enduring struggles between the classes, Cookson provides an engaging portrait of a small village and the tumultuous lives of its people. The Black Candle is a wonderfully entertaining and moving novel in the unequaled tradition of Catherine Cookson, with its true-to-life characters, gripping drama, and tender romance. And with the creation of the strong-willed, true-hearted Bridget Mordaunt, Cookson has given us a timeless heroine whose courage and wisdom will inspire generations to come.Jacket design and illustration copyright ©

1990 by Wendell MinorPrinted in the U.S.A.

The black candle /LQ PRINT FIC COOKS38041000E5904S.,„ .,n., IIIIMII mil mi in in 11|Cookson, Catherine DuBois PU

The Black Candle is an extraordinary, sweeping, multigenerational saga, told by one of the world's most beloved storytellers, Catherine Cookson. Set in a nineteenthcentury village in the northern England countryside so familiar to Cookson, this heartwarming epic tale is a rich tapestry blending the historical detail, engrossing story, and memorable characters that readers have come to expect of this author.For The Black Candle, Catherine Cookson has created one of her most unforgettable heroines, Bridget Mordaunt, who oversees with a firm but loving hand the candle and blacking factories she inherited as a young girl. Bridget is a woman of innate goodness and character who is the steadfast advocate of less fortunate people such as Joseph Skinner, a factory employee unjustly accused of murder. The most remarkable of all of Catherine Cookson's(continued on back flap) THEBLACKCA NDLE•A Novel'CATHERINE COOKSONLARGE PRINT BOOK CLUB

EDITIONSUMMIT BOOKSNew York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore Volume 2This Large Print Edition, prepared especially for for Doubleday Book & Music Clubs, Inc., contains the complete, unabridged text of the original Publisher's Edition.SUMMIT BOOKS Simon & Schuster BuildingRockefeller Center1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, New York 10020This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents areeither the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Anyresemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirelycoincidental. Copyright © 1990 by Catherine CooksonAll rights reserved including the right of reproductionin whole or in part in any form. Originally published in Great Britain by Bantam Press, a division ofTransworld Publishers Ltd. SUMMIT BOOKS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.This Large Print Book carries the seal of approval of N.A.V.H.Manufactured in the United States of AmericaQuality Printing and Binding by: ARCATA GRAPHICS/KINGSPORTPress and Roller Streets Kingsport, TN 37662 U.S.A.