Fleming_Guy_Earlscourts_Wife.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I.
DUKE mason's adventure.
Duke Mason had lost his way.
There could be no doubt about it. As he paused in per-
plexity and gazed around him, five struck sharply from the
distant Speckhaven churches, clearly heard through the still,
frosty air, and at five-ten th express train from London left
Speckhaven station. Only ten minutes to spare, and com-
pletely lost and bewildered, a stranger in Lincolnshire, and
with not a notion of whereabouts he might be now,
Mr. Mason paused with a face of disgust at his own stu-
pidity and looked about him. Westward lav the fens and
marshes, melting drearily away into the low, gray sky; east-
ward spread the wide sea, a bleak bla-^t sweeping icily up,
with all the chill of the Tierman Ocean in its breath; and
north and south, the dimal wa^^tc land stretched away tree-
less, houseless, unspeaka1)ly forlorn and deserted.
The month was March, the day the twcntv-fiftli. Was
Duke Mason likely to forget the date of that inetnorahle day,
when he lost his way. and the romance of his life began?
For seven and twenty years his life had gone on, as flat,
as dull, as uneventful as those flat marshes that lay on every
side of him, as "fray and colorless as yonder cold gray sea,
and on this twenty-fifth of March, wending his way at his
leisure, to catch the express train for London, and mistaking
the road, an adventure so singular and romantic befell him
as to almost atone for those hopelessly stupid and respectable
seven-and-twenty years.
The short March day was darkening alrcadv. The vellow
wintry sun had dropped out, of sight down there behind the
fens and sand hills; sky and .sea were both of the same cold
Duke Mason's Adventure,
Uruy,, t'X(''|.t wlu'it niic loni;, y. How line wi'stwar*! markfJ
the Hoiiihrc Hinisrl.
"If rciniiitls out! of Ryron's pwrtry," thought Mr Mimn,
who, lic'in;^ ati lulisl in a vi ly siimll way, liad aii .' tor
*utiiios|)lH'ii! i'lTccts; *'!'a(l-(.'olin*(l b'u, niclliiig into Iruil-
L*olori'i sky -dull yellow ^Hiimicr w'.stwanl. l'"l;it iiiiiiiM'9
and wet U'Us, .-.ra i')r crcrpiiij^ u\), and a soiiiar.T iiidi\ idiial ia
for'i;roiiiid, :a/.inf,' inootlily ut llu.' ;ii'i*iiin^: ^lo'un. I'.i'scca
t^'orse tliiiiMS on the lino, in the acmlcniy, and hundriMls of
pcopk; a^apo with admiration, only, uniiappily, this sort of
tliin;4 IS inucli irion' att ractivi' in oil or water cokjrs tl.m iu
reality, ut five oVIoek of a eoid March evenin^^ without a
house or a soul near, .ind jusl too lat(? for iUv. train. I won-
der where 1 am. I'll try on a little way, and tind ut, it I
can, without gcinj^ rouijd to the town."
Mi. Alason t?ave up eontemplatiriK tho general liynaila
asp'r*" of file seme, and Wi'ut forward on his lonely roal.
Ue was muuntin^ tlio rising ^riound now, and in ten min-
utes more stopped ai;;ain and knew exactly where he was.
''The (jran^e, by all that's njysterious!" lie exdaiii.* vl,
aloud, '^nd tive miles from the station if un inch What
un ass I must have heen. to he sure, to take the wron: ^urn-
in^t, when I've been alonj^ here fifty times durinj? the last
f-rVniirht."
It looked like th- end of the Nvorld. A hi^h stone wall "'^se
up abruptly, barring all furtht r projjjress- two massive stone
urates frowned darkly on all observers. Within ro^e the
waving tre's of a paik, and in their midst you cau;ihl sijjht
of all chinine.vs and the p'aked gables of a red-lirick
mansion.
Duke Maaoii had come u))on the Granjj:e in the -peetral
twilight of the Mareh day, and the Grange w;:.- that most
awful habitation, "a jaunted house."
ft was a weird scene and hour. He was, perhaps, as mat-
ter-of fact and uniinafrinativo a younjcj man as vou will easily
find, but iMiko's skin tnrned ti "rooso flesh'' a.'' he tood and
thoufj'ir of the awfn] stories he had heard of vondei -iolitriry,,
mansion amone the tri'cs.
It was so drathfully still it was like the enchanted easrle
ot the Sleeping Beauty, only fat more irrim, else the hand-
omt youuii prince had never summoned up courage- 'o r-nter;
it was like a huge mausoleum, no smoke enred uf froi-i tLe
ureat ^' --^cd cliiiinicys. no dog barked ')" *ound !)nt *he
moarnny or the wind amonpr the trees h'-okc tlie ghastiy
silence.
"And yet people eat, and d^ink, and sleep there," mused
Mr. MaAou; ''and it's zuoib dismal and more lead than thff
Juke Mas*^ ^ s Adventure.
-toinl) of tlio IMuuaolis. Aii, tlwy sny licri''-* a Indy shut up
there af ' "cly us all the houris of Mahomel'.-* |Kir;i(li*'. II u
fcll'iw c. jiily m'i ill tlu'ic now aii'l see for liitii'^clf."
'I'lic |)hi('c was kiiDwii an I.yii.Hth (I'mh^c, iwA likr sweet
Ihou...- iluiurd ''Jliiuntfd llounc," lay
* UiuWt sonip prodigious ban of cxcomrnunliatluii "
'J'wo hundred odd year.s ago there dwelt in yondjT sih'iit"
inaiisiun a tiereo old warrior, who had hrouKut home Id fa"
Griingc a jale, ijenslve younj, hride, asi fair as a liiy anil
aintost U8 drooping. Inside those walls (Ik; htincymoon had
heen spent, and then vSir Alalie went forth to fij;ht for hi;*
kinu, and the pale brido wa;. left ahuie. And then tl::' le-
g.'iid ran of a fair-haired, liand.soi.ie eavalier, who made
his way throUKh the ponderous doors, of a servant's hefrayal,
of a fiery husband returning full of jealoua wrath, of a duel
to the death in one of those oaken rioni.-', an^l of the h:md-
some cavalier falling with a awcjrd thru-4 throuMh the heart
at the frantic lady's feet of a mad woman shut up to slu-iek
her miserable life away in those same ilisnml rooms, ^nd of a
stern old general who fell at the head of his uwii. And the
fair-haired eavalier, and the lady with tlie wild, streaming
hair and woeful faee, haunted (said the legend) Lyndith
Grange to the preseat day. No one lived in the place Imig,
for certain, whether it was the ghosts, or the damp, or the
loneliness that drove them away, and things gradually fel' to
decay, and the Lyndith family left the Grange to the rati-
and the sr)ectres and its own bad uame, for many and many
a long year.
Hut two years befort thi' ^special evening upon which
Air. Mason stands and scrutinizes it, the neighborhood town
of Speekhaven was thrown iiit. commotion by the news that
the Grange was occupied at last.
I'urniture had come down from Ix)ndon two servants a
hard-featured old woman and a stolid boy, had purchased
thing iii the town and brougiit then) to the Grange And
ill the silvery dusk of a May evening a tall gentleman
dark and grim had been dr. yen wnr a slender lady, closely
veiled, to the hauntect tiou.-.e from rht Speckhaven^ station.
After that, for thn^ oi tt-ui weeks, no m')re was known of
thoee mysterious peopie oi iheii d)ings. The. were still at
the Grange, but no one visited them; ihcir very names were
unknown, the great gate.- vert ilway? ioek':d inr' bolted,
anr the hard-featuroc! old vomar- ;:t;.'. tnlid hoy kept their
master's secrets weli mc roicne. inie!-v
One stormy Junt mght. aj- Dr. Worth sat in hiB rmrlor. n
the bosom oi .:^'i tamilj slipperwi ilA dreetui^-vVi'Med
Ur.k^ Ma.ons A'ventiire.
tiiiiiiking
f^ods tlint tlx Wf'ik (if lliiit (]u.y was cinlofl,
tficic cMifiG suf'h }i tliuiidfriiii' knock jit tL(- front door, and
lip.'ctl.v alter suii a \)*
al at {]tv oHicc Ix-l!, as nnulc ^'i: chief
p}iVflic:an ot" Sjx ckiiavjn spring to l)I.s I'cet and grii;: sonio-
ibiii^ su' picioiisly like an oalh bet'.\'en liis Iccth.
''it's a lady took sudden and" uncommon bad," hi?' so;*vant
annonncfd, "whiclj the f^enfleman say.s his carriage i.-^ at the
door, and you're to come immediate, if you please, sir.''
I)r Worth groaned; the rain was pouring, the night was
dark as the regions of IMuto, and his ten o'clock ula^s of
;;iMich stood liiere untasted, and his hed all ready. In Hve
niinulcs,, c'(ated and hatted, he joined the gentleman wait-
ing in the passage. IJe had declined to enter.
"Who's the lady, sir^'' brus(iuely demanded Dr. Worth.
"No i)ationt of mine, I know. And what's the matte'; ^"
"i"(jr Heaven's sake, d(..rt stop to talk now!" exclaimed
tlic gentleman. "We've five miles to go, and the road is
beast'
J'll tell .you as we drive along."
'!');" ioctor Ini'^tened after him to the carriage a handsome
landau and ])air and th(^ driver whirled them off dirtx'tly.
Only (jnee during tliat n'ght drive, through the pouring rain
and iidiy darkness, did the stranger open his lips.
"We are go'ng to Lyndith (jlrange; and the case is what
von.^nidical men call an interesting one, I believe. 1 have
only one reciuest to make; thiit is, that .vou will talk of this
liiaiter as little as possible. 1 will double, treble, quadruple
your fee." And then silenc;? fell.
They reached the Grange- -the ponderous gates flew open
-ihey whirled up a long avenue and stopped. A minute
later and the doctor, at the heels of his leader, wfts travers-
ing draughty corridors and endless suites of dreary rooms.
At the door of an apartment, in a long, chill hall, the mys-
terious gentleman halted.
"Your patient Is here, doctor," he- said, impressively.
"Use all your skill to-night, llemember, the lady must be
saved !"
And then he lield the door open for the doctor to enter,
closing it inmicdiately, and Dr. Worth found himself in a
vast room, all oak flooring, oak paneling, massive old fur-
nivure, and a huge, curtained bed in the center of the room,
big enough and gloomy enough for a sarcopha-.U:;, A wood
fire burned in one of the tiled fireplaces a couple of wax
eandles made specks of light ih the darkness, and the hard-
featured old womail sat in a chair, sewinii on little garments
by tlie wan light. -
At half-past ten Dr. Worth entered that room. At half-
i)ast tw h^ left it* The old woman held a femr.' infant
re.
(Ir..y wfis ondod,
Iroiit (l(.(r, and
5 made ^'', chief
iiid f,'rn;: soiiio-
U(th.
m]," hi.s sei-vjint
n-i-ijige is at the
)leiise, sir.''
. tJie night was
o'clock u]iis of
ready. In Hve
lentleman wait-
r.
ed Dr. Worth,
e matter i"
\v!" exclaimed
nd the road is
;'e a handsome
'm off dinH'tl.v.
le pouring rain
lips.
le case is what
elieve. 1 have
11 talk of this
jle, quadruple
Duke Mason's Adventure.
9
ites flew oi)en
A minute
vvfts travers-
Ireary rooms,
lall, the mys-
imprcssively.
lady must be
ctor to enter,
hirnseif in a
sive old fur-
of the room,
uj, A wood
^uple of wax
nd the hard-
tie ;;!rment8
m. At half-
nir.' infant
this time, in her arms, and during all tho ^ hours the Speck-
haven doctor luid never once seen the lace of his patii'nt.
'Die heavy silken curtaiihs shaded her in deepest gloom, and
lier face had been j)(isir5tently turned from liim and buried
in the pillows,
She seemed very young on the delicate left haiid a wed-
ding ring shone, masses of golden, hair fell, like a veil, over
her the voice in which once or twice sue answered him was
sweet and fresh Ix^yond that all was guesswork.
The man, stil) hatted and overcoated, was pacing up and
down the long hall when the doctor came forth.
"Wellf he asked, in a voice of suppressed intensity.
"Well," n^plied Dr. Worth, rather shortly, "it is well. The
hidy's 'as well as ean be exixcted,' and the baby's about the
size of a full-grown wax doll.-'
'And she is sure to live?"
"That depends ui)on which 'she' you mean. They're both
shes. If you mean the hul.; "
"The lady, of course!" said the gentleman, angrily and
haugiitily,
"The lady's all right, then, with common care, but I
wouldn't like to stake my reputation upon the baby's exist-
ence, rii return to-morrow, of course, and "
"And, with all deference to you, sir, you'll do nothing of
the '-.ort. You'll return no more. Here's your fee T think
you'll find it ample. My man vill drive you back to town,
and the less you say of this night's work the better."
In another half hour the Speckhaven doctor was again in
the bosom of his family, the richer by fifty guineas for his
four hours' work.
And just two weeks hiter the mysterioiis inhabitants of the
Grange vanished as suddeidy and strangely as they had
come, and the old house was givj^n over again to the mur-
dered cavalier and mad lady.
For nearly two j'cars, and then again, as unexpe(!tcdly as
before, a tall u-entleman came down by the London train,
bringing a slim, veiled lady and same two servants back.
The gentleman left the h\dy and returned by the next train,
and who they might be, and whether they were the same, and
what they could mean by such unaccountable goings on, all
was conjecture in the town of Speckhaven. 'J'his was two
months before this twenty-fifth of March crt which Duke
Afason 'Uands and gazes, and no one had "jc : 'ated the ^'-
cret, or se(^n the 'ady yet
As he stood there in the gloaming, he heard, for tiie hrst
liiue^- voices and loototeps within. His heart gave leaj^
lo What Duke Mason Saw and Heard.
Tho iootsteps were fast approaohinci. the voices drawing
iiear^ carriage wlieel.4 ground over the jiravoled avenue.
The soinid of boUs withdravini;, of a key turning sk\vly in
a rusi.y iock, '-vanicd the listener. Duke Mason d /ted be-
hi:ic" "lii'cf tl e liu^e buUi-5~os ^{hc falling darkne:- screen-
in:5 bim as well, lie could see quite plainly, himself unob-
served.
A heavy-featured groom drove out ii,i a two-wheeled chaise,
and an elderly, thiji-faced woman stood looking after him,
and swinginig a huge key.
"Look here, Joseph," she said, "I wish you'd lock the gate,
atid take the key with you; I've the masters dinner to get,
and you know how particular he is, and it's nigh on a quarter
oi' a mile's walk down here from the house, and it's no good
fofching me down again when you're; coming back. Just
lock the gate on the outside, Joseph, will you, and take the
key along i''
She inserted the key 013 the outside, and hurried rapidly
up the avenue out of the cold, shutting the gate before she
went. Joseph looked stolidly at the closed gate.
"I've left it unlocked afore, and no harm came of it, and
T arn't going to get down now. If there never was a lock
on this old rat trap, people would run a mile sooner than
venture in, and wery right they is. I'll be back in an hour,
and arn't goin' to get out to do it, and save your old bones,
Mother Grimshaw."
With which Joseph gathered up the reirs. and gave the
horse h\ head, and trotted oft.
Dvke Mason emerged, hit breath tdirl taken away with
surprise nnd delight.
At Inst I There stood the gates unlocked and unbolted,
and the way to the hidden princess wa? c'enr. He drew the
key from the keyhole, opened the massive ^ate cautiously,
drew it after him again, and in the chill gray ot the March
eveniuii stood within the grounds o the Gran^^
,:
i
CHAPT^JR n.
WHAT DUKE MASON SAW AND KeARO.
Grasping his walking-stick a little tighter, Mr. Mason
madt^ his \^^y up the gloomy avenue of firs. It was quite
d^rrk now, and the very "blacknnss oi darkness'" reiiroed in
this moiot gloomy drive. Therf would be a moon presently;
ponding its rising, the gloom ul TartaruB reigned. It wafi
iust a ouActer o mik to the houNb iii mao^ ibaiv
^'hat Duke ^'a en Saw and Heard, ii
walking brought him to it, looiulii^ up a l)h\ckor, bulkiei
shadow among the shadows. A long, iuw, invguLir mansion,
mucli inclined to run to chimneys iind ;r;il)]r-; and tur^'ots,
with small leaden casements, and two lami)s burning over
the portico entrance.
Through cue f the v.ijulnws !N[ason saw a picture that
haunted him in his slcepii!g and waking dreams lii life
"long. A long, low room, oak i)aneled, oak floured, with here
and there ricli rugs covering its slippery l)lai'kness, l';idel
tapestry on the walls, tajjcstry wrought centuri'.?; ago hy
many a fair / lice and Kilith of the Lyndith raee, mas;ive
furniture, rickety with time, a wood fire blazing clieerily on
the hearth, the only cheery thing in the apaftmiMit, nnd a
little cottage piano in a corn!r, standing open, with music
flpon it, as if the performer had but lately left.
"A very charming bit of still life, after Wat tea u," thought
the spectator; "a very pretty interior, indeed. Now, if the
dramatis personae would but appear!"
The thought had barely crossed his mind when, at if it
had evoked her, the door ojiened, and a yiung lady v'ame
in. Duke gave a gasp.
Her*' wis the sleejjing beauty, the hidden princess "^he
my-^terioLis houri of the haunte.l house, herself
'*And, by Jove? a. beauty of the first water."' thr-ughr Duke,
with as near an approach to enthusiasm as was in his nature;
'tht be^t-looking voung woman I've seen this mr-nth -^
Sundays." ''
Mr, Mason was r'^ub^ -she was vei-y pretty - very prf-rty,
indeed. A petite figure, sliiu, youthful, supple, two or^at
dark ^yes. that lit up her small fiice like dusk star a pro-
fusion of waving yellow hair, that fell in a shining stiower U
he J w.iist.
A dress of wine-colored silk trailed behind her. diamonds
twinkled in her eiirs and on her hands, and in the firelight
nbe made a picture so daz;?ling that Duke gazed breathless,
bewitched.
She went ap to the mantel, a tall structure of black mar-
ble, and leaning lightly against it, looked steadfastly into the
red flaifte. Her clasped hands hung loosely before h'r, the
willowy Hgure drooped, the straight, black brows were bent,
the mouth compresst\l. the whole attitude, the whole ex-
pression, full of weary, hopelt. -^ nain
For nearly ten minutes the voung lady ]to*d without mov-
ing still farintr with 'mi hr\\- into the leapirrtr firelitrht.
Then, with a long. heart-i k ^ijih, -ne sfarled, crossei the
room once or twice, always* lost in deep and painful thought,
tbasi su^derl^ .^eate^ herseii at the piano and bu^au to sin^
12 What Duke Mason Saw and Heard.
iji
ii
Thon, rnoro siuMoiily than she had sat down, ahc; aroaft
her whole face working, and hehl out lier arms with a aup^
pr(ssoI 8ob.
"Robert!" she cried, "oh, my Robert! my Robert! come
back!"
Just at that instant the rapid roll of wheeh outside told
Duke the chaise was returning. An instant later, and the
gates were flung wide open, and the chaise whirled rapidly
up the drive to tlie house.
"F wonder what he thought when he found the key gone I"
reflected Mr. Mason, witli a chuckle.
The chaise ^topped before the portico entrance, and, by
the liglit of the lamps, the watcher saw a tall man spring out,
say a few words rapidly and authoritatively, as one accus-
tomed to command, and disappear into the house. The car-
riage was driven round to the rear, and silence fell upon
Lyndith (irange.
The young huly in the lighted room had heard, and see"n,
too. When Duke looked again, her whole attitude had
changed. She stood erect, her little figure seeming to dilate
and grow tall, her head thrown back, her great eyes alight,
her small hands tightly clenched.
That moment the door was flung open, and the gentleman
entered. A tall gentleman, elderly and stout, and florid and
good-looking, with a* great porfusion of whiskers and iron-
gray hair. A gentleman as grim and sterrk as Lyndith
Grange itself, who gave the young lady a cool glance, a cool
nod, and a cool greeting.
"How do, Olivia? IToth do you find yourself to-night?
Any change for the better since I saw you last, two weeks
ago
v
"I will never go back to town on your terms, TJncle GeoflF-
rey!" she said, her voice trembling with excitement.
"Never! never! T can live here T can die here, if you will,
but I'll never yield ! I only wish T could die, but I live on,
and on, with all that makes life worth living for gone." Her
lips trembled, her voice died away.
The man looked at her with a sneering smile. "^
"Which, translated, means Robert Lisle is gone, and after
him the deluge. T wonder you like to allude to him, my
dear. Disgrace has rarely co'me to people of your blood,
and such disgrace as you have brought upon us rarely comes
to any family. You will not yield. Afay T ask what you
mean to do?"
"Disgrace''' loneated the girl, with sullen anger; "you
Boedn't use that tt^-^rd duite so ofteu, 1 think, I'll not marry
trd.
th a aupr
'I't! come
side told
and the .
i rapidly "
y gone I"
and, by
ring out,
e accus-
rhe car-
ill upon
id seen,
ide had
dilate
i alight,
itleman
rid and
d iron-
yndith
a cool
night?
weeka
GcoflF-
?ment.
1 will,
ve on.
Her
after
p, my
)lood,
omea
you
"you
Larry
What Duke Mnson Saw and Heard. 1}
sir Vane Chartoris, if tliiU's what you mrnn. I'll not! I'll
die first r
Mr. Lyndith looked at Iut, as a man might look at a
headstrong child resisting- with all its small might.
"You'll die first! ^ly i)oor, littl(, rojnantic Livey! It's
80 easy to say that so very hard to do. l^ut I don't tlrink
you'll kill yourself, l/ife is very sweet to young persons of
nineteen, oven though they li:ive lost their Kohert "
The girl started up, goaded to a sort of frenzy.
"rnele (ileoffrey, do you want to drive me mad? Don*t
go too far! I warn you, it is jiot safe! Ah, Heaven liave
pity, for there is none on earth!"
She hroke out into such a wild storm of hysterical so])hing
that the man she addressed was really a little startled. Ordy
a little, for he knew women very well; and he knew when
the tears and the sobs come, they were by no means at their
^lost dangerous.
Geoffrey Lyndith stretched out his hand and touched her.
She shook it oflF as though it had l)een a viper.
"Don't touch me!" she cried; "don't speak to me! You
have been the eruelest guardian, the most unfeeling uncle that
ever lived. You say my father was a hard man. Perhaps
so; but he never would have broken my heart, and driven me
to despair, as you have done!"
"Your father would have broken Robert I.isle's head !" re-
torted her uncle, coolly. "Tie would have shot him like a
dog, as he was," and instead of bearing with your relx^llious
humors, as I have done, he would have ma(ie you marry Sir
Vane Charteris months ago. Take cnre, Olivia, that you do
not weary even my patience and forbearance! Take care 1
do not force* you to obey !"
"You cannot!"
"That remains to be seen. ^Yhat is to hinder my fetehing
Sfr Vane and a clergyman down here, and marrying you out
of hand?"
"No clergyman wouL/ perform such a marriage."
"The Rev. George Lot'tus would, lie owes me his living,
and he understands this case exactly, and knows I am but
obeying your late father's instructions. I give you one more
reek. Olivia. If your reason has not returned by that time,
we v'ill try what a little wholesome coercion will do. Once
married, these whims ^nd vapors of yours will end. You
will like Sir Vane women always like their husbands after
marriage, you know, and I dare say you'll be a very sensible
wife, as wives go, yet. I'm going down to dinner now." He
pulled out b&s watch. "Will you take my arm, Misa
tyndithr ,..._-,.,,....,. . :, . , ...-..,.,, ..,;u.^,
14
Mr. Mason Elopes-
*No, I want r.o dinner."
''Ao you please. Think matters over, m^' dear, and, foi;
pity's sako, do try to be calm, and drop melodrama. Oive
me your promise, and I will fetch you back to town to-mor-
row- We Lyndiths always keep our word."
He loft the rofjin as he spoke. The pfirl crossed to the
window, wringing- her hands in frantic, helpless, despairing
appeal,
*'()h!'' she eried, "is there no help in all heaven and
earth for me?"
She was standing clos-i^by one of the windows, and tlie
passionate prayer was scarcely uttered before it was an-
swered.
A man's face looked at her through the glass a man*s
voice spoke.
"Don't he alar.ned," said the voice, as the man pulled off
his hat. "I'll help you, if you'll only tell me how I"
CHlPTER in.
MB. MA.SON ELOPES.
The young girl recoiled, as she very well might, from so
unexpected an aiparition, and gazed at the stranger with
large, frightened eyes.
"Don't be alarmed, madam," Mr. Mason repeated, with the
greatest respect; "I am a friend, if you will permit me to
say so. An hour ago, chancing to pass your gates, and find-
ing them, for a wonder, unlocked, curiosity prompted me to
enter. I concealed myself in yonder tree quite unpardon-
able on my part, I know; but, again, strong curiosity must
plead my excuse. And in that tree I must own I played
eavesdropper. I have overheard every word of your conver-
sation with the gentleman who has just left this room. It
looks rather suspicious, apparently, I own; but really the
conversation, the whole occiwrence has been so strange, so
out of the usual course, that singularity must plead my par-
don. As T said before now that I am here ^if I can be of
the slightest use to you, madam, pray command me.*'
And Mr. Mason paused for breath. He was not long-
winded as a rule, didn't in the least shine in conversation,
and lo! here he was breaking forth, an orator. Dire neces-
sities demand stringent measures. j
Mr. Mason rose with the occasion, and was eloquent!
The young lady listened and looiied at him. still surprised,
ttill doubtful
'J h
* ' .-'4
(y-t
Mr Mason Elopes
15
and, foL
^a. Give
vn to-irior-
ml to the
iespairing
^ven and
and tlie
wa3 an-
-a man*3
mlled off
from R)
:er with
vith the
me to
id find-
1 me to
3ardon-
y must
played
ionvlir-
m. It
ly the
ffe, so
y par-
be of
longr-
ation,
neces-
rised.
*T am a stranger hrro," pursuod Diiko. "1 caino from
London two weeks a^o, to visit an old friend residing in
Rpeckhavnn. To-nij^ht T wis to hnve rotnrned homo, and
thinkinj:^ of sonicthinpr else, took the wronff turning at the
crossroads, and found niyself htjie. I am an intruder, I
know, and have no business whatever on the premises, but
tip.ini I repeat: Being here, if T ean be or any use to
you
She drew near, her lips ajiart, her eyes shinincr, iicr hands
clasped.
"You w-11 help nie! I want to escape, I am a prisoner
hcrCo Oh I surely you are not deceiving me I You are hot
an emissary of Mr. Lyndith or Sir Vane CliartcrJs!"
"Madam, imtil within the last half hour, T never knew
those two gentlemen were in existence. I will help you ia
any way you may please to name."
There was no doubting the sincerity of hi^ tono. Still,
the mysterious young lady gazed at him, a,s if to rtad his
heart in his face. Poor TVike! it wasn't at all a handsome
face. His eyes were of the palest, most insipid sky-blue
his nose was a decided snub, his whiskers were sparse, and
wont to crop up in a variety of i)ale-yellow and dull-red
Gtubble, that surprised even himself. The nost sentimental
Rchoolgirl could nut for Hie life of her make a hero of
Marmaduke Mason, but tae silliest schoolgirl ff them all
might have trusted him, as she could have dared to ti;uat
few of his sex.
It was an honest face, and the clear eyes searching it
knew they might trust him. She leaned forward to him
through (lie half-open window. I'he moon, rising, now
gleamed forth from a bank of jagged clouds, and silvered
the sweet, pale fate.
"Will you help me to escape?" she whisperel, earnestly.
"I am a prisoner here 1 have been for the last two months.
My uncle is my guardian, and he wants me to mai'ry s man
I hate I hate!" She set her little teeth, and ihe big. black
eyes flashed. "1 will run away to-night, if vou will help
me."
"I will help youc lell me what I am to doV
*'TIow did you say you got in? The gates f"
locked and bolted."
*''! hey were not this evr-riing. The oervanf wlr:^ drove ^o
the station thought it too much trouble to descend and lock
them after him. It appears he is in the habit of leaving
them unfastened, and no harm has ever come of it. I was
in hiding; the moment he left I drew the kes from the
h
vays
16
Mr, Mason Elopes,
lock -here it. is am] canio in. I don't know what hn said oi
di'l, I'm sure, when he came back and found it gone,"
"Then there is notliinti: to prevent niy e.s(;aiinfr. Oh,
thank lloaven! I belu ve I should fio mad if kept another
week lierr. But it is S( inueh k* a^k of you, a atran^cr, to
do what I want."
*'i\ot one n-hit too mu h Please don't think of me. Wlinl
am T to do ?''
The yirl {.?hineed anxio\Js]y over her nhouhJtr,
"If you arc seen. J don't know what may happen, Mr,
Lyndilli is oh! an awful nuii! and he will return here
directly. lie i-: pinp: to stay all niffht, and the doors and
windows will be made fast in aH hour. If I ^et away at all
it will be midnight fully l^efore I dare venture. And in the
meantime " She looked at him more anxiously.
"'Yes. Miss Lyndith. I bog your pardon, but I heard him
call you that, you know."
"My name is Olivia Lyndith. But between this and mid-
night and it is only seven o'clock now ohT^Mr. '^
"Mason, Miss Lyndith."
"Mr. Mason, how will you manag'c? 1 hese March nights
are so cold, and five long, lonely, freezing hours! No, it ia
too much!"
She clasped her hands and looked at him in despair. Duke
8m i led.
"Please don't think of me, Miss Lyndith. I will wait with
all the pleasure in life. I don't mind it upon my word
and honor, I don't! I like it yes I do it's an adventure,
you see, and I never had an adventure before in the whole
course of my existence. I will go back to my friend, the
elm tree, and wait for midnight and you. May I ask how
you propose getting out?"
"Through this window. Oh! how kind, how good you are,
sir, and I am quite friendless nnd alone here! These win-
dows are secured by bolts on the inside. I can easily draw
them, lift the window, and jump out. Oh, Mr. Mason, go
quick, for pity's sake. My uncle is here!"
She sprang back from the window. Duke made for hh
tree. Just as he regained his roost the door opened, and
Mr. Lyndith, looking less grim and more humanized, as the
most savage of men, I notice, arc apt to do after dinner,
came in
" The young lady had flung herself inro his ami'^haiT btr
fore the are. She arose sullenly at his entrance.
"One moment. Miss Lyndith," he said. "Will you return
with me to-mor.'ow to London?" - , - .
*Y8, decidedly.'' ^ ., . .
Mr. Mason Elopes.
r;
ho f5ai(I fi
ins-. Oh.
arjotlier
10. Whnf
X'n, Mr,
n'-M here
loors aii(i
ay at all
id in the
?ard him
md mid-
h nip^hts
^O, it 13
Duko
ait with
y word
'enture,
? whole
nd, the
3k how
^u are,
e win-
^ draw
I. ffO--
or hifj
, and
as the
liner,
r ber
eturo
i.8 the promised wife of Sir Vano Ch:irteri.s?"
-*No!"
"Then you prefer roinaininpr a prisoner indefinitely?"
"I prefer anything to marrying Sir Vane Cliarleriri, Good*
nifi:ht. Uncle Geoffrey."
"Hut, Olivia "
"Good-night!" Olivia said, with a flash of her great, Idack
eycri; and with the words she was gone.
And Duke waited out.side. One by one the minutes told
off on his dial-j)late; sloiN'ly the erystal moon swam up t.'io
pnri)le sky; brightly burned the frosty stars, and slowly,
from head to foot, the wi eher grew benumbed. Most lugu-
brious, most unearthly, wailed and moaned the wind through
the trees; in the dead silenee he could hear the dull ri)ar of
tlie surf six miles away. Would midnight, would Miss Lyn-
dith. never come?
Yes. At half-past eleven exactly he heard the cautious
withdrawal of the window bolts. With an inward thank.s-
giving, and all cramped and stiff, Duke got do-A'ii from tiio
tree, and approached. Yes; there she stood, the moonlight
shining on her pale face and starry eyes. She wore a cloak
and hood, and held a veil in her hand. She motioned him
to silence, opened the window, and drew herself carefully
through the narrow aperture. The distance was not fivo
fi'ct, but Duke lifted her gently down before she could
sjiring. Her teeth were chattering, partly with cold, partly
with nervous terror.
"Come on!" '
He drew her hand within his arm it was no time for
ceremony, no time fur standing on degree and hurried with
her down the avenue. They never spoke. The gatas were
secured by massive bolts. Duke shot them back easily, and
she stood on the moonlit highroad free.
"Thank Heaven!'' he heard her whisper, as she glnneej
back, with a shudder, at the gloomy pile. "I wiil nev-- go
back alive."
She took his arm again, and they hastened rapidly on.
Excitement lent them strength and speed i)erhaps neither
had ever walked in their lives as they did that night. They
were dead silent by the s^-iy-both were breathless.
They rea bed tl^ t'wn as the Speckhaven oiof-k^^ wcrw
striki'i;^ t'f'-' pjatl.r ^iii-r niid'iilc:ht. It lay s+ill in the moon-
light solciMily !till white and cold. They iiurricd through
its c^\vc^ street.3. iiol meeting half-a-d'?:en ;^;eoplo until tiny
had left it behind. ,' ' ; -- .v'i -
The station stood, a.= it is in the nature of stations to
Stand, in a dreary track of waste land, on the outskiita oi
l^
Mr Mason Elopes.
thos town. At haW-past twrlvo t^oy readied it. One or two
ofHciah;, with blue noses and sleepy eyes, stared at them
p'olidly. 'Die next train for London was a alow train; and
it would i)Hss at two-fifteen. Nearly two lunirs to wait!
She sai.'v down in a j-cal, exhausted white as a spirit. Duko
left h( r bv the. fir(^, and went in search of refi-eshinents; hut
at th it Ijour there was nothing to be hal. Me returned to
tf'll })er f"\ with a disappointed face, and, to his surprise, she
lookcil up at him with great tears shining in the dusky eyes,
and 'ook his hand in both her own.
"J low 'good you are?" she said. "How good! how goodl
How ean I ever thank you, Mr. Mason f
Mr, Mason had, like all his sex devoid of little weak-
nesses of any sort, themselves a strong aversion to scenes,
Jle turned very red, and drew his hand away, as if thohO
soft lingers burned him muttering something incoherent
about "not mentioning it taking a little nap in her chair
before the train came."
"Wait a minute," she said; "we don't know what may
haj)pcn! I may bo followed, and brought back in spite of
you; and some day I may need a kind friend's help again.
Take this ring; it is worth a great deal. Oh, you must and
kee]) it for my sake. Give me your London addnvss, nw
that we have time, and whether we get safe to Paris or not.
Some ilay I may seek your help again; and if I ever need
you. you will come?"
"I will come," he said, simply.
I'c ;'.v:ive her the address, No. 50 Half-Moon Terrace,
BI(oM'f bury, and she wrote it in a little pocketbo ik. The
t ing siie had forced upon him blazed in his hand like a glow-
ing coal. It was an opal, curiously set in dead gold most
sini'-trr and beautiful of stones.
"Thank you, Mr. Mason," she repeated, looking grate-
fully up with those wonderful black eyes. "I will never for-
get your kindness while I live. And now I will try to rest
until tlic train comes."
She sank down in her chair before the fire, shading her
face with one hand, and Duke left her, and paced up and
down the platform. How the moments lagged it was worse
than waiting in the tree. Once in motion, and Speckhaven
in the distance, he could feel almost safe not before.
"Poor little thing!" he thought; "poor little, pretty, young
lady! What a brute that uncle must be to persecute and
imprison such a helpless, tender creature, and what a lucky
fellow that Robert is !"
One! pealed from the station clock. An hour and fifteen
minutes j9t to wait, and every seoond precioufi. Half paal
In the Waifinu-Room.
N
one! two! Duk's ht,nrt was hcatinj; thicu nnd fast '.vith
fiusponsc. Fifteen minufe.s iiion* - lie would ^o and see if ^;ho
Blo|)t poor cliild. He tiin.i.'d ti ^)h -stopjicd slmrt hi^ lieart
el)p]KMi, too, for carriage vvln'cls were tlyiii^; tliroUKl tl"
sili'iit streets, straight aloii^ to the station. Xearer. nearer!
A sudden stop a man leaped out and slro(h strai^^ht to tlie
waitin(.r-rooni. lie heiird a low. woi'dle.-ts cry within th;il tild
hiui all. Tlien, with elenehed tists and a feroeious feilin;:f'in
hi.s usually j)eaeeful hreast, he ini^do for th(i waitinnrooni,
and lootiiinj^- n\) hiaek stern grim awful ho coii fronted
Mr. Gcjotfrey Lyndith.
CHAPTKR IV.
IN TIIK WAITIN'G-HOOM.
It wns a decidedly strikinjf scene* that sudden api)onr-
anec of Air. (leoffrey Lyndith in the waiting-room of the
S])eckhaven station.
Duke, regarding it from the doorway, thought so. Mr.
Mason, by profession, was a sceno-iainter to the Royal
Waterloo Britannia Theatre, and, viewing the tableau in a
purely professional light, he decided it would be rather a
strong -finish for a scene on the boards.
The young lady had arisen, and stood facing her guardian.
Her small, dark face, always colorless, was blanched to a dull,
dead white now, but the large, dauntless, dark eyes met his
full defiant. She gave one swift, sidelong glance to wlicro
Duke stood, and made a rapid and almost imperceptible} mo-
tion for him to remain there.
Mr. Lyndiih from his entrance never noticed him, though
his glance scanned the bleak apartment in search of any one
who might be his runaway niece's companion, ile came up
close to her, grim as an Egyptian death's-head.
"What does this mean, Olivia f'
She looked at him and laughed, a hard, bitter laugh
enough.
"I think it is pretty plain. Uncle Geoffrey. I am trying
to run away. In fifteen minutes more I shotild have suc-
ceeded, too. W^hy have you followed me, Mr. Lyndith?"
^Rather an insolent question, I think, anc^ an unnecessary
one, too." ^
"For its insolence I don't know of its necessity I am
very sure. "Why have you taken tiie trouble to follow rae?
You certainly don't expect I shall go back?"
Tbfiiy wer strlkuoglj like each other^ as the^ itood there^
'li,l^
20
In the Wnitinft-Room
iiiiii
n rid, Hullt^n i?lo' of nuRor Iturtiliii,' i]op\) in tfijr ryes, thf
young giiT- liai..' 'juw, n-soiute lips roIn^)r'^sl(^. The man
kiu'W hor vv'll, mill knt'w tlint tlic Ikmit hiul coiiip whon he
riiU!-t play hin l;jsf, cml. !! dul not Mii^wrr Iut last tlcfiant
reniiiik; \ui nsknl n !Ursfii), \ry rjiiictl^ .
'Are yoii nlonr, )Iiviii ?"
"Who Im Klxdy to be my nonipnnion ^" slu:- nnswcrod, nv-k'
lesijy. "What. Iriciid havo 1 thanks to you who is there
in tho world to l;o my onipanion in any of niy rohollioua
fliglits? I stand here as 1 sand on earth---alone ll'^aveu
help nc!"
Iler voiee broke a little. With a pa'^^'ionate pesture she
Itirncd gway and looked into the fire. Mr. J.yndith regarded
her in stony ealni.
"May I ask your present inteniions, Olivia^ Tt would be
a pity for us to niisunlerstand eaeh other in the least."
'*1 am going to Varis," .'-he answered, her reekless manner
returning. ^'Atadaine hi (^iintesse de Florial was my riiother'a
friend. She will protect and slielter me."
"She will not defy your '' guardian. A Frenchwoman
brought up as i^fadame do Florial has been would be the
very last on earth to eountenanee a young, unmarried girl
m such insubordination as yours, Olivia; and if it were
otherwise, I have law and right on my side. Remember. I
am your guar ..ian !"
"You are my tyrant my jailer! I will never go back to
the Grange never, so help me Heaven!"
She raised her arm with a gesture worthy Rachel herself.
Mr. Mason, in the doorway, contemplated her admiringly.
"There is a court of appeal for such as I, even in England.
To that orphan's tribunal I will go, and we will see whether
you are to be an Eastern despot, and I your slave, or not.
In fifteen minutes the London train will be here; in fifteen
minutes I leave Speckhaven forever. I will not go back,
Geoflrey Lyndith!"
lie drew out his watch and looked at it, replaced it, and
came closer to his niece.
"Very well, Olivia, it shall be as you say; only I cannot
permit you to travel alone; T will at least accompany you,
and, instead of flying to Paris, you shall return with me to
Park lane. Such an escapade as that you propose is some-
thing more than preposterous a young lady of your posi-
ti(m, my dear, running abotft England and France alone!
You will come honic with me, and you will listen to reason,
and marry Sir Vane Charteris in April, and go buck with
him to Vienna. Hear me out, please. You once told me you
would, on one condition. That condition at the time I re-
nin
In the Waiting-Room,
91
fui?d to comply widi. I witli.lruw my retusal to-iiiflit,
PromiHe to murry Sir Vunc, aiitl I will tiilr you ulrjiiulit to*
Iii^rlit to- it I
Slio startc'i ii|. with tlie ^'^lu^(' Diiivc hid sn m hi t'ti-
h'r iiiiiMl( ciiispt'd, iwr tyv^ li';itiiig and lighting, hfj lipg
l)roiithI(vS nnd jiiuirt.
"riK'lc (Jcofficy you will?"
"I will."
"It still livc.-i, thru, luid is widl happy?"
Mr. r.ymlith smiled M:riiidy. *
"It still livoa; it is woll, I U'li'vt;, nml as happy as y(ung
persons of one year and nine inonth:^ usually arc Vn shall
havo it, to do with it as you ph-asc, only I hopo, tor tha
honor of the family, Miss Lyndith." he laid stronj^ emphasi!*
on the name, "that you will still continue to keep its mater-
nity a secret. I'pon my word, I don't know what Sir Vane
would say or do if "
Olivia T.yndith's black eyes flashed upon him with an al-
most savage light.
"Leave his nanie out of tl^.e question, if you please. Thig
is your last card, T am aware; you have played it. N(w sup-
pose I still refuse?"
There was a whole world of scorn and defiance in th? hand-
some, mutinous face of tlvis girl of eighteen. She was
trembling all over, partly with cold, partly with, nervous (x-
citement. Geoffrey Lyndith met her blazing eyes steailily,
with a gaze cold, hard, inflexible.
"In that case you shall never see it, alive or dead. It shall
be taken from the comfortable home in which it is now, and
j^iven over to the poorest kind I can discover. It shall he
brought up in squilld poverty and vice, a creature, which,
when it attains womanhood, you will be the first to shrink
with horror from. That is all."
A more pallid h je came over the girl's pallid iacc her
very lips whitened .;o ashes.
"It will be a fate good enough for Tlohcrt Lisle's child.
For you, Olivia you are but eignteen for Three years more
do as you will, say as you will, the law makes me your
master. Your talk is nothinpc but talk the only thing you
can bring r gainst me is that I try to carry out the condi-
tions of your late father's will, and see you Lady Charteris
upon your eighteenth birthday. You refuse I h^vc reason
to fear you will run away and go to tlie bad. and. to t)re-
vent it, I fetch you down to my coiintry house aiil lavs
you there with two trusty servants. Your orphan's coiirt
will tell you I am doing my duty. And should you make
any 8Uch appeal'^ ^his face grew black and A^id aun^ iron-^
t i;
?x
In the A/. '"Jr^g'Rooni
, t
ir
It
! I
iHli
"I will tell to the worl: the whole story of the shame^uJ
past how you, a child, scarce sixteen, ran away to Scot-
land with a yeoman's son a thief. Miss Lyndith, caught in
the very act- -a fellow drowned, as he deserved to be. in his
flight to America. The world shall know this charming
story, though the honor of all the Lyndiths that ever lived
go with it. Ycu are very young, Olivia; you are very hand-
iome y.tu are proud, and came of a proud race how will it
be with you ftien ?" - i
All her high courage only a frantic woman's courage at
best had given way under the lash of his scorpion tongue,
under his resolute man's strength. She had covered hot
face with both hands dry, hysterical sobs shook her. Tlie
pxcit'oment of the night, the cold, the desolation, were toll-
ing .)n her, as such things tell on her sex. Duke Ma.ron's
fists clenched the desire to go and punch Mr. Lyndith's
head was growing too great for human strength to bear.
"I am sorry to distress you, Olivia," her uncle said, after
a very brief pause; "but, my poor, impulsive, headstrong
child, it is for your own good. You must obey your dead
father. You must marry the man he chose for you y-ou
nuji-t submit to the inevitable. Let the disgraceful oast be
blotted out. become the wife of an honorable gentleman, and
behave like ^ rational being. You can't suppose T want to
drag the story of that dead boor's villainy, and your folly
to call it by no harsher term before the light? I am your
best friend, Olivia, though you may not think so. I d(n't
w'Hnt to ill-treat the little one, to visit the sins of her !)a rents
on her. ohc has been well treated and cared for since hvT
birth, on my honor she has, and I will give her to you to .io
with as you please, as soon as we return to town 1 promise
you this if you will promise to marry Sir Vane Chnrrciis.
There are eight niinutei=! still before the train come-., 1 ^ V^
you five of them to decide. Robert Lisle lies at ihe bott(^:n
of the Atlantic, and you must marry some time Try aiul
consider that, Olivia,"
He turned and left her. Her hands d'-opped from b('-
foro her face; she walked over to one of the windows, and
looked oul. Th.erc was a whole world of despair in the larp:(\
mehnvhnlv r-yes; her arms hung listlessly by her side; she
stood th"! .^iloiie, a v( ry. tigurc of desolation.
The bniiir.iU nii(lnii,''ht moon shone down with itt ivory
light; the dark, spiidy waste glimmered in its bea'r;^.. The
wind of ;hr cold Tkfarch norning sighed ecily aioimd tho
lonoly bviilfing without the dreariness, suitir.; '^ - utter
misery within,. She sighed a long, shuddenii'^ : art-sick
sigh.
In the Waiting-Room.
'*He is right," she t^-^vc-lit; "it is inovitable. Ah, Robert,
, r.iv love, my husband, I were only with you, under th?
dark Atlantic waves, ijut I must have Vour child my
baby my darling, at any cost to*myself. What (kjos it
matter what becomes of such a wretch as 1 am'^ It l must
marry some one as he says, as well Sir VTine as another. 1
will Ro tn St. George's in lace and orange blosso.ns, and bo
congratulated, and smile, and play the dreary play out.
Oh, me, what a farce it all is, at the best, ^d I am so
young, and life is so long so long!"
Slit; leaned against the window, and her thoughts went
hack to just such moonlight nights gone never to come again.
Nights when he had been by her side, down in the leafy ar-
cades of Lyndith Court, in far-away Staffordshire, and life
had seemed more beautiful and blissful than a fairy tale,
or an Arabian leg^end. Again she could see him, tall, strong,
beautiful, with man's best beauty; again his arm was about
her again his voice in her ear.
"He true to me, Olivia; trust me through p.Il things for
better, for worse; and, as surely as heaven shines above us,
I will come back to claim you."
And she had promised and
"The five minutes have expired, Olivia," say the pitiless
tones of Geoffrey Lyndith, close beside her; "is it to be yes
or no ?"
She turned around and lifted in the gaslight a face sr.
deathlike, eyes so d^m and lifeless, that even he shrank
away.
''Tt is yee. Uncle Geoffrey, and may Heaven forgive vou,
I never will."
''You are hysterical. Olivia I pardon your wild wordc.
You promise, if I restore to you your child, to marry S-c
Vane Charteris?" ^
"T ])romise !" '
The words dropped lik- ice ^rom her lips. He held out
h5i hand, looking at her .iiieasily.
*Tt is 1 jdmpact between us you will i:eeT Vout woi'd,
Olivia?"
She drew back from hi? extended hand with a gesture ot
inviescribable repulsion.
'*! will never shake hands with you again as long as 1 iire,
and will keep my word. Hive you not said we L.vndirhH ql-
wuvs do that 1 could te'- -^Xj of 2 proini-:e 1 made 'wo
years ngo that 1 am oreaifoa orvv. out you would sii. v ''ash
piomises made to yeomen^ -;on? u'e better broken than kept.
Are you quita sure. Mr iciiia /ou will keep you' oledtye
tome?"
((|!
M
U
In the Waiting- Roon?
"On my sacred honor. And now I must srmt Josephba:'
to the Grantee, and there will be barely time to ^et our
tiek(-ts hefjre the tram comes. ''
lie hnsriu'(| out. Miss L.vndith at once crossed ilie wait-
^ny-rooni to \vli(re Duke Mason still stood unseen.
"I am ^)in{\ with aiy uncle," slic said, hurriedly; 'there is
no alti-niativc, Wh.it . /er hapj^cns, with all my heart I thank
you." * . .
She took liis hand in both her own, and looked steadily up
in his honest, homely face.
"You have a home, a wife, mother, sister, perhaps? Tell
me.
?
n
"F have a home, sucli as it is, and a sister to keep it ye
The lar^e, dark eyes still searched his face, the soft,
patrician fin^-ers stiil clasped his own.
"You have a good face, an honest face, and a kind, loyal
heart, I know. If it is ever in your power, Mr. Mason, I
v.'onder if you would aid me again ^"
"As freely as I hav( aided you to-night, madam."
"Then I have your address, you know if T ever send for
you if I send for you soon will you come to me, no matter
how strange it n:{;y seem?"
"T will come!"
She lifted his hand ai.d kissed it. Mr. Marmaduke Mason
hliislied crimson under his sallow skin, and absolutely tried
to draw it away.
"tr^iod gracious!" he thought, "if Tiosanna could only see
this."
' Don't let hiln see you; he may suspect, and I thank you
with all my soul."
She left him. ^fr. Lyndith strode in and went to the
ticket-ofllice, and on tlie instant the train came shrieking in.
"Come, Olivia."
He drew her rapidly with him into a first-class compavt-
nicnt. Duke modestly traveled second-class, and took his
place, too.
Thc^re was a shriek, a clanging bell, and awa." the "resonant
steam ea.de" rushed through the blue English night, and
Speckhavon lay like a place in a dream behind them. It
was .Jl over, and he was going back to London to the Royal
Waterloo Britannia, to Bloomsbury, and Eosanna and his
old, humdrum, commonplace life, and oiTly the yellow gleam
of the opal on his finger was left to remind him that his.
Btrange adventure of this night was not all t dream. .
;., '".? ^ *"v -
CPIAPTKR V
ROBERT H A W K S I, i: V .
On the first of April, in the year of griU'' 1S47, the slcam-
Iship Land of Columbia sailcfl from New York to Liverpool,
bearing many passengers to the British shores. The rua
was. an uneommonly swift and pleasant one not a single
storm came to disturb them, or bring the denujn of sensieii-
ness info their midst, from the time they steamed out of
New York Bay, until tlupy sighted the eliifs (tf Albican.
"You arc the only 'heavy swell' we have had, my lord,"
the eaptain said to one of his [lassengers. "We have made
the best run of the year. We will weigh anchor this evening
in the Mersey."
"Well," the gentleman addressed made answer, "I am sorry
to hear it. J never feel so mneh in my element as I do at
sea. 1 believe an All-Wise Providence originally cut me out
for an old salt, and by some mistake I was born Baron
Montalien instead. It's the old story, captain; the round
pegs go into the s(iuare holes, and vice versa. As afirst-
ehiss seamarj, I might have been of some use in my genera-
tion as it is --" His lordship shrugged his shoulders, and
sauntered awaj'.
Nugent Horatio Earlseourt, Baron Mon alien, had been
making an American tour incognito as "Mr. Earlseourt" for
the past nine months, and had almost enjoyed himself . He
had hunted buffaloes, and had a shot or two at hostile bands
of Indians, and found life a good deal less of a bore than
he had done any time these last twenty years. He was fifty
years old now, and there were many silver threads in his
dark hair; he was unutterably patrician-looking, with the
broad brow, the handsome, classical nose, the determined
mouth, hereditary in his race.
Lord Montalicn had drawn near a solitary figure, leaning
against the bulwarks, and gazijig with an intensity quite re-
markable in the direction whence England lay, gazing so
absorbed that he never heard the approaching footsteps.
"Here's that fellow Hawksley, now." the peer thought,
with a sudden sense of injury; "how thoroughly in earnest
he seems, how intensely anxious to get home! I suppos
Kngland is his home." " ;
"Hawksley!'' he laid his small, sliaixdy hand ^like a
woman's oij the jhoulder of the man who sto"-^ ^T./irir- f^x
the sunlit eea aiuTskj.
36
Robert Hawksley.
I;!:!'^
'^'im
M
iiiii'ii
The man started '. 'c 'as a young: man, some five- and-
twenty, perhai-s, very tall, very fair, very good-looking.
More tlian {Aood-looking, v/iili lrilliant blue eyes, sapijhire
biiu; to iiic;. v( ly lufili-; iu;.uri,iiil fhestnut beard and hair,
ai'.U a lair lui^lish skin, tMiiiicd };ul(kMj bnjvn.
Anidiig all bis ItllowiJisscngers acroj^s, the only one i-i
V'hom Lord Montalien liad deigned to take the slightest iu
tcrost was this young nuui.
'ilii.s youTig man, who wore a rough, shabby coat, a felt
hat, i-vd who wa^ too poor to travel in the lirst cabin.
Iliri nan:e on tiie passenger list w:i Kobert Ilawksley; he
v,-;is a returned Englishman, who had spent tlie last two
years in roughing it in the Western States; and who, judg-
ing by ap|eari"iees, had ;:ut made his fortune. Since he
had con*'- on l-uard at New Vork, an intense, a sickening
longing I'j roach Engl.'Ui.l p.issessed him. He seemed una))i3
ci'her to eat or sleep. At night, when the midnight stars
slmne over the purple so, he jja'-ed the d(H'k, hour after hour,
ev( r gazing toward wdiere JOngland lay, with a burning hun-
ger of impcitience in his eyes. lie was u self-contained man,
who said little to those about him, and this very reticence
and (piietude first drew the nobleman toward him. lie sought
to nudvc no acquaintances he was modest and unassuming
to an unusual degi*ee, and Lord Montalien, who kept sundry
very wealthy fellow-passengers at a safe distance, and who
knew every sailor on board by luimc, was on the most friendly
footing with Robert llavvksley. If he liad sought to force
his confidejice or companionship upon him. his lordship
would have sent him to Coventry in three minutes, but he
never did. He talked to my lord, when my lord desired it.
and if he were passed by minoticed, he did not seem t'. care
one whit. He was so thoroughly xndepen lent, and manly,
and simple, that his grave dignity always commanded re-
spect.
"Well, Mr. Hawksley,'- .:is lordship said, "we are ahnost
there at last."
'*At ia^t!" The young man drew a long breath, a lonj?,
eager sigh. ^
"You say that as though we had been a month out, and
yet we have had a remarkably speedy passage. You are very
anxious to arrive?"
"Very anxious; the nassage has been intolerably slow to
me. and yet and vet- perhaps, i had much bettei ao; havt
ec-me -^t ail" .
"Tliat depends. Vou na^/* immbers oi iriends, at aouLi,
whi will rejoice to irreet -oi/ jiter two seoxst absoui^-''
some five- and-
good-looking.
eyes, sapphire
)oar(l and hair,
I.
e urdy one m
le idightest in-
xy coat, a feifc
cabin.
llawksley; he
tlic last two
nd wlio, judic-
Hc. Since jie
', a sickening
jccnied una))io
lichli.L^'llt ;-{;,rs
ur after hour,
burning hun-
Hitained man,
.'t-ry reticence
n. lie sought
1 unassuniing
) kept sundry
ice, and who
:nost friendly
ight to force
his- lordship
utes. but he
desireri it.
seem t' eare
and manly,
mianded re-
are almost
ath, a long,
tb out. and
ou are very
bly slow to
ei ao; have
. lit aoub:.
Robert ' ^wksley.
27
The ywunj? man looked at him with those wonderful blue
I Byes, and then away at the goiden light oi tiie sea.
"I have no friends, my lord none. There la l)nt one in
ail Kngland who cares for me, and she must be either moi-e
lor U'ss than a friend."
"Oh! 1 see! a 'lady in the case/ as they say in Irish
! duels. Tlien you come home for a britle; that is the cause
of all this burning impatience. My lad, I congratulate you
-I remember bein? young once myself, and it was very
nice. And, no doubt, the young lady counts the liours even
more impatiently than you do."
*'No!" said Kcbert llawksley; "she does not even know I
I am coming."
"What! You did not write and tell her? You wisK to
[give her a melodramatic surprise, I supposed'
"I have never written to her, my lord. During th^ t\v?
years 1 have been roughing it out there on the prairies
I have never had 9. line from her, nor from any one in Kng-
land. She does not even know that 1 am alive. She is far
above me. Lord Montalien, in rank, but two yeari^ ago she
loved me."
''And you are going back, and you expect to find her un-
changed," the nobleman said, with a compassionate smile.
Robert llawksley looked at him with an angry flash of his
blue eyes.
^ "She was my wife," he said, haughtily.
"Oh! your wife. Well, that's different, you see. A man
may expect fidelity from his wife, with some show ot reason.
And you have never written to her in two years. Hasn't
tliat been a little oversight on your part, my dear boy?"
"It would have leen useless. I have told you, ni lonl,
ahe is far above me in station, and her uncle, her gn Indian,
would permit no letters of mine tx) reach her. T know him
well enough for that."
"Indeed! Yours was a clandestine marriage, then I take
it r ,
"It was. Poor child I did wrong, I auppose ^he waa
only sixteen, I twenty-two; she an heiress, and of as proud a
family as any in England, and I a nobody I But we loved
each other, and for four months were happy were in
heaven/'
"Then I don't say you have dcme so'verv badly with your
life, after all," Lord Mor;*alien remarked. "There are some
of us who go through tV- world, and don't find four days-
four hours of perfe(!t bliss. And the flinty hearted uncle
wouldn^ be reasonabk, and accept the luevuabi*'.^ He tort
nu- .w-
v_^
28
Robert Hawkslev.
1r li^
!('
!!:i.
'I ' *
his- mVer aw:iy. and ()U bcciiinc
aro going buck ina.y I ask wli.y ?
an exile
A;
)'./ a)'^' \v.
'Jo ('!:ii;:i n:y wife, in spite of liini U) fcfcf 'icr !
Aniericju it' she will (m)1ii(\ 1 can give h(;r a 1
lonu
tl
ii^re
I)
not Kueli lis s)ie has been aeenstoiiM*! to, hut 11" she Icves ii
as she J.id, she will he hai)i)ier with nie in a (rottage tl^a
without me in a iialaee."
. "Ii!" liord Montalien n^peated, halt' c.Vnieally, half sadly,
"i; she loves you as she did, Robert Hawkskjy. And she ha."
had t vvo years to forget you! Well, well. She is your wile;
I will not say a word, and 1 hope yes, my lad, I hoj)e you
will find her an exeeption to her sex, and true, and tender,
il read:
fi-
lth
th(
ds of th
[h
uttermost
Bnf^ remember this, my boy," his hand fell kindly on tne
young man's shoulder "if you ever need a friend, and 1
au helj) you, eonie to me. 1 never forget any one whom I
once fancy, and I fancy you. Come to me, and command
me in any way you please."
He gave him a card, with his title, and "Montalien Priory.
Lincolnshirt\ and Gaunt 8treet, London/' engraved upon it,
an i sauntered away.
Karly next day the passengers of the Land of Columhid
were safely in Liverpool. Lord iMontalien shook hands with
Robert Ifawksley on the quay, without one tinge of con-
descension or patronage.
^^Remember, ITawksley, if I can ever be of service to you,
come to me. 1 will help you if I can."
And ivlr. Ifawksley had said, "Thank yea, my lord; I will
remember." And so they hatl parted, and how was either to
dream that that promise involved the future lives of the two
dearest to them both?
There was an hour to spare before the train })y whic.-h the
young man meant to travel to London would start. Ke
turned into a coH'eehouse, ordered his breakfast, and whi'a
he waited, took up a greasy paper, lying on the table. It
was a copy of the London Aforning Fost three days old, but
the returned Knglishman, to .vhom English papers were as
rare as angels' visits, read it with avidity. He was reading.':
the fasliloiiable intelligence, who w^ere party-going, party
giving, wlu was presented at the last drawing-room, who
were being married, and to whom. And in thia list he came
upon the following paragraph:
"The marriage of Sir Yane Charteris, secretary of legutio'
to Vienna, to Miss Olivia Lyndlth, of Lyndith Court, St'il
fordshire, niece of Geoffrey Lyndith, Esq., so lonar pr itponed
an accouut of tii young la(b''s ill-health, is positively iixed
IJ
"'1
r"l
ill
inoi
in]
Isffl
be
th(
bri
Robert Hawksley.
29
P.T)^
/mild one, but still it nearly choked him. And, of course,
Rosanna did not believe one word. She listened and ate on
in ominous silence, making no response to the fraternal good-
night; and Duke drew a long breath as he closed the street
door behind him, and hurried on his way. A blue, silvery
haze filled the streets, through which the gas lamps twinkled.
One or two early stars shone up in the blue, and a cloudless
sunset irradiated the town. Duke took an omnibus, and
reached the Royal Rritannia at an earlier hour than he had
done for weeks, and Tinsel & Spangle congratulated them-
elves that their blowing up had done their second violiniet
good.
r Ap/ji.
I ric Dawn of the Fourteenth of April, j?
\ will confer a
so generously
O. L.
Ma iiotf' the
'h\ left Duke's
liou^ht of the
t bini to run
2 to elope with
parlor, feeling
D oould hear
r of cups and
; "I couldn't
T thojif^ht she
IS had 'nou,uh
worse to run
e went out to
Tiiookly, and
7 low was he
uartcM'ii, with
n his pocket!
ipasniodically.
strong virtue
nil his confu-
tist said, with
iirsel & Span-
T shall work
the Britannia
2ood-evcning,
this was a
d, of course,
'd and ate on
aternal good-
od the street
hlue, silvery
nps twinkled,
d a cloudless
mnibus, and
than he had
ulated them-
ond violiniet
All lliroUKh the five o*trt of tin' niehxlraina that niKlit.
l)uke'H thoUKhtf* w're away in l*ark lane, and lie played
faU' notes, and Honietinies for^rnt to play alt()K'tli't'. It wu.-*
an uMUf t'ral)!e relief wlit-n tin- curtain fell and the audience
purel out into the starlit night, and he was free Ui think
as \ni pleased, lie turned away from the theatre, and hid
feet half unconsciously took him to i'ark lane.
Two I by the numherloflH city st^'ples. Duke lit a cigar,
and sealed hiuself in an open rtipuire, where the trees made
loMpr shallows in the moonlit grass, and the laiaps waxvd
dim in its silvpry rays. What a strange, long night it wad-
Woid4 h' ever forget it uud how wU4 it going to end!"
Half-past two! Ho started up. He was a couple, of miles
away from Park lane it would h' thr(H? .when he reacla-d it.
Still rimoking, he hastened on. The big, black house in Park
lane loomed up leforc him as the clocks tolled three. All
was dark luid (juiet now. The string of carriages had van-
ished the party thnv doors off had broken up early. Uo
leaned against the area railings, looking up at the tlismal,
unlighted mansion, when a cold hand was suddenly and
swiftly laid on his. He started, and barely suppressed an
exclamation; he had heard uo sound, yet iiore by his side
stood a wonum.
"Hush!" said
M
a voice; "not a sound. You are Duke
ason
"1 am."
"Tell mo the name of her who sent for you?'*
"Olivia Lyndith."
"Thank Heaven! Come down tread softly."
He des*ended tlic area steps, and stood beside her. She
was a tall young woman, but she was not Miss Lyndith.
"I am the child's nurse," the girl said, answering that
look. "Take off your shoes. The least noise may betray us."
Duke obeyed. ITer description of herself was rather un-
intelligible, though. The child's nurse! and what had lie to
d(V with children? Miss Lyndith wasn't a child, by any
means. What did she mean?
'i'here was no time to ask questions. He removed his
sh(K^, nd followed her into the basement regions, up a
flight of steps, and found himself in a lofty-domed and car-
peted hall. The moon's rays shone brightly, and tall marble
statues gleamed like ghosts in its light. A great staircase,
carved and gilded, went up in majestic sweeps to the regions
above. A thick, soft carpet muffled the tread as Duke fol-
lowetr her to a second stately hall, hung with pictures, and
lighted by a large Maltese window. Many doors were on
either bide; one of these ahe opened* iQitioDixig the wonder*
46
The Dawn of the Fourteenth of April.
iij:
liii,,": 'ill
\ufx T)ukv to follow, and he fomul liinis(lf in a spacious and
elo^ant antc-chainbcr, tliml.v lighted b.v two wax candlos an
apfli'tnicnt more hi.\uri(.iis and ))oautifnl llian any thf.' scene-
painter had ever beheld.
"The Coral Caves of tlie Dismal Deep are very dazzling
alxxles, no doubt,"' he thought, "but for permanence give me
a big-, black b.ouse in l*ark lane."
"Wait here," the i^irl said, laconically. A second after,
lifting a heavy crimson curtain that draped an arch, she let
it fall, and disappeared.
Again the curtain was lifted by the servant, and this time
!Miss Olivia Lyndith herself appeared; Duke rose. She wore
a llowing, white dressing-gown, her abundant hair hung
loose over her shoulders, her large eyes looked bigger and
blacker than ever in her small, pale face. Again she took
his hand in l)Oth her own, as on that memorable night, when
they had parted, and looked at him with her dark, solemn
eyes.
"I knew you would come," she said. "I knew I might
trust you. I have sent for you on a matter of life and death
to me. To-morrow uay, to-day is my wedding day."
"Oh, indeed !" Mu. Mason responded, feeling that politeness
reiuired him to say something, and wondering if young
ladies generally regarded their wedding days as matters of
life and death, and what she could possibly want of him in
this state of aifairs.
"I am surrounded by enemies, who call themselves' my
friends, and in whose power 1 am. 1 am going to marry a
man whom I neither love nor respect a man whom I fear.
For myself, it does not so iuch matter. I don't care what
becomes of me" there was a desperate recklessness in her
tone and look that suited her words "but there is one in
this house whom I do love, w^hom 1 wish to save from the
men who have made my life miserable. It is a child. To
obtain possession of her, I have promised to marry the man
of my guardian's choice. This very day, innnediately after
the ceremony. I start for Italy, and she retnains behind in
the power of (jpotfrey T^yndith. I cannot trust him 1 will
not trust him. ITer life would be blighted, as her mother's
has been. She must be removed out of their knowledge and
out of their j)ower. That is why T have sent for you; I have
not a frie^^'.^. I dare trust they are all my uncle's friends,
and her h'.vth is a dead secret. Will you take her away with
you tf)-nigiit''! W:'^ vou keep her, and bring her up as your
own? you and your sister. You shall he well paid, and, 'f
it is ever in ny power, I will ilaim hc'. Don't refuse; have
Ditv on me. her most wretched mother; have pity on her, a
I
4
April.
The Dawn of the Fourteenth ot April. 37
spacious and
X caiidlos an
luv the scene-
very dazzling
icnce give mo
second after,
arch, she let
and this time
se. She wore
It hair hung
d bigger and
jrain she took
e night, when
dark, solemn
new I might
ife and death
g day."^
hat politeness
ing if young
as matters of
mt of him in
lemselves' my
g to marry a
whom I fear,
n't care what
ssness in her
ere is one in
ave from the
a child. To
arry the man
idiately after
)is beliind in
: him 1 will
her mother's
lowledge and
r you: 1 have
icle's friends,
er away with
r up as your
paid, and, 'f
refuse; have
ity on her
helpless babe. You have a kind heart you helped me he-
fore. Help nie now, and may Heaven reward you!"
She (dung to his arm passionate tears stood in her proud
eyes. \)yi\ni stood absolutely transfixed.
"You shall bo well rewarded. Seel here is this fxx ket-
book; it contains one hundred pounds, all I have now, hut J
will send you more. Take it, take it. You will not refuse--'
ynu cannot. Wait one instant, and I will fetch her."
She darted away. Duke stood looking blaidxly at the
lvusian leather pocketbook in his hand. A child her child!
- his head v.'as in an utter whirl.
She came back in a moment, holding a bundle wrapix'd in
a shawl in her arms. She Hung this- wrap back, as she came
close to Duke, and he saw the cherub face of a sieepitig
chihl.
"She has been drugged to ke;^p her cpik't she will not
awake for an hour. See what a lovely little ang(d .-^he is!
Oh. my darling! my darling! my darling!" ^
She covered the baby face with pa'sionate kisses. Willi
her wild, loose hair, her wilder eyes, her frantii; manner, -^he
seemed like a creature half distraught. On the instant, tar
away in the house, they all heard the sound of an oix'uiiig
door. The servant appeared in ahnni.
"Miss Olivia, do you hear that ^ He must go. Mr. Lyn-
ditli has the e4jrs of a cat, and tiie eyes, 1 believe. Ciive him
the child, and let him go, for pity's sake!"
S!ie absolutely took the child from the arms that pressed it
so convulsively, wrapped the shawd closer around it, and
caught Duke's liaud.
"Come!" she said; "there's not a monuwit to lose."
"Be good to it! be good to it!" Miss I.yndith cried: "a.-^
you hojjc for salvatioii, Ix? good to m.i^ child."
She sank down in a great carved anJ gilded (diair a small,
white figure, and, burying her face in her hands, her sup-
pressed sobbing tilled the room. vSo Duke's ia-r glance saw
her as he (juitted it, T)eyond fiiat "Oh. indeed!" he had iot
spoken a word -he had not Ijcen five minnlcs in the house
altogether. Like one in a dreamy swoon, he rollowod (he
nurse, through halls and stairways, until once more l!iey
stood inider the stars.
"Put on your shoes," the girl saiti; "you will find a cab-
stand over in that direction. 'J"he baby will not. :iwake until
y(.ni get home."
She pressed thv' 'hild upon him. He to.ik i( mechanically
nieehanically descended the area steps, looked bacdc, and
found the girl gone.
What was ho to do i It would uever do to stand thoit w d
?8 At Stc George's, Hanover Sqiiare^
I (' (iisci.vorcd l)y a passiiii^ policeman, with a suspiciouf
bundle ill his arms. Still, like a man in a dream, he started
forward in the direction the girl had pointed out, found the
ijaLstaiid, and in iive minutes more was rattling over the
stony streets, Bloomsburyward. Then he opened tiie shawl,
Day was brigiit'y breaking, and the first little pink ray stole
in and kissed the lovely sleeping face, framed in tiny Haxrn
curls*.
A baby! and he w^as taking it home.' This was how tlie ad-
venture of this night had ended. And he had said he would
be i);iiiiting at the Royal Britannia, until daylight.
'powers above!" thought Mt. Mason, his very heart seem-
iDg *o die within him. "What will Rosanna say ?"
CHAPTER VII.
AT ST. GEORGE^ HANOVER SQUARE.
The sun was just rising ^as the hansom tore through the
Cjuiet sttieets of Bloomsbury, waking the peaceful rate-])aying,
resjx ctable, third-class inhabitants from their slumbers.
lie reached Half -Moon Terrace he paid and dismissed the
cab.
Duke opened the kitchen door, stalked in, and confronle*]
his sister.
*M)uke!" .
Only one word, but the tone! In some such voice of an-
guish may the great Napoleon, at St. Helena, looking back
at )ne disastrous day, have exclaimed, "Waterloo!"
"It's not mine, Rosanna I swear it's not!" DuJ^e cried out,
as he held out the infant imploringly. "I never set eyes on it
until within the last two hours!"
'*Not on it, perhaps- but its mother "
"Nor its mother either so help me! until three weeks ago!
Good gracious, Rosanna ! what a mind you must have to sus-
pect a fellow in this way, without giving him a chance to
explain! I never saw the child until it was given to me no,
forced upon me, by Jove! two hours ago; and its mother,
if she be its mother, I met, for the first time, three weeks ago
down in Lincolnshire."
''And yet you fetch tlie child home! Misguided young
ninn ! Do you exix^ct me to believe such a story as this^"
"I ( xpect you to believe the truth. Don't stare at me in
that uncomfortable way, Rosanna, as if you were the Gor-
don's head. If you'll take the child, I'll shut the door, and
il
to
a!
4'
dl
IV
.1
IK
V-.
fa
,a
n(
ir
h
3a
A
a
cl
'-"Co
lAdl
a su.piciou8
am, he Htartcd
mt, fonnd the
;liiig over the
led tlie rihawJ.
pink ray stoic
ill tiny iJaxcn
as how the ad-
said he would
light,
y heart seem
e througli the
il rate-])aying,
lumbers,
dismissed tlie
id confronted
i voice of an-
looking back
00 !"
i\ke cried out,
set eyes on it
Be weeks ago!
t have to sus-
a chance to
n to me no,
i its mother,
ree weeks ago
iuided young
as thisf'
are at me in
^ere the Gor-
;lie door, and
I
At St. George's, Hanover Square. 39
tell you he whole story. I don't know what to do with it,
and here, it's waking up."
Miss ^lason took the baby. Kven Achilles had a vulnera-
ble spot somewhere in his heel, and JVJiss Mason had one in
her heart; a child always found its way there at once. She
took it with wonderful tenderness, and removed the shawl
altogether, a real India shawl, she saw to her great atnazo.
Tlie little one opened its eyes two big, blue eyes, and looked
with a baby stare of wonder up in her face. It was the pret-
tiest little thing conceivable a child of a year and a half or
more, with little, chiseled features, a rose-bud moiiLb, and
beautiful, blue eyes, crystal clear. A baby girl with dainty
embroidered underclothiiiiif, a little blue silk dress, the Iuk; of
her eyes, and a gold chain and locket round Jier neck. Curi-
osity overcame every other feeling, even virtuous maiden in-
dignation, in the breast of Miss Kosanna.
"['or Heaven's sake, Duke, what does it mean, and wht is
this child ?"
''That's more than I know. I don't know her name, nor
her age, any more than the dead. All T do know I'll tell you
now. Put first you may keep those things." He drew for*^h
the pocketbook. "There's a hundred pounds here, which her
mother gave me,, and here's a ring, also given me by her
m(ther. Now don't look like that, Kosanna! Miss Lyndith'a
a great lady, whose very flunkies, I dare say, would look down
on me."
"Afiss Lyndith! I thought you were speaking of thijs
child's mother, Duke?" Rosanna said, in a spectral voice,
"So I am. If there's anything wrong it's not my fault.
It's a very queer affair from first to last, and much more like
one of tlie five-act dramas at the Britannia than the events
of real life."
And then, while the little one lay in Miss Mason's arms,
and gazed about her with solemn, baby eyes. Duke went hack
to the twenty fifth of March, and told the story of that nii-ht
all he b.ad se^n, all he had heard This was the cause of his
dreaminess, his absence of mind, th' change she had noti'^-ed
in him. Them he produced the note of the previous after-
noon, and gave it to h ^r to read, and related all that had be-
fallen him from three o'clock until now.
Tlis sister listened breathlessly. She had never read a
novel, nor witnessed a play in her life. She had never been
in love, she aad no data to fall baok upon that might help
her to realize this ?fory. It -va- like he.tring Greek to her.
All she knew was that Miss I.yndith, be she never so rich, wa
a young woman no 'etter than she ought to be, and that thifj
child in her Icy^ t?^ doub^le^s the offspring of But =5h
v.
40 At St. George's, Hanover Square.
lotjked down, nnd ihe angelic ii\cv bioko into the boautiful
eniile of babyhood, and ihc tv.'o little fat bauds held them-
selves up.
"Polly want her bek-fas.''
The little silver voice went straij;ht to that vulnerable spot
in Miss Mason's chain-mail armor. Perhaps if Nature had
never meant her for a wife, it had meant her for a mother.
A glow came actually into her tallow complexion; she rai^^d
th child, and pressed it to her vestal bosom.
"You're the prettiest little thing I ever saw in my life.
My little pet, tell me your name.'"
"Pollv," whispered the child. "Polly want Dozy."
"Whatf
"Dozv.''
Kosaiuia looked lieli)l( ssly at Duke. Duke sat astounded
to lii'ar ihe midget speak at all.
"Pci'hnps it'tr her nurse," he sujLrg'sted. "I think now, I
heard Miss T.yndith call the name 'Kosie,' in the inner room.'*
"Dozy, Dozy," repeated the child, impatiently. "Polly
want Dozy! J^oUy w:ii!t her bek-fas. Polly want to get
down."
"Polly. ])ut the kettle on," Duke murmured, abstractedly;
"put P(lly down, K^sanna. Let's see if she can walk.''
Polly c(ul(l walk very well. Tn her blue silk dress and
flaxen curls, her gohl cliain and locket, her glimmering bronze
boots, and nilk stockings, Polly looked a thorough baby aris-
tt)crat from top 1o toe.
"Like a small duch'ss, by (Jeorge!'' said Duke, admi'-Ingly;
"a f(dl t\v might make his fortune if h '' could paint her.
She looks like Miss Lyndith, too, about the nose and chin."
"Duke,*' his sister said, sternly, "never let me hear the
name of that young person from your lips again. Wo will
keej) the child;" her hard face softened as she looked at the
tiny bcauiy in blue s-'k; "but speak no more of a creature
who tells you thi is her w(Hlding day, who is called Mis3
Lyndith, and who o\.ns this child to be hers. She has reason
to be thankful, poor babe, thai she has been snatched from
that sink of corruption, the fashionable world, at so early
an age."
The poor babe did not seom particularly thankful.
'After calling for "Dozy'' two or three times in vain, Polly
opened her cherub mouth, and set up such a howl as made
Rosanna's blood curdle with new terror.
"Polly shall have bread nnd milk," Miss Mason said, sooth-
ingly; "only do be quiet, dear. 1 suppose we must fabricate
1 story for the neighbors, Duke ; and may the Lord forgive us.
One can't toueb Ditch witliout being defiled. We can't iiATt
i^
Liare.
the boautlful
Is held thcm-
iilnorable spot
f Nature had
for a mother.
)n ; she rai?d
V 111 my
life.
ozy.'
sat astounded
think now, I
inntu' room.'*
ntly. "Polly
want to ^et
abstractedly;
1 walk.-'
ilk dress and
nerinu" hronzo
fzh hr.hy aris-
, admi'-in.uly ;
Id ])aint her.
e and ehin."
me liear the
in. We will
looked at the
of a creature
3 called Mis3
le has reason
latched from
, at so early
ikful.
n vain, Polly
owl HvS made
1 said, s(K)th-
ust fabricate
*d forgive us.
^e can't havt
I
At SL George's, Hnnover ^quare. 41
to do with the wicked ones of the (arth wit}iiut riharing in
their wii'kedness/'
"And as I've been up all ni:ht, Koaanna, I'll turn in until
breakfast time," Duke answered; "roiit me out at half after
eij,dit. I am p:oinjj^ to strike \-*ork this iiiorning, and ^o to St.
(ieorjAf's, JIanover Square, 'ind minj^le witii the bloati-d aris-
tocracy, and see this young lad.v'^ mamma marritnl. \U'^
your iardoii, Jlosanna, for alludiufi to her -I won't do it
ii,irain. What a dickens of a temper the little angel has I"
Puke went to bed; Kosanna pacified Polly, with some
trouble, and more bread and milk. For once in a way, she
was almost excited. A child to dress, and scold, and love,
and a hundred pounds in her })ock(t.
At half-past eight precisely ^^lie summoned Duke to break-
fast. The young lan found his sister in better and gentler
mood than he had ever known her in his life at this early
hour.
Polly bad gorged herself, like a small boa-ccnstrictor, with
ln-c-d and milk, and now, standing on one of the pai-lor
chairs, looking out of the window at the busy scene in the
mews opposite, was wailing in a plaintive minor key for
"Dozy."' She never called for her mamma, Rosanna noticed,
as most babies do always "Dozy.''
Duke ate his breakfast, started off at a rapid pace for the
aristocratic portals of St. George's, Hanover Square. There
would be no end of a hav, he thought, at the scene-room of
the liritnnnia in conseiuence of his non-appearance, and
Tinsel k Spangle would iine him, very likely; but a m. a
who is the happy possessor of a hundred i)Ounds can atlord
to defy the minions of the theatre.
"Pll see !Miss L. turned off," thought Duke, eleg-uitly, "and
then have at thee, Spangle; and cursed be he who first cries
hold ! enough I"
It was high, noon when the scene-painter reached bis desti-
nationhigh noon on a sunny April day, warm as tn id-June.
A stately procession of elegant i)riva*te carriages filled the
.street half the turnouts in May fair, it seemed to the sim-
ple denizen of Half-Moon Terrace and a mob of idlers on
the lookout to see the qualify.
Duke, in his haste, turning sharp round ihe angles of one
of these whif-e- favored vehicles, ran violently against a geu-
flemar. coming in equal haste from the oppositcdircciion.
"Beg your jiardon, sir. Didn't mean anything offensive,
you know!" Duke said, ])olitely. "T hope T haven't hurt you."
The gentleman made no reply. lie did not even seem to
lear him. ]Tis eyes were fixed upon the church itl* h ^un-
gry, strained intensity of gaze.
'"Hi
T"-"'" "" '"
!M'
1
%
42 At St. George's, Hanover Square.
"Queer customer!^' Mr. Mason thought. "That young mnu
has evidently something on his mind. Ho is a gentleman, I
take it, iii spite of his rough shooting-jaeket and foreign
hat. He has somi'thing the look of a sailor."
On the instant, the object of his thoughts turnc^l round
with a suddenness quite disconcerting, and addressed him:
"Can you tell me who is being married here this morn-
ing?"
"Well, I shouldn't like to swear to it, but I think Sir Vane
Chnrteris." t
"All I" The stranger f^rouuvl out that little word between
his teeth in a way familiar to Mr. Mason on the boards of the
Britannia. "And to whom?"
"Well, I think to Miss Olivia I.yndith. But as it is only
supposition on my part, suppose we stop in and ascertain?"
"I will follow you," the stranger said, falling back a step.
"For IKnivon's sake, hurry!"
Duke hastened in, a little surprised, but not much.
"If this mysterious young man, with the auburn beard, and
remarkably handsome face, should be 'Rob-ert' now," he
thought; "and she should recognize him, and shrieking, *It is
he.!' fall swooning at his feet, it would be quite a lively scene
for St. George's."
'J'hese sort of recontres were very common on the stage, and
Duke saw no reason why they should not be in everyday life
as well.
He led the way into the church. It was almost filled with
elegantly-dressed ))c()i)le. Two weddings were eroing vn. diiw
the altar was quite a bewildering spectacle, with snow-white
and azure-robed ladies, and solemnly biack LTntlemen- One
of the ])ew-openers gave them i^ place near the door, as be-
came their shabby coats and cltmp-'ng boots.
The stronger, as he removed bis hat, iHike saw wa? a very
fair man, despite the golden b'-oii^o of his kin', and the fixeo,
rigid pallor of his face, the wild i-'tensity of his blue eyes,, be-
trayerl that his interest in what vas g'ting on was no ordi-
nary oiie.
"They're coming!" Duke said. ''We've aiASsec int A'eo
ding, after all. The thing's all over," ,
He was right. The newly-wedded pairs had signea .the 'Ag-
ister, and were sweeping down the aisle. The first bride vjp.~
a Junoesque lady, with high color and modestly do^vncn=^'
eyes. They barely glanced at her. She and her tram saile;
by. The second bridal party came the bride this thvc- -
there was no doubt about it tiie late Miss Olivia Lyndi./.
It is proper, of course, tor brides to look pale at thi ^^^-
preme hour 01 their lives. This brid'3 was pale beyonc til v-j-
't
\
I
2J
uare.
at young man
, gentleman, I
t and foreij-^u
turno^l round
ressed him:
re this morn-
link Sir Vane
word between
boards of the
; as it is only
id aseertain ?"
? baek k\ step.
mueh.
irn beard, and
rt' now," ho
rieking', *Tt is
a lively scene
;he stag'e, and
everyday life
)&t filled witb
roiiig -n. aih.
h snow-white
tlenien- One
" door, as be-
\v wai^ a very
ind the fixeci,
)lue eyes,, be-
was no ordi-
ec int A'oo
rnea .the "cfr-
rst brids v'n"
ly do^nc^t-'
tram ?9ile;
this tine- -
;i Lyndi.h.
at thi" r"--
eyonc i\\' ^.
At
H
Georg' Hanover Square. 43
dinnry nallor of bridehond. Tier faee wns ghastly, her great,
dark eyes looked blankly straight b(fove her, with a fixed,
sightless stare; her very lips were ashen. 1'he bridt-groom,
un til-.' contrary a portly, undersized, _ llurid, good-looking
man was flushed, excited, exultant. Jlis restless black eyes
moved about ceaselessly in a (|uick,^iervous sort of way. and
as he drew near, the stranger sitting beside^ Duke suddenly
r(se up.
It was impossible not to look at him. The stony bride
never looked, certainly; but the smiling bridegrooin did;
and the smile froze, and the florid color died on his fai^, and
. an awful look of fear transfixed it. A wordless cry appeared
to rise and die upon his lips. He seemed for an instant
rootcMl to the spot. Then the crowd, pushing on, bore him
with it, and Mr. Mason was alone with his extraordinary
companion. The stranger still stood in that rigid attitude,
like a man slowly petrifying.
''(i:;d!" thought the scene-painter. "T didn't think any hu-
man being except the First Murderer of the Britannia could
glare in that blood-freezing way. I suppose old Quill knows
whitt he is about, after all, when he writes melodramas. This
must be Eobert. Til ask him, by George!"
"1 beg your pardon." he said, "fgr a seemingly impertinent
(pKstion. but might your name be Robert?"
'"Uobeit? Yes," the stranger answered, mechanically. He
did U'jf SKMU surprised at the question; all feeling was stupe-
fied with ill him.
"Oil, it is! Perhaps, also, it may be Lisle!"
Til is time the young man iu the rough jacket did turn
round, iuid looked at his questioner.
'What do you know of Robert Lisle?" he demanded.
*'\Vcll, not much, only T have heard the name, and if you
were Mr. Lisle. I think I could understand better vour very
evident interest in the lady who has just gone by."
'J'he young man, whose name was Robert, laid his hand
heavily on Duke's shoulder.
"Y(.u know her. then?" he exclaimed. "You !"
''Well," replied "Mr. Mason, "slightly. I have had th honor
of doing her s(.me little service in by-gone hours, and though
she didn't noiice me this morning, we have been very friendly
and confidcmtifi', I assure you, in times past. And if you
had been Mr. (Robert Lisle, atid had called' upon her yester-
diiv, I dare say she would have been pleased to see you. Yes-
terday she was "Miss Lyndith, to-day she is Lady Charteris
id the difference in the world, you understand."
"Then she has spoken of me to you? She has not for-
goUeri she-
w
44 At bt. George's, Hanover Square.
He. Stopped, lii;* vnicc husky, his eyes like live eoals.
"She lias not t'orj^otten (leeidivlly nut but at the .sanir
t'lmo ^\\v hasii't spoken oi" you to nie. You are llobei't J^isle
then r
'I he stranger dropped his hand nnd turned abru[)tly away.
"Aly name is i la\vksle_M,'' he said, eoldly; "and J must sec
her. Yes. by i!eavMi I" he e'.enehed his strung;, white teeth
"collie what may I"
''I should advise you to hurry, then," suggested Duke, po-
litely. "They start for Italy in an hour's time, I have rea-
son to know, and it" you miss her now it's all up! liriiles
don't generally receive strange gentlemen on thi'ir wedding
morning, but this seems an exceptional occasion, and she
may see you. Shall 1 order vou a cab and tell theai where to
drive?" said Duke, inwardly burning with curiosity.
Mr. Ilawksley nodded and slouched his hat down over hi^
eyes. The last of the aristocratic vehicUs hnd vanished lon^
Ixd'ore. Duke led the way to the* nearest cabstand, and en-
tered the hansom aft'r the stranger. Mv. Ilawksley might
order him out, but he was willing to risk it. ]\Ir. Ilawksley
did uo[, however; \\o sat with his hat over his brow, his arma
folded, his lips compressed under that beautiful, tawny beard,
the whole way.
"Tie looks like the Corsair by Afedora's deathbed," reflected
Duke. "He has a very striking pair of blue eyes. So haa
little Polly. Now wouldn't it le rather (lueer if (Mr. Robert
Hawksley, I think he said.) should he Polly's father?"
The carriage containing Sir Vane Charteris and his bride
reached the mansion of Mr. Geoffrey liyndith, in Park lane.
The silence that reigned in Duke's hansom reigned also in
this elegant coach and four. The bride sat like some marble
bride, as pale, as cold; almost as lifeless the bridegroom snt
with a leaden face of abject fear.
"Did Lyndith see him, I wondcM*?" he thought. "lie left;
the church before me. To be balked like this at the last hour,
after waiting so long, after risking so much. At the last
hour, when the game is all my own, to liave him start up as if
from the very earth. And ] thought we all thought him
dead two years ago."
lie let down the glass and loosened his neckerchief; some-
thing in the air seemed to choke him. He glanced at his
bride, and a storm of rage at her, at himself, at (Jeoffrey Lyn-
dith, at tliiit apparition in the church, sv.opt through' hnii.
"She lo(-ks more like a dead woma'n than a biide. What
will every one say? Why can't she smile, or rouge, or do
something except look like that death in life? I scarcely
know whether I love Jr hate her most one dav or other she
ire.
oak.
It thr saiiK
lobtTt J^isloj
nptly away.
1 must soo
white teeth
i Diiko, po-
1 have rca-
ip! Hricles
lr wedding
in, and slio
un whore to
t.V.
i\n over hi
nished lon^
!il, and en-
ksley might
. Ilawksley
w, liis arma
iwny beard.
1," refloeted
Ls. So haa
Mr. Robert
lor?"
d his bride
Park lane.
10(1 also in
)mo marble
ogroom sat
"JTo loft
e last hour,
\t the last
irt up as if
ught him
liof; some-
ict'd at hia
otfrcy Lyn-
i^ir h'lu.
lide. What
ugo, or do^
I scarcely
p other sKa
At St. George's, Hanover Square. 45
shall May for this. And to think there should have bei'U a
eliild, too, and --lie shouKl |irit it away. She hari the cun-
ning of liio oll tiend when she likes/'
1 he -arria^e sfoppi-d. lie (hscoiuh'd, and lunuU-d his I. e
out. riie (tlier carriages disgorged themelv(\s. The instant
he espied Mr. Lyndith, he inotion'd him apart.
"Come into ihe library," he aid. "1 lnve a word to say
to yon."
Mr. l.yndith led the way instantly. Sumething had hap-
jxMU'd. lie read it in Sir Vamp's leaden face.
"What is Ur he asked, nervcnisly. "Quick, Chartcris ; they
will wouder at our abs-nee. Let's have it in a woid."
Kni
m
1 wil
'What r
'Robert i.islt
e'
IS
al
IV(
. .
IS
hei
'e
1
saw
hii
n in
tl
le
chnreh.:*'
"Charteris, are you mad ^"
"Xot now! 1 was when I b. ueved your story of Lislt's
death. I toll you the fellow is alive, and here. 1 saw him in
church as wc came out."
"Ihit, great rioaven, Charteris I this must bo lolly mad-
ness I The Jioi/al ('hirf(r was burned to the water's edge,
anl every soul on board perished. And he sailed in the
lii)ld Chnrhr. I toll you it is impossible!"
"And I toll you T saw Roln-rt Lisl(, faci^ to face, as 1 left
the church. She did not, or 1 think, in my soul, she would
have lroppcd on 1lie ^jxtt. He stood up, and gave me a look
I'm jiot likely to forget. C\irse it, Lyndith," he cried, in a
sudden fury, 'Mo you think 1 could mistake him of all men ^
Jiefore we leave the house, Robert l.isle will he hero."
"(ireat Heaven!"
"Ay,'' the baronet cried, bitterly, "you will believe it when
he comes. There will be a lovely scone a beautiful sensation
for Park lane. We kmnv what she will do, if she oncii
catches sigjit of him. All the story, so long hidden, will
coine out, and for GeoHrey J.yndith it moans simply ruin!''
"He shall not see her. By God, ho shall not!"
"Prevent the meeting if you can. Ho is a desperate man
if ever I saw desperation in human eyes. You will find a
ditfcront man from the Kobert Lisle of two years ago. And
now, as you say, we will be missed. We must go up and
.smile and make speeches, and pl^y our part, until the specter
appears at the feast."
Ho strode out of the library. Mr. .Lyndith followed him.
There was no helj) for it their absence was already com-
mented on by their guests. They took their places at the
table, all a-glitter with silver and crystal; and everybody
9*
Whistled Down the Wind."
notod tht'ir alteroii looks^. Sucli a KJinstly bric'lc. imd audi tt
fttrango pallor on the laci-a of tiieir host and Sir Vane.
Sonu'thiiiK was wroiiif. Everybody waited, (iolieionsly (ex-
pectant oi more to eonie.
What they waited for came. The breakfast was nul tjuar
tor over, when a knock thundered at the i;rand entrance an
ominous and authoritative knock, that thrilled throu;.;h them
all. Sir Vane was raising his j^iass to his lips, and aj^-.nn (ho
suiilc seemed to freeze on his face, and the jxlass remained half
poised in liis hand. A dead silence fell. \n that silence the
sound of an altercation in the hall reached them in that
distant apartment. Mr. Lyndith rose abrui)tly white and
Htern jnade a hurried apology, and hastened from the room.
A moment later and all was still, 'i'he disturbance was
quelled; but (Jeofti-ey i^yndith did not come back. What did
it mean'^ Kven the pale, cold bride lifted lier heavy eyes and
looked at the leaden face of the man she had married, and
waited for what was to come next.
chaptp:r viir.
"WIIISTLKD DOWN THE WIND.'*
(leofTrcy Lyndith'a face was an index of his character
dark, stern, resolute. While he had sat at the head of his
table, smiling upon his guests, and eating and drinking me-
chanically, his ready brain had been at work. Plotting was
work that subtle brain was well used to, and his mind,
prompt in thought, quick in action, grappled at once wilh his
danger. As Sir Vane Chartcris had said, the coming of this
man in all likelihood meant ruin ruin tc him, (iedffn\v
Lyndith, Esquire, of Lyndith Grange and Park lane. lie
had thought the man dead for certain; he had drivrti him
out of the country over two years ago, and the shii) in which
he had sailed had been burned in mid-ocean, and no soul left
to return, and Robert Lisle was here on Olivia's wedding d:iy.
Was Satan himself at work to balk him, he vyonderec^ ? lie
had got Robert Lisle in his power two years ago, by a cow-
ardly and infamous plot, worthy the Newgato calendar; th.it
power he still held over him. But who knew? His part in
it might come to light after all, and what horrible shain^
and exposure that would involve! And at the first sound of
his voice, at the first sight of his face, hisi niece would fly to
his arms, to cling to him throuj^h misery and death, if need
were. He was poor, and his niece was rich; her money would
aid his enemy. Beady money was tiie one great want of this
d.
99
h\ 111(1 stich V
nd {Sir Vane.
loli*ifnsiv ^x-
was not |uar
cut riiMi'' - ail
throiij^li tluMii
ami a^aiii I ho
rcniaiiKMi half
at siloiifc the
thciii ill that
ly white and
roiii th(' room.
itiirhaii('( vva^i
L-U. WllMt (li.l
oavy ey^ and
married, and
3 character
head of his
drinkiiix nio-
Phjtting' w'dti
lid his mind,
once with lii?
)miii^ of this
lini, (leoffrey
rk lane. He
I driven liim
ihip in whieli
i no soul left
wedding' d;iy.
(nderc(^ ? lie
?o, by a covv-
alendar; th.jl
liis part in
rrihle shaiiu^
irst sound of
would fly to
eath, if need
Qioney would
want of this
"Whistled Down tlie Wind."
47
nian'ti life, and on the. day Iw eunipt lied liis nitce to marry
iiini, Sir Vane Chaiteris liad pioniiMii iiini a eluM-k for ten
Ihousand pounds. Kvcrythin^ had j^one on so well; lie had
been in a Kh"'V *'f triumphant e-\ultatH)n lor a few weeks past,
ai.d now - and now I
His ey s glowed with a red, evil tire as he descended iho
slairase, his teeth set behind his l)laek beanl. lie could con-
front moral or physical dany^er with the brute couraye of a
tiuer,
"A nuui always trains, be his ease strong- or we;)k." he was
uciustomed ro say, "by fucinj; the worst boldly; weakness and
/acillalion always fail, as they deserve to do." It was his
llu'ory, and he at-ted upon it, in every crisis of life, and up to
thi-* time hail found it succeeded. His face looked as if
carvid in ^rranite, as he descended to the entrance liall, for
all trepidation, surprise, anger, fear, or any other huinaii
emotion it disj)layed.
A porter, a butler, tW(j hij^h footmen, all were formed in a
body to oppose the enemy- a tall, young man in rough coat
and broad-brimmed hat.
"We can't do nothink with him, sir," the butler explain^'d,
in an indignant voice, which he says, like his impidi nee, as
he will see you, Mr.^ l.yndith, sir."
The two men l^Bkcd each other full in the face, one lev(l,
IMiwerf'.il gaze. 'ITie younger man took otf his hat. Ci(jod
Ueavi-n! what horrible reason Geulfrey Lyndith had to know
that handsome, sunburned face.
"1 know this i)erson, Edwards," Mr. Lyndith said, very
tjuieily, "and will see him. Follow me, sir."
He led the way to the library, a stately apartment filled
with books and busts and bronzes, and into Avhich the noon
sunlight came, softly tempered through closed Venetians.
(Jeoffrey J.yndith turned the key in the doo., crossed the
room, leaned his elbow upon the crimson-velvet mantel, and
faced his opponent. It was a duel to the death; and both
knew it, no quarter to be asked or given one or the other
must go down before they left that room.
The gentleman of the Old Ouard, otherwise the master of
the house, fired first.
"This is an exceedingly unexpected honor, Robert^. isle.
You sailed two years and a half ago in the ship 'Royal Char-
ter,' from Southampton. The 'Royal Charter' was burned,
find all on board perished. May I ask how you came to 1)6
alive?"
Hia tone was perfectly cool; his face admirably calm, his
manner as nonchalantly gentlcimanlike as though he had been
/eraarkiug on the fineness of the weather, and the possibility.
^,,
im^
48
** Whistled Down the Wind.
tff
of rain ri \t wed;. W'\ innltr all llial lii^jli bred coiuposuro,
what liunil)k' (car lie tVIt !' llii?* niaii!
"I li(l not sail on the ^J!ijii Cltortrr,' " luihcit i-isir an-
HwtTcd ; "I took iii.v ()a'-a^o--you saw my iiaiiK' on tlio pas-
S('nKi" list. vtTV likely. At the last linnr 1 nirt with an ci-
(Iriit -a very trilling' on(.' which niadr nic lose it. I sailed
in the 'Wrsfrni Shir' the followinK" w'ek. Aro you satisfied
now that I am no wraitli ^"
"More tiian .-^ati^lied. I confiralnlale you upon your es
cape. Providence," tlu sin'cring" cmphnftis wa^* indescril)-
ahlo "I'rovidenci' watched over ;sou, no douht. Vou wer(
wie to leave Kngland the following' week; it was certaiidy
no place* tor yon. Why havi^ you been so very imprudent a.s
to return to it i"
The llashiuK I'yes of the youni^er man met the hard, ylit-
teriiiR hlack ones with a tiei-y lij.?ht.
"\'ou ask that (piestion, (leotirey I.vndithf
"Asnredly, Mr. Lisle why T
"I have returned to claim my wife, 'i'o expose you and
your villainy to the world you delude; be the penalty to my-
8eW' what it may I"
"When you use that sort- of lan^uaj^c, Mr. Lisle." the elder
man said, with unrutiied eomixtsure, "you Inive the advantajo
of me, of course. Persons in your elnss g^PIrally do resort to
vituperation, I believe, when ajinoyed. You will ol)li^e me
by keei)inj? to the lanj^uaj.K' and bearing of a j^entleman, it*
you can, while talking- to \\\v. You have returned to claim
your wife! Ah! but there is no such person in Kngland,
that I am aware of. Out there among the aborig:ines in-
deed "
Robert I^isle strode toward Iwm, a dangerous light in Jiia
bhu eyes.
"Do you dare to sneer at nie you of all men alive ^ It isi
not safe; 1 warn you, it is not safe!"
"Ah! T wisli you wnild have the i)oliteness to hear me out.
If you mean Lady C'harteris, she never was your wife no,
not for one poor hour. And if you have come to claim her.
you have just come two years and tluve months too late. She
did rtMuember you for two or three months after your
very abrupt dei)arture from England, I will own, and then
eanie the natural revulsion. More than she had over loved--
pshaw! fancied r.bc loved the yc^oman's son, with his tall,
shap*]y figure. and good-looking fac( she hated, abhorred
him. lioi nuid folly, her shanu^ dawned upon her, in its tru(
light. She saw what she had done, Iuhv she had fallen, how
you had x^layed ui)on her ehildish credulity, and drajrged
her down, and she hated let us have plain wordflk, Robe*'
1
I.
*
"Whistled Down the Wind."
49
il compusuro,
lort T-Islc nil-
:' on tlu' puH-
wifli Mil ' ci-
if. I .siiili'd
you siitislicd
[)oii your r-
HH iiidcscri!)-
Vou we IV
v:is certainly
mpriKlfiit a.s
le hanl, glit-
K)s you and
tialty to njy-
Ic," tlio older
10 advantaj^o
: do resort to
11 oblige met
eiitleniaii, if
led to claim
in England,
joriy^ines in-
light in Ilia
alive ^ It is
hoar nic out.
ur wife no,
claim her.
00 late. She
after your
n, and then
ovor loved-"
ith liis tall,
?d, abhorred
r, in its true
1 fallen, how
md drajTgod
ardft, Rober-
l-i.^fK- she liatcti your nu'inory wilh an inten"ity F never
dreamed ^lit; ijo^^essed. The hauntiny: fear le-t Ikt d. -
uraceinl srci\'t should be Uiiou n t( th" world nearly drovt^
her nuid. She buried hr^elt" alive down :if l.yndith (Irans-o?
for a timo she went abroad with me. Iler secrt'l so pi'-y d
upon her. that In r he.ilfh was atreeic il. All ihi- t'uie lu-r
pliuhted hu.Hband, the man ot" her dyim; faflier's choice, wa-*
by her side. e\cr tender, evr dcvdcd ami -he leaiMied to
know the lull value of that which .she had tlun' away, und
slie loved him with a love, all the j,n't'Jt'i' that it was tiriued
wilh renior-e. Then came ihf lU'Ws of the lo-s of ilie 'lioi/ il
Cliiirlii,' ami all on btarl. She was free I I j-omembfr
handinjf her th' paper." Mr. Lyndifh said, lookinu dt'camily
bel'ore him. like a man who behold what lie rclaii's; "and
pointing "ut your mnno amonj^ the list of lo^t. lor a mo-
ment she ^rew deadly pale. She had always a tender heart ;
jioor ehihl- and it seMned a hori-ible fate to In- Iturned alive
in the midst of the Atlantic. Then she threw the paper
down, flung herself in my arjus, and sol)bed in wild hysterics:
'Oh, uncle,' blie cried, 'is it wi'ked to be thaidfid to Ilcav'n
for ( ven an enemy's deaths And 1 liked him once, and his
fato has l)een an awful one, and yet my jicari ha-- no room
for anything but th: ikfulness that I am free. \tw the ex-
posure of a divorce court will be unecessary an exposun^
whif.'h 1 think would kill me. 'I'liaidc Heaven, without it ho
has given me back my lil)erty!' And jifter tl is she rallied,
ami ji^avo Sir Vane her prtmiiso to become his wlf'."
Robert Li.sle listcijed to this lengthy speech, with a smile of
cynical scorn on his handsome bi'arded mouth.
"Yon were always an oi-ator, ^Ir. f-yndith," he said,
quietly; "spouting- was ever your forto, 1 remember, and
graceful fiction quite a striking trait in your characfr-r. I see
time but end)ellishes your talents. In plain F.nglish. I don't
believe ojie word you have t(ld me. Olivia l.yndith was not
the sort of W(man to whistle a lost lover down the wind, after
any such fashion much less the husband ^shc bved
Heaven! loved so dearly!"
His face softened; that of (leffTrey LyiMlith grew black
with suppressed fury.
"Von are an indolent boor." ho said, "but you w^r^rc iiways
that. Two years' sojourn among the refuse of the world in
transatlantic cities should hardl.v be lik'ly to improve y(u.
T \(A\ you Olivia Lyndith never was your wife -jiever! Vou
are alive, but no* divorce will be luvnled. A girl of si.xler'n
runs away to Scotland antl goes through sf)me sort of Scotch
ceremony, that nmy pass for marriage beyond the border. \t
will not hold in England, as you very well know. A minor
^o
^
Whistled Down the Wind.'
contract n le^al marriage, forsooth! You are olc enoiigh^ d
least, to know better, my ii;ood fellow. Tlio niarriag(? was uo
inarriaf?c, the child illegitimate.''
lie stopped short he had betrayed himself in his momen-
tary burst of anjjrer. The youii^ man started, and a dark
flush i)assel over his tanned f ice.
"The child!" he said; ''ihere was a child?"
It was too late to draw back the truth, neatly i:lossed over
with falsehood, nmst be told.
"Yes, a child, who died two days after its birth, thank
Ifeaven. That makes no difference Sir Vane knows. What
was she but a child herself, poor little Livey, when you led
her astray. J.ittlc wonder shp abhors your very memory.
And now, to add one last outrage, you come here to cover her
with shame, to take up from the dead past the story she be-
lieves burl- d in oblivion, which she would die rather than
have the world know. Kobert Lisle, you are less than man to
blight the life of an innocent ti:irl."
The face of the young man turned white, a cold aioistiire
broke out upon his forehead. Was this true, after all? Had
].ord Montalien been right? Was he forgotten abhorred?
"I will see her, at least," he cried, hoarsely. "From her
lips alone will ] take my death warrant. If she teljs me to
go, I will obey her yes, though I should hang myself withiii
the hour. But I know you of old, Geoffrey Lyndith a man
without heart, or truth, or honor! Oh, don't think 1 am
afraid of you! This is no time for fine words. Bring her
here let her tell mo she hates me, let her bid me go, and I
wi^l go, and never trouble her more in this world."
Geoffrey Lyndith looked at him, the dull, red glow more
visible than ever in his evil, black eyes,
"Bring her here?" he repeated; "I would see her dead first!
Do you know what you ask ? She does not know whether her
first marriage was binding or not like all girls, she thinks it
was. She believed yoii dead she thought herself a widow,
and has married again a man whom she loves, as in her
wildest fancy she never cared for you. Do you now what the
consequence of bringing her here will be? It will kill her,
I think just that ! The exposure, the scandal, the loss of
the husband she los'es. vShe would never hold up her head
again. If you ever loved her. Robert Lisle, you, should
spare her now."
"Loved her! Oh, Heaven !*'
He flung himself into a chair, and buried his face in his
hands. Was Geoffrey Lyndith not right? She' had been
proud and fientitive of old, and now the wife of two vcwim^
I
if;/'
H
I
-Hi
i
-f;
I
A
!.-
It eiioiigh*' at
riagc was no
1 his inonieu-
, and a dark
r ji^lossed over
birth, thank
inows. What
v}ion you lod
ery memory.
' to (!over her
story she be-
ratlier than
than man to
okl r.ioistnre
er all? Had
-abhorred ?
"From her
e tells me to
lyself withiii
dith a man
think I am
. Bring her
ne go, and I
Id."
[1 glow more
?r dead first l
whother h(T-
she thinks it
idf a widow.
^s, as in her
ow what the
ivill kill her,
, the loss of
up her head
you, should
i face in his
le' had been
li two rniOK,
'Whistled Down the Wfnd."
51
.1
Si
C
parted from both, and th'^ ^rst a Ho shuddered
through all hie frame, as he sat there.
The elder man saw his advantage, and foUoWeil it up piti-
lessly.
"You insist upon, seeing Lady Charteris? Well, if you are
determined upon it, of course you can. Would you like to
hear the result i She is torn from the arms of her bride-
groom the story of her folly is given to the world she i^
known as the wife of two men, until at least it is proven that
the first was no marriage at all. If the blow does not kill
her, she is in time reunited to Sir Vane, but the scandal fol-
lows her her li^ long. Supposing the first marriage to hnvo
been legal, even, a divorce can be procured, and she is still
free. In any case, all you can do to Sir Vane is to separate
him for a few months from his bride, to whom finally (al-
ways-supposing the exposure does not kill her) he will bo
again united. And now for yourself. In the hour yon stavid
face to face with Olivia Charteris, you shall be giv(ui over
tn the hands of the law. For her Sike I spared you two years
ago for her sake you shall be branded as th( thief you an*,
then. Do you know what your sentence will be? One-and-
twenty years, at le^st, on Norfolk Island. You* will h.-ive
broken her heart, driven her into lr grave, in all probability,
and yourself in a felon's cell. Now, choose! The way I'oo
yonder. Go up to the room above, you will find her lh;M.\
happy, by her bridegroom's side. Clo up, I will not lift a
finger to hinder you, and on the instant you set your foot
U])on the first stair, my servant shall summon the police.
Take your choice, Robert Lisle, and quickly."
lie drew out his watch; in fifteen minutes more the newly
wedded pair were to start on the first stage of their wedding
journey. The self-command of Geoffrey Lyndith was grcjit,
but his lips were gray now, and drops of moisture stood on his
face. He touched the young man on the shoulder, cold with
inward fear.
"You have your choice," he said, "decide! Go up a!id
demn yourself to a felon's cell for life, or go out of yonder
kill the woman you pretend to love, by the sight of you, con-
door, and never return. Quick!"
Robert Lisle arose, and turned to his torturer. To his dy-
ing day, that ghastly face haunted Geoffrey Lyndith. in
that instant he felt as though he had stabbed him to the
ho;i.rt.
"I have decided," he said, hoarsely, "and may the God
above judge j'ou for it! You are as much a mnrdorp.r as
though my blood reddened your hand. Her life shall never
be blighted by me; her proud head brought low in shame
"'-'JH
*
\2
At Half-Moon Terrace.
tl'roufili act of in inc. Slic loved inc once nye, say as you
wii!, liar aiKJ trjiitcn-I jis she never can love the man by
rv'hc-o side she will sjx'nd her life. I g'c, and as you have
dealt ly ns both, (Jeoffrcy I.yndilh, may Heaven deal with
lie raised his arm, and the man before him recoiled. Ife
vviis not sujjci'stitious, nor cowardly in any way, but his
he\irt stood still for a second, and that cold dew shone in
jureiit drojjs on his f;ic(\
"1 have eomiuercd." he thought, "and another such victory
would drive me mad!"
He heard the door open and shut, and drew a great breath
of unutterable relief. His enemy was gone; he was saved!
ClIArTERIX. .
AT IIAI^-.MOUX Tl.KItACE. V
Tie interview had occupied half an hour precisely; and
during that half-hour. Sir Vane Chartcris sat amid his wed-
ding gu'ests, and ate, and draids, and laughed, and was vse-
renely courteous to all, while a- horrible dread filled him.
l^xcept for that one instant., his face never blanched, Mever
altered. Does the old blood tell (the Charteris family had
been baronets since James I.), or are they only true to the
traditions and codes of their order? The French marquis
arranges his necktie, and blows his smilinjr adieux to his
friends, on his way to the guillotine; Sir Vane sat at the
bead of his wedding breakfast, knowing that the bride he had
so hardly won n ight be torn from him forever in ten min-
utes, and smiled, and jested, with an unmoved front. But,
would (leoifrey Lyndith never come?
lie came at last very, very pale, everybody noticed, but
quite calm. He apologized with courtly fluency, for his ex-
traordinary absence at such a time, and resumed his place 'at
his own tabl(\ Sir Vane never glanced at him after the first
monienh and the nu])tial breakfast went on, and came to an
end at "ast. At last! To the bridegroom it seemed an eter-
nity sitice he had sat down. The bride went upstairs, to
}ut Oil her traveling dress then for a few seconds Sir Vane
got Mr. Lyndith alone in a recess of one of the windows.
"He is gone ^" he asked.
"(lone. and forever," Geoffrey Lyndith answered. "I have
coiuiuered as T did before. Of his own free will, he has left
the house, the country, and her forever. If quite convenient,
my dear nephew, I will take that promised cheek."
1
i
At Half-Moon Terrnct,
)
3, say as you
tlie man by
as you have
^en chml with
recoiled. Tfe
way, but his
Jew shone in
such victory
I prcat breath
was saved !
heck
reeisely ; and
unid his wed-
, and was se-
id filled him.
mched, mever
s family had
y true to the
mch marquis
idieux to his
ne sat at the
i bride he had
in ten min-
front. But,
noticed, but
y, for his ex-
d his place 'at
after the first
d came to an
mied an eter-
: upstairs, to
nds Sir Vane
o windows.
red. "I have
11. he has left
e convenient,
3ck."
The bridegroom sini'cd jj^im'hiIv a^ he proijiiccd ihc
already tilled cut, and luuuh'd it, to his new r"!aliv.'.
**'\ have seen Circassians sold in Stausboul. lyid (luadroons
in the W(st Indies, but nev(^r Circassian nor (luadroon woro
moif surely bought and sold than your haU;ylity little nii'ce.
Well, out of such a d;t as hers, one can aiTiM'd even (lie pricu
of ten thousand pounds.''
Half an hour later, and the happy pair were otT, and away
on the first stage of their Italian honeymoon.
Like a man struck blind and (l(\if, R(bert Lisle pflsscd out
of the dim, green light of ^Ir. Lyndith's stately hall, to tho
broad, pitile-^!^ glare of the April noon. He stagf.' r'(l almost
like a drunken man a red-hot mist ~\vam before his cy(^ a
surging rush of many waters sounded in his ears he put hi-?
hand as if to ward off the blinding bright n'ess of the noon-.
day sun. He descended the steps, and i)assed on*, he had for^
gotten the waiting hackney coach, and his new-found ac-
quaintance still sitting there he remembered nothing, but
that he had lost her of his own choice, had left her unse'n,
and forever. Ho went on, still blind and deaf to the busy lifo
around him.
"Now, then, my man! do you want to find yourself under
my horses' fc^^t ? By Jove ! he is there !''
He was crossing the street; why, he could not have told.
A carriage pole struck him on the head, after he was down.
The horses were checked immediately: the driver leaped out
and drew the fallen man from beneath his phaeton.
"Such infernal stupidity! Is the fellow blind? T called
to him, but he wouldn't get out of the way. If he is killed
it's no fault of mine" this to the gathering" crowd "I say,
my man, I hope you're not very badly hurt. CJad! I'm
afraid he is! Does anybody here know him?'^
"I know him," said a voice; and Duke Mason elbowed hia
way through the throng.
I "I wish you swells would mind where you are going, and
not knock the brains out of every ]xaceable citizen who tries
to cross the street! Hawksley, my poor fellow! Cood
Heaven! he's dead!"
He did not look unlike it, truly. The blow, at l(as(. had
sturuH'd him; he lay (juite white and rigid, his eyes c1os(m1, tlici
blr)od trickling in a ghastly way from a cut near the temple.
"No, he's not," said the young military "swell" wlio-^n
phaeton had knocked him over; "but he came deuced!y T^vir
it. He's only stunned. I'm very sorry, and all tlr.it. y.iu
know; but the fault wasn't mine."
With which the cornet got into his trap again^ with rather
an injured exprtssion, and drove off.
^1-
A ^
V
54
At Half-Moon Terrace.
Duke and aiiotlior man lifted the rigid form oi 'the pros-
trnte Hawksley, and can'ied it to the Kansom.
lie gave the order, "To ITalf-Moon Terrace!" and at witli
feelings by no means to be envied, watching the stn-el-* fly by,
njid the deathlike face of the man before him, until P)loonis-
hury was reached.
it was a second time that day a hansom cab had startled
tlio inhabitants of Half-Moon Terrace out of their normal
Hiate of repose. And this time female heads came to (h)()rs
and windows, as the driver and TJuke carried between them
what appeared to these female eyes to be the stark form of a
dead man. Rosanna herself flung open the door before th'y
had time to knock, with a face lu^r brother did not ohoose to
look at; and Robert Ilawksley was borne into the little dingy
parlor, then into the little dingy bedroom adjoining, and laid
on Duke's own neat, plump bed.
The driver was paid and dismissed, and the tug of war
very near. Duke had to look at his long-suffering .sister now,
and the expression of that stony face might have frightened a
braver man.
"Oh, Rosanna! don't scold. I could not help it, upon my
sacred honor, I couldn't!" Duke cried in a sort of frenzy; '*if
you'll just listen half a minute I'll tell you all about it."
And thereupon, for the second time that day, Duke poun 1
out the story of his adventure into the wondering ears of
Rosanna.
"Xow, could I help it could I? I put it to yourself, Ro-
sanna. You wouldn't leave him to die like a dog in t]w
street, would you? vVnd he'll come round in half an hour,
or so, and then he will be able to ,tc home himself where he
belongs. Poor fellow! It seems t :ty to see him , like thnt,
dofsii't it. Rosanna'^" "
"Go right round to Mr. Jellup this very minute; toll him
it's a case of life and death, and don't stand cliattei-ing t]] r(
like an overgrown magpie," was Rosanna'y an.s^ver; "th;it
n:an will die if something is not done for him ahoitiy. and
I'm not going to have any dead man on nl^ krnds. If Mr.
Jellup isn't here in five mintcs, Duke Maso.^ '
But Duke Mason did not wait for the Lompi':^ticn of tli(^
awful sentence Rosannn's face completed it. He clapped od
his hat, and ruslied after his sister's f avc .i'je practitioner,
and Mr. Jellup was there in five minuce^..
It was Sunday morning. Duke had - ii".'idpy in snite of
Tinsel & Spindle. It was hi^ iirst tr :'i:^.'t a? he s:it v.p,
yawiii.i^'', ti find the little k:t'';iien gl, . i'cd by a burst of sun-
shine, the breakfast in a state of preparation, and Rosanna
grazing down on him with a lace of owl-like solemnity. Was
;^
^,i
fold in the Twilight.
^5
m oi "the pros-
!" and sat willi
ie strcf'W fly by,
, until J^loonis-
ab had startled
f their nornial
came to doors
I between them
3tark form of a
cor before th'y
d not ohoose to
the little din^y
)ining, and laid
the tug of war
ring siste* now,
ive frightened a
?lp it, upon my
t of frenzy; "if
all about it."
y, Duke pound
idering ears of
o yourself, Ro-
a dog in tiie
half an hour,
mself where he
e him ,like that,
nute; tell him
hattei-ing there
answer; "that
m ahoitly, and
k: nd?. If Mr.
ii^/i^tion of the
He clapped eti
e ractitioner,
lfy in vTiite of
a-' he s:;t r.p,
a bui'st of sun-
, and Rosanna
lemnity. Was
ho in for 1^ already? "Was tho justice of the king about to
fall?"
"What is it, Rosanna?" he hazarded.
"Duke," responded Rosanna, "1 have something ver
strange to trll you. That child has a loek(^t, with a man's
picture and lock of hair, round her neck. Duke, the picture
and hair both belong to that sick man."
"RosHuna!"
"It is true. Look for yourself, if you like. It's m^
opinion Ik's the child's father!"
"I tbiiik it's uncommonly likely," said Duke. "We'll try
ami find out before he goes, Rosanna. If we're to bring up
Aiistress Polly, it strikes mo I should like to know her name
at least."
IJy Sunday Mr. Hawksley had sufficiently recovered to bo
able to thank his friends and tell them that ho must hnivo
the country without delay.
I Duke was tilled with curiosity, but deferred making any
iii'iuiries till the evening, when the stranger .voluntarily told
his eventful story.
CIIArTER X.
TOLD IN TIIE TWILIGHT.
"You wonder, very likely" IVfr, Jlawksley began, with per-
fect alruTtness^"that I should take a journey all the way
^|across from New York, and only remain three or four days
'before u:oii:;i i)acK. You wiii \voii(ler more, when 1 tell you
iwtiy ' 'anic J came to tin(: my wile,"
' An(i--vov. have fouua her?' ventured Duke, half alarmed
it his own temerity.
'Found her, r.nd lost her forever, in the same hour."
"Sht ;- (ieack" Kuke had hazarded again.
Yes. -If.vvksiv'y -^aiu in r s-trange, compressed sort of
):ce. '''.Dead dead, vV\uld you like to hear the history ot
'iit xLat nas been a xailure? I feel in the mood to-night -
i(r the first time ir. two years for the last time iK^riiaps in
ny lift. A romantic story my good fellow," with a sort of
laugh; "(f how the son of a yeoman won and lost *a lady of
ugh de^-rce," as the old song has if. A yeoman son, educated
Far and above his sphere, bv an eccentric godfather well-to-
Ic in life, and started to i^ish bis fortune at \he age oi
twenty-two, as secretary to a gentleman in the House ot
/ommons. I fulfilled my duties, it appears, so satisiaetoriiy,
id was willing to receive such very slender wages, thav m.^,
X,
^6
Told in the Twiiic:r =
'f
\i I
gc'iitl'.'iiiaii, who was iK'itlur rich nor {^fncrcs, rej^olv-* ^ r'
tain ine as Iomjjj as he could. And wlic.i tiio liou)^' d'^solved,
he took nic with him to his couiitiy-scat lo\vn i' tlu' heart,
uf Stailoidsliirc. I nut her ih- w. 'It is over three years ago
now, but in tliis lio.ir, and to the hist of my life, I will see
her as j)iainly a^ I saw her that first d.iy, standing' t)reast-
hii^h ami;! tlie waves of l)arley, her hamls full of (.'om-tlowers
and pupjiics, h( r wliite dre-s wavinji' in the, sweet summer
wiiid, a ;.';ollen ray sky over her head, and the rosy li;ht of
the Jr.iy sunset in her fare. She was only sixteen, and
home iiom school for u two-numths' vacation, an or[)han
/leiress, with a face like one of KaphaeFs Machnmas, and a
heart a heart as constant, and as true, as the rest of her sex.
An orfdian heiress, en^'ajicd from her tenth year to a har(net,
bound to marry him by her father's deathbed injunction
her very fortune depended on it if she refused, that f(rtu:i
went to ( uihnv and build a L.si)ital and library.
"1 knew nothin;^ of the en{i:;igement it ij, doubtful whether
it \v(tui(l have mattered much if I had; refill I think iiow ii
wouM have Loen more honest on her part, if she had toM
Pie. She diiin't'care for Iut attiaJieed liusband,, of course: In;
was )iiuc!i her senior she rather disliked him, indeed, iii
those early days. And she loved me!"
He paustMl, the smoke from his cij:ar curled upward, aniiil
Kosaniui's lemon geraniums, and hid his i)a]e face in the fa^!-
injj daylight.
"We fell in love with each other, after the most approvi .!
three-volume romance fashion, and there vyere elanlestii;'
meetings, and vows of eternal constancy, umh r the nidoiiligh'
areades of the old court. Before a month had elapsed. \s-
had made up our minds, and informed each other, we woul'l
assuredly die if separated, and that separation was very near.
She was going to spend a fortnight with a bosom friend in
Scotland, before going back to school, and after that nothini:
remained but a broken heart and an early grave. iMy jxm r
little girl! How ijretty she looked in the gloaming, as sIm'
clung to my arm and implored me to save her. Salvation
eecmed very easy just then to me. She was going across \'
Scotland; Avhat was there to hinder my following, and haviiiL'
our marriage performed there. ]*i'ivate marriage was easy in
Scotland no license, no witnes- a juiet ceremony .'-ohm
fine day, and lo! our ha])piliess was secured fm- life. She w;:
a little frightened at fir.t, at this high-handed prone al, but
{.-he conseijti'd soon. We said good-b'- ii any of the hous -
hold suspected our secret, I think the eomjwsure with whi( li
we parted must effectually have deceived them. She went io
Scotland. Three days after I received a note froni her, Tht
I
'4 n
?' it \\'
f I
ft" 1
Told in the Twiiight.
fl
re?olv .' '- ir'
011'^' d's-iolvec],
n I' tlu' lifMrt.
throe years ago
life, I will se;'
Mudiii^' t)reast-
nf eoni-llnwers
sweet siHiinicr
le rosy li^lit f
y sixteen, inil
on, an orplian
iitlmmas, iiiui a
rest of lier sex.
\r to a l)ar(net,
(1 injnnction -
'(J, tliat fortujic
y.
)ubtful whetli* r
I think now ii
f slie had toM
1., of conrse; Ik
lini, indeed, in
1 upward, ansiil
face in the fad-
niost approvi .!
ere ehnid.cst ii;i'
r the niiionlif^h'
iiad idaped. vs'
other, we woul'l
1 was very ne:ii.
H)soni frieinl in
tor tliat nothiiiL'
;rave. iMy po( r
loaniinii'. as sIm
her. Stdvati'ii
goin^ across t'l
?inp:, and haviiiL'
iap:e was easy in
ceremony soitu
)r life. She w;i
ed propo al, hut
ly of the housi
sure witli whit li
m. She went to
t from her. TL
.loxt moniinjr T went to my emiltyer, anl asked a holiilay.
[it was the tirst hypocrisy (.f my life, and 1 hunj-vled over the
FinipK recpu'st, until he looked at me with wontler. hut he
granted it. 1 left tlu; Court ostensibly to visit m- godfather,
fill reality U travel to Scotland at full speed.
'On the very day of my arrival, a pouring Septeml)r day,
four marriage took place. A su])erannuated (dd nnin, who had
'^l)een ainini-^tcr, hut whose too strong proclivity for the
whisky hottle had eausetl a susj)ension of his duties, per-
^formed the ce'eniony n-adily enough, for a few crowns.
;|^Vc-wc^e married ai-cording to Scotcli law, v/ithout a single
^vitness, hut whether sudi a marriage contracted by a minor
guilder such circutnstances would hold in Kngland, is an open
^tpiestion.
' "When her fctrtnight amonr her Scottish friends expired,
"|h' rcturiu I home. I followed her in two days after, and
Jthings went n in their (dl way the moonlight walks, the (-
ICrct mei'ting^, the nUl vows, and talk, and bliss old as Kdcu
'5- the sweeter always for being stolen.
^1 "She ]deaded so hard uuf to be ^ent back to school until
[after Christmas, that her uncle, indulgent in all minor ?nat-
fters. consented.
"The autumn pasea suen a flden autumn! \Vc had
[been four nunths nnu-ried, when our well-guard( d secret was
[iliscovtred, .Sly empKner -'d nothing he was a nuiu ratiier
to act than to talk but suddenly, without a word of warn-
ing, m^ wife was spirited away. 1 was .sent early one day i^n
a conunissi(jn to tlie neighborinf? town; when I came bai-k
^ t'he was gone. That is more than two and a half years ago.
' ^l have never : een iier but for one moment since,- anl that was
;,i yesterday.
I lie ])aused again to light another cigar.
l'^ Duke understood him perfectly. Tie was intens(dy inter-
ested in this story far more interested tlum the narrator yet
knew.
-^1 "I'here was no scene; the uncle nut me (ven more blandly
.^jxilite than usual; but T felt he knew all. Two days after,
f while 1 was still unresolved what c-ourse to pursue, he called
,|me to his study- his valet was busy about the room, I remeiik-
^^ her, at the tinn^ and locked up in his safe, in my presence, a
^ quantity of unset jewel.s, and a sum (f money in bank notes.
rlt was an old-fashioned safe, with an ordinary lock, by no
j_ mcnins the kind in which to intrust three thousand poumls*
il worth (d" familv diamonds, and six hundred pounds in money.
-I He was dictating a letter to me wdiile he did this, and T saw
-4 him put the key of the nafe in his pocket. . j
M ** 'I am going *Q Swausborougb this evening, nob^nj ^
''"I
r
Ii!i
58
To!d in the Twilight.
w
said to ir.s, -n hie iiuwt ooiifidoiitial way, 'and I shall probaLly
not return for two days at Icabt. In uiy absence the care o!
this Bflfp is intnistod to you !'
"J looked at him in surprise and distrust,
"'Wliy Irnvc r,ucli valuable jewt'ls in the house? Why not
deposit tlieiu in the Swansborougli Bank?'
"Mis answer was very careless, and quite ready.
' VHecRuse, immedTately upon my return, they are to be
taken up to London, to be new set for Oliv'a. Iler marriage
\itli Sir Vane Charteris is to take^rlace in Ivy'o months, ami
they are to be set aeeording to her fancy.'
"He looked nie straight in the eyes, with a dark, sinist'r
smile, n.^ he said this, and left the house. It was the middle
of the afternoon as he rode away. I recollect his turniiit,'
round, with the same smile on his dark face, as he rode down
the avenue.
" 'WatcJi the safe, Robert,' he repeated; 4t will be as f^-
cure in j'our keeping as though in the strong room of a
bank.'
"It was the middle of the afternoon. As the dusk of the
bleak December evening wore on, the postman brought the
mail. There was a note from her, dated London, begging me
to come to her at once to lose not a moment. There was tin-
address of an inn, where I was to stay, and at such an hour
she would come to me there. I never doubted that not(\
What was my employer, and his diamonds and his safe, to me
then ? I ran to my room, i)acked my portmanteau, waited
until the house was quiet, and that very night, without in-
forming any one, was on my way to London. I reached th(
inn late the next day. A great part of the journey was per-
formed in stageooac les. I waited for my wife, but she nevi r
came. I waited three days. At the end of that time ther
came, instead of Olivia, her uncle and an officer of the law.
armed with a search-warrant.
"On the night of my departure, my employer, returnim;
rather unexpectedly, found the safe unlocked, the jewel? ani
money gone. I was gone, too. Every imnatc ot the hou(^
was examined, but all proved their innocence triumphantlv.
I wa^ the guiiry party beyond a doubt, and I was followed.
After two days' search they found me. I and my bagga'ic
"Were to be examined. I listened with astoiiishment and an
ger and -^coit: ! Examine ! Let them ex^imine as long as thev
pleased' They searched me a degradation I submitted to,
afire with ragel IhGy examines my portianteau. There,
carefully sewed up in the lining, the jewels and money were
found !
^^'M^ late eooploytr diamiaaed ibe detoottvi^ W9 van hti
4
e.
I shall probaLly
nee the care o\
)use? Why not
eady.
they are to he
Her iiiarriagc
vv'j months, aud
a dark, sinist^'i
was tlie midd!*^
ofit his turniiii,'
IS he rode down
t will be as r^.
ong room of a
the dusk of the
an brought the
Ion, begging me
There was tin
it such an hour
bted that not(\
1 his safe, to me
lanteau, wait'(l
rht, without in-
I reached tlic
)urney was per-
e, but she nevt )
that time thcr
icer of the law.
oyer, returning
the jewels aii'i
te ot tlie lioiK^e
5 triumphantly.
I was followed,
id my baggasif
;hment and an
as long a? thev
[ submitted to,
mteau. There,
nd iiiony were
Told in the Twilight.
59
Wt
hii
lone iogelher. Uo lookrd at me more in :'^r*ow Mian in
tiger; and 1 1 sat benumbed. Aly guill wivj. plain; there
^f-re the jewels and money the nuniinT of tlu' int(.'.s ail
iken ajid found to correspond. What hail J to .viy tin* njy-
f'lf that 1 should ii' t be handed over lo the law ^ 1 had not
word. 1 sat stunned, and listened to kim while he talked,
''or my dead parents' sake i oor but hone^t people tor god-
father's .sake, he was willing to spare me. On conditim ihat
left the country at once and forever, 1 shouUl not be given
j|ver to the fate I deserved hr.rd labor anl penal servitude,
iriost likely, for life. His niece, who had been greatly
Jiockcd by the news, had begged him to hand me a n"fc;
le would give me half an hour to dcjide and to read what
\hv luul to say. 1 tore open the note is he left me, still too
itunned to utter a word.
V "'She knew all,' she wrote; 'she begged me for Iloavcn'-i
akc not t(; provoke her uncle to p)*osecute. lie was nuM-ci-
}ss, if once arousedj and everything was against me. Siio
Relieved in my innocence, would always love m(^ and hv truo
i me, but I must fly now, and without seeing her. She
IJared not see me, it would break her heart, ii woijld kill hfr,
I were arrested and condemned, as I wouhl surely he
langed, even, perhaps. She felt as though she wcrr going
lade 1 must fly I must fly if 1 had ever loved her, t
?ould leave Eng:land now.'
"She gave me an address to which 1 might write to her, and
^he would answer me, would fly to join me presently ii.iy-
ling, as that I did not suffer myself to be arrested for i;ob-
^ry now.
"What could I do? What would you have done in 'ueh :i
.^aseif I knew there was a vile conspiracy against me. of h( r
^^ making, 'out I never thought he forged those letters.
M'o have been arrested would have been an end to all hof.n
Iny i^iilt seemed palpable as the light of noon, hi a -t.ite f
Aulkui fury I accepted the scoundrel's terms 1 left l.iTjjrijind,
J|Bying from the con.sefiueiM'es of a crime I had rn^ver rum-
'^.itted almost maddened with no hope, save in her truth
,4|ind iilelity and love.
; "1 began my new life in a thriving Western village, vising
'fast to a populous town. For twelve months luck weni stewd-
|ly agains^ iie; then the tuin janje. I and anothci -tarted
In a lusim.ia that flourished; we made money the object of
#ny life was beinj^ fast acconipli-bed a sure and safe com-
|.( tenee for the wife T had left '')ehind me. 1 tell r"U here
Jpnljy -he plain, simplr- facts of my stor' of my sur- rings
,|[i my despair, at times, of the hours when I was nearly
i*- ''ddened by failure. Mid hs the loss of all man holds dear
..-m^t. E-'Av AV^iT'alMi
60
Told in the Twilight.
I t(.'ll you notliiiiff rf wliat Hlccplcss ni::lit iiwl wnMchoil dft\
her Hiicin'OMii'l my us|hmis caused nir. For sli( ncviT wro'i
no Ictlcr c.Miu? frojii Iht to ili( nildrcss in London to hr (iv
wurdi'd to nic. I wrote awjiin and a^ain to tliat address
llic Irtters lay unealled for. It was worse than useh-ss t(
write to her to tlie Conrt; I kix'W her luiele well enon^h ii
be sure tlu-y wonld never roach licr. '1 hen J resolvei' m) throv
up everything, the tide in tny alTairs tliat was l;\idinfj: lu"
slov.-iy alon;^ t( fortune, anil rush hack lo Fn^land, an-i
brave all, aiul claim \\vr.
"And vou fonnd hcr^" Duke breathlessly crieb
lvob( rt ilawl;s1'y made no reply. His la-t eiji.ir h.id hec
smoked out; h'_' sat like a statue of black marh'e amid th'
flo\v( rs.
"Vou fonnd Iht," Duke rcj)oated, unable to contain h.i'n
self, "a bride! Vou found in r at the altar, another man'-
wife!"
llawksley, the least excited of tin; two, turned aiul looked
at him. *
"How do you know thatT' he asked.
"I know more than you think," said Duke, still excited
"^'ou found her married to Sir \'ane (Miarteris. I ha\
lieard tihat you had a sinfzrular vision. Jt ne(Hls uo inler-
pretatiou. The lady you saiw in your vision was W'l-.
Olivia Lyudith; and on that very nif?ht the twenty-tilV'i
of last month, I saw, and heard in r(vdit\- what you saw aini
heard in that singular vision."
Kobert Hawksley was fully aroused now. lie had told lii-J
story dreamily, as much to himself as to Duke, IIi^ taniK'ii
face flushed deep red as he rose.
"What are you saying ^" he said, hoarsely. "Vou vvouM
not dare to trifle with me "
"Sit down sit down!" Duke interrupted. "I'll tell yon
the whole affair. It's tin* stranf.rest, the most wonderful thirij:
that ever was heard of. Uood gracious! what would Ivi
sanna say ?" j
Then Duke Mason, with breathless volubility, (piite unlik'
hiniself, poured into the listener's ear the story of the night
of the twenty-fifth of March, every word he had heard, all
he had seen, up to the moment of (ieotTrey Lyndith's 1. i
pearanee at the waiting-roam of the Speekbaven station.
'^Auil now!" he concluded, out of breath, ajid jrlowing with
triumidi, "what do yiu think of that? Are you satisfied now
that ])(' always loved you always wa- true to you?"
The darkness hid the uiarble pallor that had fallen once
more on Hawksley's face. Only the tremor in big voice be-
tokened what he flt, when he answere'l : ,, ..
ToU in the Twiliuni
61
w never wrolc
i(!(n |(t he fr-
li.it ultlress
Kill Usek'HW te
^ell (Mioiiph Id
')|ve' M tliivtv
IS hM(liii^ iu-
lMiw:i;in(V, uii'l
ed.
i;^.ii* li.id luMM'
r!'e jiiiiiil tli'-
contain liiin
another iniui''
ed and looked
, still excited,
eris. I linvi'
eMls no inter-
ion was Mis,
le twenty-fiTlh
it yon saw aini
ie had t(.ld hi^
1 lis taniu'd
"You would
"I'll tell yon
onderful thin::
lat would Ko
V, (luite unlikr
y of the nighi
had heard, all
Lyndith's ud
a station.
^ plowing with
I satisfiec^. now
1 you ?"
id fallen once
1 Viig voice be-
"T don't tiiink T ever really douhted it -no, u(^ "ht'n I
Jaw her J't the altaV with that man, when I listeji d to her
nii'lo' falsch )ods. ^lay Heaven's hlij/ht tall upon him!
My /liiiling! my darlinrl' Hi^^ voice hrtk'; he jnit ono
jiand up over hi'^ face, evi'u in the darkness. For a moment
llcjid ^iIenco fel^
Mr. MaH(Ui, not uvea to this sort of stroiij^' emotion off
the staM'e d* the 1-ritannia, felt exeeeliiiply uncoml'ortahl(.
ilawksley hroke th. sileiu e, and looked up.
"I heji: your i)i'rdon," he said, iiuietly, in his usual tone;
Kvill yovi tell UK what arj^ument Ix'r un(de ned to inlnco
lier to yiold, and go with him? You say slu^ detied him at
irst, and was resil"tly heiit on going with you."
*'Sh(! was," Duke said. "It i)U//le(l me fr the tinu . hut I
think T have hit c^n a solution of the mystery now. I did not
[lear what he said to her after the first moment, hut there is
:e(iuel to my story of that event fnl night, which, to my
^nind, lights up everything."
Tlu^n Cuke went hackwardj and toul that little episode of
nne one year and nine months hefore, when Dr. Worth
lad heen ntutod out in the rain, to assist at the hirth of a
)ahy gir! at Lyudith (irange. Once more Kolx-rt l.islo
Started erect, and eager to listen, lie rcniemhered the words
heoffrey Lyndith liad let fall, (d" a hild that had d'lvd on tho
lay of its hlrtli.
"My oi)inion is,'' Duke sai1, "that old thike of an uindo
ihducted the child, and kept it from her ail along; ami on
that night, in the waiting-room, promised to give it up to
ler if aho would consent. She thought you dead; .she wonld
jacrifice anything, like mo- t mothers, fdi- her itahy, and slu^
jonsented ft its sake. And," continued Duke, in a perfect
)\ust of triumph, "that ehild is in the next room I"
"In tlu^ next room ^" ^Ir. Lisle could hut just rejM^at. "In
Ihf next room!" And once again Duke hegan there seemed
^lo end to the story-telling -and related tlu^ receipt of
[)Mvia's note, and hoW' singularly, on her wedding m(rning,
ihe had given the child to his care,
"There can bo no doubt whatever about it," Dnke said;
'it is the same 'hild of Dr. Worth's tale, and y(nr wife was
le mysterious lady. She told mo plainly the diild was hers,
md to UKike assurance doubly sure, .it has a locket with your
bicture and hair round its neck, ^ly sister recognized the*
likeness this morning, and spoke to me about it. You saw
the child half a dozen times to-day yours beyond the shadow
)f a doubt, its ])atprnity is written in its eyes."
There was still another r.ause. Duke got up and lit the
mj3 he avoided these blanks in the conversation.
6)
Toid *n the Twilight
'T: 'otch Polly in. if you like she calls heraolf Polly
that is, if ahe'rt not atileep."
Hut Polly wan asleep; and not for a roKimeut of fath!ra
wopUI l^^allua have her dinturbcd. She was reading "BiairV
Srrriioiis'' by a s(litMry dip in the kitchen, and looked about
as placable and yiebliniLf as a granite Mednsa.
"As Mr. Ilawksley has waited ho long, I dare say he cin
wait until morning," wa3 her grim reply, as she went la k
to " Blair's St-rmons."
"Your sister is right," Mr. Ilawksley said. Tie was whi
as marble, and lookcil almost as cold. "I will see the rliili
to-morrow to say good-by."
"((i()d-by! Then you mean to leave England to give up
all eliiim to "
"Lady Charteris," he spoke the name quite ealinly. qui!,
coldly, "is out of Englanl by this time, on the first stage m;
her bridal lOur to Italy. For her sake T onee gave up naiin,
character jmd my native land; for her sake I make a great r
sacrlfiee now. I give up herself. Think, for a moment,
all that is involved in my coming forward and claiming hi r
I break her heart, I blight her life, and in the moment wi
met, we are torn upart. T to stand my trial as a thief. I
am innocent; but I cannot prove it. It is the old struggle ui
might against right. As it is, she may h-arji to forget; hip-
pi tu-ss and i)eace inay come to her. T cannot make her tlio
talk of Kngland. I can't drag the story of her girlisli iudl-
cretion iH'fore the world. She will cease to think of iiiu,
and T " He clenched his hands, and great drops ston]
on his pallid face. "May God keep me from a suicidt;'-
cowardly end !"
His folded arms lay on the table, his head fell forw.inl
ui)on them. So Duke Mason, with bated breath, and a gr- a;
compassion in his heart, left him.
" '.T
*
The mor!\ing came, gray and overcast. A London fo;'
had set in, and a sky like brown pajxjr frowned down on tli
siiioky city. But little Polly, in her blue silk dress, bronx.
boots and her golden locket and flaxen ringlets, looked sun-
shiny enough to light up the whole parish of Bloomsbui;
* herself.
The strange gentleman with the blue eyes so like her own
and twuy beard, took her in his arms, and looked into litr
small face; and Polly, who flouted Duke and Rosanna ii.
haughtily as tboucrh she had been Czarina of all the Kuh
Bias, "took to him" ia a w^f that waa quite innttsing. Sh
t.
Is heraolf Polfy-
[fiineut of fathns
is reuding " Blair'?
and looked about
isa.
I dare say liP cmii
bj^ she went back
id. Tie was whi'-'
will see the chili
gland to give up
uite ealinly, quitf
1 the fir^t stag*' nf
nee gave up naiiM;,
2 I make a great-, r
f'or a moment, ;
and claindng In r.
in the moment we
trial as a tliief. I
the old struggle ui
u-i: to forget; hip
iinot mak(^ her tli
f her girlish inll-
' to think of im.
great drops stonl
from a suicide'--
head fell forw.in.
ireath, and a gp a:
t. A London fo:
3wned down on lli
silk dress, bnui/
nglets, looked sun-
ish of Bloomsbur;
^es so like her own
nd looked into Inr
e and Rosanna n'
na of All the Ku-
lite .imyaing Sh
Told i(\ the Twilight.
^3
iissed ins bearded lijjs, let him look at her loeket, tnld him
?r name was Polly, and that *'I)ozy" was "all gone away."
"F ^iipfiosc her naine is Mary," Duke suggested, "and sh
tills lier-"lf Jl]y f,r short."
11 cr Tiame is Paulina,'' Mr. llawkslcy said, quietly. "I
iiii iiuiti' certain (( it. Pauline was the nafne of of her
|i,iN iiial grandmother, and of her mother's twin sister ati
Id family natiie among the Lvndiths. This child's name is
Viuilna i.ile. I took my mother's name in America, and
li.dl keep it. Let her grow up as Mason; k'ep her with you
[Kvays, unless her mother should claim her. ller right is
luav- fir^t. and fnosf sacred."
lie ki-ed the child yearningly, wistfully, and y.vt lier
)wri. Half an hour Inter^and he had left Ilalf-Mon T(t-
lec ffrevcr.
**Thr Land of Columhia leaves again to-morrow," lu; snid
Duke; "T shall return by lu v."
They shook hands and ])arted, with no !.'re words, and
le scene-painter went to the Britannia. Tie was not .^enti-
lerital nor imaginative in any way, hut all that day, and
)r many days, the jtale face and dark I'yes of Kohcrt
[awksh y haunted him like a gho^f. The Land of Cnhimhin
lilec] on Tuesday morning. On Tuesday night there cam*'
letter to Ifalf-.Nfooii Terrace, addressed to Duke. A check
)r five hundred pounds fell out wh'n iie opened it, and he
Nid these lines:
"You spoke of wishing to save enough to purdia.-.e for your-
lf a home in Speekhaven, where you said there was a better
#ening for you than in London, It is ray desire that you
tpould do so at once, for my child's sake. Once a year I will
ife to you, and you to me, telling me of her progress and
Ifare. I go to make a fortune for her; please (iod, i.iy
lugliter sliall be an heiress, before whom those wlio scorn
'r now shall yet bow down. Let her grow up as your own
utter ignorance of her own stoi-y. If I live, I may one day
#turn to Kngland, and to her \i I die, be her father in my
rti ad. Robert riAvvKSMiv/"
And so the first chapter in little Polly's strange history was
3|t"d and ended.
, . -.4.
ART SECONL
CHAPTKR I.
AFTEll ruLHTKKN YICARS.
.{
And it will bo the most splendid tiling ever scon in Spoi -;
faavon, Rosniiiial Fij^^ure to yoursidf ynrds and yards -\
Cliinc.-e lanterns spai'Ulint; through the trtes, plashinjuf foun-
tains, and tlie divine tnusic of Ilohnesdale's military bra-;
band! Faney the long tables jiroaning that's the word
groaning und(T the roast beef of old iMigland, and foamin^'
flagons of ale I Faney ilags flying, and bells ringing, an i
everybody eating and tlrinking, and making merry, and your
little Polly sharing t];e glories of the hour with the Hon(H
able (luy J\iget Earlscourt, second and favorite son of Lr,i
JVIontalien, of Montalien Priory, Lincolnshire."
"Polly!"
"Well, I mean as the i)rettiest girl at the feast. x\nd Tu
quite determined to go, Kosanna, so iron my white musli!
dress, like a dear old love, and say no more about it."
The spirited speaker of this oration stood in the mildl(^ '
the floor, a tall slip of a girl, with a slim waist, sunburn* -I
hands, and a clear, ringing, sweet, young voice. The pp
tiest sight ou earth a fair, joyous, healthy girl of sixteen.
Tt was high noon of a delicious June day, and she stood in
a burst of sunshine that flooded the little parlor, that flash, i
in her short, auburn curls, and si)arkled back from her jov
ous eyes. Fourteen years ago you saw her a lovely baby, aui
now she is an "English miss" of sixteen. And has the fair
baby beauty ully kept its promise in the girl'? Well, nt
first glance you might be inclined t'^ say no. Crop the flow-
ing locks of the Venus AiKidyomene, give her a sunburnt 1
complexion, and a smudge of dirt on her nose, put her in )
torn dress, and what Ijecomes of your goddess but a gooM-
lookinj; vciing woman with a i)air of fitie eyes? Polly labor-
under all those disadvantages at present, after her n\ci\
dusty walk through the bla/ing noonday sun; but in spite t'
the smudge on her n(/se, it is a vi'ry pr(^tty nose, perfect i"
shape and chiseling. The mouth may be a trifle larger th.i!!
a rosebud, perhaps, but it is a handsome moutli, with th it
square cut at the corners, which niakcg a mouth at ance re"
"I
After Fourteen Year:,
65
scon in Speck-
and yarJs (tf
plasluufjj fouii-
military brass
it's the word -
d, and foamiii:;
Is ringiiifj:, an'l
norry, and yo'ir
ith the Honor-
ilo son of Lord
e."
feast. And I'm
y white mushii
ihout it."
n the middle '{
aist, snnhnnu^'l
)ice. The pr- :
irl of sixteen,
ind she stood \\\
lor, that iias]iol
k from her jiyv
lovely hahy, a til
.nd has tho fan-
girl'^ Well, .It
Crop the flow-
ler a siiiibnnu '
ise, pnt her in '
ess hut a godi
s?
Polly lahnr
after her nici",
; bnt in spito '
nose, {)orfeet i"
rifle lar/^er th;i'i
lonth, with Umt
nth at ance re
luie and sweet. She niay be tanned; yon may sec a few
freckh'S nndcr her eyes, but oh, those eyes! so blue, .0 radi-
ant, llashin^ with lif'. anl health, and fun, and misfhicf,
from morninj? till night! You neither .saw freekles nor tan,
ojx'o their lustre tlashed ui)oi5 you. The auburn hair is short-
('roi)iied, and all eui-linfJT ronnd her luvid; and standing there
in the June snnlighl, siie looks like a saucy boy, an anda-
eionsly saucy boy, ready for anything in the way X)f fnn or
frolic, from smoking a cigp.r to ritling an unbroken I'olt
round the paddock wi'hont ^-addlo or bridle
iio^aiuia sits before her Eotianna, whom old Time no
more dare aji)roach than any other man. J''nirteen yearr,
have left her absolutely and entirely inichanged grin, of
as[)eet. kindly of heart, sharp of tongno, and a model O'" al'
tlie Christian and donie.stie virtues, with only one wea'.'.nes ,
and that i^ol'y ! Polly, wdio ha-^ been her torment, her
plague, her idl. any time those fourteen years; whom sIk
worries about all day, and whose innumerable sins and ill-
doings keep her awake all night; whom she scolds, and loves,
nnl spoils, and to whose will she bows in as abject submis-
sion as her weak-mimled brother himself.
r
ly's
earliest recollection is of this pleasant ei'vht-
roomed house, in the suburbs of Si)eckhaven, with its lit lie
flower garden in front, its kitchen garden and paddoel' in the
rear, its snotless whiteness of wall, and brilliant green of
shutters. Of London, and "Dozy," and her bal)y life, all
memory is gone. She believed the story of herself current in
tli( town a very simple story that she is the orphan child
of doai old Duke's cousin, dead and gone, and left as the sole
legacy of the dying man.
"And a precious legcy I have been!" Polly was wont to
observe in parenthesis. "Duke don't mind my enormities;
indeed, if I murdered somebody, 1 don't think it wonid sur-
jirise or trouble him any, but ttiat jtoor Uosanmi I I've been
bringing her gray hairs (she won't dye), with soitow to
SpeckhavtMi (\'metery, ex'cry hour sinei^ he got me fii-st."
So P(dly had sliot up, tall, slim, pretty, healthy, and clf-
willed. She had i)ersisted in catching ev ry disoi-dT inci-
dental to childhood. She had made Kosanna sit u\^ with her
for weeks and weks toi'cther, and sh^ had torn nioi-t new
dresses, and tumbled off more dizzy heights, than any othn-
child on record. She liked lier owi vay, ani 'nsisted n
having it, with an energy worthy a better cause, nn 1 U- .e ;,ho
stood at sixteen, the prettiest anl wildest madcap in Llncol'i-
sbire -a handsome, blue-eyed brunette.
WitJi Robert ITawksle.y's fi^o lnuilred pounds, Duke h;(i
purchased this pretty oottage, just outside the large, h:
^^
66
After Fourteen Year*^.
town Oi SiC'kh.vrn ; aiul Rosauna's dream vvns i^alized oi 8.
eottag:e in the country, with flower garden and pouhry yard.
Once every year oince then Duke had received a letter,
containing fii'ty pounds, and all of those fifty pounds were
safely nestled in Hpecldiaven Bank for Polly. Mr- Ilawks-
ley had gone to California when" first the gold fever broke
out there, and last Christmas, when his letter came, was
there still ; but whether making that promised fortune or not,
Duke had no means of knowing, and Mr. llawksley never
said. Polly knew him as her godfather, and was very muili
obliged to Iiiin, indeed, for his handsome presents, which con-
stituted such a nice little sum for her in the bank. She
wrotc^ him a letter every ye^jr since she iirst learned to write;
but beyorid this of herself or him she knew nothing. Duko
still persevered in his old vocation, and was scene-])ainter-iii-
chief to Spcckhavcn Lyceum, and portrait painter to the
town.
The fourteen years had glided on smoothly, uneventfully
frcin which one evertful montli sl^me out a bright oasis in
the desert. He walked to L.yjidilh (Jrange sometiniL^, in the
gray of the sunnner evcninr^, smoking his pipe, and thinking
of that cold ]\rarch nii^ht o long ago, when the romance of
his lift; began. Of J he actors in that romance he had never
seen anythiiig, since the day he had bidden farewell to Kob-
trt liawksley. Of Mr. ('coifrey Lyndith, of Sir Vane and
]j;uly Charteris, he never even heard the names. They miglit
be all (lead and buried, so completely had they dropped out
of his life. The old Grange was utterly deserted now; the
grim gateway would yield to any hand that chose to push it,
but few ever chose. Stray artists who thouglit it pictur-
escjue in its decay, nuide sketches of it when the sun shone,
but after nightfall neitlLook! look, Polly!" exidaimed Alice, breathlessly; "tliero
come the ;fentlefollis now."
I
MMMMl
7'*
At Montalien Priory.
t(k hi:
"It's
Polly?
Mr,
I'olly lifted lur dronniy oyos. Soniothinpr in the ':!:ol(k''"
I't'jjut^ of tin' siciic stirred her heart with a feeling' akin to
jiaiii. She looked up at tTie terraco to which iier friend
pointed, and L.aw a group of ladies and {gentlemen looking
d n at the aninnited scene helow. "Oil, Polly!" h^oath-
le.-isly; "I wonder if ho will see lis! Look! he is coming
dnvn."
A tall young man, in a high hat, dross coat, and white
waistcoat, ran lown \hv terrace stairs. Two long tahles wen^
spread under tho shadow of tho trees, laden with substantial
viand'', and ; t the head of one of these he took his plac(\ A
nionii , ] I, and a second young man separated himself
from ?(; ft j^inup on the terrace,, and descended the stairs, and
Mt the head of the second table.
C.'- " whi'^i red Alice. "Shall we go over,
They iie hasn't seen us."
Polly looked at Ouy Earlscourt as he came down through
the blaze of sunshine, and for years and years after the,
splendid image she saw then haunted her with reinorsjful
pain. She saw the handsomest man she had ever seen in her
life youth, rather, for was not this his twenty-first birth-
lay? lie was tall, like hl'^ brother like his brother, he
wore a mustache, as became a newly-fledged guardsman, and
a certain air, as lie nioved. struck you. as similar. ]](\vond
that there was no resemblance. Francis Earlscourt was fair,
with pale-gray eyes, and light-brown hair, full, rathM' large
mouth, and a pale, retreating forehead. Ouy Earlscourt still
worp his loose velvet morning coat perhaps ho knew nothing
could harmonize better with the Rembrandt tints of his ch^ir,
olive complexion, and large, lazy brown eyes eyes that liad
a golden light and a dreamy smile in them. A strav/ liat was
thrown carelessly on his Vdack curls, a slender chain of yellow
gold glimmered across his waistcoat, and Polly clasped her
hands as she looked.
"TIow handsome! How handsome!" she said. "Tfand-
somer even than the picture in the crimson drawing-room.
Alice, there's no comparing them Mr. Guy is a thousand
times the handsomer of the two."
"Tastes differ," Alice said; "I don't think so. ITore's
father shall we go and got a nlace?"
"Oh, Mr. Warren, tell us first who are the ladies iip on tho
t^Trace? T know who they are, of course, but T don't know
which is which. That little girl is Miss Maud Cl.artrris, T
suppose ?"
'The little girl in tho pink frot'k is Miss l^aud Ohar-
loris,'' said the bailiff, coming up, "and that small, dark lady,
with the fair bair and black dress, is her mamma. The tail.
At Montalien Priory.
73
^1
1 tlic ';nl(lt'''
lin^? aUin to
1 lior frund
?inoii looking?
illy!" l)-oath-
fic is coining
it, and white
ig tables Avcro
h siib-stantinl
his phico. A
raiod hinisolf
ho stairs, and
we Ri) over,
Llown thionjrli
ars aft'r tlio,
th remorseful
or seen in her
ity-iirst hirth-
s brother, he
lardsnvan. and
lilar. leyond
'ourt was fair,
rath(M* lar^e
^^varlscDurt s;ill
knew nothing
ts of his clear,
-eyes that had
strav; luit was
hain of yollow
ly clasped her
said. "TTand-
dra\vin,i?-rooin.
is a thousand
ik so.
Here's
idies up on the
t T don't know
id Cl'.artcris, T
s "J.!^aud Char-
aall, dark lady,
una. The tall.
hin younR" lady i- Mi-^s Diatia Kanlfon. the ^entlennin bo-
;id(' her is Air Allan I'"ane, tlic short, red- faced. stat ^M-n-
IllMiiaji witli bhiek wlii-kcrs i-^ Sir Vane (Miart(;ris- and the
llall, dflcriy pcntlenian, with white hair, is my h .(l Iiimself.
iKow. you K'rls, if you want to get a scat, come ahnfT."
I He 1( (I tliem, tn ]\\ dani:}it(r's inten-c dcli;rht, to tlic table
it whifli Francis lvirlsc(urt presided. That j,'cnt lenian h
face Huhted int" a smih' of pleased rccngnition at sight of
dice's smiles aiul blushes.
"Here, Warrei., where are you going i* Miss Alice. 1 have
been looking for yon in vain the hi-t iialfdiour." ^'That's a
story to begin with." thought Polly.) "Kcrc's a seat 1 in-
sist upon it you shall sit here and help me do the honors."
He made a |ilacc for her beside iiim, looking almost as
nhriiringly at her ('rtmpanion. But there was no room for
*oi!y. who dcfdfired she hadn't ' cmc to eat nd drink, and
asn't hungry, and would wait, 'i'hc bailifi let- 'ler; he had
thousand things [o do, and Miss .Mason, ^-^ai' r against a
fnige chestnut trer' at soin( dii^tanec. rcgJiNt 1 \i\t i)eoplc on
[h( terrace with longing, dreamy eyes. . ,hr did not know
ivl.at a r)retty f)ictnre she made stjnuling th re. the slanting
sunlight on her fee and short, golden h; ', or that the group
bn 'he lerraee s;i\v her.
"What a pretty girl I what a very striking face!'' 'X*laitned
Vfr. Allan Fane, the artist; "ihere under the chestnut. Miss
dautton, by herself. Sec, Lady Charteris, yonder. Like ne
f (Jreu/c's blue-eyed, dimpled bcafities."
Mr. Allarr Kane should have known be*ter, certainly, ac-
'ustomed to society as he wa-;, than to i)raise om woman in
[he prc^^ence of another, and that other Miss Diana iiaut-
[on. Ibit this was only a peasant child a pretty moleI,
()erha| nothing more.
Miss Diana iookcl rather disdainfidly. She was ji tall,
^ery thin, very high-bred young lady, with pale features, and
m aristocratically afjuilinc noe with (]uite a patrician
look, indeed. She had three thou'^and a year in hei- own
'itrlit. and t!ie be-t bbxid in b'ngland in her veins, hut her
jhair was getting thin at the parting, and she was not -well,
pile was not as yc)nng as she had be ji ten yciU'^ ago, wIk-ii
jKrst yiresented by her kinswoman, the Duchess of Clanronald.
T'n years had grme by, and the Honorable Diami was ili-s
'Lmtton still, and tlie attentionA of Mr. Allan Kan. hal
)een decidedly nuirked lately, and now he stot^'d here, and his
h'os lighted with the artist's fire as he lottked at a wret(died
[ittle peasant girl as tliry nev'r lighted while gating on her.
Miss Haufton raised \mf eyeglasses, and iiiot " crlance of
ruel scorn acroaa at Polly.
^lasf
^- '*-
74
At Montalien Priory.
"1 wc* a (Ifrwfly. villii^r scIk ol^iil. in a wliitr irock, ami
Imir cropped like a boy 'a. 1 cotilotss 1 iifvcr could !W.c gotl-
dc^'^co 111 niitibunuMl, ro(i-('lKM*kt'(l (lairyuiiiidrt."
Aliss HaiKton dropiiod ju r kIihs, and walked over to her
cousin, Lord Moiitulitn. Lord Alontaiicii, uitii a iVw more
cr(w's feet uiuler his eyes a lilll- grayer, a little nxjie bt)re!
by life and people-otherwise unaltered since fourteen years
ago, when he stood on the deck of the Land of Clumhii, aMl
talked to Udbt-rt Ilawkslcy.
Air. Lane 'saw his mistake, and knew his duty was lo fol
vlow and appease the Honorable Diaiui. lint t^he Honorable
Diana was eight years his senior, and sallow of conipUxi-Mi.
and exacting as to t'nipcr, and in sjjite of jier blue blood,
and iier three thousand a yi-ar, apt to pall sonietinies on th'
frivolous iiiiiid of a beauty-\vorsliiiing painter of four-and-
tv,enty. Standing on the terrace there, Mr. Fane looked and
aihnirod, and fi'll in love with INdly on tlie spot.
A hand ilaced suddeidy on his own a\\'oke him from his
trance a 'oil hand that nta.le him start and loiking up, he
saw Lady Oharteris.
"Who is that girl?" she a.^ked.
Fourteen years had done their work on Olivia, Lady
Chartcris. Lhc dark face Duke Mason had thought so
beautiful in the llickering firelight that March night so long
ago was worn and aged, as though sla; had sullercd mucli in
her thirty-three years. She was fixedly pale, the large, dark
eyes looked aiiiio-t ui. naturally large in her snudl, colorleis
face, and the smiles that came and nent were rare and cold
as starlight on snow. Her summer dress of black grenadine,
with g^ild leaves, heightened her pallor now.
Sir \'anc and Laly('harteris, outwardly, were on the jm-
Hk'st and mo.-.t amiable terms, the baronet particularly, who
on all i)ublic occasions was almost remarkably civil and at-
icntive to his cold, silent, self-contained, handsome wife.
Had Lady Charteris forgotten^ liad all those years blotted
out the mcinory of her childhord's roi";;nce- -of the young
hu-.band -lie bad loved ;:nd lost, cd' the child, his child, whom
she had given to strangers if She aw a sleialer girl in white
muslin, her jirotile turned towaid her, and the sunshine gild-
ing her face, and her heart, tli:it had lain like a stone for o
many yeais, gave one sudden leap. That profile ! that atti-
tude I v.jK're had she seen t^ieia before? She knew, even as
she asked the question, and turned faint and sick for an in-
stant. The next she started up, laid her hand n tlic younpr
ariist's, and asked the question:
i "Who is that ffirir
The girl moved on the moment, and her face was turned
was to fol-
I lonoraltlt^
fomp'a'xi'iii.
Ill from liis
kin^ up, he
was Slimed
At Mont-iii'^n Priory.
n
lull toward them. Tho liktiicss that liail ^uuck on tlio hurt
vi r:iy hicly like a hlow, vaiiihttl. '1 he t"uv she -aw iioW
Ol('
no rt'st'inhhiiuc to tlial uflicr t"
jH'c over w.r('!i
l.e-
Im vitl ihu waves ot' the Athiiitio to liave swopt lor sixttni
Iicitr.v years.
Who i^ tliat uirW lie repjattil.
Mr. V
am*
looked
ratht'r siirprisct
1; it
was somet!iiii;.r very
iiiu for iny hul.v to lie mueh interested in anyf hiiiu;. She
uns interested now her lips were apart ^her eyi^s fixed in-
tiufly on the? fair, ohildlsh face that sh(ne like a star under
till' cliestnut.
Mr. F.iiie did not know, would aseertain, if her ladyship
lll tiie slightest inti'rost in the matter, lie was a hniKiiiil
youi:;r nifm, with a dedicate, jia'.e face, and slender, white
ha nils, whiter and softer a ifood deal than Pvlly's.
Ot' eourse you (htn't know
I.aily Ohartcris said, as if t
o
linsrlt' "Iiuiuire? No, thanks; it is not worth while. It is
a striking,' style of ])rettiness for a farmer's daii^hler-that
is all."
Iltr listless manner returned her interest in the girl
secii.e*! to faile. Not so ^Ir. Fane's; he ran down tin.' steps
to iiuiuire on his own aeeount.
If I could get her to it to me for my Rosamond," lie
trik-
is a s
tlioiiMht, "Miss llautton vould do for Kieaiun'. It
iiig style of heauty l\)r a farnur's daughter, as her ladyship
;iys. From what Aral) chieftain did she derive that arched
instep, under which water might How? from what line of
Miigjily wed, highly fed, highly bred' aristocrats did she in-
herit that (jicrian protilc, amf' that imperial pois( of the
giaceful head? If she had ten thjusand a year, instead of
the Il((ii. Diana, or half, or (luarter tluit sum? Shall I gj up
and address her; she seems (U'ite alone f
.Mr. V
lino wasn t aware w
lietl
ler or no it were ncc(^ssary to
he introiluced to this class of young persons; still he Ix-ck-
oiicd Mathew Warren over to him, and signitied his gracious
pleasure.
''I say, my good fcdlow, you're the hailirT, I helicve, and
know ;^1 these peoi)le, oi course. Who's that pretty girl over
tiiere^ Introduce me." /
Mr. Allan Fane was a dever young man, who had matle
his iiiark in the academy, and he spoke with a langtiid drawl
of high life, which sit
s so grac
full
y on strong young men,
six feet high, lie was the third son of Jcdui Fane, iiurchant
tailor, I'ond stnet, London, who was a son of we'll. I sup-
pose t!ie hantl. oiiie artist must have h.id a .Lvandf.uher in
reality, but he certaiidy had
The Ilc.icrable Diaua II
none to sp(ak ul,
uuitv^u wanted
.nd, iic
m
\
76
At Montalicn Priory.
(iMiil)t, iml A1I:mi Vi\uo wu:^ ^cofMl-lndkliiK', and ('lcu"iiNt, ocyoi !
(loiibt, but if she lial l)''ii aware ot lliis (iisKi'acctuI tact ( f
wliicli Nvc li iv' inlOniK'il llic reader in t'oulideiieo), le won I
havo been a'j.it In llie ritflit alxtut, \vithi:i tlie hour. Oia.i
ILiuttdii, fii ' eiiusin of a duchess, and a si fer td' u pei .
marry the sou of a luerehauf tailor I Wliy, ihere were de.ii
and |;-oue-I laut foils iii the ^ri'ul family vault who would ]i;i\
turned with horror in tiieir Rraves at the desecration. Ih-
hnd taken his dej^ree at Oxford Siteiety received him an 1
made much of him. for his last winter's picture hud been 1
success, and not evt-n (iuy I'larlscourt. his iJamcjii just nn .,
knew of the well-to-do tailor of Moiid street.
Mr. Matiln'W Warren performi'd liis part as muster of tli'
ocremonies, hy saying with a tjrin:
"I'olly Mason, here hv. Mr. Fune, u-wantin' to he intr-i-
duced to you."
And Polly looked around with a hri^lit smile, and not tho
least in life abashed.
Abashed! Wasn't .Mice Warri-n, hei* friend, and l"]|i/i
Lon^', lier enemy, both lookin^' at her^ Wasn't Mr Kran .^
Earlscourt tulkiiiff to one, and .Mr. (Iuy. tin* hero of tho hour,
to tlio other ^ And one of the-' superior beings had tak 11
t/ho trouble to come all the way dtwii from the terrace to Im'
introduced to her.
It was a lovely afternoon, Mr. Fane informed her,, an I
how nice it was to see so many people enjoying- tluMnselv'
80 heartily. And how was it Miss Mason had not dininl, uii 1
how did ahe happen to be (piite alone here^
Mis9 Mason responded with perfect s(df-p(ssession a id
candor. She didn't come for linner at half past four in tli"
afternoon. She had had hers at twtdve, and slie was alone
well, waiting until the ilancinj^- bcfian. and s(jme one ask' I
her.
"Thep you are diseiif^ag-ed I Miss Mason, will you honor
me with the first tiuadrillef
II
onor lum
II
onor
hii
I*(dly l(ii.kt'd In sec if \i?
wei'c
it Mr. I'anc was (|Uiit; m 'arnest- Ye-;,
)e very much pleased In do so, thank you.
lauj^hinjJT at her, but Mr
J\Iiss Mason wouhl b
"But I shall not be satisfied with the lii-^i (|Uadrille I am
goin^ to ask you to keep all the round dancer for me! I
know yon dance like a fairy. Miss Mason. 1 can always tell.
Do you k iow we were wondei'iiif^ who you could l.e uj) on tliu
terrace you look so different, so much suj)eri(ii', if \(u wlli
pardon me saying- so, to the n'sL Lady ('harti ris w.u. q\ii'''
inter(^st('d. She asked me if 1 knew wlio y(m v. ere. If y ;
will accept my arm. .Miss Mason, ^we will take a turn umh ;
the beeJies; it is pleasanter thai. atandiuK here in the sun
0ifm
1
tor
c.n
tin
(
1 1
At Montnlien Priory.
77
iccful t'acrt (of
i('f). l'' wouM
hour. Uiiiii.t
Irr il' a JK' ,,
n'c; \V('r' tlcail-
liu Wuuld ii:i\'!
'cratitjii. lit'
iv'tl liiiii all 1
in* liud l)L'i;ii i
IIKJll just IKiU,
muster of tlu'
ig to li intro-
Ks and not tin)
ii(i, and Kli/a
I't Mr FraiK
To of tli(? lloU;,
in^-^ had tak n
(' IcrraiM; to h."
rnunj licr,. anl
ing' th(fnis('!vt
not dincnl, aii I
possession U'nl ^
last four in tli'' ,J
he was ahjnc
(jine one uski i
vvil! .voii honi^r 1
1 sec if h," we;''
earni'sL Yc-i,
s(, thalik yuii.
lUadrilU' I ain
ci'^ for nie! [
['an always (ril.
Id bo uj) on lilt) 'I
ior, if vou vviii 1
tt-ris v.:j;. qui'''
1 wt-rc. If yi !
e a turn undi ;
;re in tlie sun
Polly L'lst a brijfht. (hJi^Mtcd uliinrr up ;.f *ho l^y on Mio
Itcrraco who (h'lKnrd to a-U ahoui lnr. Aik' 'aaly Cliartrri.s
Irau^dit tlmi ^rlnricc, and again ihc harp pang of rrscndilaiifO
nioh' her to the heart. ' ,
( li, who wa. I his trirlf Could it lr Her face
iManelied to a tiniy, ehalky pallor, a stnlden wiid tlKiuyht
T'l^-ed her hrain. Coiihl it he^ She would be abut the
Hisr of tiiis ijirl now- this ^firl so like yet unlike the oidy
lan U lial ev( r loved. Other eyes saw them as they paired
hit. Lord .Monlallen jail up his ;:Ia-. Sir Vane (Miarteris
lanced at Miss Il.iutton with a covert sneer.
Iooid pretty ^'irl eh, my lord^ Fane's intlaminablo
licii;! has struck tire aifain. We'll see no more of him for
ihc rest of the afternoon."
; "I ^ay, (jtiy," I'Vaneis I'!arlsc(nrt ohxrvcd to hi-; brother,
^vilh a laugh, wlicn v*'e iuarlrill( ended the brothers left
IIk ir partners, and chanced to meet '*have you noticed th
(; tlirt.itidii Pane's j(ot up uiih that little j^irl with tho
di^rt hair'"
"What little girl^ Haven't noticed. As Sir Callahan
!'nrallahani observes, 'There's so niindi goiu}^ on everywhere,
Ihere's no knowing what's i^oin^^ on anywhere.' I had ii
pretty jrirl myself, but she wa^ ton^ue-t iel, ancf lisped, and
|iev r opejied her lips except to say yeth thir, and no thir,
|)|e;ithe, through tla^ whole (hnicc."
"lane's paitner s( cm.s to have enough to say for lierself.
tear her laugh now. Iler name's Polly Mason, jioor child;
I. Ill what's in a name. Stilf, 1 don't believe we would pity the
jate Mr. Komco Montague (juite so* much if the lady who
jwallowed the poison had been Polly Cajudet."
tuy Marlscourt looked lazily. 'I'lw^ nonchalance^ affected
)y Air. Fane was real enough in him, and honestly inherited
from }is father. Hie Italian mother had given him !ier
iplendid 'yes, her black i^ilken curls, and the dusky Southern
)eauty of his olive face. If .'^he had given him her Southern
ire and i)assion it all lay latent now, under the languid gra'0
if*his creed and his order. At one-and-twenty tiiis hand-
ime, indoknt young guardsman fancied b.e had outlived
[very , base of human emotion, love, jealousy, and)ition, and
\\\\\ liic held nothing worth living for, save prime Latakia,
ind cigj'rs, a wait/ with a pretty girl, and a well-made bet-
[jng-book. He looked with hi.^ habitual lazy indilference at
ii friend, and his friend's flirtee.
"Ah, vaas, she is ])retty, deuced pretty, too pre Ity, by Jove,
f'r FaiK to have things all his own way. I shrJl make him
ntroduce me presently, and go in, and cut hlin out."
Mr. Fane left his partner n a rustic seat iii)der a txeej, &nd
N
78
At Mop*r""n Priory.
wont foi^an leo, and wlion he returned, five minute* aiU^-,
there stood Guy Karlscourt leaning over the baek of tlie ehair,
and Polly listening-, and blushinjr, and sjniling, with timid,
downcast eye.-, and cheeks Hushed like the June roses in her
sasli.
Mr. Fiiiie looked at Mr. Eiirlscourr Damon looked at
Pythias with an absolute scowl.
"What the deuce brings you here? You needn't troubb
yourself to say it, I'ane," observed CJuy. with the Bruninul
nonehiilance that siit so naturally on him; "your face says it
quite i)hiinly enijugh. Doesn't it. Miss Mason U Miss Mas.m
and 1 are old friends, or ought to be, which amounts to tin'
same thing. She's been acquainted with my portrnii- for thr
payt ten years, she tells nie, and really, my dear fc:.t'W, yiu
can't exiH'ct to nionoiJolize the belle of the oceasioji in tin-
preposterous way. Miss Mason has promised me unliniiic'l
dances, and she is going to waltz with me in two minutes.''
"Miss Mason has promised mc unlimited dances, Mr. Earls-
court.'' ^
"Ka^h i-Tomises are much better broken than kept. Tru-
la-la our waltz, Miss Polly!"
He whirled her oif, and the last thing Polljt saw was th'
annoyed fact of the artist.
Her heart throbbed with rapture. This was excitemeiii.
Two g'nt!(!n('n gentlemen actually quarreling about her ;h
ready! ^Ir. Fnne was very well, but Guy Earlscourt, the sni
of Lord ilontalien, the hero of the day, was a great deal bet
ter. And oh! how handsome he* was, and how beautifully
lie danced. She hojied Eliza Long was looking, and dying of
envy Eliza Long, who had onco called her a red-haired, for-
ward minx !
The waltz ended all too soon. And "I never regretted tlu
close of a dance before," whispered Mr. Karlscourt, in her enr.
And he gave her his arm, and brought ker refresliments, and
before the ice was eaten, up came Mr. P^rancis, requesting
his brother to present him, with his suave smil.
That day was a day to be marked forever in Polly's cal(*Ti
dar, a day of perfect, unalloyed bliss. She danced again
with Mr. Allan P^ane when Mr. Francis Jvarlseourt was don '
with her, and she walkHi with him dowi' he green, woodlan 1
paths, and he quoted Byron and Moore, and other amatory
poets, and the band played nm earthly music^ it seemed to
her, but the harmony of Olyrajjus.
TliC rosy sunset faded, the white June moon rose up, ami
the stars came out.
Mr. Francis came up once agu::i, and aaked her to lead otf
a oontra danoe with liiiu.
At Montnlien Priory.
79
'|]
s 11
miiiulcft aitoi',
ac'k of tlie chair,
lug, with timid.
uiie roses in her
I moil looked at
needn't troul)lp
h the Bi'Uinnul
(jur lace say it
ni Miss Alas. Ill
aniou!\ts to tin'
portrait- for the
dear fc.t^w, .you
occasioji in tin-
d me unlimitcil
two minutes.''
mccs, Mr. Earls-
lan kept. Tra- |
llj; saw was the
was excitemeiii.
11^ about her ai
rlseourt, tlie som
1 great deal bet
how beautifully
1^?, and dying nf
L red-haired, for-
mer regretted tin'
?()urt, in her ear.
'fresliments, aiii
iicis, requestinjr
in Polly's cal(*Ti
e danced again
seourt was don '
green, wood la nl
1 otlier amatory
ic^ it seemed to
on rose up, ainl
i her to lead otf
The moon war hinini' now; t^." bli'.e was a-'di^ter witli the
itars, and tiie .vening wind swiit up from tlu' .^ea, biK Lady
Ohnrteris still stood at her post, sti!! watching witli yearning,
wi.--itu! evt's that slim, wJiitc lip lire that luiw Hit ted before
her. n(\v vanisiied in th3 hazy distauce,
A nunilior of visitors their (!(mntry neighbors -liad ar-
rived, and Lord Montali(Mi and lier Innband and ^^iss llant-
tun were entt^taining them. Her little (huighter raced up
and down with a curly King (-harles at lu-r luels. She was
(luitc alone, full of deep and painful anxiety, when she saw
(luy I^arl^court lounging lazily up the stairs. Sh( topicd in
her walk; he was a favorite of hers, as he was with all wonu u.
"Awful liard work, Lady Charteris," he said, soleniidy;
"worse than a day's run after the fastest pa(d In lh' county.
I've danced three sets of iiuadrilh'S, two waltzes, and oiu co-
tillion, and T y:ixe you my word, I'm fit to drop. Look at yon-
der lighi-hearted peasairtry disporting themselves. Kgad !
tile energy with which tlieygo in for it i-^ fat^iguing only to
lodk at. 1 never realized befoi-e how thankful we should be
that one's majority comes only once in a lifetiuie."
He tinng himself into an armclniir, and produced his cigar-
case, the picture of an utterly e?h;iusted young man.
"Yon will permit me. Lady Charteris^ ah, thard-c.-J. Six
b.ours in the saddle on a rainy lay, when the House meets, is
bad enough, but 1 prefer it to three hours' consecutivG
dancing on tlie grass under a June sun, and with smh nier-
getic young ladies as those down there. Where's Di:''
"She has gone in. Huy!"
l.ady Charter is spoke abruptly.
"Yes, my lady."
"Who is that pretty girl in white I saw you dancing witJi
half an hour ago? Ah! there she is now, witii Frank fair-
haired, and dressed in white."
(luy turned his lazy brown eyes in the direction indicated.
"That's l*olly,-' he auswered ; "and Polly's as jolly as she's
pretty, which is saying a good d(al. That young person in
white see how she laughs! it does one good to look at her!
is Miss Polly ]\Iason, my Lady Charteris.*'
"Masoi!" One s'cuiler, white hand of the lady restel on
the youth's shoulder. He felt it close there now with sud-
den, spasmolic force. "Mason!"
There rose before her at the sound of the conimonplaee
name the vision of a dreary railway waiting-room, a shiver-
ing figure crouching before the fire, and a pale-faced youn^
man repeating hib name and addresa, "Marmaduke Mason,
Ho. 60 Half-Moon Terrace." She grew so T^'^^e '^ rigid,
8o '^All Night in Lyndith Grange/'
th:tt (Illy lialf rcinitvcd his cij^ar, and looked af lier in sur
prist!.
".My dear Lady Charteris. yuu are ill I Has the siiicll of
my (MMar "
"Ciuy," slic interrupted siiddeidv, "will you ^ivo mo your
arm? I should like to jjr( down ilu're to " Ilei* voici^
died away.
lie ^a\e hi-r his rni, with one ^'entle ^lanee (jf rt'proaehtiil
suTprisr', (|uite thrown away upon her, a?; it. ehaneed, and led
her dovvii below.
ClIAPTEIl III.
"all XICniT IX LVNDITII (iRANTJ^."
Tho nine o'clock sunshine streaming in Polly's window,
awoke her next morning. Polly, as a rule, was inclined to
be lazy o' mornings, but brisk Kosanna routt^d her out witli
out mercy at six. To-day* she let her sleep. The child
liadn't got home until half-past eleven t/iree miles, yni
know, on a lovely moonlight night, with a handsome .voung
man beside you, is a long walk. Rosanna knew nothiiLg- ot'
the handsome young man, she knew nothing of the 1 ts dur-
ing whi( h little Polly tossed on her bed, and I'ould not sleep.
Sleep! The red, the yellow, the purple lights flashed befrirc
her, the band music clashed in her ears, and the faces of
Allan Fane and Guy Earlscourt swam in a guldcMi mist. Ifer
breast was fidl of delicitus unrest; he was coming to-mor-
row, and all the to-morrows, and this was blisSj this was love.
Poor little Polly!
All this glad tumult faded away in sleep .-^he awoke will
a S(rt of guilty start to see the new day's sunshine.
|)uk' was at work in hi-; painting-room, Kosanna was at
work just outside the back do(r, up to her (dbows in sud.~.
Polly's toast and tea awaited her, and, in spite of her unhap
piyess about her htoks, and her degrad(Ml stat^ generally, sh
ate thre( large slices, and drank two eujjs of tea. TIkmi s]i '
got her sun-hat, and her drawing materials, and ])repared t
make a morning of it, as .she often did, under the greenwon.t
tree or down by the shore sketehii * rum nature.
Sh( did not go far, however. Sue pt-rched herself on tli'-
garden wall, and went wandering otf into a dreamy n'verie.
The faces of ysterday shone bofore her in the sunshine
the darkling S))'.cndid face of (iny Earlscourt, with it.s brow'i,
brilliant eye.-, and 1a;'y, beautiful smil\ The face of Allan
Fane, fair, womanish, perhaps, but eminently good-looking,
Of
at Iw.v In sur
t the snull (jf
4iv(^ iiio your
Her Vdico
of reproachful
uiced, and \vA
)lly'.s window,
as inc'liiuHi to
her ont with
p. The ,'hil(i
ee niileri, y(ju
iid^sonie youiiK
cw nothing' of
the 1 "rs dur
nhl not siee().
flashed hef;tri'
] the faces of
ien mist. ITer
oniing to-nior-
, this was love.
Ih' awoke will
iliirie.
osanna was .it
Ihovvs m su(]s.
of her unhap
j?enerally, sh
:ea. Tlien s]u'
ul ])re{)ared t
the f^rcM'MWonil
ure.
lierself (jii l!i-
reainy n'verii'.
he sunshine
,vitli its hrowM,
fare of Allan
' good-looking,
'^All Ni.crht in Lyndith Grange" 8i
and wliat Polly prized more. aristoerati'. Tali, liaugiuy
l)i:ina Ilantton, dark, pensive J.ady Charteri-. little Miss
Maud, with her rose-silk anti streaniinjj: rihhons. Such hij^di-
Iji'cd f;i''s all; such lofty, iiiph-soundini;- Maii!e-. And sho
w IS I^olly Mason. J\)lly Mason, hopeU'sly vulj^ar. ;iiid com-,
n.'Wi.
"I suppose I was christened Mary," the youn;; lady thou;i:lit.
''Mary's no great things, but it's hetter than Polly."
And tlien mechanically she fell to drawing. The fac*' tluit
haunted her most was the face her pencil drew almost with-
out volition of her own. 1die pencil sketch was careless ;nid
crude, hut bold and full of power; so ahsorbel lid she be-
come over her work that she never h(ard anproaciiing foot-
st* if^, and a voice at her elbow suddenly maih her jump.
A very good likeness. Miss Mason, but don't yon think
y.u have flattenxl a little just a little our. friend (Juy^"
"Mr. Panel" Polly jumpecl from her perch, with a gasp,
and tried to hide away Ik r drawing in ovcrwhelmimr confu-
sion. t^ What would he think of her ^ Wliat could he tliink
but that she had had the audacity to fall in love with this
splendid young guardsman, who had asked h(r for unlimitei
(I.Mice-;, anl then only walt/.c^l with her twice ^ Piit Mr.
I'ane set her at her ease. lie lid feel a twinge of jealousy
the sparkling face had pursued him in dreams all night it
was such a rare face such a piiuant fac(\ Pretty faces
there were by the score, but only one Polly Mason.
''Vou promised to show me thf" seaside cave, where you and
Miss Alict. Warren used to play I^)binson Crusoe and Man
I* riday," he said, "and 1 have come to claim your promis*;.
.\iid this very afternoon, Miss Polly, f mean to dri\'e you
up to the Priory, and have our first sitting fov tlu' fair Rosa-
motid. Miss Ilantton has been also kind enough to pu^e f()r
my Queen Eleanor."
'T think Queen Kleanor nujst have looked like that," au-
HW(r'd Polly, remembering the haughiv glaccs Miss Ilaut-
toii had cast n])on her hmuble self yesterday. "She seems n ;
i/hoiigh she Could give a rival Unit pleasant choic' betw'-it
'he poison bowl and the dagger any day. Ko, thank yon. Mi.
I'ane, T won't, take your arm; people don't do that in Speck-
liavc!!, unless " she stopped and blushed.
''I'liless what. Miss Mason ^ I'nless tluy are "m;:iged- is
th.nt what y(u mean? 1 see it is. Ah!" v,ith a telling plai!f
under I'olly's old -undnit. "That, Miss Mason, wiu!il be t(to
rnueli happiness."
lie iv'dlv thought so at the moment. When thix youti'.^
gentleman was fascinatcil by a pretty girl he g-niirally hui:t^
down his prey with sumethitig of an Indian trappei'; inteii-
I
,...,.. ..,^.-...^^.B^^Ia^^;t~a^.^T^
I
i\'
\
82 "All Night in Lyndith Grangt.
aity. And the artist must admire those cloiidloes hlut; eyes,
that angelic mouth, those serene lines of future beauty, let
the man olinR- to Mi?3 Ilautton's money-bag's c^^r so closely
Mr. Kane, sein^ his danger, and wibo from past sad ex-
perience, shied oif this dangerous ground, and betook liiinself
fo pleasant generalities. lie was a good talker, as talkin?^
goes in general society, aii fait of the last new opera, novrl,
ni'Iross, and latest Paris fashion; and all those topics were
deliciously fresh and new to Polly.
'i'licy went into the seaside cave together, and ilin art'st
m.idf; a sketch of it and the girl, with the wide sea before
her, and the sunlight on lier sweet, fair face. AvA then Miss
Mason sang for him, that he might hear the echo ring along
the rocky roof; and Allan Fane won lered more antl more.
Such a voice rare, sweet, and powerful. Slie did not sijiy
"Tlie Xight Before Larry Was Stretched,'' she ssuig the song
young Quintin Durward listened to in rapture, s: many years
ago, in the quaint old French town, and her thoughts let't
Allan Fane, and an olive face shone before her, lit by^wo
brown eyes :he face of Lord Montalien's favorite son.
"Ah! County Guy! the hour is rigrh,
The sun has left the lea;
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The lark, whose lay has trilled all lay.
P'ils hushed, his partner nigh;
Breeze, bird and flower confess th - hour.
But where is County Guy?
"The village maid steals I- ..gh t!o shade.
Her lovrj's suit to hear;
To beauty sh: . '^y lattice high,
Fings higi ijori. cavalier.
Th star i' !ov\ ill stars above.
Now reig.p u^r earth and sky;
And high and low hi. influence know,
But where is County Guy?"
"Here!" answered a voice, as the last note dieil av/ay: "if
you mean me!" And to the immense confusion of Polly, and
the unconcealed annoyance of Allan Fane, Guy Earlscourt
stepped round the rocky entrance into the grotto.
"Miss Mason, your voice is superl) equal to Lind's, with
training. 'Pon my honor, T thought it might be Circe or
Calypso, or those what-you-eall-ems, sirens, you know, of the
.4-ilgean Sea, holding a concert by mistake on the Lincoln-
^hire coast."
"What thn what brought you lierc, Farlscourt?" de-
jipinled the artist, with no very friendly accent.
Gay looked at him lazily from under his thick, black lashea.
pgt.
11 069 blufc eyes,
ure beauty, let
c^er so closely
111 past sad C'X-
betook him^'flf
kor, as talkiiijj:
w opera, novo!,
ose topics were
and iho art'st
viilo sea before
Aiul then Miss
t'ho rin^ aloii!^'
lore and more.
le did not ^'wA
e sanjr the sf.ntr
S'i many years
r thouf-'hts lel't
lier, lit by^wo
)rite son.
lay.
hour,
th5 shade,
i\V,
died away: "if
in of Polly, and
Guy Earlscourt
)tto.
to Lind's, with
:ht be Ciree or
n\ know, of Iho
u the Liucoln-
arlsoourt?" de-
nt,
ck, black lasheg.
11
thdu^lit the most beautiful on c^h. ''They will wonder
^1^1
''All Night in I.yndith Grange.** 83
V
"In the f'liflracter of 'Paul Pry,' for this occasion only.
Well, ray dear boy, don'i pour the vials of youv wrath on me
I am Pcauty's mosscuffer. In other words, yon promised
t-o drive l.ady Charteris and cousin l)i over to ilealiierholnie,
after luncheon, and a? Di really seems anxious tn f^o, 1 c'une
in search of you. Had I known " with a ^rlnncc at T 'lly,
but Mr. Fane cut in ratln^r abruptly :
*'l asked ^liss Mason to brinj;; nu^ lu-re, tiiat I migh! -sketch
this ^nitto. Shall wo return. Miss Mason, or ''
"Oh, yes, please," Polly answered, shrinking:: away, she
hardly knew why, under the gaz^ of the brown eyes she
the most beautiful on
where I have ifone to at home.''
Mr. Fane look'd at Mr. Earlscourt, as if sayinir, "Voii
hear^ You're not wanted. Pe kind cnouf^h to p:o." And
the younjj: jjuardsman answered the glance, and walking after
Polly, !)e;^an a-kin^ her (luestions about the town and the
saiuN, as thouf!:li the topography of Spec-khaven were the
vital interest of his life.
Polly Mason walked back thronj^h the noonday brij;htne-s
with two gallants, instead of one. and fbished a look up)n
I'^i'/.a l.on^r. as slie y)assed lier window, that aiadc that youn^
lady prrind her tt^th for very envy.
"^fontalien^s b(en as dull as death this luorninjjr," (luy w:m
saying, plaintively. "Di'sbeen sulky, lady Charteris a i-ivy
ia frreen and yellow melancholy, Frank not to be found (i
didn't look iji the baililf's cottage), and little Maud the only
human creature in the place to speak to. T think, consider-
iu^ the emergency of the case, and the daniger 1 was in ol
f;dlins' a prey to the blue devils, you needn't look so fero-
cious. Fane, at my seeking you out in my dire necessity;
need he, ^liss ]\rason?"
f^olly did not feel as if the interruption were by any means
an in 1 welcome one.
Koth prentlemen were deliprhtful, no doi . but Mr. (tuy
K;!rlscourt decidedly the more delitrhtful the two. She
walked home in a happy trance, and it wa- dl too soon wheji
the little jrarden j^rate came in sijjht. Ro .una was han^inj?
out linen on the g'ooseberry lus^hes, and iMike (rould be seen,
with his shirt sleeves rolled up above th bows, painting' iti
his big, bare, front room.
The two voung gentlenjcn said good-by to Polly, am-d left
her. "Mr. Fane m.nde no further allusion to the sitting tor his
Fair Rosamond that afternoon, (^ueen Eleanor wished him
to drive her to lleatherhelme, t'l^^ht miles off, and of course
siie must take precedence in all things.
Polly went through her usual af ternooi work of helping
k'
*.
I
'Il,
84
it
All
Kight
in Lyndith Grange."
iLor-iUina "rod up," in ii state of tlreuniy happiness; littlr-
trills of iiow'j: Itnhblcd to her lips, sraiios and dinirjlos cbafiiii^,'
each rtthor ftvcr lior face. Slio wa;s aiway.s happy, but sotjk -
Jio\v (he sun never sl:on.' so briiihtly nor had lifvT ever sooitk d
so sweet as to-tlay, J^o.^anna looked at h^-r, and eon^ruiii
lated lierself th^t sIk^ liad made her go o'*'" tliiit niorning.
And prf'scnlly wlien ta was (.v( r, she took her hat and went
I0 the Male t" wattdi tlie new moon rise and wi^h what did
litth? INdly wish? It was very quiet. The new moon shih
'n\[X iu the ojiul sky, a nit^htin^ialc .-iiigiug yonder in ^lontal
ien woods, the ^oft flultgr of the ev'ninM wind, sweet frosn
ihe sea; tlie rich odor ot Ro-^anna's roses and jlcraniuins in
the open window tliai was tlie scene. Aiid fairer than all.
as ]\Ir. Allan Fane would hiive told her, had he b(cn there fn
Boe the tall, ^lim ^irl, with tlie sweet, haj)py face, a!il drean)\
ryes of blue, softly sin^nng ^'Tlie V(ung" May Moon."
As she stood there a {M'ouj) of four came \m the road from
the town. P(dly's dreamy eyes turned from that silver sickl*
in the purple sky, and l)rightened into a lif^ht not so plertsni.t
to see as she beheld her arch enemy, Eliza Long. Mis8 Lou).'
was gallanted by the haberdasher's clerk, and behind cann
Alice Warren and her "young- man," Peter Jenkins, of I In
mill.
"Here slie is herself!" exclaimed Miss T.onpr, with maliciou-
'.'ivacity; "I've just been !'^lling Samiud of ihe grand ooii-
que; Is yfu've made. How are all your friends al the Priory.
Polly, di'ar :''
"All nty fri( ixls at the Priory were (luite well when T snw
them last, Kli/'.a," responded Miss Mason, pronipt'y. "Di
tell them you in^juired the next time 1 sec them; they'll fe i
flattcre], pai'licularly Mr. (Juy, who danced with you -once,
wasn't it, Eliza? and forgot to come back."
"T didn'i encourage him as much as some people mighl,"'
retort' d INfiss I.ong'. "I; lon't believe in genilemen boni
dangling after country girls. 1 should be afraid of wdi;it
people might say of me," concluded "Miss Long, with a virtu-
ous toss of her head.
"Then you needn't, Elixn, nobody \\,!1 ever talk of you in
that way. I'm iuite sure. ('ei.tU e vn have such bad tasti."
"Yes," said Eliza, with a hyst'ri .d little g'ggle, "I thowrbt
so tnyself when I saw two ef then; go by Y,ith yovi. T won
dcr Posanmi isn't afrail."
"Afraid oi' what, Eliza? I'll thank you to speak out.
Polly's eyes ucre flashing row. as only blue eyes flasli.
"We all know Polly isn't afraid of anything," cried thu
young man from the haberdasher's, who was mortally jealous.
!' (I
ige
tf
"All Night in Lyndith Grange
:*
85
fippiiiess; littlr
liinr)les ebasiiu'
piry. but SOT IK
l"o ever sooiTK il
niul cotigrutii
tli;it inoniiup.
r liiit und wfii!
w\^\\ whiit (lil
C'w moon shii,
(Icr in ^lontiil
11(1, sweet fro'
1 pcrjiniunis ii
fairer than al!,
le been IIktc f"
ee, a!il dreaniv
the road froin
lat silver sieki
not so plertsni.;
ng. Miss Loll-'
d behind caiiM
Jenkins, of I hi
with maliciou-
(he jjrand emi
s at the Prior.v,
,-ell when T ?-;!-\
|)ro!H|it].y. "I"'
em : they'll i'ei
vith you one* ,
people nii^hl,"
lenllenien Ixmii
afraid of wh;i!
p:, with a virtu
' talk o| you ii
ueh bad lav.ti .'
fffx\v, "I thou'ilii
b yovi. I won
t'l Hnv^-ak out.
?ye8 nasii.
linfi'," cried the
uortally jealous.
*'She wouldn't go tlire* niU-- out d" her way, ;is Jenkins did
last weck. rather than pa?.s tlje haunted (JrauKc."
"Xo," answered I'oily. dixlainfnlly. "1 would not."
" i hiit's easy to say/' Mi--. Long -.iid, with a seeond toss;
"it's not so easy to prove. l'ol!\'s ;i- niueli id" a '-oward as
the rest rf us, 1 dare :iy. it' the truth were known."
'Till not a coward, ;ind I'll thank \on not to -.-ly so, Klizu.
I'm not afraid of you, ^y wh.it peojilr inay'sny. nor of ghosts
either, if it comes to tlnit,"
"Trove it," cried the t; noting d'ili/a, "prove it, if you dare,
I'njly Masim."
Mi-s Kli/.a Lftnjf understood her antagonist wtdl. To da.'o
Polly t ) do anything- howevt-r nnid. however foolhardy, was
to Jii-^iire its hein;r done. Had she not lisked her life, only
l;il winter, one stormy day. when dared to go (ut in a boat
to the othcj- side of Speckh.iven Ibiyi' And now into Polly's
eyes leaped the light that had ^^hone in tlieni tlun, and her
h.mds clutched tojjjethcr. She looked her adversary straight
ill the face.
'^'on dare me t() winit, Mli/aT'
'*To pass a night alone in the (Jrange. You are not afraid
of ghosts! Prove it ifyoudare^"
"1 shall do it!" Polly sard, folding her arms, and lookinjf
'daggers and carving-knives at her enen-y.
"Ves," said Miss Pong, "and Duke need never know.
We re all Koing to a dance at Bridges'; that's only two mile.s
from the (Jrantfe, and I'll tell Duke and Kosaima you'n
coming with us. We will go with you to the (}rang:e and
lea\-e you there, and call fur you when the dance breaks up,
jat two o'clock in the morning. 'I'hat is, of course, if y6\i
really mean to go, you know. I wouhPi't if I were you, if
[J felt the least afraid."
The word, the tone, the insolent sncrT, stung Poliy, as she
{ni( iint it should. She opened the gate, and. came out so .-.ud-
[denly and with such a wicked exiire.sion that EU/.n rec iili.
"I'm not afraid, and I'll tliank 5'ou not to use the word
Jagaiii. You're a coward, Kliza Pong, and you know it, and
on hope something evil may befall mo, and you would have
liven a year cd' your liff to stand in niy -liocs this mornin;^!
i'ah! don't think I don't understand yon. hut I'll go all ihe
ame
V.\\7.H laugluil, while die gj-ew wliite \vill) :ing( r. She di I
\ii[ luiow sln' wa a mnrder"-is in li'vul. Iii( sIm* did hope tjie
thosts of the (Irange might whi-^k this insolent Poily iMa-.on
Ml' to the regions of the Ktyx, uithough Miss Pmif^' lunJ never
[u'a"d o: th: t ^rlooiUv river. Hiw, run up tu the liom# wlljiout
86 ''All Night
ill Lyndith Gr::nge."
l-i^'i
i{ word, and cajiie hack in iivo uiinutos to say Polly might
go lo Mrs. IJridgcs' daiui-.
"Don't do it, T'olly," Alices Warren pleaded in mortal
dread; "yon don't, know what may iuippen. It's an awtul
plaee, and 1 slandd feel as if we had mnrdcred yuU, if ''
I'oily st(ppel and ki.ssed her.
"\'ou poor, litt.e, frightened Alice! I don't helievo in
ghoi^ls, 1 tell yon, and I shall go to sleep as eomforlahly in
the drange as 'ver I did in my life. J)on't let us talk about
it. I'lliza Ltng shall never call mo a coward."
'I hey passeil iiridges': the town with its noise and its lanipfl
lay hehind them; tlu; lonely, open road that led to tlu'(irarigi
lay whiteaml deserted before them. They passed the cross-
roads, wheic fourteen years before Uuko Mason had lost his
way. A little more than a mile, anl th\v would be at the
^irange. Still Polly rattled (mi; a stranger might liave said,
to ktK^p up her courage, but in reality the girl was not afraid.
Hers was a nature singularly free from superstition or fo.ir
of any kind. She was not afraid, every nerve (ini(*kened with
excitement; sIk^ longed to show this vindietive rival of hers
how sujjorior she was to her taunts.
The great gates, the grim wall, loomed up before them at
last, and Alice suddenly flung both arms about her friend.
"Vou shall not go, Polly you shall not! What will every-
body say, and who knows what may hai)pen ? Peter, don't let
her go KHza, speak to her!"
"She may go if she likes, for me," said Peter, boorishly.
"Certainly, Polly, I wouldn't go if T felt the least af "
She .did not finish tne word, Polly turned upon her so
sviftly and fiercely.
"You had better not!" she said. "Alice, dear, hold your
tongue; there is no Janger. There are no human thiiigs
there, and Pm not afraid of the ghosts. None of you need
come any farther, if you don't wish."
She opened the gates they creaked and moved heavily (n
their rusty hinges, and walked resolutely in. Mr. .lenkins
ludd back, but the other threx^ followed her; Alice still cling-
ing to her, and half sobbing; a Satanic gleam in Eliza's
greenish eyes.
They walked up the avenue in dead silence; the unearthly
stillness and gloom of the j-.lace awed them. Polly spoke, as
the house ci;ni in view, juul lu r voice soundiMl unearthly.
"IldW am J going to get in ^ There's a window I IctxjW of
if you t'an oidy raise it for m\ Sam."
It was the v^y window, near the elm tn i', in wh'cli Duke
had sat and s^red that memorable night. The ivy niade im
ey ladder for Mr. Samuel, who in some trepidation moved
."All Night in Lyndith Grange." 87
and sliook the .casement. Wind and weather liad douo tlu-ir
work- -the window went crashing: int tlie rooui.
Miss Mafjon turned and faced Miss Long with the Ktok of
a (lit(lil waiting lo lire.
'Will that r'.'oui do, Kliza, or is there any apartment in the
liouse more especially haunted than another i I should like
t" pl'a*e you, and it is all the same to me."
"Oh, don't ask me," Hail Kliza, shivering slightly as she
spoke; "ilon't say 1 want you to go; 1 don't. 1 tlnnk you
hal much better turn hack."
I 'oily hiughel bitterly.
"1 underbtand you, Eliza! If anything happens, you must
prove your innocence. CJood-night, all; don't frel, Aliet*,
about me."
She seized the ivy, and with one light leap was inside the
r'N.iii. llir d.iuntless, smiling face looked down upon them
tioni th(.' window.
'do!" she said; "good-night."
'"Come,'' said Eliza, with anf^ther shudder; iuid "oh, I'olly,
Polly, come back!" came faintly from Alice. She felt as
though she were leaving her friend to be murdered in cold
'^:H
III )0(|
l)Ut the others drew her with them, and Polly was alone in
tlic house where, sixteen years ago, she was ttorn.
She stooil by the window until the last echo of their foot-
steps, {he heavy clang of the gates, told Ikm* thty wei'e ^on(\
A ureat awe stole t)ver her not fear the solemn stillni'ss
ot the night the white, si)ectral light of th(! moon the mov-
inu of the wind among the tre(\s.
It was like living down among the dead. She turned and
ghmced about the room. The little old piano stood in its
corner, the easy-chair in its place bt^fore the black heart li-
st .nc, a spindle-legged table, the faded tapestry, the bare oak
ll'or. 'J'luvnigh the eorriilors the wind wailed, overhead the
r;its scan!i)i.red. The girl shuddered for the lirst time as )io
li-tened to them. Jt was so deadly still that she luanl liio
c'o.'ks (r thi^town toll nijie.
tv.u or tliree before they would return, ll" sh( coiiK
Nine! and she must wait until
only
1- '.'ep and dream those long, hsnesome bours away. She v.Lmid
try. She km It down, her face in he," hands, and snid \vv
prayers a little more dc^'outly than usaal, ami then eul!il;.l
herself up in the armchair.
^V!u had sat in this old chair last, sh^^ woiulered i! Sb.'!
shut li(U* eyes, wrapped her summer sliav/l closer ;)bti m Ih-i',
and tried not to think of the cavalier and the mad lady, not,
to hear the wind or the rats. She tried to tJiink of yt^ster-
day'a dall'-ht^p of to-morrow'a bliss, when she wowli' jo u
li
88
Face lo Face.
Hontalif'M Pi*if)ry, jhmI sil for lu r picfur*-. Slio wns in lov
witii Mr. I'ain no, willi Mr. (Iiiy I'); rlscifurt- sin- didn'
know wliicli. Present l.v flu* wliife Inls went tlown on \\i-
jjurplc lustre ! cnciitli, iind llie ile^-t(l sleep nT heulthtiil youtli
can:e to IVtll.v.
SIh; ,l('I)l for hours. The njoonli^hi tli'l;(i((| in n ^ho^tlv
vviiv ( noo^h across the Ho(r; tlw rats scjanipereci like an
arni.v oi spirits overhead.
Was it in lier dream that Aiv hcartl the ^ale- cdan^' auain,
and the toot.-t(p-^ of her late eianpanic-ns drawiiif^ near lln
housed Was it in a dreatn that \u- hoard footsteps that wei'
not the footsteps of the rnt ovi flaad '
Slie sat up all at once, with a -tart, hr.iii.j awake. J li
inoon had fjone under a cloud, and the room \\.i in darknc .
What was that^ Snndv, foottep^ human footsiej)s
uhju^"- the hall outside, and approachint; the door.
V(-s, the handle turned. llu- door ereake| and opened!
The girl rose ami ^to(jd u|) h.v n( volition d' her \vn, and
seemed staring' straight at the openin^i' door. Her heart had
eeas'd to l.eat -he was icy enld all over. Was this feai^
She had consciousness enough hft, to wtnler. 1 he door
opened wide- there was what ^eemed to Pidl.v a hlaze of su-
I'ormitural light, and in that glow she saw tlu' form (d' a
Wfjman entering, and coming straight toward lier.
CIIAI'TKK IV.
KACK TO lALi:.
TTad Olivia, l^ndy Cliarteris, nall.v grown utterly heartless?
Had she entirely forgottt-u the child sIh- had deserted four-
teen years hefore':^ Was she n living woman with a heart ef
fcitone^ There were j)eo|)le. who said .o, }). pie who sail In r
iiatuie was as cold and colorless as her pale, unsmiling facf,
pople who said slu; lov'd neither huhand nor child. P( i-
haps those jjcople were right in that last surmis*'. Her e-v-
tranf:ement fi-om Sir N'ane C'harteris tlie wliole world was
\v l'o!rie to know, so fur as she was concerned. 'IMiey dwelf
under the same luoi', they were outwardly civil tT) each other
the hu.-hand, indeed, more than civil, assiduously prdite ami
deferential to liis statue of a wife; but for all that they weic
to all intents and pm'poses as widely sutidered as the poh s.
It had been so since the birth of little Maud no one knew
Iho cause. They met by chance- (n the stairs, or in the pa^-
fiages (the only places they ever met alone), and the lady
swept by wi4k head erect and lashes proudly drooping, shrink'
r^
Face to Face.
8^
h
' was in lov
f--shf ilichr
ilwii on I li
illtilt'lll jOlltll
ill a jxliu^tly
crcti liko }iii
i-l}iiij' iifiiiiii,
111^ near lli*-
(p.-j tIjMt \vn
iiv,nl\'. J lit
- ill (larkiM'~.
I t'totsU'ps
r.
IK'licd I
litr t\vii, Jill 1
l'r ln.-art hiil
as this I'c'iii^
r. '1 lie (lonr
I MiiZL' of ii-
lic I' inn j1" a
rly licnrtle-^^ ?
|('(M't''(l folll
itli a heart of
w hfi said h r
iisiiiiliiig' fnic,
r chil.l. P. 1
lisc Her (-
lie world \v;l^
They dwcl*
T) oaeh Other
sly polite ninl
iiat they \vr'
I as the pol( -.
-no one knw
or in the pa-
and the lady
oping, shrink'
lest lu' should lourh ihc lic;ii d' lu i frnrinent . \Vh
leil
Idres^i'd her at tlie diiiiur tailt' hi'r unwers \;vn' aKvny
......xyllahii', and she never lookeil at him. I; .as a ewrioUH
ii; It. uat'h liieni she as f(dl, as lit'ele to hiiii a- the
.r.iA ({ the Koiivre, whom pj'opif saiil she rescnihlrd ; he
jili thf ri'd f,dow ut' npprered t'ury and mortiHeat ion rising;
.-iilleir d'ptlis ot" his hiaek 'yt'
W
IIO-C
laidt was it ^ Well, as is jremrally the eas*-, il
r.iiiic in lor tlie heaviest share (d' the hlaiiu-. She was
., Ir. not a wmian. She was .i ?narlle statue, not a wife.
aiie WJis lie n
t al
wa.^ s
Id
ami, always stieninU', always
\h
II I
Klin', tlu' ii'ost d(;li;.'lit ful u[' nit'n f i'nt opinions dif-
IM d. i'liose d(dightfully social and hrilliant nion, in pnh-
aif sometimes intensdy sitish and erutl luilands, in
h\alt ; and there was a Kham in Sir N'ane's hhn'k eyi's -an
|hn--ion ahout his lieavily-ciit mtJiith- that made some fas-
IliciiN natures shrink away with repulsion, only to look at.
( inc. iMid once only. I.ady ('Iiarti-ris had spoken of the
|ti,iii;.Mn.ent to Lord Moiilalicn, whom she esteMned mo^t of
|l iiK II she knew, when hv had strivtn (very faintly) to hriiijr
'111 a rccoiiciliation.
Sir N'aiic Ch.literis has insnlted me, my Lord," Latiy Char-
|ii -aid. *'\V(.men of my race have jfiven hack deatii le-
iic llow for less insult iiif^- words. If 1 wi-re on my death-
i|. and he knelt hid'ore me, 1 would not forgive him."
,\iid the daik eyes had dilated, and tilled with so tcrrihlc a
III, and o\er the jiale face came a ^'^low so deep, so hurnin^r,
It Lord Montalien knew shetneanl it. He howed his lu-ad,
d -aid n( more, and from that honr never tried the role of
ictiiiaKer a^iiiin.
lor little Maud, she was her father in miniature the sat
lie
eyes and hair, the same features, the same nature. She
a- liis idol She had not a look of her mother, ami 1
ifi
lilted in it. SI
le was a
II
Ins OW
11. ( 'oidd Olivia (Mlarteri^
kiting the father, love the child ^ .\iul the little K'ii'K (diiif.,'-
\\ii to her father, never seemed to lu'.Ne any speei.il lov' left
her mother. It was an odd, abnormal slate of things
Itoiicther, and you see people were more than half right U\
illing r.ady Charteris a cold, unloving wife and mother.
Hut the child of her love, of Rohert Lisle that was (juiie
lotlier mattt-r. Wvr very love for that child had made her
ve it away to strangers, out cd" the (dutches of lier uncle
id liiishand Had fourteen years teeled her heart there,
well ^ I)uke .Mason, standing h(d"ore her in the twilight of
iP /(
(' (
!(n
tal
leii
1
riory,
;new
belt
er.
Sucl
1 pas-
tixed on the fair young
[enate, yearning love as the eyes
I in wliite expreesett he had never seen i]i all his life be-
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Photographic
Sciences
Corporation
23 WEST MAIN STREET
WEBSTER, NY. 14580
(716) 872-4503
l^'fiT
MWH'M
90
Face to F.
fore, except once one", in ;i! 1. , cr cliaiuber of a houso J
Park lane, where a inclhcr wej't over the child she was
iiijT'iing', pci'liajjs fori'VfM".
'i hey stoil i'uee to lao-, liKirc uiuKr tho .r'en trees ol' ili
purk, aiid kjsew ea(;h olhir. 'Iliiis tiiey met ajj^aiii. DukJ
turned cold all over as he ^tood tiicre. The hour dronded uii]
liltcrably h.id cotmc. 'i'lie n'(;th' r had foiiiul iier chihl. 1!^
eyes spoke to him: they said "Stay!" as plainly as worij
Polly was whirling' away in the daiicc ;;^:i*ain. 'Uy l^arlseiupj
was waiting-: with we.iry i('siji,n;'l ion to ho led wilhersy. viJ
her ladysliip willed. They niove^l on, her dress brushed 'li'il
her lips wiiisjieri'*! "Wait." Tliey disai)peared in the sih,;'
d'.'-k, and Du.kc was alone.
'1 he sunjiuer lifj;lit had faded entirely out of the sky, ,i.i
the UKKJii, and tl!(- star.^, and the Chin(si- lanterns had ii .;.
t!i-ir (iwn wjy; ;'nd -tlH Diike sat, and waited as patieiv
fcurteen y(virs before, in the elm
r,
now a?- he h.ad ('.lie
for Olivia i yndilh.
A cold haiui fading on his own arcused h.ini the same 'hi
touch' tluit hal startled Lord Montalien's favorite sou suioi
tu'-nin^' I'oniid, he saw in Ihe night light Lady Charter!-
She locked like a spirit so white, so unearihiy her b];i(!:i
ey.^s wild and solenui. She '.d thrown a scarlet cashn!!!vl
over hei' dark dress, and her s;nall face shone from the liclj
red fold;-, like a wan star.
( oniel she sanl, come vifh me.
Tier f-old fi Hirers still held his hand. Duke shuddered all
their touch. He was in no wa^ fanciful, but just then he roi
membered legends ran of pale water-spirits bearing away h;ip|
less mortals to their doom.
She led him away from the noise and the people, down al
green aisle, in whose sombre darkness a murder might h.ive
been committed. One or two red lamps flickered luriillyj
athwart the blackness, and a nightingale piped its sweet,
mournful lay somewhere in the stillness. Even the brayi 'sr!
of the brass band came faint and far-off, here. She claspiMl|
both hands around that of her prisoner, and the dark, fipof
tral eyes fixed themselves upon his face.
"She is mire my daughter my child whom I gave you|
f(nirteen years ago?"
"She is."
"You have cared for her all those years! She has grown]
up like that strong, and tall, and healthy, and beautiful-
Ix^autifnl as he was, and like him, and like him!"
"Well, yess" ^fr. Mason responded, thoughtfully, and qui
forg(tting' hiniselx, "she is like him, and when lier faco
waslwd, tliu Duches- isn't a bad looking ^jirl^^
om I gAve you
Face to Face,
91
.a.,
0'
'!ic-lly.
to the
li' .:, was a vision before him as he spoke Miss L tiiy, in
10 ki'-ilieu on washing, ironing and baking days, with spots
' sunt on her oval cheeks, and perennial smudges of grime
1 her pretty Greeian nose. Indeed, it seemed on these oc-
isi'iiis as the young lady herself observed, with an injured
ir- that she couldn't so much as look at a pot or a kettle
ithdiit half the black flying off and transferring itself to her
mritenance.
"Ddos she know who does she think she is?" the lady
;irri('lly asked.
"Slie thinks she is Polly Mason, an orphan, the child of a
"i\(\ cousin of raifie. The Duchess hasn't a notion of who
ic rciilly is."
"The what?"
*'l bog your pardon, my lady, I call her the Duches
inisc she looks like one, not that 1 ever was pers-.r '
u.iinterl with any duchess," Duke put in, pa 'eii*
Slic cabled herself Polly; but I never took kiiid'
aino of Polly."
"llor name is Paulina."
"V(," said Duke, forgetting himself lo.' tiic seco -d time.
I know it is. He said so." '
"Who said so?" ^
Tlu^ solomn, dark eyes were fixed on his face, tlie friendly
arkiioss hid the guilty red that flushed it al ihe quc'stion.
''Who said so: who could know lier name?" the lady fle-
iiiidcd, suspiciously.
"It was it was a sick man who stopped with us, when sho
irnc/' stammered Duke, who never could learn the nianncrs
f po(l society, and telh polite lies; "hesuggested that her
jniie might be Paulina."
"How should he think of it who was this sick "mail?"
"His name was ITawksley, my lady."
Duke's heart was throbbing against Iris .ribs. If-she only
now '
"If she asks questions enough, she'll .surely find it out," he
I'Might, with an inward groan. "I never could stand pump-
'!,jr."
But my lady's thoughts had driftel away to more import-
|n(' things than sick men by the name of ' avvk-^ley.
"Why did you leave London?" she asked; "do you know
wrote to the old address twice, and my letters were returniHl.
he last tell into the hands of Sir Vane, and there wn-^ a
^'f-tio,'^ she twisted her fingers togetbr^i as though ii; pain:
'111(1 1 never dared write again. I ould rather havf* seen
ly flnrling dead than th..; he should find her out. Oh! if he
louJ*.' i'egognize the rwiemblance, and discovw her i.'rutity.
!tr .
m
^
h
t '^
i
f ! 'i
I
I
i
s
-
92
Face to Face
\ /
^
ev(Mi now? lie know ihcro vas a ch'ih] he know-; ~x
hidden her away. If he shoiihl fine out! if he shoiii'l
out!" She ehisped her handj^ around his nrin. anl look
at him witli a face of mortal (h'eack
"lie will not find out, my lady," Duke said, (juietlv, "j
you do not hetray yourself. Iltiw should he she is P
Mason, the orphan eousin of a poor scene-painter; aiil
the rescinhlance, lie will not see it as you do. Vou do n
he linir f'Msped, as he sled the (luestion. "You will no! ',;
her away, niy lady?"
"Take her away!" repeated Lady Charteris; "never,
friend my p:oo(k kind faithful friend! Do you love Ik
tell me is she indeed dear to you? Would it grieve y' u
^'wo her up?"
"]\ly lady, nothing? on earth could grieve me so di |
T don't know how a father may feel for an only child, in
know no father in this world could love a daughter ni
than T love Polly."
"And your sister she loves her too?" ,
"She is the torment and the idol of my sister's life. I'
one loves the Duchess."
She put her hai^ds over her face. Tears were falliniv
hapi)iest Lady Charteris had ever shed. When she look* i '
she was ineffably calm in the dusk.
"I have been praying for my darling," she whispered.
God keep her God protect her pure from tiie world
from her enemies!"
"ITer enemies she has none."
"She has a teri^ble enemy while Sir Vane Charteris liv
Save lier from him. Look, Mr. MUson ! I was an hciic-
it was for my fortune my ujicle persecuted me. Sir Vane mn
ried me. That fortune w^s so left me tliat it falls to ni
eldest child at my deatli. He idolizes his daughter it i- li
ambition that she shall make a lofty marriage he has i
eomo almost a miser that slie may be a great heiress. Ar
Panl'na is my eldest child to Paulina it shnll all go at
death if they cannot prove itiy first m.arriage illegal
skic illegitimate, I speak calnd.v of these things, my friiMij
I have thought of them so often. Paulina will in1i(M-if '^
spite n^' him the marriage was legal, 1 know. T have
suited 1-i'vyers on the sub.iect. One hair of her hea(^ is d''
to inc than a doj^rn "Mauds it mav be wrong; T cannoi i.
it. At my ('eath Paulitia will come into an nmcMne of ',
thousand a vear his daught!r will not inh-v*^ '^ -hilling-
is well he has sufficienl for her. He is a ')ud bold, unscni|iii|
lous i.ian, who spares neither man nov woman in his wiMtl
It 11 vo?' -'. 3eea'^.?e you know how he married me, whi!l
il-'ace to Fnce.
95
oris; "ncvor.
istor's life. I v.
(uiilitcr it i
liiifis, my frii
,(i:i!li'0(l hiiTi, and told liiin 1 Idntlicd liim. A in;in wlio
iilil stoop to siU'li a lujiiTiiif^c uMild sloop to jinythiiiK.
Id Paidina bo safo, think yon, llion, in his power'; Wo
\y iiiiinin liorc a week, r two; keep her away from tins
r: diM-ini,^ tliat timo. He ^ll-l)0({s nic now; since our I'o-
II t.. i-'iifihuid lio has wat* IkmI ir.o as a cat watcti("s a mouse.
! ;i'i know what ho snsjK'cts. w]i;U he f(ars, hut it is u.
III iiiw 1 may ho missed, he may he scarohinj; tor nio.
ji'. M.i-on, 1 think 1 am the most wretcdiecl woman the v do
Irtli liohls- I think my lieai't hroko sixteen yoars afjo Avlun
cv loid mo my (hndiii^ was dead. The only creatmv in this
(1 whom T lovo ii yondor, and I laro not speak one word
!irr. daro not j^ivo her ono kiss for hor fatlior's sake."
ISlic covorod hor faoo again, and hroke out info sohhinjv
{l(!. hysterical, but suppressed sohhiniz'. Ahis! lony' yc^ar-- of
(in. of survoillanoo, had taught h r, tliat 'Voii grief was a
;ury she must not indulge in.
[VmiIxc had nft!iing to say: a woman orying made him cold
1(1 lint, hy turns. He wasn't much used to if Rosanmi w is
||M ri(.r to crying Jis to all other weaknesses of hor wretched
!)tid for Polly's tears, though they made him oxtjuisitely
i-crnhle at the time, they were sjx'tMlily dried. They were
Hir!;illy tears of rage, indeed, not of sorrow; and as she
iMt'd vehi^montly all the while .she W(^pt, it wrs not in tii.:;
Iturc of things her tempests could last long their v'ry
f'ltiice used them up. l^ut this was something different;
ji'- w;is sorrow of which the n.ian knew nothing, and lie
lr;i!ik ;iway. with a Strang desire to take to his hoids, and
piilic. Some intuition told her it pained him she dro|)p(d
|r hands, and smiled through her tears.
|''I !i;ive no right to dfstress you." she said, sweetly, "yni
lo are my best, my only, friend the only friend at least
ii'iii I can trust with the secret- of my life. Tidl mv of my
iiid- is slio truthful, is she generous, is she nohlediearfed,
she amiable; is she, in a word, like her father!!"
|".\ii]iahle'r' Well, Duke wasn't iireparod to say that Polly
- on all occasions. She had a tongue and a temper he-
mI a doubt; she had a will of her own, too, and made m st
l"i le mind her. But and Duke ^Fason's face lit up, and
ey( s glowed, and groat love made him elo(iuent, and ho
nred Polly to Polly's mother as he saw herthe brav-t,
ha'ndsomost, the most generous and loving little girl in
f It Britain.
i'Thaidx God!" the mother said. "Thank Hod! Ami
vou. who have been hor father and friend, for so many
|ar- Keep her still keep her until I die and she cornea
to tier fortune. She will be able to reward yor then.*'
94
Fac
o
Face.
"I hope thnt flay is vorv fnv off. T don't want any^rewariij
fur kecy-uig- tlio Dnclios. iwiV aliiiout her woula not U|
worth the l-.avinjj;'."
"Teach u(ir what you can 1 /'aniiot oven ^ive you a p.iilri
hr.ndrod or two for that. 1 liavo not a sovereig-n witliuuti
the knowUMl40 of Sir Vane ('harteris not a trinket thai li|
v/ould not miss. I am jxtorer than she is, Mr. Mason."
"Oh, Polly isn't poor," eried Duke, forgettinji: himself fori
the thiid lime; "thanks to Jiawksley's gen(M'osity, she !ia
seven iiinidred i)oun(ls in tlie Speekliaven Jjank."
"Who is this Mr. Ilawksley?" asked Lady Charteris, niihl
renewed suspicion: "who knows Paulina's name, and givl
lier seven hundred pounds (f what does it moair^f"
"What a dolt a dumh-rhead, I am!" thought Duke, rcailjj
to hife his own toiigue off. "Pve got myself into a pntty|
mess now! My lady," he, said aloud, "Mr. JIawksley is onlyl
a very generous and eccentric young man, who took a faiirvj
to Polly's pretty face when a bahy, and sends her a Christinj!!
p:eent of fifty jjounds from the California gold digging^
every year. Tie was just from the States, you see, and I. (liirii
say tlutt's how lie came to guess her name."
She had not the faintest suspicicjn of the truth, and ^h\\
very lucid e.xDlanation satisfied her.
"T(e is v(^ry kind." she said; "take the money, then, ar.l
educate the child as befits her birth and tlie station she will
one lay fill. And now" she laid her hand upon his arraj
and drev; nearer to him "a last favor. Will you accom])iimj
me to-morrow niglit to the Grange? A strange request," she]
added, as she felt how Duke must be wondering; "but I ;l;ire|
not venture to go in daytime. He would suspect soinetaiiiL')
Ho is always suspecting. And at night I fear to go aloiul
Not the cavalier's ghost." with a faint smile, "but the peoplej
I niighit meet at that hour. Will you be my escort to-morri/.i
night ?"
"Certainly, Lady Charteris.'"
"T go at night because, when all have retired, I am fi\
only then. And I go for something I left behind me ix:
flight fourteen years ago ah, you rem(uid;cr that night? J;\
husband's miniature my lost husband's Sir Vane Chartcril
is only thiit in nnme some letters trinkets---the few pnvl
ents he ever gave me. They are dearer to me than anj^thiii!!!
in the world, except ids child. T had them ready, and for-f
got them, somehow, that night in my haste, Tliey may lwve|
been removed, but I think not. T left them in the secret
drawer of ar "/lulian cabinet, and T know none of the largel
furniture : ?,er taken from the Grange At tv/elve, to-l
ruth, and hii
^aiio Chart crN
Fa
ce
to Face,
Q5
irrow '^ifi:ht- I will ' ;; ' llu* gntcs-- ''' :;ov. -neet rae
'' ^' ^'"
^lic Cook his liaud aiuJ kissed il, as .she liad (l(ue that iiig'ht
li^'' ;ij^o in the waitiiig-iomn at tlie railway.
"jMeaven bless you, hest of friends. And nn\v I must leave
[du he has missed jr)e loiifir ere this.'' Slie ilitttd away with
ic words, and he was left alone undi'r llie red lamps uiid
liuhiingale's jui^-jug.
Ic looked at his watch nine o'eloek the first act would
|o "vcr; but better late than never. The tirst violinist of the
.vcciim strode jway at a tremend(us rate toward the th(atre.
Pncisely at midnight, the following night, Duke, in a
:iit wagon, was waiting outside the ponderous gate of the
riiiiy. "Were his nocturnal alventures never to end!'"
Kikt' wondered, and "what would Rosanna say to-morrovi
rluii sj^(j found his bed unsle])t in V J.ady (Miarteris was
[aiK'tual, and he drove her along through the (luiet night to
]if liiiinited Grange.
"Vou had better wait outside," the lady said, "and keep
|;it'li. I know how to effect an entrance, and J am not in
lie least afraid."
Sjie approached the house with a rapid and resolute step.
jlic might be afraid of Kir Vane Charttris; she certainly was
[ot of supernatural visitants. The open window caught her
e, ^he clambered up the ivy-rope ladder, and entered. T he
Kioii chanced to be obscured, and the figiu'e asleei) in the
liiir escaped her eye. She carried with her a dark-lantern,
fhicli she lit now, and passed out of the apartment and up-
|i)irs to tlie chamber that had long ago been her own.
Slie was right in her surmise. The Indian cabinet hal
1 1 been removed. She found the spring she wanted, the
awf'r flew out; there lay the cherished packet. She caught
up. thrust it into her bosom, and rapiilly descended.
It was then her footsteps awoke the sleeper.
"^no opened the door. Polly was standing erect, and very
fi'lc awnke now.
hady Charteris paused on the threshold with a low, startled
ry.
1 liore, in the house in which she had been born, sixteen
curs ago this very month, child and mother stood face to
I Si'
ill i;
P. CO
CIIAPTKU V.
t O L L Y ' H M I S D K i; F) S .
i'aco to tuce, in the dead hour of the night, in i\\v do; ii,i
room of Lynditli Grange, Fate had doiie licr work. ,n
broug'ht those two together at hist!
Kur an instanr both stood speechless, spi'I'hound- 'w
with the same wild tlinuglit that they behehl a suitern;iiiu
visitant. Then, as the light of tiie lantern slione ;iri
bntadly over the face and figure of the lady, the girl wrut,
^lized her, and all superstitictus fears were swept away \]
impulse of uneontrollable surprise.
"Lady Charteris!" dropped from her lii)s. The word-,
sound of a hnnuui voice, broke the pell. J.ady (Mian.
knew the slim figure standing before her was not the t^hn-\
tlie mad lady.
"Who speaks?" she asked firmly. She was intensely ii.
ous, and her heart throbbed almost i)ainfully. "Wh"
you r'
"I am Polly Mason." Polly's voice faltered a little a^ .-!i|
said it. She always did feel ashamed of that intensely pin
beian and unromantic cognomen, poor child.
"Polly Mason!" the name of all others now most dear
the heart of the lady. She drew near hurriedly half in
credulous "Polly Mascn !"
She lifted her light high yes, it shone on the slender, fj:iri|
ish figure, the fair, drooping head, the beseeching eye^, [\'\
half-smiling, half -trembling lips, for Polly, thus dete
hardly knew whether to laugh or cry.
"M^' child! my child!" the lady cried, aghast, "what in tlil
world brought you here? You, of all people alive, and at tli!|
itnearthly hour?" Polly laughed a little hysterically i
half sobbed :
"Oh, Lady Charteris, it was foolish, I know, and Duke ani
Rosanna will be so angry when they find it out. I'm liii
sorry no^' I came, but I couldn't help it. Eliza Long. \ i
don't know her, of course but we hate each other, she nnii
dared me to come here and spend a night alone ani^ij ill
ghosts, and I well, I know I'm a little fool!" Poll^- v/i
piteously, and looking uj), with her big, blue eyes at the mcii
lady, "but if she dared me jump into Speekhaven B;i,v.
think T would do it. They left me here, and are to ci^ll t
me at two o'clock. It must be near that now. And pi i
my lady,": (very humbly,) "don't tell; X ^waft not afraid, i
I-
and Duke aiij
out. I'm hi!
liza Loiifi', V'l
ther, she nini
Olio ain^if: il
:" P.)l^ Tu.
cs at I ho m't';'!
khavi'U B;t.v,
are to ci^li Ui
Polly's Misdeeds.
97
cl( od I wasn't, and I slt-pt nearly all tlio time; l)nk l)uk
wtiill be vexed- -(l)uk(!V my eousin, please, my lady,) and
he's such a dear old cousin, 1 hate to make him .--orry. Oh,
Jii.'iy ('harteri- I" i'olly clasped her luuuKs 'I know fhi.-^ is
your liouse, but I did not know that you or anybody ever
eaiiic iii're, or I'd never have tlonf it. Oh, p'casu don't say
J've ilor.e anytiiini^ so very, \ery wi'on;j;!"
I'oUn could talk at all times, and awe of lauits. .;'reat or
Miiail, hc did not know. She wondered to tiiid L.KJy Char-
tcris iiere, at such a time, and she hoped Duke wouldn't dis-
i'i!\-cr her escapade, but slie was as prepared to conv.'rse with
a baronet's lady a.s with Kosanna.
it u'as a moment Ix'lore my lady answered, a moment (lur-
ing' which she stood h-okinj^; .;t the Mii'l, ^v'ith her hand pres..cl
ti;;hliy over her lu'art. 'I'he blue, lj(^sccchin^ eyes wei'e so
like, so cruelly like eye^s that seven'cen years a^'o hal been
dearer to her than earth and all its jilory. It ;av( her a panj;
ahnost as ^harj) as death to see their comiterpaii thus. She
scarcely heard a word; 8he only knew that the child td' h:^r
love .stood before her.
".My darling! My darling- J" she said, with a smothorod
gob. "(di my darlin/;!" and the astonished Polly found herself
cau^'-ht in the laily's arms, and tears and kisses rainini'- on h'i.
f.i.-e._
Aliss Mason's first Impulse was that I.ady Charteris iiarj
^ lue suddenly mad. It wa not an improbable fancy, inidcr
the circumstances, and much more alarmed than she had been
rtny time yet, she strove to get away. She was prepared to
meet a ghost, if you like, but not a lunatic. Lady Chi.rteri-i
understood her in an instant, and at once released he''.
"I have frightened you, my dear," she said, recovering her-
self s^lf-command was a fixed habit with her now; she was
not at all likely to give way again, "but you you resemblo
some one I once knew. My child, what a strange thing for
you to do to come and spend a night in this dismal place.
Were you not terribly afraid?"
"Well no, my lady, at least not until I heard you upstairs,
I don't mind a bit so that Duke aiid Rosanna don't find out."
"You are very fond of your cousins, my dear?"
"Oh, very!" said Polly, "Duke especially; but every on(
loves Duke the starved dogs ii ""^-.e streets, tht? little beggars
who ask alnif- in the town everybody!"
Her eyes lighted yes, verv fondly Polly loved "dear old
Duke."
"And you are liappy truly and reall.y happy," the lad,^
asked so earnestly she asked it.
"Happy i" Polly asked; "well, no, not Quite; I don't thinly
( .
'Q.
98
Polly' ; Misdeeds
I'liybfxly could bo litippj v.'ftn.sr nonie wau I'ol^. ..iason; Poiiyf
it nMiiiiitls Olio of a ])ol' parrot in a cage asking for crnckops.**
Ivjidy (!ha^l rs Hiiiilcd in spite of licrself.
"Is tliat nil '{ Well, my cliiJd, you can console yourself with
th(! I bought that, like most young kulies, you will one day
c^iange your nniue."
Polly l)liislie(l. and tliongjit of Mr. Fane.
'4 ought to be a iiappy girl, I sui)iose, for eve^-^body is
very good to me. iMy lady, will you please tell me the time?"
"Jt is just half-past one," looking at her watch; "my errand
here is done, and you will return with me. And Polly," slic\
laid her hand on the girl's shoulder, "you know some of the
|Hople at the Priory. J saw you dancing, y(u remenibei', yes*-
terdiiy; don't nieiitioii to any of those young men, should y(Jii
chancer to see them, that you ever met me here. Xow come."
"My lady, I cannot g; I promised to wait, nnd I must.
They will call for me at two only half an hour now; 1
wouldn't have them find me gone for the world when they re-
turn. 1 should never hear the Inst of it."
"Who are they, my little onoil"
"Oh, Alice Warren and Eliza Long, and two young men;
you wouldn't know any of them. They'll be here a^t two, and
I must wait I promised."
"A promise must be kept, of course. Will you not got a
scolding to-morrow from this Duke you love so well, for thi8
madcap p^aiik {"
"A scolding! Duke scold!" Polly laughed aloud at the
stupendous jokc^ such a sweet, merry laugh. "Oh, dear no,
my lady, Duke couldn't scold if be tried least of all, me.
But he would look grieved, and that would be ten times worse,
and never say a word, and be kinder to me than ever. Ro-
sanna would scold, and I shouldn't mind it a bit; but.Duke."
Polly shook hcv curly head, with contrition: "No, I hoi"ei
Duke ^von't hofir of it."
"Then, he shall not from me. And I must go aiKl leave
you here. It seems almost cruel."
"You are very kind, my lady, but don't mind me; I'm not
afraid, and I couldn't go, that's the amount of it. Please let
me help you out."
Lady Charteris stooped, and kissed her very gently this
time.
"You are a brave little girl. Good-night, and don't come
here any more."
The benediction given with the kiss w\ts uttered in the
lady's heart. Polly helped her out, of the window, and
watched her as she flitted c'own ^he avenue, her light steps
lost on the grassy ground. ...,:, - , . .^ - ,;.
Polly's Misdeeds
99
A .i.^ ,\^iirf^ (liHinally. ''I do wi^Ij tlioy woul-l come."
She hai iit loiii;" to wait. lU'lort' two i'f|(,('k the (|Uiirt('f
\i(n\ uiidtu' her wi!i(l(w, fill'(l with rt'morsc mid dire mis-
jiviii^. WdiiM tlicy tind iicr ;div' wlicii tl\'.v rcttiriicd;
Would tlio.v find Ikt iit i\\\ ( Mi,y;lit not tlic ravalitr's j^host
carry lu'i off bodily to tho land oi' restless sliadows wiuMice in?
tatiic'^ Jiiit l*olly, us l)ri;lit as a new sliilliriii'. stood smiiiu';
b't'orc iliein, and leaped witli the bound ot" a Uid out id' llu*
window and into tiie arms ot' tlie baberdaslu'r'ri youn^: num.
"Tliat will do, Sam; I don't want ludp," said Miss Mason,
rather disdainfully. After Allen Kane and (Juy rarlseourl it
wasn't likely she was ever aj^jain yninj; to tolerate lraU8men'rt
a|)[)rentiees. "V's, I'm safe, Kli/.a, in spite of you and the
ghosts und the rut; and I've had a sociable chat with one of
th(^ lufhosts that liannt the (^ra^^e, and a very pheasant ^host
il is. I hojH* you're. cojivinoed I'm i.ot afraicl now; and if
you, or any (d* you, let Duke or ilosanna iind out this nif^ht's
work, I'll well, "don't you do it, that's all! I may lg an
idiot for my pains, but I'm not f?oinp: to worry thMn into
their graves,"
Even Eliza Long prcvmised. She had been considerably
alarmed during the lu)urs of waiting. If they found Polly
dead or gone mad through fright, Peter Jenkins would turn
(Queen's evidence, she knew, and there was no telling what
the law might not do to her hang her, perhaps. Sh( prom-
ised, and she kc^pt her word for two or three months and
by that time it did no harm to tell.
At half-past two exactly, Polly stole in through a kitchen
window and upstairs in her stockings to bed, and fell asleep,
and woke up and came fresh and smiling down to breakfast,
none the worse for her night's dreary frolic.
*He will be here presently," was the young lady's thought;
and breakfast over, she went back to her room to get herself
up for the occasion.
jMr. Fane came, and not alone. At eleven o'clock he drove
up in a dashing little pony phaeton, with cream-colored, high-
stepping ponies, and Miss ]\raud Charteris by his side. Polly
WHS seated under an arch of morning glories, reading Tenny-
son, posing for the occasion, and Mr. Fane's speaking eyi^s
told her pretty plainly what he thought of her looks. He had
come to take her to the Priory for that first sitting for the
fair Rosamond, and this was Miss Maud Charteris, Miss
Mason, and he was Cjuite sure each yoTing lady would \m
charmed with the other. IMiss ^laud Charteris gave Miss
TVdly Mason a little half-patronizing, half-haughty smile and
bow, which the latter returned with equal hauteur. She was
not prettv little Miss Charteris. She was jSale and sickly o
.%
loo
Polly's Misdeeds.
aHjMH't, with nor fntlnr's lIa'k cyps, iuu\ tnr-hliick 'uiir,
.--t raifrlH' as an Iiidian's. 'I'lir brijiht silks wliich that (li.riiiR
lather Wkod t( st' Iht wear coiilra.^Utl har-lil.y wilh licr small,
Iiii'h('(i features ami sickly pallor. Siie was drussed like u
loll MOW, 111 tartan silk if hrilliiiiit hues, a wiiitc lace searl', a
I'aris hat, wreathed with pink roselmds, and dainty bootrf,
and ^^loves, and pink-silk and itoint-l.iec parasol.
Miss (.'harteris dei^ined to talk a little to Miss aw Muson,
as the steppers bore them alon^. Had sin- really lived all lur
life in this lull, eountry town { Had he never l)e'n to school,
nor to I'jiiis never even heen to London^ It must he dread-
fully dull sueh a life. She rej^arled the ^hahhy merino and
the common straw hat with pityin/j; wonder. She was uniM-
lerahly cond'scondin|jr to this dowdy country j^irl whom Mr.
Fane wanted to i)aint. The litth; embryo lady took the airs
ot a ffi'iinfU' ddini' as naturally a.s a duckling takes to water,
and wilh every (imstion of the disdainful patrician, Polly
^rn-w more and more anj^ry and sulky, and sorry she came;
and it was in a very had humor, indeed, that she entered the
lusKy si)lendor of the Pri(ry, and followed Mr. Fane into an
aparlMient where (lowers bloomed, and birds san^, and beauti-
ful pictures were on the walls, and tall vases taller than lie**-
self stood, and a Turkey ('ari)et covered the floor, and silken
drai)eries hunu-, and Parisian statuett(s ^dimmered in the pale
j-reen li^lit. Xo wonder Maud Cliarteris (lesj)ised her Maud
('hart(M-is, to whom this jj^orj^eous temple was only an everyday
drawini4-rofm, and who lived in perpetual tartan silks.
Mr. Fane left her for a moment to ^^o in search of Miss
llautton, he said, who was to sit for Queen Eleanor. Mis&
(^hart(MMs left her, exeusinji' herself elaborately, to remove her
hat and scarf. Polly was alone. Silence reigned. It was like
a church. She glanced about her in fiwe. But presently,
throush a curtained arch at the fuither end of the room,
voices came. One was the voice of little Miss Maud; the
other the languid, haughty accents of Miss TTautton.
"Pretty?" she was repeating, in rather a contemptuous
tone. "Did Mr. Fane really say so, Maud? Tie must have
been jesting, surely. Why, the girl in white, with whom I saw
him dancing, was a i)erfect little dowdy.'' ^
"Well, I thought so too, Diana," said the piping treble of
the little lady of thirteen; "and to-day you should ser? her!
such a dress, old and faded and made oh!"
Words failed to describe the unfashionable^ make of this old,
faded dress.
"How tiresome of Mr. Fane to fetch her here; and one
must be civil to the little creature, T suppose. Pretty! a stu-
pid country girl,*' with red hair and freckles."
Polly's Misdeeds,
loi
Polly wultcl to lu'iir n. mon'; hvr lirnrf folt full to l)Uisf-
iii^ 'inrdl.v knew \\lutln'r willi jitii-ci,, or wtHiinhMl ft'l-
iii^'.or vhat. Slic U-.ui Lccii in-ullcil, miclly iii-^ullrd. Wij.v
Iciil Mr Faiio rvt'i l)nnij;!it licr lurc^ She ^ot up. hihI made
lici* way out how, slu- luirdly kiirw- tliroui-'h luiifjr ultt's of
r'MMiis, niid d;),/ii tlial ^rand gilded and rarvtd -stairway. S)i(.
was (lul ot' the liou^c, and iiitu tlic li-i^lif uii-hiin'. \*itli tin;
.suiMtiicr wind l)l(\\iiiy in licr hot t'a'', and a -wcllitiu' in hi'i
thi'oaf tliaf nearly cliokf-d her.
"A stupid country ^irl. witli n'd hair and t'rccklol" That
dreadful sentence ranir in her ear-; li!;e a death inell all the
way home.
I'oUy worked for the remainder of that day wllh an enerji:,v
that completely astonislu'd Itosiinna. Ironinjr was m)in^ on,
and sh(^ jj^ot a talde t hei'sdf. and ironed thoe clothe with ii
vindictive onerj^y, that left her idieeks crimson, and her eyes
full of sitreamin^ li^ht. She was dead siitnt, t(o, and de-
clined taking hor tea, when teatim*^ came, and went (ui into
tlic garden to lot the evening wind cool orF, if it could, her
flushed face. And as she reaehcil tlu' gate, there stood Mr.
Mian Fane in person,
"Miss Mason Polly!" he hegan. 'Svhat on earth nnide you
run away? Did 1 leave you too long^ I give you my word I
could not help it, and I hope vou are not otVendecl. What was
itr
Polly looked at him with flashing eyes. She would have cut
otT her right hand 5*ooner than let him know how she had
heen humiliated.
'^What is it, Polly? T think you ^aid that I miglit call you
Polly," witrli a tender look.
"You may call nie anything you phrase, Afr. Fane a
d(wdy, stupid country girl, such as T am. If T were Aliss
Diana Hautton, or Miss Maud Charteris, it would he (piite
another thing hut how could a shahhy, ignorant, n^d-liairiMl
rustic expect either respect or courtesy !"
''Polly Miss Mason! (Iool Heaven! has any one itisulte4l
you? Who came into the rooms whiU^ I was away r'
"Xot a soul, Mr- Fane. lut yon should not he surprised
at anything a person in my class of life may do. Wc don't
know any better, and T got frigh.tened, very naturally, at all
the splendor about me; and ran away jusr that. One word,
one look from so grhnd a lady as the TToiiorable ?.[!- ir.iutton
would have annihilated me; I ran away. Doii'l waste your
time, T beg, Mr. Fan(^ go back to ttie T'riory and the high-
born ladies there."
"You are as thorough a lad.y as the best of thein, NFisa Ma-
son, if y. will pardon my presumption in saying 8o, and T
if
B02
Polly's Misdeeds
wouldn't exchr.nfte five miTiu+:: ~vith you lor a day with the
fairest of them !"
He told the truth there was a glow on his placid face very
unusual there. Polly, pretty at all times, was tenfcild prettier
whcTi thorouffhly angry. The haughty poise of the lioad, the
flashing fire in the blue eyes, the flush on the oval cheeks, the
ringing tones of the clear voice, became her well.
"Some one has offended some one has insulted you, it may
be. Miss Mason, but it was not I. If T only dared put in
words what I think of you; bat no, even the de(^pest admiia-
tion sometimes appear impertinence. Tell me you are not
angry with me I could not bear that, Polly."
Tlis voice softened to a wonderful tenderness, the eyes that
looked at her were full of a light that shot the words home.
Mr. Fane having spent the past four years at the business was
past master- of the art of love a la mode. And Polly's heart
stirred for an instant, and the fiery scorn died out of her face,
and into its place came a beautiful, tremulous light; but she
laughed saucily even while moved.
"You are talking treason to your sovereign, Mr. Fane.
What would Miss Hauiton say if she heard you?"
"Miss Hautton may go to Paradise, if she likes. What is
Mi^s TIautton to me?"
"The future Mrs. Fane, or rumor tells awful stories!"
"Rumor does tell awful stories, always did. If I cared for
l^^iss Hautton would I be here? Polly, you must sit for that
picture, only, by Jove, I shall have to paint you for Queen
Eleanor, if you look as you do just nov\ Won't you ask me
in, and give me some tea, please? I came after you in such
haste that I never waited for luncheon."
"What?" Polly cried, "has it taken you since one o'clock
to walk three miles? Oh, Mr. Fane, don't think me a greater
goose than you can help. Come in, if you like, and I will seo
if Rosanna will let you have the tea."
"That doesn't sound too hospitable," the artist said, "but
where one is very anxious to obtain the entree, one must not
stand on the order of his invitation. We shall have the sit-
tings here, ]\riss Polly, instead of at the Priory."
Mr. Allan Fane wont into the house, neeeting a rather cool
reception from both Duke and Rosanna.
Polly was all mortal man coidd desire, and he lingered until
the moon was up, and the loud-voiced kitchcMi clock struck
nine. The girl went with him to the gate, the moon shone
crystal clear; what a night it was, what a beautiful, blissful
world altogether! And 'Rosanna called life a weary pilgrim-
age and earth a vale of tears.
**Ms^ I come_agaiii and very soon, Polly?'* ashed Mr.
Love's Ycjng Dream.
103
Fane, holding her hand, and locking irto tht- eyes he thought
brig'hter than all tliose shining- stars abovo.
"Certainly," Miss Mason responded, doniurely; "and if yon
make such progress at every sitting*as you have done at this,
l\Ir. Fniio, the fair Rosamond will be eoni]d(t('(i before you
know it." Her clear lang-h rang out, the truth being the art-
ist had entirely forgotten fair Kosan'onr, Allan Fane being
r,() angYOii^cd by Polly Mason.
CHAPTER VI.
LOVES YOUNG DRKAM.
"Duchess," Mr. Mason said, the following morning, as he
arose from the breakfast table, "when you're quite finished,
aiul got- tlie dishes washed, I wish you would step up to my
room before you go anywhere. I have a proposal to make to
yy
you.
"Oh!" said the Duchess, "a proposal of marritige, Duke?"
Payiiv^ no attention to the flippant iiuiuiry, the scene-
painter went on his way upstairs, to his own peculiar sanc-
tum.
''I wonder if I could postpone it until to-morrow," he said
as she entered. "Shaving makes a man look cleaner, no
doubt, but it is an awful bother. Do you thitd the bristles
will be too strong, if I waited another day, Duchess?"
"Mr. Mason, was that what you reciuested me to come up
here to decided'
"No, Duchess; don't be in a hurry." Duke turnt^l from the
glass, and leaning forward looked at her. D.ow pale she was
in the garish morning light how dull the brilliant eyes al-
most as dull as ]\Iiss Hautton's own!
"Duchess what's the matter? You're getting thin. You're
losing your appetite you only took two cups of tea this morn-
ing and three rolls."
"Do you usually count my cups of tea and the number of
rolls, sir?" cried Polly, firing up, for her powerful schoolgirl
fippetite, so uidike her heroines, was rather a sore spot with
t his young ladx,
^*f^^^|^^rag thinner and pale; you're losing your good
looks, ^liss Mason. You want a change, and you shall have
it. Duchess, you shall go to hoarding-school!"
"To boarding-school, Duke!" -^
"7'o boarding-school, Duchess."
The girl's Tace flushed, then paled; he walked to the win-
dow, aud looked silently down the quiet. road.^lXo boarding-
m
irv
f04
Lovers Young Dream
i
sciiool ! Why, it had been the drcf.m of hor ]ife to;?o ic c! ool
liitherto, but Duke clung to her brigb.t presence with an al-
most selfish love, and could not bear to part with her, No\7
lier dream was realized, ske was to go, and her firsi sensation
was one of blank dismay.
"Duchess Polly!" lie exclaiined, in a frightened voice,
"you always wanted to go. Don't tell me you r.re going to
object now I"
She turned from the window, and the smile he loved lit up
her face.
"No, Duke, I'm not going to object. I'll go with all the
pleasure in life. I need school of some kind, goolness knows
-^such an ignorant, wild, good-for-nothing wretch as I am.
Where am 1 to go ^"
"'I'o Bromjiton to Miss Primrose's establishment. Squire
Weldon's daughter went there, you know. And Fll take you
next week, 'f you think you can be ready."
"That's a question for Rosanna I can be ready fast
enough if my cloth':s can. And now, as I've got to go into
town, ril bid you good-morning, if you're quite done with
V
me.
It was late in tlyj; afternoon when Polly returned home, and
the lirst person she beheld as she neared the cottage was Mr.
Allan Fane. She had spent tlio whole morning in Speckhaven
dioing with a friend there and now as the western sky was
reddening, she sauntered homeward, tiilling a song in very
gladness of heart. It was her fa\T)ri(e ballad of "County
(5uy," and it was of Guy Eariscourt she was thinking as she
sang, lie reminded her of the heroes of her books, with his
darkly hanvlsome face, his large Italiai eyes, with that sleepy
gohh'n light in their dusky depths, liwd his smile, that not Mr.
Allan Fane or his brother could rival. She was heart-whole
where tlie artist was concerned in spite of her pique and mor-
tified vanity a very child playing at being in love. And
there was all a child's audacity in the saucy smile, and
glance, aiid greeting she gave him now.
Allan Fane had been a ^.ittle doubtful about his reception
ever so little uneasy.
"ITow do, Mr. Fane?" Polly said, with that /-ipiding smile.
"Have you heard the news? I am going away going to
echool in London no, lirompton for the next two or three
years." . ,.
"Two or three years !"
He did look blank. The possibility of her going away had
never occurred to him. He had not given *the matter much
thought, but it had seemed to him that the bright summer
months would i)^L^Q 1^ ^^ ii^ pleasant interview^ Aad d-
hh
( ll
Love's Young Dream.
los
lijzlitl'iil sittnj^s f(v Ills ])i\:tiire. Thf tid must conio (khiw
time, unci ho must leave lliis jzirl witli tlic tav.ny liair and sap-
1 !iire eyes, but the eud had only been glanced ai afar off, aud
itiv.\-'i! lay a Moldcii mist i/f lon^^, dodcious days and w. -ks.
And now she was {^.tiiii^ away, aud thei? liiokc upo i Allan
l";in(! tde truth that he was in love! not merely smitten, hut
ill luvp, with a slim, untutored little jiirl, with the manners,
when she tihuse, of a priueess, aud the beauty of an end)ryt
i^oddess. For the tirst time in his life, after teuscoro liirta-
tions, Allan Fam; was in love! He was white as a slieet ; his
tvcs, Ids voice, his careless attitude eluuij^i d in a moment.
1 lie j^irl saw it with wonder aud. delight.
"\'es," she pnr^la(l, mercilessly, '*! am golujif away in a few
ii;iys---as soon as ever my things can he got ready and f am
wild U, l)e g(jue. Don't you think 1 need it, .\1 r. Fane^ Kven
';i pictnres(iue nKalel' is the h'tter for knowing the nine i)arts
cf speech and how to spell words of three syllables. Wla ii
\u\\ and Miss llauttou go to St. (ieorge's, llauovcr Scjuare,
pit ase send me the Morn In t] I'ost containing all the l)articu-
l:irs that is, if you haven't forgotten my very existence h)ng
befctre that time."
"I shall never forget you!''
He spokn the truth. Allan Fane never did forget her.
'I hat hour cjune back to him years after with something of
the pang he ii'\X then. Weak, sellish, he might be, and was,
hut tile pain of loss was there, aud as bitter as though he had
LctMi a slrouger aud '.vorthier num. That hfljur came back
ni;iny times in his aftc^r life, and he saw little Polly Mason
\)i:\\n with the rofl liglit of the sunset on her sparkling face,
and the gleams of scornful humor in her flashing eyes.
' Voii v/ill never forget me!" she reiMBatcd, with another
laugh, that had yet a tone of bitterness in it; "no, I suppose
the memory of the little picturescjue model, with the tawny
hair, and blue Greuze eyes, may serve to amu^e you and iMiss
llauttou for some time to come. Pray don't sjjeak in a
hurry, Mr. Fane, as I see you are ahout to do. Who would
make speeches to a little rustic schoolgirl? What yon say to
-Diana- you mean. Our paths He apart let us ^ay
U(()d-by, aud meet no more."
'Polly! what a cruel speech!"
"A sensible one. Mr. Fane. Fet me go, i)ray," rather
Wearily "Se^^'I vou' have dropjied .something from youj
pocket!"
it was a tiny niorocco casket, which lay at his feet. Tlo
picked it up, openetl it, iind took out a ring that blazed iit the
biDiakuufe It wa olueter diamond. The next instaAi hm
io6
fjove's YoikHg Dream.
!:ii ^
.r1i4
had repossessed himself of Polly's band, and the eViJiiing eh
clet shone on one slim finger.
He lifted the hand to his lips and kissed it passionately- '
for the first the last time!
"Wear it, Polly, for I love you!"
Alas! for man's truth! A fortnight ago that ring had becu
ordered of a London jeweler to fit the finger of Diana IJaut-
ton. lie meant to propose down in Lincolnshire, and this wm
to be the i^ledge of the betrothal. Only an hour ago tlio Lon-
don express had brought it, and here it glittered on the finger
of Polly Mason!
Heaven knows what further he might have said, what word-,
what promises might have been exchanged; Polly might have
become Mrs. Allan Fane, perhaps, and this story hal nevn-
been written, for the great romance of this young v.-oniaii's
life you have yet to hear, but at this instant (sent tlieio ijy ji' i'
guardian angel, no doubt) there appeared upon the sc;?*!'
gaunt form of Kosanna, summoning sharply her y
charge in to tea.
She tendered no invitation to the gentleman. She ?;:.v.\ i
upon him, indeed, as this exemplary lady could seov/j. K-
sanna could have told you stories fit to make your hair i -e,
"squires of high degree," who came a-courting' villtigc iV;iii .
and of the dire grief and tribulation the aforesaid ma!.' I;i ;
come to in consequence. Polly in love, indeed! Pt-lly-
who had taken her doll to bed yesterday, as it were, and ;^;.)!;;
it to sleep ! '^
Mr. Fane lifted his hat and departed at once. Tiie g'll
would not look at him. She could not meet the glance in h; ;
eyes. ITer face was burnina", her heart thrilling. She hid {hi
hand tliat wore the ring, and followed Rosantia nieekly iii!)
the house. On the stairs she met Duke, and Duke, as gravely
as in the morning, summoned her into his own room, Mis
Mason felt she was in for it.
"I wouldn't let that young man dangle after me too mucli,
if I were you. Duchess," he began. "He isn't what he pre-
tends to be; he's a humbug, you'll find; a false, fickle, mean
humbug ! His father's a very honest man, and a good tailor
a deuce of a screw, though but "
"Duke!" Polly cried, wit'i indignant scorn. "A tailor!"
The young lady said it in much the same tone you o^'
miglio exclaim "A demon !"
"Yes, Duchess, a tailor. I've bought clothes at the shor
Bond street many a time, and I've seen ^r. Allan. Fane w:.\
he was a pale-faced little shavv?r in roundabouts. He dopr ,
Nmember me, ^i course^ and I don't enre about rejyewbzi^ t
f
love's Young Dr^am,
07
ecquaintancec He'- a tailor's son, fast onougrh, and I dare say
il's the only thiuj^ about him nut to his discredit."
It was very unusual for Duke to be bitter, or say cruel
of the absent, but ho felt terribly sore on the subject of
danditied artist, with his shining' boots jqid swell hat, and
tln:!gs
llii-
while hands, and soft voice, making- a fool of his little Polly.
"lie's a humbug, Ducfhess, and he's trying to g(,'t that mid-
dle-aged Mi^s liautton to marry him. She's rich and high-
born, and he's only an adventurer, witJi a good address and a
university educaition. Don't take his pretty books, or draw-
ings, or sit for him as a model, or hare anything to say to
him that's a good girl. Duchess."
"Have you anything more to say, Duke?" Polly asked,
tjuite meekly.
She felt somehow that what Duke said was true, but still
she looked at her ring and iier heart thrilled as she romeni-
bered his words ^words so sweet to every girl's ear and heart
"1 love you !"
And meantime Mr. Allan Fane walked home, and on the
way found out he had been mad, and a fool. What had ho
done ? Given up all the hopes of his life for a pretty face with
blue eyes. Very good and pleasant things in their way, but
not available as ready casih; not to be exchanged for good din-
ners, horses, opera boxes, and a house in Alayfair. What
had he done? Dire alarm tilled him as ho walked along; he
cursed his own folly and precipitancy with a fervor good to
hoiu*. Was it, after all, too late yet? He had not asked Miss
i'olly Mason to be his wife.
He found Miss Hautton walking wearily round and round
the ureat iis'li pond, and joined her at once.
Miss Hautton, like Miss Mason, informed him she was go-
iig away.
".Montalien bores me, I find," the lady said, carelessly;
'mure this yer even than usual, and the Duchess of Clanron-
o\(\ is going to the Italian lakes, and urges me to " A
dreary yawn finished the sentence.
The Duchess of Clanronald!
Her grace of Clanronald had a nephew rather an impover-
ished nephew, who had made hard running last year for the
Hautton stakes. No doubt he would go to the Italian lakes,
too. Starry blue eyes, a witching, gyp^y face, a supple forni,
find sixteen sunny years, are very well, if set oif with dia
nionds and gilded with refined gold. He couldn't marrv Poll^
Hnson; he couldn't turn itinert#it portrait painter in this dull
m, and merge his bright in,(fividual star of self into a
4 bbv-hatteda rate-paying, tax-fearflig, cxadle-rockvng^ family
S' -f
',iM -
io8 How Hawksley Kept His Word. ^
man. It was written it was his fat:- -he nui.st nnirry a lio!'
wiiV; iuitl so auuj for I'olly !
. Ik'foro Miss Ihintton's yawn w^is (iiiif(3 ennod, hr \v.\i]
I)oun'(l forth tlio tal;- cf liis ion^ admi ration, and iin;1()r('l
her to be his wife!
Th() rosy hj^ht of tho ;vun went down, and Diana llautton
lingered Ijy the fis.li i)ond with her acei)ted h)ver. Jler ao-
eepted lover!
lie was pale and cold, and something inside his breast, that
did duty for a heari, lay like stone, but he lifted ono of tlw
Honorable Di's skin-cold hands to his lips and kissed it- Cold
as that hand was, the touch of his lips seemed to chill it.
She looked at him, and wondered at his pallor. But of
course he was agitated; he loved her so, and had dreaded a
refusal.
They entered the house together betrothed, a satij^fied 8nul(
on Miss ITautton's lii)s. She liked him very much; he wa.s
handsome, and would make her a devoted husband. No ring
glittered on her fing(^r that would be remedied speedily,
Mr. Fane whispered. -
And three miles oti" a young girl younger, fairer even than
the Honorable Diana Kautton stands watching that rosy
light in the sky as it sparkles and flickers on the diamond cir-
clet on her finger. And the happy glow is in her eyes, the
happy smile still lingers on her f aee, when all the sky is dark.
CHAPTER VII.
HOW HAWKSLEY KEPT HIS WORD.
It was the third day after Polly Mason stood at the parlor
window, looking listlessly enough up and down the deserted
country road.
There came a knock at the door. Polly's heart gave a leap.
At last! surely this was he! Duke came out of the painting-
room in his shirt sleeves, and opened the house door. A
portly lady in a black silk dress stood there, a comfortable-
looking basket in her hand no less a lady than Mrs. Hamper,
tlie housekeeper at tlie Priory.
Mrs. Hamper, as a visitor of distiivctiun, w^as ushered into
the parlor, whither Kosanna and Polly fdlowed. Miv^. Ham-
per might not he the rose, but slu^ dwelf near the . iondid
flower she was not Allan Fane, but she brought n(^v^5 of him,
no doubt. She would know ncfsv whether he were ill, or fals(\
and Polly sans on a low chai'r,.and leaned her head in a vvear
way agaius-t the baok. Hv pretty face liad darkiOircles under
How Hawksley Kept His Word. 109
the eyes, idul l()(kol wniiiUM*, it seeimd lo tlic housekeeper,
llinii she had ever seen il. * '
"Voii're not looking' v.cl!, roily," she remarked, with her
evex lixed on tluit colorless, siiuiU eoinitc iuiic{\ *'\'(irre bil-
ious or growing- too fast, may be. (Jro'viui; gii-ls are always
thin. 1 tell LfXily C'harteris Miss Aland \iil lie less iale and
,)uny when slie grows uj. I've broujiht yu some hai)rieols,
ynd peaches, n^y dear, which 1 know yfm're une(minon I'ojul
ef both." !She opened her basket, displayinj^' a tempt inj* heap
of fruit. Polly thanked hv.v, but rather spiritlessly still slio
hked peaches and apricots, but there were other things she
liked betit'.T.
"And liow are all the g-entry at the great b.ouse, Afrs, ITam-
povC Duke incpiired. 'VLorl Alantaiien got back from town
yet^''
"Xo, my lord had not got hack yet, and everybody was well
at tlie gri'at h(nis(\ The latest news but, of ce-.u-se, Polly liad
heard it long ago from Alice Warren^"
*'\o, Polly had hoard nothing; the rainy weather had kept
her indoors, and she was very Uusy getting ready to go away
to boarding-school. What was the news ^"
Her heart thrilled as she (jnio'lly asked the qu^tion. She
knew it was news of Allan Fane.
"Why, the engagement of the' Honorable Aliss ITautton tx)
Mr. Allan Pane. Which" Mrs. J Tamper said, folding her
arms on her fat st(rtnach, "1 think myself it's a lowering of a
hcarl's granddaughter to go and marry a hartist, but tken she
ain't as young as she was, and never a beauty at best of times;
and he's a very pleasant-spoken, good-looking, young gentle-
man, and free of his money, I'll say that for him, and tlie
family is willin', and it's been looked fonward to this some
time. ITe proposed io her on Tuesday hevening last, and he's
going ix) haccompany her to Ilitaly shortly for the July and
Uaugiist months."
The housekwiper paused for breath, her eyes fixed curiously
en P.olly's face. Was it altogetlier to deliver the frut Mrs.
Ihunper had stejjped out of her way to visit Mr. Mason's? It
uns no secret in the servants' hall at the Priory how Mr. Pane
was running after little Polly .Mason, or that Miss Hautton
v.as jealous. Sh' liked Polly, this fat, fair and forty Mrs.
ifamper, but she looked with expectant e{',;ern(^ss, at the same
time* for some sign, some t(.l;'n, some cry of \)n\n. There
v,as none. The pale face kept its tired look, the long, dark
hisies veiled tlie blue ''yes; Mr. Allan Fane might fiave been
Mr, Juliii: Cysar, dead and gone, for all emotion that still
face a;id fiirm showed
Diil'Le looK-pd at her, too, in wonder and pride ftt her
ill
^(
i"'
no How Kawksley-Kept His Word,
pluck." "Blood will toll," ;c thought; "she's like hoj
mother ready to die game!''
Mrs. IIanii)or rose to go, just a trifle disappointod. Sh",
had looked to sec anger, mortification, sorrow on Polly Ma
son's I'lce, and she had seen nothing. The girl had hoard
the news with utter indiiierence. I'erliaps the stories of th(!
servants' hall were unfounded after all. It was quite clear
that Polly had sense, and tfiought nothing about him.
Duke ac'ojnpanied the portly lady to the door, and saw
her out, then went baek to. his work.
"Thank (Jod!" he thought, "she doesn't care for the puppy!
I'm not ordinarily of a pugilistic nature, and don't, as a rul',
let my angry passions rise, but if I could give ISlr. Allan
Faae a sound kicking on the first occasion, I think it wouM
do us both good !''
PolV took her serving and sat down by the, window. Tho
wind grew wilder, the leaden sky grew darker as the after
noon wore on, tho raindrops began pattering once more
against the glass. And in the young girl's breast, as she sat,
her needle flying, a sharp and cruel pain ached. She had btH'M
, fooled, derived, laughed at, her woman's pride hurt to the
corjG she could never again, her life long, have the same per-
fect faith in man or woman. She had lost something, the in-
effable bloom of perfect innocence and childlike trust, and
Allan Fane's was the hand that had brusihed it off.
"How dare he! how dare he!" she, thought, her little haul
clenching again ; "how dare he trifle with me so !"
She sat there for over an hour, her anger rising and swell-
ing with every instant. The rainy twilight was falling, when
suddenly there came a knock at the door. She knew that
knock; her work dropped, but before she could rise the door
was opened, and the visitor, hat in hand, walked in. He had
come at lastf
Allan Fane stood before her, his light summer overcoat wot
with^ rain, his high riding boots splashed with mud, palo,
paler than herself! \
She spoke first he could not have uttered a word.
"You have come for my congratulations, Mr. Fane," she
began, in a clear, ringing voice, that had neither quiver nor
tremor in it. "I hear you are engaged to the Ilonorablo
Diana Hautton. Well! you have them! It is an eminently
suitable match in every respect; age," ^with cruel emphasis
"birth, fortune, rank, and all!"
He looked at her with horror-struck eyes. What did she
mean by that stinging sneer ? Did she know of that Bond
street shop ? Oh, impossible I It was but a random shot ih&i
bad hit home.
k
How Hawksley Kept His Word.
! ' '
"It is no* ovc^ry dny," piii!r.od '^\\m MnsoTi with a smile
iliat stunt? ^'-ini, "that tlie bdii of a J.oiuion tailor gets ai' op-
portunity of ninrrj'iupr ini carl's graiiddaug-liter! Ah ! you feel
iliat, Mr. Fane!" with a scornful lau^Hi. "I know ymir scori't,
Vou SCO, so carefully guardcMl! Hut don't be alarmed, I won't
-o to the Priory, and tell IVIi-.s llautton. I am nfr;iid, as de-
votedly as she is alt^iehed to you, slie might iilt you if nhe
knew it. I won't tell, Mr. Fane, and I wish you every happi-
ness so suitable a mateh d(serves if the poor scene-painter's
(loor relation may presume to offer congratulations to a genlle-
)iian of Mr. Fane's standing! And this ring, which you so
kindly forced upon my accei)tanee the night before lat" her
voice faltered for the fi- t time "permit me to return it. Tf
you haven't purchased an engagement ring for ^liss Uautton,
I dare say you m'ght make this ansAver."
lie broke down. ITe was of a weak nature, impressionablo
as wax, but as strongly as it was in his nature to love no
one but himself, ho loved this girl.
IFe broke down as a woman nn'ght ^liis face hidden in his
hands his voice faltering, and asked her to forgive him.
She stood and looked at him rage, wounded pride, humil-
iation, scorn, pity, all in her glance. Tf she 'had never been
beautiful before she was beautiful in this'moment.
"Forgive you," she repeated, and the hard ring died out of
lier voice and a great pathos followed. "You a.-k me to for-
cive you ! Well, Mr. Fane, I will try. It is not that I care for
you nuich no, Allan Fane, I know now I never cared for
yon, but you have hurt me all the same. I shall never have
the same faith in mankind again I seem to have lost my
youth in the moment it became mine. You have acted badly
to me badly! badly!" the fire that can only blaze in blue
eyes flashed from hers now "but I will try and forgive you
if T can. Take your ring!"
"I cannot; oh, Polly!"
She flung it at 'his feet in a sudden tempest of fury the
quick fury of a very child.
"Don't ever call me Polly how dace you do it? Take your
ring this moment or I will walk straight out of this house up
to the Priory, and tell Miss Hautton every word ! And your
hooks, and your drawings here they are everything you ever
^ave me, except the flowers, and those T threw into the five an
hour ago. Take them, I command you, Mr. Fane!"
What could he do but obey ? He was afraid of lier in that
hour afraid of her even if sh6 had not known his secret, but
that made him her abject slave. ITe took the ring, he took
the little package, and a very sorry figure the conquering hero
cut in the hour of his triumph. It struck Polly ^s sense of the
U2 how Hawksley Kept HisVvonf.
luditToiis. Ill nil trn,u:e(li('s do not the clcnuuifs of tho ridicu-
lous linger^ and she burst out laughing, with tiio pat^siouatd
learti still in her cyos.
"Y^ou look like a colportour goinj[: liis rounds with Ir.-u'ts.
Don't let nio dc'tiiin you nn instant longer, Mr. Fan-; Mis.^
Jlantton niay want y(tu. ^'(n havo had ynr sport; and a vet-
dant lilthwtountry girl has hoipi-d whih; away a siniinicr iioii
day, so there, is no Jiced ',o linger now; I have congratuhile|
you, and given you your helonging's Iniek, and novv tho sooner
we say good-hy tho better."
Slie made him a low bow Miss llautton eould nev(n* havn
sni passed it in graec or insoleiU'(? ^and walked straight out of
the room. And Allan Fano left the liouse, and eoming lo the
garden well flung his bundle of books to the bottom. Ho
might havo flung the ring after, but liamond rings cost, anil
and so he put it in his poeket, and went Uaek to his high-
bnru bride. And an hour after he plaeed it oi\ her linger, and
Diana deigned to say she thought it "rather pretty."
The lord of the Priory had arrived by the seven o'eloek
train, bringing with him a short, S(mbre, stout man, with a
legal look. He was legal he was Mr. Crijjper, of th(^ firm
(}rii)pcr & Grinder, Lineoln's Fun, London; and he and Lord
Montalien were eloseted together on important business for
some time after their arrival. IVfr. (Jrii)i)er (mierged at last,
and was sho^vu to his room. He was staying over night, it
seemed; and Mr. Fane was shown into the library, where my
lord sat.
The curtains were drawn, the lamps shone, while outside
the rain fell and the blaek Juno night shut down. My lord
sat in his great armchair, near a writing table, staring in n
dazed sort of way at the lamp before him. ITis usually placid
face wore a strange expression, half perplexity, half disnniy.
For Mr. Fane, as the servant ushered him in, also looked
pale and strangely disturhed, and both were so ab*4orbed in
their own thoughts that neither nod:iced the expression of the
other's face.
Mr. Fane took a seat opposite, looking singularly nervous
indeed. I am given to understand by masculine friends wlio
havo done the business, that asking the consent of a youn?.:
lady's papa, or guardian, is much more disagreeable than ask-
ing the young lady herself. Mr- Fane had got through hi^
part with Miss TTautton glibly enough, and this asking Lord
Montalion was tho Tnorest matter of form; still, like Mne-
heth's "Am^n, ' the words "stuck in his throat." Lord Monta-
lien wrenched his thoughts away from his own absorbing
topic with an evident effort, and listened with bland suavi^
to the young man's stumbling: words.
in
rf
micr Moll
How Hawksley Kept Hfs Word, i i )
'Wish to ninrry Diuiwi. jiiul ask my c.iiispTif ^ My diar Ixiy,
niy '(Mist'iit is iuil(' iiiinc'-,siii'y, ms voii know. V'ry t'or-
Yi'i't of you, IIiou^aIi, to coiiK' to iiu'. Of" ('(Hii-ic, I have \uti
f^roso(ii tills, and, as Diana srcriis pleased, 1 sinccri'ly oII.t
you my ('on;j:iMtuIal ions. 'I'licrc's some trillinj^ disparity of
yoars, I am awMc, lut you know the Scotcli havo a sayiiiK"*
tiiaf for flio wifo 1^ Ih tlic elder lriiifis luck fo tla^ lior.se."
Mr. l-'ano said nothing; but. he h)ok'(l soniewiiat ruf)d. Ilo
was ihinkin^f lie would rather dispense withui little of tho
IneK and have the "Irillinjj;' (lisi)arity" on the other side.
"Tlim I have your ap]rM\al, my k.rd,'' Ik saiil, rl-inir, "and
may eonsider all thiji;s settled?"
"Vou liave my approval and best; wishes. Diana Is certainly
old enough to act for herself" a^;a in the youn^r ,,ian winced -
''and her ii.-'ome, as you miisf know, dies with her. ly Hie
hy, l'"an(\" ehan^'inV his voice with abrupt ne^'i-'*yon mixed
a ^'ood deal amonj^' the i)eople at the f'/' the otiu'r day. and
may know was there a man by the name of of Trowel no
Mason," referring' to his tabh^s, "hereupon that occasion?"
Allan Fane startecl, more nervously than befoi-e.
''There is a man by the name of l^fason living- about threo
miles from here. Mason is a eoiumon nam(% however; there
may be many Masons in Speckhaven."
"So there may. The fellow T mean is called Afarmadnko
^Nfason, and has a maiden sister, llosamond Rosalind- no,
Rosanna," referring to the tablets again. "By occupation a
scone-painter."
"That is the man, my lord. Ves, T know him."
"And he has a ward she passes for his cousin, a girl of
sixteen called Polly?"
TTad Lord Montalien not been so engrossed by his tablets
and questions he must have noticel Mr. Fane's greatly dis-
turbed face.
"Ves, my lord, there is a Polly Mason!"
"That's the girl!" His lordship shut up his tablets with a
triumphant snap. "Xow, what's she like? Fll lay my life she
has tliick ankles, a f.incohishire accent, and a turnel-up
nose!"
"You would lose your stake, then, my lord. Miss Mason is*
with something of an effort he said this "one of the vei*y
handsomest girls T ever saw in the v/holo course of my life."
"Ah! is shci" his lordship siglicd resignedly: "all the worse
for me. An heiress and ward v/ith a snub nose would bo
trouble enough, but a ward with a Grecian nasal appenlatro
and eighty thousand pounds to her fortune! Ah, well, my lifa
has been one long martyrdom this is onlj tho last straw that
very likely will break the cainePs backl"
:5. . .-i
i;'i
114 How Hawksley Kept His Word.
Allan Fano looked at the fipoitkor with a fwco of ghk^.iy
^orulor.
"Aly lord," he; snid, "I doTi't iiiidrrstMiid. Polly Mn-ion is no
hcircs' sho is thia sccne-paiiitcr'n poor print ioa brought up
out of charity."
"My jfood follow," Lord Moiitjilicn Piiid, i)lnintiv('ly, "shoe's
nothiti^ of thci kind. She is luy ward, aiid sho lias ci^dit.y
tliousiind pounds at this nioniont deposited in the funds lor
her benefit. No, don't look so iniplorin^^ly it's too lng a
etory to t^'ll ymi. There's the dressing-bell you shtdl all hour
it at diimer."
Ho arose. Alhtn Fano quitted the room, and wont U]) to
his own. J To did not seek his aftinneed ho was a{.hast with
wouder and alarm. What did it mean? Eighty thraisujid
pounds and Polly -Mason!
Tlio great bell elanging high np in the windy fjurels, at
half-past seven, informed Sj)eekhav'n and its inhaltitants that
my lord and his family were about to dine. Lord Mitnialirn
took advantage of a few minutes before going into diniu^r,
and presented his congratulations to his eousin '^)iana on tlu9
interesting episode in her life. Mr. Ciripper br.'Tif^lit up tlio
rear of the dinner proeession with CJuy, and wa- intr(;du''ed
to the other people around the table.
"IFe doesn't look like the harbinger of romnneo or n fairy
godfather, c./ anything of the kind," Lord ?kIontalk'n re-
marked; "nevertheless he is. TTe comes t/) infonii n litll
country girl of sixt-cen that she is my ward, and heiress of
eighty thousand pounds. Do any of you beside Faiio kn(jw
her? Her name at present is Polly Miison!"
Lord Montalien glaneed around his own board, and was
somewhat surprised at the sensation the very oonii:ifin])biee
name of a very commonplace young person created. Diana
Hautton started, and turned an icy look upori lier kver that
gentleman fixed his eyes upon his plate and seemed slowly
petrifying Guy suppressed a whistle and looked imuttcrable
things and my Lady Charteris' spoon dropped into her soup-
plate with a clash Francis Earlscourt was eagerly interested^
and Sir Vane, after one steady look at his pallid and startled
wife, waited with composure for the peer's next words.
"Well," said his lor^^hip, "you all look as if you knew her.
Being so interested before I begin, how will you be thrilled
before I have finished? Shall I go back and begin at the be-
ginning with this romance of real life, as the Penny Herald
calls its lightning-and-thunder serials. Yes, I will?"
Lord Montalien pushed away his soup, leaned back in his
ehair, and began to "thrill" his hearers.
"It's just fourteen years a^o, on the second of last AorlL
How Hawksley Kept His Word. .15
\..dt - Joft New YorU for Livrrjtool. I n'mcmlxT the ds'' \
Iwcunise of the profnuiu! n-Rij't willi which I h'lt Anirrid'..
V\v I )t had imn'h of what the wurM m-inTally *aIU 'iijoy-
iiH'Mt' ill JJi.y life"- th' piifhctii' ti,:u' of the spoakcr was rc-
iiiarkahu^ to hear "hut i think lhi-.' niii( iiuuithM out thcro
iiiiioii^ till' licnlrt of wihl hullah, aiui herds (tf vvihlrr Indians,
on tlu) VVcstorn phiins cani.' in anT il than * shall rvor como
aM'ain. 'I'hc passcnRcTs ol the /jtiiid of i'ulumhia wrro tim
usual sort of people imo nioets-^rieh mereantile and inatuifa**-
turiuK peofl(! from the N(rth 'I'u eiti(;s, with niillio!i8 of dol-
lars, f^oin^ over to niako the j^rand tour, 'I'herc was only one
aniou^' thcni I ever fouri(l worth tin* trouhle (jf talking to. and
h(^ was a s(U'fnd-elass lelhrvv sjtjendid proportiitiis tall and
molded like an atliletic Apollo, with a ix\vx\ full of intelli-
pi neo and self-repression. Self-repres.sion in man or woman
I like, 'j'his man looked as if he had a story he pu/./led nw
-- to he pu/z.led means to he inter'stedr. 1 was itterestcd iti
Mr. Kohert Hawksley; and on the hst day out, he told me his
^tory, menti(jning' no names, not his own tli name ho wont
hy on shiphoard, even then. I suspected, at limes, to W as-
sumed.
"He was an Kn^rlishnian, the oidy son of a yeonian farmer,
hut educated as a Kfitleman. lie had hoeii two or throe years
heforo secretary to a man in Staifcjrdshire. I think h( said
this man had a daughter or niece, 1 forget which, a great
heiress, a irroat heauty, and six years his junior. She was
home from schiKDl, romantic as all girls home from school are,
and she meets my handsome secretary. What would you
have'^ Why fall in love with each other, of course run
away to Scotland, and be married !']
My lonl paused. The fish had heen placed uprtn the table,
and he took his knife and fork and refreshfsd himself with a
little turbot. And over the face of Sir Vane Charteris a
strange, dark change was passing, and over the face of my
lady a deathly whiteness had come. She leaned a little for-
ward, her lips apart, her great eyes dilat(Ml heedless of her
husband, of lier dinner, of the people who jooked at her.
What story was this she was hearing'^
Lord ^lontalien complacently set it all down to his own
"thrilling" powers of narration, and placidly went on:
"Well, those two foolish, unfortunate, happy younj? lovers
kept their secret for four months; th(Mi the truth canio out,
and then there was the deuce to j)ay. Little missy was spirited
away; my handsome secretary, through some nefarious ))!ot
on the part of the guardian, was found guilty of robbing
money and jewels, and obliged to fly England. Now, two
years after, he had made a home and competonoe, and iiz v i
*l( '
; I
u6 How Ha wksley Kept His Word.
i-cturiiing to seek out his wife and take her back to that new
world. We jtarttMl oii thf iuay. As wo shook hands I made
hhii promise that if ever, in any way, 1 could serve him, he
W(tuld conimand me. I liked the lad greatly it was a brave
and loyal nature, J truly believe.
"Well," said l.ord ^lontalien, taking a little more turbot,
"fourteen years passed, and I heard nothing mora of , or from,
Air. RolK-rt Ilawksley until yesterday. Tntil j'Csterday, when
when Mr. flaiues (jii'ii)per here, called upon me and in Formed
me J was xtlicited to become guardian of a young lady,
heircsb of eighty thousand j)ounds, and jiresenting me with a
letter containing further particulars. The Ic'tter was all the
way from San Francisco, and from my old acquaintap,ce,
Hawkslcy. Jle recalled the ))romise 1 had voluntarily made,
and in the most manly ami frank way asked me to fultill it
now by becoming t|^e guardian and protector of his only
child. And he told me his story in brief, from the time of
our parting oil the Liverpool dock.
"ife had found his wife the wife (n whose fidelity he said
to me on shij)l)oard he could have staked his existence how
do you thiid^ At the altar the bride of another a man to
whom she had been engaged before he had met her. of her own
rank and station, There are other Enoch Ardens in the
world besides Mr. Tennyson's hero, lie left England again
without speaking a word to her, and he has never returned
since. But by some mystery, which he does not explain, he
discovered that his wife had given birth to a child a
laughter iive months after his first flight from England,
which child, at two years old, she had given to a scene-
])ainter, named Alason. and his sister, to bring up. Ilr found
the child, begged the Mason people to take every care of her,
and they shouhl be one day well rewarded. That day has now
conic. In the California gold mines this man has made a
fortune. Eighty thousand pounds he has deposited to be his
lucky daugiiter's dowry, and 1 am appointed her guardian.
\Jo asks me to place her at a school where she will be become
^ducated in a nmnner befitting the station in life she is
leslinod to till; and he says that she may droj) the cognomen
of 'Polly Mason' for her own rightful name of Pauline Lisle.
Prom this, tlierefore, it is ]dain that instead of his name being
Hawkslcy. it is Hubert Lisle!"
Lord Mont alien naused not that he bad tinished by any
means with bis interesting story but at. that moment, with a
gasping cry. Lady Charteris fell forward, her head on the
table. All started up; her husband lifted her in his arnw, al-
most as ghastly as herself. She had fainted dead awayl
CIIAI'TEU Vlll.
'\
i( !
LADY ClIAllTKKIS IIKAUS TIIK TUUTIJ
As
the night wore on the rain increased. ,\i ha!:-past
eleven, when Duke and Polly left the tiieatrc it was piu-li
dark and pouring iorrents. Polly did not mind the r;Mii; in
her strong young girlhood she had not had halt'-a-do/.en
c'o'ds in her lifetime, and the two had a niee, htug, muddy
walk through the blackness. Hackney-coaches thcrc^ were, hut
all had been monopolized by greater folks than the xviic-
l)aiiiter and his cousin. Tliey trudgd contentedly aloni;', and
who was to tell either that it was for the last time^ That
with the new day, so near breaking, a new life was to dawn
for this girl of sixteen'^
Rosanna was up, waiting with dry clothes, a good lire, and a
cozy little supper. She was very tender with her child now
that she was going away to school. Polly';; spirits had risen
with the walk in the fresh sunnner rain; they wci'c too elastic
to be long depressed, and then her wound was oidy skin dc(^p.
The scene-painter, with a yawn, took up his bedroom can-
dle, bade his sister good-night, and was turning to quit the
room, whjir^ere came such a knock at the front door as liter-
ally made him drop it again with amaze. A knock that
echoed through the whole house, at a quarter to one, of a
pouring pitch-black June morning. The master of the houso
looked at his sister agha t.
"Who can it be, Rosanna, at one o'clock in the morning ?"
'''(live mo the light and I'll soon see," retorted the intrejiid
Kosaniia; and taking the candle her brother had dropped, she
marched straight to the door and flung it open.
Whoever Miss Rosanna Mason expected to see, it was evi-
dent she did not expect the visitor she beheld, for with a lond,
startling cry she recoiled. At that cry Polly's curly head,
peeping curiously over the banister, caiiie down another step
or two. Duke from his place in the kitchen advanced, and
there, standing on the thresliold, drenched through, splaslu^d
V\-ith I'.ind, pale as death, with wild eyes and disordered fmir,
lie saw Lady Charteris! Lady Charteris, alone, wet
through, so far from home, and at that hour. Some pro-
phetic instinct made him understand all. lie took the can-
dle from his sister'si hand, and whispered in her oar: ,
"For (irod's sake, nmke Polly go to l)ed I"
Rosanna left obediently, awed by the sight of that awfuily.
oorpsclike faoe, \ ^ *
iKf,
ml * . '^
J
\-
ii8 Lady Charten.. Hea : the Truth.
''Co: -c; ill, Lrdy Ohtirtcris/' Duke sai^' gravely. "You will
i^vi your (loath staiKling there in the rain. Are you alone?"
She did not answer the question. She came in and stood
before him in tlie warm, lighted kitchen, her w^t garments
dripping on the white floor, her loose hair falling aixmt her
face, her great black eyes fixed with spectral solemnity on tlie
man.
'Duke Mason," she said, in a hoarse, unnatural sort of
voice, "you have deceived nie, and I trusted you! My hus
band is alive ?"
"].:uly Charteris!"
A dull, red glow leaped up in the dusky depths of her great
eyes.
"i am not Lady Chorteris," she said, in the same still, com-
prt^sst-d tone, "and you know it! I have never for one hour
had a right to that hated name. I am Robert Lisle's wife,
and Robert Lisle is alive, and you know it."
"My lady "
"You know it," she repeated. "You have deceived me loup:
enough, all of you. I am no child. I will be deceived no
longer. This night you will tell me the truth. I have
walkecl three miles through darkness and storm to hear the
truth and you shall spei^k it. On the day the accursed day
upon whicih I stood at the altar, Sir Vane Charteris' bride,
rioleit, my Robert, my htisband, my love, was in the church
looking at my perjury. A.nd you knew it like the rest, and
lil". the rest have hidden it from me you knew how I
loved him you whom I never wronged."
Her voice sank to an unutterable pathos, her eyes looked at
hi;n unutterably sad, unutterably reproachful. Duke fairly
g:nt way.
"1 did, my lady forgive me if you can! It was wrong I
ibowaht so from the first, but what could I do? ITe bade me
ke( 1) liis secret from you from you most of all on earth."
"Tie you mean
//"
"j mci'n the man who called himself RoL"'rt ITawksley
who was Robert Lisle, as I know very well now, and your hus-
b.: 'd. You were out of England he bound me by a promise
nevr to reveal his existence if I chanced to meet you again.
What could I do, ray lady? I don't know how you have found
t^iis out; the whole thing is so confused that I hardly know
wb.ich is the right and which is the wrong. I wanted to tell
you that night at Montalien Park, Vnt I feared T feared!
What 'Lht had 1 to tell you were the v;ife of two living
husbanil-;, bound to each by the tie of moLiierhood ? And so
1 held my peace, I am sorry for you, my lad sorry from
P.ady Cha.teris Hears the Truth. n9
my in..-:-t heart. T would liclp you, Heaven knows, if I
could."
"Vou can!" lic said, still rctainiiif^- that deep, uiiiiiitural
calm. "1 have eoiao to ^vou ior help. Tv.ice iutron^ you aided
mo in my {^reat need; now help nic for the third time, in a
gr(ator extremity still."
She held out both hands to him. Tie rcTuembered th( fi^es-
'urc^ the very same as she stood by tlie window of Lyndith
(Jranj^e and implored him to aid lier in her tli^'ht, a.^ on that
U^ht he answerer^, more moved than he cared to show :
"I will holj) you, if I can. Tett me hov. Lady Charterls?"
"Not that name!" she cried, rising passion in her voice and
face. ''Never again that name! 1 loathe; it. i abhor it, a.s
l do U\e man that bears it!^ I am Olivia Lisle oh, thank
lod! that 1 can say it! Thank God! that my darling lives,
though I slu'uld never see his face again!"
She sank into a chair, and the womanhood within her gave
way. She covered her face with her hands, and the room was
tilled with anguished sobs anguish that was still half-deliri-
ous joy. He lived !
Lady (.\harteris looked up at last. As on that other night,
under (he trees of Montalien, she commanded herself for his
sake, and held })aek her passion of tears by the effort of self-
repression, tliat had become habitual to her. She held out
h'.'i' hand to him with a pathetic gh'nce that went straight to
liis big, tender, honest lieart.
"Forgive me, Mr. Mason," she said, -v;eetly; "it is weak
and selfish of me to distress you you, my best, my most
fitithful friend. T will not give way again. My own cow-
iirdie(N my own ])itiful weakness in fearing for my child, in
wishing to regain her, in too readily believing the lies he told
mo of of his death, has brought all this long misery upon
me. I must hear it to my litVs close alone, lint 1 must hear
;)1! you have to tell all every word he s})oke, everything he
did everything you know. 1 am i think the mcjst utrerly
wretched and lost creature this wide earth hold-. There are
times when I fancy I am almost nnul. If you have any pity
in yoin- lieart for so miserable a wretch, you will speok lo-
night and tidl me the truth."
Duke told her all that had -appened, and ended with the
question :
"Xdw, my lady, may T a-k how you have learned that Rob-
IL.wksley no, itobert Lisle is alive'^"
She was sitting, leaning fo;-\vard, hev hnnd.-: clasped ttghtly
together in speechle-s pain, her large dark eye.5 full of untold
despair. In a fev; nuiet words she repeated the aUiv- Lord
v^iMon^'^lien had tolcl a; the dinner that evenincc.
120 Lady Charteris Hears the 1 ruth,
*'I r(Mi\oii!l'('r listening"," he said, nliiiost dreaniil.T, Svitli
fcciirjj^ of tig'litt'iiing around ni.v }ic:irt, knowing- t'roin tho
first that it was of my Kohert lie rjx'kc. Wlun lio iUt( led bi:^
muno at the last, the tension Keenicd t^iiddenly to pive way ^a
great darknc^^ eaine before me, the room, the eltairs seemed
reeling, and I fainted. J was in my own room when 1 recov-
ered, with my maid mu] the lions(keeper and Sir Vane Char-
teris (for tlie iirst time in fourteen yearf) beside me. I
looked at him and poijited to the door: '(Jo out of my room,'
I said, 'and never (^ne into it aj?ain as bnig as you livi'.'' The
two woj.'-.en hooked at eaoh other; no one spoke. lie wi'ut at
on-^'e, and tli^n for hours and hours it heemed to nje 1 lay
iheic alone. I even believe I sh^pt for a time, and then, all
at o})ee, 1 was sitting up in bed, eold as death, with great
drups ^tandinw on my faee, repeating aloud, 'Robert is alive!
iJohe-.t is aiiv(I' My maid eame in from the next room, with
a frigiitened face, looking at me as though she thought me
mad. I sprang from the bed, s(ized a shawl lying near, and
ruslied out of tlie room and the house. I ran all the way
down to the gat(s-, they were oi)en still, by some ehanee, and
1 ri}\ne straiglu here. I never felt the rain. J suppose I was
mad )ierha})s I am yet."
She ])Ut her hand to her head in a lost sort of way. Dnko
iVIason looked at her in alarm, her faee was as white m the
faee of a oorpse her eyes shone; with a dry, bright glitter
lier Vdiee was strangely quiet and slow slie spoke of herself
as though speaking of anotlier. The hysterics were nothing
to tiiis. Had her troubles turned her brain? Should he
sunnnon Rosanna'^
Before he eould answer his own m.ealal (|uestion, a carriage
driven furiously stopped at the door. He \eard it flung open
with a crash, a man's heavy step sounded in the hall. The
next instant the kitchen door was thrown wide, and Sir Vane
Charteris stood before them !
Once again Duke's thoughts flew back fourteen years to th
S]}eckhaven waiting-r(om, at the same abnormal hoin*, and
(leoffrey ]iyndith standing dark and grim as Sir Vno Char-
teris stood now. Once again with the same gesture the
liunted lady lifted her head and looked her pursuer full in
^he face.
The usually ilorid countenance of the baronet was faud
now to a dull livid pallor. There was a look about his mouth
jind Hves not good to see.
'"Lady Charteris," he said, grimly, "c^me home!" He ad-
vanced tow.ird her. She shrunk baA, both arriis out-
stretched, with a screan. of fear and horror.
"Don't touch me!" she cried. "DonH come^ near ne!
Lady Charteris Hears the Truth. !2i
Don't call mo by thai name! 1 am not youi wife 1 never
wa.-. In 'he hour you marrit^rl nio you knew my lawful, my
(lul.v iius;band vvtrs alive! And you lied to i.'e iiiid told mo lie
\vii l('ad you I'alsy, false, false villain!''
lie listened with a diabolical smile, his glittering, sinister
py( s never leving her wild face.
"Have you tjuite done, madanie^ This sort of performance
is fiitertaining enough with the stage-lights and appropriate
(((^(innes, and at a suitable hour; but all('W me to suggost
ll);it at one o'clock in the morning Lady (Miart(n'is should be
at home and in bed. This is the scene-iiainter, I supposo,"
wiili a sneering look at Duke, "to wjiom y(.u gave that fel-
low's illegit "
She uttered a cry, and half sprang toward him.
"If you dare!' she gasped. "You said it ojice. Take r-are!
tiiku care!"
"Ail! I remember," with sneering scorn. "You don't like
the word. I said it once, over thirteen years ago. I lemem-
ber very distinctly. J told you it was not an agreeable recol-
lection for me that 1 had married the mistreas of a country
(led. and from that hour to this we have been man and wife
only in name. Is iMr. Kobert Lisle's interesting daughter and
heiress visible, Mr. ah Mason? 1 suppose not, though, at
this hour. I should really like to see her; but that pleasure
must le reserved for another time. For you, my lady take
inv arm
I"
He looked at her with a terrible glance. She shrank away,
trctiibling from head to foot.
"Take my arm!" he repeated, still with that basilisk stare,
"iiiid come home. Home! Do you kjiow the sort of hotno
])r(tvidcd for such women as you?"
She did not speak. Iler eyes looked up at- him full of a
gn nt horror.
"A madhouse!"
He literally hissed the words, a i\v\[\ of hatred and rage
ill his black eyes. As he spoke he drew the shrinking hand
within his own, and forced her toward the door.
She went without a single word. On the threshold she
looked bacl once at the humble, faithful friend she was leav-
ing, and who stood so powerless to help her now. It was her
f;irewell.
So Duke Mason saw her in his dreams, ior years and years
Jifter, with that look of unutterable horrar on her death-cold
face. So for years and years that farewell look haunted him
with muoh the same remorse as though he had atood by and
seen her riain before his eyes. j.^ v. ._ ,.^ : ; :
r-'V
" m
1
CHAPTER IX.
THE DAWN OF THE NEW LIFE.
) On the stately turrets and ivy-grown towers of Montalicn
Priory, and on the two-story wooden box of Mr. Duke Mason,
the light of a new and gk)rious day shone.
\ . The storm had passed with the night. The June sunsliine
flooded sky and earth, the birds sang blithely, the busy town
' ' was astir, and at his painting-room window Duke Mason sat,
gazing blankly out, and seeing nothing but darkness and d(\so-
lation.
lie was going to lose the Duchess. It was .all said in that.
Polly his bright, beautiful, laughing, mischievous, tronhlc-
some, loving little Polly was going from him to return no
more. For fourteen happy years she had been tlie joy, the
torment, the delight of his life now she was to be taken
fiom him. And what remained? He had intended to send
iier away to school himself, it was true, but that sort of
separation would have been different. She would still have
been his, belonging to his world, and one day she would liave
come back to lighten their dull, gray-colored life with her
sunshiny x*rcsence again. But now she was Lord Moiita-
lien'g ward, and heiress of eighty thousand pounds, and as
lost to him almost as though tlic coffin lid had closed iii)i'ii
her.
The morning mail brought Duke a letter a foreign In-
tor and inclosing a brief note addressed to "Paulina Lisle."
Duke laid it aside that name smote him like a blow ai'.l
read his own. No words could be more manly, more grateful,
more kindly than those of Robert Lisle, but the decrco of
parting was irrevocable. By birth and fortune Paulina wa~ a
lady. As such she had hor place to fill in society in tliat
world to which Lord Montalien, as \\qv guardian, could
present her. It vVas all quite right, he felt it plain a any one,
, but the pain was none the less acute. He sat there for hours,
with that open letter in his hand. Rosanna sat .idly by the
kitchen fire ^and when had Rosanna boeii idle beforr?
" " Polly had gone to make an early call upon her friend Alice,
and talk about her new clothes and her new school prospects
the ticking of the old clock sounded preternaturally loud iti
the blank stillness. And so, when at half-j^st eleven Lord
Montalien reached the house, and knocked at the door, lie
iuund them.
Bosanna's faee betrpv^d no surprise when she admitted hor
disti'
i^'i
lived
h
lishi 1
vd
and )
)Ut
-i
St'(
"that
s
have
ha
"1
ha
'1
i^
daui;
ht(
an.v
as
uuhi
un
you.
1
"
l,r
The Dawn of the New Life.
12}
Emitted hor
disti'ifeuishod v'r^itor. Yes, she answtroil, 3.1 r, ')iiko Mason
lived liero, ana was disi-iiiiagcd, and would .-oc iiim. Slio
iislit red the ju'or into tfio luuid)le parlor, and Didie j^of n|),
ami i)Ut his letter in his pocket, and went slowiy (lo\vn^tans.
"I si'e by your I'aee, Air. Mason," his lon|slii[) said, (iU.etiy,
"that you know the errand upon which I have cu.ac Vou
have had. a letter fnan California by tiiis niorninj-i's pit^tT'
"1 have, my lord."
"It is doubtless jjaini'ul to you to j)art wlih your adopttKl
daiii;htcr after all these years, but the thing is inevitable. In
any case, you must have lost her sooner or later. Mr. i.islc is
uiilxtunded in his exjjressions of gratitude and respcc, t\r
yi)U. Have you told hvT yet does she know ("
"Slio knows nothing, my lord! ] cannot tell her!" Some
of poor Duke's pai'i was in his voice and face a- he poki'.
"Slui thinks still, as she' thought from the first, that she is the
child of a dead cousin of my own. You will kindly undeceive
hi'r--you will tell her the truth. It will not b(; a hard task,
such pleasant news!"
lie spoke a little bitterly his heart was very sore.
Jiord Montalien looked at him kindly.
"I am quite sure the young lady will sincerely regret the
change of guardians the new is plwisant, beyond htnbt, but
she will not leave her old friends without sincere regret. Mr.
.Mason, you know more of this young girl's history than 'ven
I (In, for you knew her moth^r!"
Duke started. The eyes of the two men met 'tlie scvuo-
painter's, startled, alarmed; the peer's, keen, sharj), imelli-
ETcnt.
"Don't distress yourself, Mr. Mason; T am not .'^bonl to ask
you any cpiestions. I had much rather, indeed, not iiear tlie
mothor's name. It is a very painful story let us hope tlie
worst is over."
He spoke with a certain grave earnestness that maile Duke
think he at least suspected tlie trutli. I^e averted his eyes
tnicasily. He longed to ask for Lady (Muirteris, but dared
Hot.
*'Ts Miss Mason nay, T beg her pardon," with a smile,
"Miss Lisle in? I should lijve to see her-? T presume you
liave ho objection to my telling her at once?"
"(\'rlalnly not, my lord; she must know It fit once, of
ooiu'se. Bhe vill be in ]}resently. May T ask how soon "
Up stopned, ashamed of the choking in his tliroat.
"f shall leave that entirely to you and her/' his lordship an-
swered. "You are awarr it cannot be postjxtned long, but I
shall not hurry her away. She is to go to sciiool. I propose
Bending her to the Convent of the Sacred Hoaita in Paris. I
124 The Dawn of the New Life.
m
}i}iv(; a y")reju]i'e n^aiti-^t fasliionalilc IxordiiiK-scliools, i.- a|
rule. Had i a dau^^litrr, slu* should ucvi'i- c iilcr one; ahl
l)(diov(! lh((' mii.s nt the Sacred Ilcait to be llic li-tl
teachers and most ji*('onii(li.ii('d hulics uikKt the suu- liiii,|
for a few weeks, if .she ehoosos "
He lid i:ot tiuisli llie seiitciiee. The lioiiso (h)or Ol)eIl^d. al
quick, li;;ht stej) cio^sc d tlie hall, a I'rcsh .vouiig voice Lrilhla
merry time, the parh^r door opened, and Polly herself st i.m1|
revealed !
ivord Montalieii looked at lier earnestly. \Vh;it did he mi
A tail, slim figure, two flushed cheeks, twf) hright hlue i v
and a head "runniuj.'; over with curls." She jjaused shor* licrj
V)n{j: dying- away in a sort of consteritation at sij?ht of ,- .m-
bokcid tor a visitor. Duke rose up, and led her forward.
"My lord," he said, "this is your ward; Polly^ Lord Mmh-
^alien has come here to see you and tell you some wondeiiul
news. Try and not be angry with me for keeping it from ,vuu|
so long; and when you have heard all, read this letter."
He put her father's note in h( r passive hand, and went iiit|
of the room. Polly sank down in the chair he had vacai'lj
with bright, large eyes of wonder. Lord Montalien took h
hand in both his, ard looked at hec with a smile that vvciitj
straight to her" heart.
- "You have your father's face, my child," he said. "I 11I,^m1|
him the moment I saw him first; and I like you."
"My father!" the gfirl uttered. "You knew my father, m!,v|
lord Duke's cousin?" -
"Not Duke's cousin no tie of blood or name binds you toj
this good young man who has brought you up Your fallior
is alive! That letter you hold is from him, and you are P(l!,v|
Mason no longer, but Pauline Lisle!"
She grew ashen pale, and began to tremble. What was tliisl
she was about to hear? The hand Lord Montalien held g;vw|
cold in his grasp,
"No need to tremble no need to fear, my child. My nrwsl
is wonderful news the best of news for you. Your fatlMrj
lives, and has sent you a fortune. You are the heiress ot|
eighty thousand i)ounds, and I am appointenl your guardi in
Miss Paulina Lisle, let me be the first to congratulate yon!"
She fell suddenly back in her chair. Lord Montaliiii
Itarted u}) in alarnu
"I have told her too abruptly she is going to faint! '
might have known it ! Whom shall I call V
He was going to the door, but she put out one hand ainij
motioned him back.
"Wait," 'he said in a voice that trembed. "T shall notl
The Dawn of the Nevv Life.
12^
H ' i'
oor opcii! !, a
vAvv Irilli I a
luM'Solf si Ji(|
lid. "I \\h"\\
J."
ly fatiier, my
binds you to
Your fallior
vou are Polly
to faint !
me hand ;iii'i|
"T shall Jioti
;iiiit," She sal up bravely, as she spoki', and tried to smile,
itii lips that (juivered. "I'iease ^o (in, Jiiy lord; ted nie all.''
Aiid then, still ('lasjjinj; the -mail, cold hand, sti.'l looking
iiidly in the jiale VfUin^' t'lir'c. I.(rd Montalien told hrv "idl."
Slic .at (juite still, quite pali. the liud tick-tack if tlio
iiiclicii clock almost painfuiiy awdilrlc, liic .^nn^liine stre^nn-
liiiLt nil
had.
H
owed in aiiion^' nosanna s roe- and
geraniums.
|,\i I," f she sjiokc, to ask it ipiestiou, looking' at (lie noldcuiau
;il' her with hi.ii, soleiiMi eyes:
w
lo wi'.s my nudlier
I do 1
lO
t k
now
h
le answered jjira\clv; "your father never
tdld MIC her name. Rest ontented with your wonderlnl ^ood
iiiuiie, my dear, and (hai't a-k too many (juestions. Vou
liiic ;i yreat heiress now ti'y and think (d" that."
",\ ^reat lieii'essl" the girl repeated, juid there was a world
f liiit.'rness in her tone; "a ^reat heiress, and yet p((trcr
tli;iii the poorest, with a father and mother alive whom i hav(!
|i vcr seen, nev(M* nniy see a mother wfio east nu^ ott in my
h
)if
it'iiiicy a father at the othei* i'wd of tl
le Wo
rid. Lord Mon-
iti;, you may not tell me, Duke may not tell me, but I i'vvl
\\ Ik re I if my mother is alive, I shall find her out !"
l.oi'dMuntalien eanie over next day with Mr, (iri])per,
vliicli leu^al licnth^inan produced (hx-uments tied with red
npc, and read them olemidy aloud to liis bewildered little
liiiit. It was all (Jreek or thereabouts to Pcdly, exeepj^ one
Iv two conditions which her mind grasped in passing. Slw?
[viK Lord iVlontalien's ward until slie should come of iige or
iiiii'iy. If Lord Montalien died before either of thoe escnls,
he power of ai)pointing a new guardian wa^ vested iji him.
I^imI in the hf)ur (;f her mai-riage, whether she married with
wi
thout the consent (d' her
guardian, or during Ik r
Ininnrity, her f.jrtnne became absolutelv her own from then
ce
Icrih.
riiis was the proviso which his lordshij) had mentioned on
Iif pi'evious day as unusual. It was easy enougli, by tl
lie
lilt of Holjert Lisle's fwn history, to understand it-- it was
save her from her mother's fate. How lifile he dreamed
II providir.ji: that saving clause for the haj)piness of the
laughter he loved, how much trouble, and shame, and re-
liior'
it was to cause Ikm* in the davs to come!'
Tli( people from the l-*riory called uixai Lord Aionlalien's
nl With congratulations and con
dial
( x)ressions oj
good-
Mr. Francis, whom P(dly did not like; Mr. (Jny, whom
le admired and liked verv much, and Sir Vane Charteris,
no
repelled her with hi
s ('(.arse mourn am
th
1 ful
some eomi)!i
li-
nts. The girl wondered why he looked at her with sucli
it^uBity, his small, black eyes seeming to de^"nr her. Hia
1 11
126 The Dawn o the New Life.
SiiiK' it again, Miss Lisle, apd exorcise it."
He led her to the piano, and she obe.\ed. Her sweet, cloarl
voice filled the rooms. With proper training, that voice alone
might have made her fortune. She sang again "Couu*y
Guy."
"Ah, County Guy! the hour is nigh,
The Fun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes yie bower.
The oreeze is on the sea.
^ . The lark, whose lay has thrilled all das
Sits hushed, his partner nigh
r?**eeze, bird, and flower confess the hou**
;v^ ^' But where to County Qyr'
He vy
(tulinii
think (li
liaiuit
forever.
Lvhcii (J
he t';ic('
Ihiiii, iis
jSoiitht'i-
|(i';ist h)
luippy ^
Iterly in
little daughter cann' with him, beautifully dresxsed, and dwM
more gi'a'ion.- thun (m that cither niemorahW occasiou. Sir
Vane expressed his regret tini Lady Charteris could not liave|
the luippiness (jI making Miss Lisle's charming acqUiiinliUKx'
Lady Chartej'L* was ill, conlined to her rMm--a nervnuJ
hyUM'ical attnek, hut would jjiohahly he able to travel dii
the morrow, when he proposed returning to town to consult
an eniinenl physieian on the htale of her health. Miss Li-le
listened very c(ddly; she disliked both him and his daughiir,
and was relieved when they went away. Miss Hauttcni al i
ctdled with, her kinsman. Lord Monlalicni, elegant of eostiitiie, |
indisputably high-bred and patrician, but looking \\u\\\
elderly and faderl than ever by ctmtrast with that fn'slJ
bright face. Mr. Allen Fane did not call he was eatinn liiJ
very heart out with rage and batlled love. Retribution liaill
come V(ry swiftly to the tailor's ambitious son.
i^ord Montalien's ward, obi'ying the baJiests of her giianl
ian, spent one evening at the Priory. Only one Duke .iinil
Kosanna must have all the vest. She went dressed iu white
tarlatan (whi^e wius the proper thing for a heroine), with a
blue rihbon in her amber curls, and a blue belt around her
slim waist. And she looked lovely! The white arms and
neck glin)mered through the flimsy tarlatan, and tlier^ was a
flush on her cheeks and a light in her eyes. She entt ivj
those stately rooms a guest, an equal she wlio had hrou
Polly Mason last week; and she sat at Lord Montalien's ri^lul
hand at dinner, and was the little queen of the feast.
In the drawing-room, after dinner, with some little urgiii;;
Polly sang. She did not mind singing at all, but she oiilyl
played accompaniments of her own; she did not undcr^laiid|
the piano.
"What does that matter, Miss Lisle," said Guy Earlscouit;!
"who cares for the accompaniment. I know you can sii!fi-|
I've heard you." Polly laughed, and blushed at the renieiii-
brance. "That song has haunted me ever since, I assure .voiLH'iaiul
The la
It wa
wtuulcrfi
It wa.-
and runs
like (h'it
like it h
friends,
the haid'
liimself ;
His ])i\h
Mdiitalic
in the H
I'.illy," 1
will nev
For 01
and, an
n'ou
fill HI led
Fer P.
Isumptuo
(Wtly gi
luirt and
senti'd tc
and Ros
jenoiigh i
Warren
meats b
matches
^^'S'--''
The Last Day,
127
Uf vad Dosirto lior, boiMling over her, his dark, (Irparuy,
Italian eyes iixcnl on her face. What (lid^(iiiy Earlscourt
think of her? Jii days to come did tlmt sweet, yoiilhfiil I'ncc
iHunt hin (h'ehms'if In the glrVa ineniory that night lived
forever, the first of her new existence, and there wen honis
Ia'Ik'ii (tiiy Karls'ourt'H dark face rose up hcfoie her. like
ihe tiice of a reproachful j^host. She never forj^ot it, nor
Ihini. iis he stood therci heside her, the dark i)eiuty of hin
ISmilliern face, and his jet-hlack hair, snch a nuu'ked enn-
Jtrast to her own. How handsome he had lookrvl ' How
happy she liad heenl She had reason to rcniem.her it bit-
terly in the years to come.
II
IniK
lik.
lik.
CHAPTER X.
T II H LAST A Y .
The last day had come.
It was two weeks precisely since she had first heard the
|\vuii(l(rful news, and Miss Paulina Ti^le was entin ly ready.
It was a wonderful fit-out in this younjj; bidy's eyes silks
muslins of all hues and the finest textures, and linen,
drifted snow, trinunel with real Irish lace. Nothing
like it had ever dazzled the- eyes of the late Miss .Maf?on's
j'friciids. That sm'en hundred pounds, so lonu' laid away in
Ithc liaid?, was drawn forth to furnish this wardrobe. For
iiiiii-elf and sister, Mr. Mason positively refused a fartliin^'.
His pale face flushed his mild eyes quite Hashed as Lord
^loiit.ilien, ever so delicately, made the offer. "All the ^old
in tiie J-Jank of Enjijland could not repay ivo for the loss of
Polly," he said. "Unless you want to insult me, my lord, you
will never allude to this aKam."
Vov once Duke was dignified. Lord Montalicn wrung his
hand, and looked at him admiringly.
*'\'ou are a fine fellow,'' he answered, si)ii])ly, "and liavo
fiiltilled your trust to Robert Lisle right loyally."
Fdr Polly, she would have liked to fill the little house with
suiii])tnous adornings, and load down her two friends Mitii
jcostly gifts. I'hey refused everything, iuid it was only when,
jliurt and wounded, the girl w'as turning away, that Duke e-n-
Isonted to replace his big silver watch with a gold patent lever,
land Rosanna, her rusty bro\n\ with a new black si!k, stiff
lenough in its glistening richness to stand alone. Miss Al;'e
IWarren got a locket and eliain, and niunbers of pretty ormi-
Imeiits l^esides. She would have liked to have sent gold
Ivatches and silk dreMCB to every one in SpecJdiaven ^ths
"^
128
The last Day.
cliarif-y fhiWrou iiwludf*!. Slio )i;hi cvon nindo frifiuls v.-iij
li(M' old foe, willi wlioiii slu! Iind WJiKt'l vrudclta no Ikm^'.
had mel, Kiizu i.uli^ on tlic stnM't, and that .yoiiiiK vvotiian
turin'l away witli sulli-ii cAfs aiMl hitfcrcst envy, 'rhcic
X'CIl a tllOllHMll s
strui^l^dc
III I'dll.v's hrtast -then thai
wciif up to lier wit!
Slid
ila,i
ii,i.|
'I :i-
oiMiis luituic 'oii(ju('n'd, and .sIk
tcndrd hand and ]ic'adinjijr '.V('.s.
"i ani Koin;4' away- Kliza," sh said; "(hm't let us i)ai'l l.mi
friends. I daics.iy J have been most, in fault all through. Init
1 am sorry. Do shako hands!''
Hra\(', words to conu* from s() proud ;i spiiill They limj
melted Kliza, aial a reeom;iliation took plaee tliere and iinn
And that. ni^;ht, when the haudsuniest hi((M'h and earriii;^
moni'.y could Ituy in the l.own reached i\liss L(.nK^ she f.'riv
Kave way and sthhe(l over them, struck with surpris' amj
(out ritiwn. Slu; was at pea(;o with the W'.i'ld and a'l thchln
- liappy I'olly 'und no shadow of the darkness to .im;
marred to-(hiyV hri*.; illness.
The visitors at the I*riory wrTO nearly all ffone. Sir \';iiio|
Chiii-icns, his wife and dauKhUT, had left the day before \\w\
one ;.! which the lanress dined hero. My lady, closely veiltil,
and loitering* as she walked, came foi'th leaning" on ihr
maid's arm. Onc(*, as Lord Montalien said farewell, she had
paused, catehinj^' his hand in both her own, and (lin^iii;; to
it a."* though liei' last hope were there. But Sir Vane liail
come forth, and she had droi)ped it, and fallen back in a
corner of tho traveling carriu^'e, with her black veil over !ur|
face, and so tlu; peer saw her for the last time on earth.
Miss Ilauttou had gone t' Scotland two days after, to j mi
the Duchess of Clanronald; ^'^r. Fane was to meet them in
i^ondon, ami accompany them to the Italian lakes; I, ml
^Montalien, when his ward was safely d(!posited in her (in-
vent school, was to start for Syria; Francis EarlscoMat was
goinii' hack to Oxford to rejid for his degree; and Guy was
to rejoin his regiment at Knight's Bridge. So the act(jr-. in
this life-drama were situated this twenty-first of July, li.M!il
for Polly's dejuirture. Widely enough separated, it would]
seem, but like tlie cards in the same pack sure to come
gether again in the univei*sal shuffle.
They were to start by the noonday mail, in time to ealch
the tidal train that evening for Folkestone. She had bi(M!i
good-by to all her old friends in the town, to her garden, U)\
her i)(ts, to her violin, to her little attic room. Lord Moiita-
lien's carriage awaited her outside the garden gate. My lun'
sat within in horrible dread of a scene. Ati;e Warren wa-
sobbing beside Rosanna sobbing bitterly. "I feel as thou^zi
I were saying good-by forever," she said once. It was gouu
The Last Day.
129
by tov .r, UioukIi Aw littlo knew il. The two friend. vvduM
never look in eaeli t!r's i ;( more (i\ earth.
IJosiinna, lookiiij^ as if e;irvei| in ,n'ay stone, sto.wl stiff and
ti-arles.'^ heside the Uiteln-n tin-. And \\[i in llie paint in^'-rooni,
I'auliiui, in u ehannin;;- travelinu' -uii of ^ruy and h\\w, ami
n litih' Kreneii hat, had hiT arms around Onkc's neck, trying
to say farewelL The little wnteh ticking;- at her helt pointed
Ut five ininu'es 10 two; ut ten minutesi pa4 their I rain
started.
"Oh, Dnkel oh. Di.ke! !i';r - I say .ol-hy^ Oh,
l)nk'! it hreaks my luMrt to uo'"
Sjie was sohhin;^" wildly. The .scene-pain, r unloosed tho
ciiiiMiuK arms, and imt her Mcnily fr(in him, lookinj^' at her
with eyes full of ^reat sadiiesa.
"Vou must "o, and at onee, Duchess; good-hy my litt'e
riie, and' (lod in heaven hless you!"
lie 1(mI her out jf the room. On the thre^iiold he stooped
^nd kissed her tor the firs^ time sinco ahe hal heeii a little
toddling hahy, erowinj? on his shoulder. Then the door siniL
upon !ier; the y:\ory of Duke Masoa'."^ life was over he had
lost the Duchesst!
lie wont hack slowly to his old seat, sat down, laid hi*!?
arms on the table, and hi.s rtn^. upon tlu-m, as thouj^h ho
never cared to lift it a^ain. And so, when hundreds of mile.^
l:jy hetween him and his little one, and the starry summer
twiHf^ht shone over the world, Jiis sister found hini.
She had kissed Alice, she had kissed Ro.sanna. sthlin^v vo-
liemently, her tears faiii^: like rain, and she had lied from
them, and into the carriage with the coronet on its i)anels.
The liveried coachnmn started his lior.ses; slie pulled a little
lihii' veil she wore over her fare, and turned away fr(m her
f'ompanion. They were flying- throug'h the town. Slie looked
nut with blinded eyes to take a last g'limi)se at the fatniliar
streets. Eliza Long- waved adieu to her from her window;
Traneis Earlseourt, walking: to the station, liftecl his hat as
pihe passed. And then, J. rough all hei* t(^mpetuous grief, it
dnwned upon the young lady that srhe was rd(lening her eye.s
iUid swelling her nose in all jirohahility, and that there would
be plenty of time to cry on t!' ' way up to London. Ah, me!
it is but a step f r r!i tlie depths of desoair to tlu' absurdly
ridiculous; the philosophet ..iio laughol at life and its follies
and its pitiful weakness wn.' the wi.ser philosophe'* A' the
two. iVfiss Lisle wijed away Tier rears, and wondere , if ^}uy
Karlscourt would also be at tlie station to say fannvell.
lie was not tliere. She felt a pang of (li.sappointmei: -"S
she saw Francis p'oiie.
"I liked hini best, and be wii^ht have come," she tlioug4it%
H'
I t
130
The Last Day.
fi'^ my lord liaiidcd hov iiilo tlic coupe "cs&rvfcii for them-
selves. It wanted but two iiiinutey of startiiiif time 'lift
wnidd not conic.
"(lood-by. Miss J. isle; 1 wish you a ideasant journey/'
Fraufis had l^nid, shaking' hands and stepping back. And
then, at that instant. ' tall, black horse came thiinderinf,^ in
a cloud of dust down the road, bearing a breathless rider.
Tli(^ black liorse was Thund(M', and the rider Guy Earlscourt,
laie because he luul stopiJcd to fill a dainty little ninss-linci)
ba:d\et with rarest flowers and fruit. He leaped off his hor-( ,
and gave the basket to the guard for Miss Lisle. The youii^'
lady's heart bounded as she saw him; flushed, [^flowing, hand-
some.
"Kath(r a close tinish," he said, laughing, and holding cnt
his hand. "1 shoidd never have forgiven myself had 1 been
too late, (ilood-by. Miss Lisle; don't quite forget your Spock-
liaven friends in your Pari = inn convent, and don't, I conjure
you, take the black veil. Vv'e cannot afford to lose yeii."
She had barely time to touch the hand he reached her
through the window, when the whistle shrieked and the train
started. She sprang up for a h^.st look; it fell upon him
standing tnore, hat in hand, the July sunshie on his hand-
some head. And so the lai?t face the girl took out of her old
life, with the smile upon it that lit it into such rare beauty,
was the d:irk. Italian face of Guy Earlscourt,
1-
y.- ' "' v .M^, : ' :: ,- . ^
CHAPTER I.
AFTER TWO YEARS.
The {^iory of a golden September day lay over the (artli. ft
was the midtUe of the month. Down at Montalicn Prioi-y, I'or
the i)asi. two weeks, the sponsinen had crashed thr(Jiijj;li the
H^uhble, and turnip fields, and the sharp rin^ of their fowling
pieces echoed all day long- tlirouffh the jjjolden richness. Ver.y
fair, very stately, looked the grand, ivied, old mansion, with
its wealth of glowing doi? rosos and shinirio' ivy, its waving
oalis and cellars, its yellow liarvest fields, its bh^oming gar-
dens, all gilt with the glory of the, cloudless Spptend)er sun.
There were a half-dozen n^ien, all told l^jrd Montalien
and his brother Guy, Allan Fane, the artist, and husband of
the rich Diana Hautton, a Mr. Stedman, a Sir Harry (Jonjon
and Captain Cecil Villiers, of the Guards. All good men and
true, and not a single woman in the house to mar their sporty
all day among the pai'tridges, nor the perfect dimmer Mrs.
Hamper got up for their delectation in the evening. It was
Liberty Hall; lord and guest did precisely as they pleased,
and enjoyed themselves admirably,
"There are times when women are dftsiraWe, nay, inevita-
ble." Guy Earlscourt said, in his lazij- voice. "They embellish
iife in a general way. At flower shows and in ballrooms they
1}.ve 5imply the necessaries of life; but commend me to a com-
fortable country house in the shooting season, and not a
single enchantress within three milee."
"A declaration which, coming from you, Karlscourt, ( I" all
men alive, should have weight," observed Capaln Vjlliers.
"1 always fancied your idea of j^aradise was borrowed from
the Koran a land of promise, flow'ug with wine, and peo-
pled with black-eyed houris. or blue-eyed ballef-girU."
"I^t me see," said Lord Montalien, peeling his apricots
"r.ot a single enchantress within three niles! Yes, that's
alout the distance. The bailiff's cottage is precisely three
miles from the gates of Montalien."
"And never houvi of j\rusuluian, nor ballerina of Covetit
Garden, was half so lovely as the bailiff's blue-eyed daugh-
ter," (H-ied Sir Harry Gordon. "The luoet bewitching, tho
.
;;
n-
After Two Years.
mo^l divine little pii^ce oi" calico I ever laid eyes or. She h
i k'lte i)ersuiii1ied.''
"Voii are all in the same boat, then," remarked Mi Allan
Vane. "In love witli pretty Alice Ouy, as usual, stroke oar,
and sale to win."'
(luy Earlscourt glanced across the table at his brother.
*'\Vell now Fane, do you know I'm not so very sure of that.
I'm the hest-lookinj^ man here by long odds, and women,
whether they be peeresses or peasants, do go down, I admit,
before me; but somehow the little warren seems to have very
I)oor ta.te, and to differ from the rest of her appreciative sex.
1 don't seem to make as profound an impression as I would
like. Do you suppose I can have a rival?"
His sleepy, half-closed ,yes were fixed upon his brother.
L(jrd Montalien laughed pleasantly.
'"If you mean me, Ouy, and you look as if you do, I plead
not guilty to the soft impeachment. Loeing my head about
rustic nymphs, be they ever so charming, is not in my line "
''No," answered Guy, a little thoughtfully, "as a rulo I
don't think it is. High-born beauty, with forty thousand
down for her dowry, is your aim, dear boy. But the litth'
Alice is exceptionally handsome, aftd somehow, I think
well," he added, rising with half a yawn, "there have bci ii
worse-lotking Lady Montaliens."
There was little in the wordc-, but his brother's face flusln d.
The women of the house of Montalien had been noterl fur
generations for their beauty the mother of the present lord
being the sole exception. The first wife of Nugent, late
r^aron Montalien, had been hard of feature and sour of tcin-
I)er, as her picture still could show you; and on thi point,
Francis, twelfth Baron "Montalien, was especially sensitive.
For Francis Earlscourt was Lord Montalien now, the late
lord having fewelve months l^efore passed to a better, and
(with all due respect for the British nobility), let us hope,
even a higher sphere, where boredom is unknown. And his;
elder son reigned in his stead that elder son whom, like his
nutther, ho had never loved.
The men dispersed in the South Coppice, and soon through
the sultry noontide the sharp ringing of the guns cleft the
hot, still air. Lord Montalien alone was missing as the after-
noon sun sank low in the summer sky, and a faint, sweet
f'veiiing breeze arose and stirred the leaves.
"Frank bags other game than partridges," Guy said, with
a shrug. "He's deuced close about it; but I know he's after
that little tfirl like a ferret after a rabbit, or a terrier after
a rat."
After Two Years.
1 I
13?
His fowlm^- piece r;ui;v out, ami two birds came tuinblinj^
down.
"You fliitik, tlif'ii " StediiKii; Ix'^aii.
"ii;ili;" iiitfnuj)(0(] (iuy. "1 kiiou". And you know, my
^, ud IV'llow, so don't try it on with me. I-'rank's just tiu' ^ort
ol" man not to lose his head after wonieu, and to ^o sirai^;iit
to the dickens when he does. It's no alTairs of yours or
ii'.iiie, however; we. iieitlier of us are {jreparcd to -^i-t up as
ecusors, and ]\Tistrers Alice mut look'"out for hei'-clf."
li( plunj;ed into the eop[)ice and disappc^ircd. Stodman
looked after him with a jjeeuliar smile.
'[f Miss Warren is capabla of lookinjj: out for liersolf 1*1 is
iiior( than you are. You can see my lord's little ^ame there,
clearly enough, hut you are blind as a mole wIkm'c you are
(Mucerned yourself. lie hates you as a j)heasant does a red
(lo.i^. Why, I wonder?"
He was a pale youn.a: man, this Auji'ustus Stedman, with a
lii;h, thoughtful brow, a retreating chin, a thin mouth, and
shifting:, hazel eyes. Jle was Lord Mont alien's (special
friend. There was an affinity in the tlec^p, subtle natures of
the two men, both the truth may as well come out 'thor-
ouft'hly cold-blooded and unprincii)led at heart, and out-
wardly models of all domestic and social virtm^s. No one
could lay any charge wdiatever at the door of either, and yec
there were men who mistrusted them, women who shrank
away from them only to see them smile once.
PVancis, Lord Montalien, walked slowly uj) to the house,
and entered the library by an oj)en French window. A noble
room; its four walls lined with books, statues, and bronzes,
everywhere writing-tables and easy-chairs strewn around,
pleasant recesses for reading, and the mellow, aftern(on sun-
shine flooding all.
There were three i)ietures in this library three pit-tures
hanging together over the tall, carved mantel. They were
three portraits the late Lord Mo.'talieii, hi^j, second wife,
and younger son. Venetia, Lady ^fontalien, a portionless
Italian girl, with a face of perfect beauty, such as one does
not see twice in a lifetime, and barely eighteen when lu^r son
was born. That son's portrait hang by hers the same dark,
brilliant face, the same lustrous eyes of SoutluMTi darkness,
the same proudly-held head, the sann* ex'pH'"itt', smiling
nioulh.
The mother had lain in her grave for ma:iy a yvnv; and the
son's bright beauty was s(niewhat marred und lii.ggard jiow.
Those pictures were the first objects Lord MontaTum lfxkel
upon, as he sh-ode through the windo,v. nv;d a glance of bit-
tor, vindictive hatred flamed up in ids liuht. cold eyof* ^e
i-*i
t
i '
,'WI
lilj,
134
After Two Years
8UH)d an instant regardinp^ ti'"jr with set teeth, and an ex-
pression bad to see. lie spoke to iliem as though they bad
been s(?rjsate things.
"Ay," he said, **you have had your day it is my tin\e now!
There you haiij^' tlic father who could barely coiieeal liis dis-
like-- the woman who suiplanted my dead mothm* the boy
who would have supphuitod nie had it been in his father's
power. You left your younprer and favorite son, your Henja-
ttiiu, every penny you'l'ould leave away from the entail; now
is the time for me to show my gratitude. In your lifetime
he was always first his beauty, his brilliant gifts, drew all to
his side, while I was passed over. 'Whati a pity Guy is not
the heir!' niy father's friends used to say. 'Poor Frank is so
dull so like his mother!' You thought so too, my lord
poor Frank went to the wall- in your reign. When the heir
of Montalien came of age, who knew or cared 'i When Guy
jame of age, bells rang, boTifires blazed, and the tenantry
were feasted. Kven those boors smd 'What a pity Master
Guy isn't the heir.' Ah ! well, we'll change all that ; I am
Ijord Montalien now, and Guy Karlscourt is where 1 have hd
him, on the high road to ruin nay, a ruined man and a pau-
r)er to-day. 'temper Fidi'Us' is the motto of our house; and
'Always Faithful' to my reveniio, he shall pay me back for
every sneer, every slight, every advantage over me, to the ut-
termost farthing."
]t was the secret of his' life. Francis Earlscourt hated his
brother.
lie turned away from the three pictures at last the smil-
ing fae^s of Guy and the dead Lady Venetia seeming to
mock hini ^rom the canvas.
"The day is near when I shall have the pleasure of putting
you all three in the fire," he thought. "The day is nejir,
my Lord Montalien, when your beloved one shall drag out
the remainder of his brilliant existence within the walls of
the Fleet Prison, or become an exile for life from his native
land."
IFe ])ac('d up and down, up and down, while the sun
dropped lower and lower, and not all the glory of the heavens
could brighteirthe dark moodiness of his irate face.
"(^irsc her obstinacy," he muttered, sullenly. "With her
fair, drooping head, Iut fawnlike eyes, her timid blushes,
and flattering, replies, s.he has the devil's own will! She
won't yield- -three times a day to church every Sunday, as
long -is she c;in reivcnnber, and the Sunday school be*^,Vv.n
whiles, have done their work. I could as easily remove the
' Baron's Tower yonder as that frail milk-and-rose cottage
After Two Years.
09
^rL What, the deiico shill I do? for, have her, I must,
thoug-h I i)ai(l the dire penally of a weddinj.? rinpf!"
ITe paced to and fro, revolving: this riuostion. "What shall
\J do'^" lie had a deep, suiaie brain, like Ills smile, pivvt'ri"ul
to work good or evil for liini.^elf or otliera.
"In the days now past," he mused, "a post-chaise-nnd-four
round the corner, two muffled bravoes, and a nii(hiifUH altduc-
tioM wouhl be the thing"! Or one niipht go seek that (!on-
venient college friend, ever ready to pei'soiiare the clrrgynian,
and a mock marriage would sttti( the fair one's seruplfs. lint
that sort of thing exploded with rutHes and ra))iers, 1 suppose.
And yet and yet, I don't know. What has been don( can
surely be done ag. in. Why not the convenient college friend,
and tlie mock marriage? She is as innocent as lu;r ovvn liiild
daisies, my dear little Terdant Alice, and slu; loves nie witii
her whole good little heart, and would consent to a marriage,
however private, so that it were a marriage. Without the
[uu'son, and the wedding ring, she won't listen to a Wijrd
I hanks to popular rustic prejudice, and the tenets of the
Sunday school. A mock marriage why not why not?"
The schenVe was practicable, but v/hcre was the convenient
college friend to be found. But one, Stodman his face sud-
denly lighted as he thought of Stednian.
''The heart of a cucumber fried in snow," lie tliought,
grimly. "xA man with neither honor, conscience, princif^?,
nor feeling a man poor as a elmrch mouse a man capable
of poisoning his own mother if he corld benefit himself b,v
the old lady's demise, and not be found oivt. Yes," he said,
unconsciously loud, "Stedman will do it."
"WTll he, my friend?" said a cool voice, and a tall figure
darkened the sunlight, as Mr. Augustus Stedman stepped
through the open window. "I thought it was only on the
stage and in madhouses people tall^ to themselves. And
what is our Stedman to do, my lord?"
lie flung himself into an easy-chair and proceeded to light
u cigar. Lord Montalien looked at him suspiciously.
"What brings you here?" he asked, "llow long were you
watching me?"
"Do I intrude upon your jirofound cogitations? If so '*
ho made a motion of rising and leaving.
"Xo, no!" Lord Montalien said, hastih, 'Don't go; the
fact is, Stedman, I want you. Oan you guess;, Slednian,
what the business is?"
"Something 'about our blue-eyed Hebe the blushing di-
vinity, whose earthly name is Alice Warren.'
"Exactly, Gus I'm hopelessly done for in tliat |uarter%
The tprl loves me with all her heart, but she i tearfully and
1
m
n6
Hiter Two Years.
wonderfully obdurate on tlio point of rnarriap:c. Sh I': quiU
ready to resigii nK\ and break her li2art in tlic niOH, ap-
proved fashion, and go off genteelly in a decline, but "
"She insists on the nuptial knot,'' interrupted Mr. Stel-
jnan, "which, of course, is simply preposterous; and so there's
nothwig for it but to break both your hearts, and part. A
case of Lord Lovel and Lady Naji cee over again. Or is
there something else on the cards?"
"Yes," said Lord Montalien. 2\ik\ then, still pacing up and
down^ he laid bare his dark scheme.
Augustus Stedman iistened, smoking, with an immovable
face.
"Yes," he said, slowly, at last, "I see. The thing can be
done, I suppose, but it seems rather risky. And my part,
dear boy? Am I to play the parson, and tie the knot? Un-
fortunately, la ix't'itc knows my interesting physiognomy
almost as well as she does your own."
"Of course not ; but you may know some one who will piny
larson. You have a very extetisive and not too select circli.'
of acquaintances in J^ondoij. Think, and see if there is mA.
ouQ among them who will do th(^ business; and believe me, I
shall not speedily forget your si-rvice."
There shot from the eyes of Stedman, as Lord Montalien
spoke the last words, a gleam not good to see; over his thin
lips there dawned a faint, chill smile, that never came there
save for evil.
The acquaintantt' of those two congenial spirits had come
about rather curiously. Years before, a certain dashing
young London actress had fettered Augustus Stedman in her
rose chains, A thoroughly vicious woman, with nothing but
her bold, handsome face to recommend lier coarse, heartless,
and avaricious, lie had wooed her long, and success seemed
near, when the Honorable Francis Earhicourt appeared upon
the scene, with the longer purse of the two. It is an episode
neither pleasant nor profitable to relate. Stedman retired
baffled, but he took his defeat wonderfully well. From that
hour he became the chosen friend and associate of Francis
Earlscourt, forgiving him handsomely for his somewhat
treacherous conduct in the little matter, and, with the pa-
tience of an Indian chief, biding his time to wipe out the
score.
Five years had passed, and the time had come!
The gleam in his gray eyes, the pale smile on his cynical
mouth- were unseen by his companion. lie had turned his
face away, and was looking at the amber light in the eolt
weetern sk^Y'^'At tb^ ^reen beauty of the sloping gkdes. l^ist
After Two Years,
)7
live niiiiutes siilence rolKHOil ; tlicii liis lordship's paticiiw
gave way.
"Well!" he said witli an oatli; "speak out, ean'l .V(.u?
Dce.s your silence mean you declined'
"Silenee means consent. Don't l.c impatient, my Lord
Montaliin; a man can't review some six or seven hundred ac-
quaintances all in a second. I'll help you in this matt(M'; and
1 know tlie verv man vou want."
"Vou doT'
"1 do. A younj? fellow, destined for tlie church, on the
point of re(feivinjj: orders nio?'(r than onee,. hut the uuitter has
been alway^^ i)osf{)on^d. lie is the slave of the brandy bot-
tle, and leaily to do anything' short of murder a highway
robbery for a tive-pound note, it is my belief he will never
be ordained; but he will marry you. He lives with his uncle,
the incumbent of the (Miurch of St. Kthelfrida, in the city
and nothing will l)e easier tliaii for him to admit you, and
I)erform the mock (teremony in the church after nightfall."
"In the church r'
"In the church. The uncle is lown in Essex, as I happen
to know, for a fortnight's holiday; the nephew can obtain the
keys when he pleases, llow soon do you want it (hnief'
"Imnu'diately day after to-morrow, if possible."
"Ah!" Stedman said, with a covert sneer; "the proverbial
impatience of lovers! I renuMuber onee before, five years ago,
you were almost equally far gone."
"Slcdman! 1 thought you had forgotten that. Remender,
1 was only a lad of one-and-twenty then."
"Olvl enough to be my successful rival," laughed Stedman.
"Day after to-morrow will be rather sharp work, but, if the
lady be willing, 1 don't say that it is iimpossible."
"The lady will be willing. I shall see her this very even-
ing, and arrange all. How do you propose to managed"
"Thus: 1 shall go up to town by the first train to-morrow,
call on tlie man w^e want, bribe him, procure a special license
(to satisfy he'self), and have the job done next day. Miss
Warren might go up by to-morrow's evening train, and re-
main quietly at some decent lodging, until the weddinsjr hour.
Your own movements you must settle yourself."
Lord Montalien seized his hat, and g-rasped Mr. Stedniaii'a
banU with a cordiality very unwonted with him.
"You are the prince of good fellows, Gus! Believe Ine, 1
shall not forget this."
lie wrung his hand, dropped it, hurried through the open
window, and disi^^peared.
Mr. Stednum looked after his retreating? figure, and th
wuinou.'^ Muuile the latent gleam, were verj^- apparent now.
' !
138
After Two Years.
"No, iny Lord of Moiitalioii. T d'-n't mean you shall forgot
tins. 1 tliink lu'lorc tlu; \v(;ck I'lids 1 sliali vvipe out tlftit old
griulji^o about podr Fanny Da.slion."
\mv([ MonUilicn strtxh; tlnou^h llu; dowy meadows and the
siioi'l. hvvw't grass, fu'l of triumph and exultation. For
Francis Karls'ourt, from earliest boyhool, to set his heart
upon anything was to strain heaven and earth to eonipasg
his ends. Years might come and go, but he remained faith-
ful to his purpose. "Always faithful," the motto of the
Karlscourld, was never more strikingly exemplified than in
him. J^y fair means or by foul, he must win Alice Warren!
He found her where ho kn. w she was always to be found
at this calm evening hour milking. Flower, and Daisy, and
Anxdii stood around lier, the sweet scejit of new-made hay
filled the air, the vesper songs of the birds rang down the
pi(=;toral stillness, the last golden glinmier of sunset was fad-
ing in the clear gray sky. All things looked fair and sweet;
and fairest, sweetest of all, the girl who rose with a blush and
a smile te greet her lover.
"Come with me, Alice," he said. "I have something to say
to you something you must hear at once."
She went with him across the long fields to the gloom and
solitude of the distant fir plantation. Even in the heat of
his wooing and sucv*ess, he could remember prudene^ Be-
neath ihe sombre shadow of the trees he passed his arm
around her waist, and whispered his proposal. Would she bo
his wife secretly, of course, but his wife?
The girl lifted two large, searching eyes to his face, and
clasped both hands round his ajm.
"Frank!" she cried, '"your wife your very wife. I, the
bailiff's daughter you, Lord Montalien ! Do I hear you
aright? Do you mean it?"
"More than I ever meant anything. "Why nQt, my Alice
you are fair enoush and good enough to be a queen, and who
is there to say me nay. Only for the present it musA be pri-
vate strictly private, remember. -Not a whisper of your se-
cret to a living soul."
And then, in soft, caressing tones, he told her what she was
to do. To steal (}uietly from home, and take the eight-fifty
train for London, to go to a quiet hotel, whose address he
would send h^r, and wait there for him until the following
day. 'And an hour after his arrival they would drive to-
gether to some obscure church, nnd be niarried. Would she
consent i
Consent! She cla.sjji'ti iier hands closer aroun-d his arm,
her fair face rosy with joy. ^
"Frank I to be your wife, I wcxuld riak, wcuid 'k smfthiog,
Th^ u.oad to Ru'i.,
J?9
Only soiiic aay kooii, s(()ii fiftcr our niHrrinMt'. you wii ^i me
write, and tell futli'-r and mother. 1 can't \)Oht that
tlK'y- "
''Of ('((urse not. After o\ir ninrruiM'e you shull tell tliem
everything. Don't fail: and, hy the way, if you should n)et
my brotlier at llie .station, you ean travel under liis protcc-
tion Not a sylhdde to hinj, of course, for tlie i)re.sent, at
least. Jf you love luc us you say, Aliei-, you will he couts nt
to wait a little before 1 present you to the wirld as i-ady
Montaiien."
If she loved him! the innocent eyes h^okin^'- up to him were
full of deathless devotion. They smot( him -licartloss, self-
ish as he waS' they smote hit the l(viiip, faithful eyes of
the girl he was betraying.
A great bell clanged out over the woods, the dressing bell
at the Priory. He stooped hastily and kis-ed her. "(iood-by,
my Alice for the last time. On the day after to-morrow wc
will meet in London to part no more."
Alice retired as usual to her room, but not to .sleep. At
midnight she lighted her candle and sat down to write a
hasty note to Polly."
The few words she had to say were soon written:
"My Own Dahi,f.N(j: I mu.st speult one word to you ticfor" I
go Vicforc I go away from my home, my (l'ar, dnai' hiune,
to be married. Yes. Paulina; Alice Is to l)o married to one
Bhc loves oh, so dearly so dearlythe best, the noblest of
men on earth. Some day you will know hi n nne. and wliat
a happy, happy girl I am. Until then, love nie, and trust
always your own. ALiei::"
She addressed this brief note to Paris, to "Mile. I'auliria
IJsle." She kissed the name, she tof*k the locket from her
neck, and kissed the pictured face. "Darling little Polly,"
siie said, "to think that when next we meet, Alice will be a
lady, too."
And th.nn at last she said her jjrayers, and wyiit to bed.
But the bright, broad day was shining gloriously in before
the happy eyes were sealed by sleep. The new day the
beg'Inning of a new life.
51
ClIAPTEK II.
TilK HOAn TO lU IN'.
Early on the following morning Mr, \u:cu3tus fttedman
'took a run ap to tinvi.'' And late \n lu( -v '.;i*ig, Mr. Guy
Karlscourt was driven down from the i*riory to ('.itcb. tlie Jast
expr'.\33r The ST^ay of the summer evening ''?^ deepen-
.P.t
140
The Road to Ruin.
inir to darknoss as Mr. (!ny Kmi-'ht nrt .umipofl out, and ran
to tho oflico for his tick' t. In two inmutcs (Ik^ train wonld
stnrt. ^ One of ihcsc ininutcs ho Mp'nt at tlio tickcl otiico. tho
othor in lInhtiM;;' a cif^ar and I'tokiiij:- al)ont him, llalt'-a
dozen loiinj^crs wtTo scattorcd abonl the jjlatfonn, nn(' sav*}
hinisc'lt', tlicTf! was hut anotlicr ))ass(ngor--\vlio \vor(^ a t'h)s(,
bhick voih and who carried a snndl haj^ in licr liajid.
Somcthiiifi: in tliis lonely t'enialo fif.nire, standing there in
th(^ ^loaniinyf, something faniiliar, nnide th( young (Juards-
man l(n)k again. She saw the glance, and came gliding up lo
him, and laid one timid hand upon his arm.
"i\lr. (^uy." ,-
"AH
1C(
fv
She had not lifti-d tlie close nuisk of bhiek lace, hut he
recognized the voice, the whole form, the instant slir si)oke.
"Yes, Mr, Guy I am gtnng to London, and and 1 am
frightencnl to go alone. Might I would you "
"Now then, sir,"" cried the guard, holding open tho door of
the fiit-(dass compartment. "Look sharp, if you please."
"This way, Alice," exclaimed (luy, and the three words,
spoken in half a whisper, reached the ears of the guard, to he
graven on his professional memory, and destined to be re-
peated, years after, with such deadly peril to the unconscious
speaker.
There was no time for parley, no time for questions or re-
monstrance. He assisted her in, sprang after, the whistle
shrieked, and the express train flew away through the dark-
ening night.
"Now, then, Miss Alice Warren, explain yourself? What
does a young lady from Speckhaven mean by running {.way
to London at this unholy hour, and alone? I give you my
word I should as soon have expected to behold the Czarina of
all the Russias at the station as you."
The veil was still down its friendly shelter hid the burn-
ing, painful blush that overspread the girl's face, but he
could see she shrank and trembled.
"I am obliged to you, ^fr. Guy."
"You are, eh? T ho])c for everybody's sake, liiy old friend
Mathew knows all about it. And, if ho does, my ohl friend
Mathew ought to be ashamed of himself letting his pretty
daughter run wild uji to London. Where is Peter eTeidvins,
too the sturdy miller that he doesn't lor^k better after his
little affiapced V
"T am not his affiaiu .(.'," Alice replied, betwer^n a laugh and
a ^b; "I never was. And my father ami mother don't know
I've come plcise don't blame tliem, Mr. Guy."
The Road to Ruin.
141
'\s in a ^lasfl, darkly," ho naw the truth, and for once id
hi:, life t't'lt actually called upon to rcinon.strate.
"Alice," ho said, "I don't want to pry into ;.ny st'crcf of
yours- you know your own atTairs best, ol" cour.-.i ; luit is this
a wise step you arc taking^ 'Plunk, hcfoic it is too latt', and
turn back while there is yet time."
"'{'hero is no time. It is too late. Aji 1 T would not turn
back if 1 could."
Slie sp(ke more firmly than he had ever heanl her. Sh^
was thlnkiniA' that this time. to-morrow she would be l''rank's
w i t'e.
"You know hest. Pardon my interference. At least. yMi
will i)ermit me to see you to your destination."
She took from her purse a slip of i)a])er and handed it to
him.
"I am yoinjr there. If you will take me to it I will bo
very, very thankful."
"Mrs. Howe's ].o(l;ings, 20 (Jilbert's (Jardcns, Tottenliam
CoiV't Road," read (luy. "Ah, I don't know. Mrs. Howe's
Ix)dK'iugs, (Jilbert's (Janlens, sounds rural, though. Ves,
Miss Warren, I shall certainly see you there; and now, with
your permission, will read the evening j)aper."
And then silence fell between them.
It was elose upon midnight when the countless lamps of
London first shone before the country girl's ilazed eyes. Tiu;
bustle and upritar of the station terrified her; she chnig in
atfright to Mr. Earlscourt's arm. And then tlu'y wci-c in a
four-wheeled cab, whirling rapidly away to (Jilbert's (Jar-
diMia.
"It's rather an unearthly hour," remarked Ciuy, looking at
his watch. "I only hope Mrs. Home no, \'.s. Ilow(^ is pre-
pared t{ receive us."
Mrs. Howe was. Mr. Stedman had arranger^ that as well
as other matters; and Miss Warren was affably received by ^
tliin, little woman, with a ]inched noso and a wintry smile,
and shown to the ladies' sitting room at once.
She gave her hand to h( r companion with a glance of Itar-
fnl gratitude.
"Thank you very much, "Nfr. Guy. I don't kiiow Ik.w T
should have got here but for you. CJood-night, and, oh,
l)lease" piteously "don't say anything to anybody down
jjonie about having met me."
"Certainly not, Alice good-night."
He had reached the door when a sudden intpulse struck
him, and he turned back. He took both her Iwnids in his own
and looked kindly, pityingly, down m the sweety tear wftt
face. , . .
142
The Road to Ruin.
"Little Alice," he Hail, "I'm a prood-for-not-liinff follow, hut
1 have ii very teiider rcKanI for you. It over yon find your-
fttdf up a tn'c--! monn in trouble of any kind I wi^li youM
Comic to nic. I'll iiclp you if I ran. Here is an addrc^-. to
wlncli you fan write* at any time, and if ever you call ujuju
nu' I will never fail you."
'V\u' d.krk. handoni face, tho brown, oarnoat ovo?; swam
hetoi'e the ^nrl in a hot inist. If he bad l)e(n her brotber be
cudd hardly have felt more tenderly toward her than ,it tbat
nioutenl. 'I'rouble! He krjew, if ho did not, what dark and
bitu-r h()nl)!( was in store for her, and lio was helpless to
Wiird it oH".
"I've bad the fortune to come across a good many ifiseruta-
hh' (tard^; in my time," ho thought, as he ran downstairs, "but
for in-crulability, Monti puts the topper on the lot. What
an iiifeiiiiil scoundrel he is; and what an inconceivable idiot
th'it poor child! Of course, he's p)inM' to 'marry her -notb-
inj4: else would have induced a girl like that to take such a
step." - .
Mrs. TIowo led the way upstairs, with a simper on her
faded face.
"I know all about it, miss," she whispered, confidentially;
"the youn^ man as was here this morning a most genteel
young man he is 'told me that you was going to be married,
you know, mis.s, and that is the gentleman, of course, a mili-
tary gentleman, as one may see, and the very 'andsomest as I
ever set eyes on."
Alice shrunk away, almost with dread. How dare Mr.
Steduinn tell this strange woman her secret? She entered
her room, a neat 'little apartment enough, but insufferably
close and stuffy, as it seemed to the country girl, used to the
fresh breath of the German Ocean, and the sweet breeze of
tho Lincolnshire wold.
Afrs. TTowe set down the candle, still simpering, still cour-
tesy ing.
"And if there's anything else, miss hot water, or a cup of
tea, or a plate of cut 'am, or anything as you might men-
tion I'm sure I'd me most happy. Which the genteel young
goTit this morning paid up in advance, most generous "
"No, thank you; I want nothing," Alice answered, hur-
riedly; and the simpering landlady, with -a last dip, walked
away.
She closed and locked the door, and sank down on her
knees by the bedside, her hat and shawl still on, wit^ an over-
lowering sense of desolation and loneliness. Wht were they
doing at home? What did they think of ber? They would
miss her at the hour for 6veiuiif p^ayeIi^ and thfi^ woold
it
hut
cour-
The Road to Ruin.
14?
!h
.!i
p:^Hrrl for her iu vain. ^-'Ijo cdiild sor lirr TnothorV-* wurM
white \'i\(v, licr fiilhor's stern, jiiip-y. Oli, what a bad, criii;
jrirl }h' wh, otiI.v tjiinkiptr (tf }HM's'lf ntid lur vri h!!pi)iii(ss,
and iicvcr caring for llic/^ricf slio wan h'livm^ iK-liiiul! Very
soon tlicy would know (he trntli, (iliHt she wan the happy wifo
of I,ord Montulicn, hut until then, whiif Krief, whiit shamo,
vhat fear, woidd slie not tnaUe them sutler!
A (d)ek in the nei^dihorhood ntrnck three. Site luid
Fcnreely slept tlie tii^-lit hoforc^ -invohnitnrily her eyes w'ro
oiosin^f now. She ^ot up in a kind of stupor, removed her
Duler clothing-, threw herself half-clressed ujjon the bed and
8le[it (h'i'ply, drfiimlessly, uutil niorniii';-.
Tt was hroafl day when she awol;o and startwl up nine
o'clock of a dull, rainy mornhig'. The crashing? noises with-
out half stunned her fy ti moment, until she realized sho
was in T.ondoiK
In the cdurse of tlie foretioon ^Ir. Stedmnn called; he was
triad to see even him then, though down nt home she had dis-
liked him. Fverythirifj: was in readiness, Mr. Steadman told
her; she might look for Lord Montalien a little before six
o'clock.
Seven hours to wait would they ever i)ass, Alice thought.
8he asked the Intidlady for a book, ai^L tried to fix her at-
tention upon it, but in vain. For once a novel faihd to ab-
sorb Miss Warreri. She listened t/) the hours, and the quar-
ters, as they chimed two, three, four, five.
In Gilbert's Gardens the dark, rainy day was closinj? al-
ready, and yellow lamps glimmered atliwart the fopr. TTalf-
past five a quarter of six oh, would he never come! She
had worked herself up into a fever of longing and impatience,
when a hnnsom whirled uj) to the door, a man very much
muffled leaped out, and rushed up the stairs, and, with a cry
of joy, Alice flung herself into the arms of her lover:
"Oh, Frank! Frank! T tlufught you would never coinel
The day has been so long so long!"
lie was so closely muffled tliat the eyes of love alone could
have recognized him.- Tie looked flushed and eager as a
prospective bridegroom should.
"Dress yourself as (piickly as possi})le, Alice," he said, hur-
riedly; "we will drive to the cliurch at once."
Tn five minutes the girl's straw hat and simple shawl were
on. Slie drew her veil over her face, and with a beating
heart was led by her lover to the cab. A second more and
they W'cre whirliug away, and the curious eyes of the land-
lady were removed from the window.
"I could r^t see his face," she remarked afterward; "he
was thtti muffled up, and his hat was that pulled over his
t i ff
^11
144
The Road to Ruin.
heyes, but I know it was the same millingtnry :;:j\1 ?x
brought her the night afore."
T'he Church of St. Ktholfrida was a very hng way n nivcd
from (Jilberl's (iardon, anl it was entirely dark by I lie time
they reached it. A small and dingy edihce, in a sn:ali and
dingy court, with not a soul to observe them, ani^ only a
Bolitary cab waiting round the corner, from which Mr. Sted-
man sprang to meet them. An T)ld woman in pattens ojumunI
the church door an old woman, .who, with Mr. Stedman, was
to constitute the witness of the ctrcmony. A solitary lainp
li't the dark edifice, and ly its light they saw a young man in
a surplice, standing behind the rails, with a book in his
hand. Lord ^Montalien led liie palpitating little tigure on
his arm U]) the aisle, and in less than ten minutes the young
man in the surplice had gabbled through the ceremony, and
pronounced Francis Eiirlsconrt an(f Alice Warren man and
wife. Then cnmo signin^r and countersigning in a big book
a fee was slipped from the palm of the bridegroon' into
that of the young man in the surplice. Alice received her
"marriage lines" and all was over. At the church door the
bridegroom stopped to shake hands with Ir-; faithful friend
and accomplice.
"You're a trump, Stedman! Believe me, I shall not forget
what you have done* for me to-night."
Mr. Stedman, with his hands in his pocket, and that pale,
ominous smile on his lips, watched bride and bridegroom re-
enter their cab and drive away; then he laughed to himself
a soft, low laugh.
"No! most noble lord; I don't think you will forget in a
hurry what I have done for you to-night. I was to bo the
cat's-paw, was I the hanger-on who was to do -your dirty
work, and take my reward in being told I am a trump? In
six weeks from now, if I am bar I up, I shall know where to
call, and trust to your gratitude for a check for a couple of
thousand; and I think that other little score, five years old,
is pretty clearly wiped out at last."
When Guy Earlscourt told Alice Warren that he was "a
good-for-nothing soi-t of fellow," he uttered a fact in which
he would have found a great n^any iwople a^rc. As fast as
man could tread that broad, sunlit, flower-grown highway,
known as the "Iload to Ruin," Lieutenant Guy Earlscourt
hail been treading it for the past three years.
Ever since when at twenty years of age he had begun his
Hew, bri^'Mt lite as fledgling guardsman and emancipated
touiftu, lie had been goin^ the pace with a reckleseiLeeSy a
The Road to Ruin.
M?
nuKl extra vapraiK'o, tliat know npitbor bounds nor pause. Ho
wa but four months pal thivc^-and-twonty now, ajid over
lu'.i'l and ears in debt, and i'Totricvably rninc^d."
rlu.-^l o]ie .year and a half afz:o his father liad died, away in
Syiiii, of tyi)hoid fever. Amid strangers, in i) slran^c huid,
Nimcnt, Baron Moutalien'.s boi^' exih' of sixty ycuirs had ab-
nipily endech He drifted out ol' life as (juietly, as thor-
onulily self-possessed and gentlemanly as he had drifted
tlirnugh it. Ill hi last hour there were no vain regrets, (ir
Idiinin^s for home and friends. Once he had thonjrbt he
would like to sec Guy; it was but a passinu: weakness; he did
iiM wish a seeond time for what was impossible. It v a.i
rather a relief, on the whole, to go to make an end of the
{j:(ii('ral weariness and delusion of livinp;.
ll(^ had but one trouble the thoupiht of tlie ^-irl whom
Ivilicrt Ilawksley had left in his ehar-^e. W4om should he
aiii'oint f^uardian in his own stead? He thought over all the
UKii he knew, and there was not one amonff them suitable,
or. if suitable, willing to undertake the troublesome duty. He
Ii id almost given up tiie problem in despair, when Sir Vane
Cliarteris suddenly appeared upon the scene. It was no pre-
iiii'litated meeting; it was the merest ehanee if there be
such a thing as chance if the destiny that was i^lkiping the
cuds of Paulina Lisle had not driven him hither. He was
the one man whom his lordship had not thought of. A vague
f|ilike and distrust of him had been in his mind ever since
the day upon which Lady Charteris had made her passionate
declaration that he had insulted her, and that she would n(ver
forj^ive him.
Poor Lady Charteris! it mattered little whom she forgave
iinw; she was the inmate of a madhouse! She liad never
recovered from that -sudden illness down at Montalien; and
three weeks from the time when her husband had taken her
up to town her mind had entirely given way, and she had
been* ever since the inmate of a private asylum. Her dehi
sin!i was a singular one. Sir Vane Tharteris was not her
husband, she persisted; her lawful husliand was alive, and in
America, to whom she was always trying to write. And liav-
iiiii,' placed his insane wife in safe keeping, and his daughter
at a fashionable boarding-school. Sir Vane Charteris nlso set
ont, to drown the great trouble of his life, sight-seeing iu
distant lands.
At the close of a bright summer day, h*' entcM'ed the little
Byrian village where my hn'd lay dying. It *eenied a Provi-
Ai'}\{% Lo the sick man. Almost tlu^ fii*st v/ords he spoke were
the question would he assume in his stead Lh guard iiinship
of Paulina Lisle ^
1 1
146
The Road to Ruin.
There rose np over the swarthy face of the haronv . a flbsh
that was not the rosy light of the Kastern sunset. I Jo liad
never thou^t of this! Among all the chances thyt were to
place his wife's elder daughter in his power he hid '\ i
thought of this! It was a moment before he could ainvvr ' -
a moment during which his face was turned far away ivon
the dying man, and his black eyes gazed at the rainbow ]i^;pt
in the Syrian sky. Then he spoke very quietly:
"If it will relieve your mind any, my lord, I willingly ;,"-
cept the charge. With my unfortunate domestic afflictior I
had not thought of ever again making England my home,
but my duty to my daughter, perhaps, should be paramount
over every mere personal grief. I will become Miss Lisle a
guardian, and fulfill my duty to the best of my ability. tSUe
and Maud will be companions, and my sister Eleanor Mr.^
Galbraith, you recollect! wiU preside over my home."
The necessary documents were immediately drawn up;
and that night, when the great white moon rose up out ..f
the Orient, Nugent, Lord Montalien, lay white and cold iu
death.
Sir Vane Charteris lingered in the Syrian village loi.;^'
enough to perform his last duties to his friend. The body
was embalmed and transported to England; and perhiips
among all who stood bareheaded around, while the gve-it
vault down at Montalien opened to receive anothrr iuiiuit.,
Guy Earlscourt was the only mourner at heart. It h;ul not I" "m
the way of father or son to speak of it, or even iiiucli to tlijik
of it, but in their secret hearts they had losfd each o{1k i-
wonderfully well. For Francis, the new Lord A'trntalieii, l.e
looked, as he always did, the model of all till il viri;rf ai'd
quiet grief; but the dark spirit within him exulted. His ^/ns
the power now and the glory he, not the dead man's fnv :-
ite, reigned in Montalien.
He listened with the same expression of subdvied sorr. w
when the will was read, and knew that Ids falhf i- hu] Vi.l
left him one memento of fatherly regard. All hu] ^rv.i- to
Guy a trifle, perhaps, but all. Ho grasj)ed his 1 vjthct's
hand when they were alone together, and looked-at hii-i w.ih
glistening eyes.
"Guy, old fellow," he said, "thirteen thousand is not rr. 'i
to you with your habits and tastes, but when you are np :i
tree call upon me without fear. The income of Montalir!) is
a noble one, and I shall share it as a brother shouldo Stmt
yo'irself in no way your debts shall be paid."
Guy lifted his dark eyebrows, and pulled his mustache in
dense bwidermet.
"Has ^rank goe mad, I wonder?" he thougi^t; "he paj
The Road to Ruta.
47
my debts! iVhy, the selfish beprerar would no*; ,^.re a sou to
keep me fram etarvii;g! What t!'.' (U'ucc docs he nioiiii by
gushing in this way?" But aloud h^ had ansvprt-od: "Tliaiikn,
very muoli; you're not half a bad fellow, Frank!" and had
straightway proceeded to squander his kjj:a'y, w)ii."h he m.iri-
atfed very completely to do in a year.
Sir Vane Charteris made an end of his Eastern tour, aul
returning home by Paris, proceeded to call upon his warJ.
He had informed JVIiss Lisle by letter of the change, and 'he
yung lady had shed some very sineere tears over- the n^-n's,
a few for Lord Montalien, whom she had liked, and a f".v
for herself, that she should be the ward of Sir Vane (Jliar-
teris, whom she disliked with a heartiness which charaetei"-
izi;d all this young person's likes and dislikes. The barnret
C:i1!e(l upon her one July daj' the July preceding the S' p-
tr/riher of vv'hieh I have written and there descended )u the
C'invoTit parlor, a tall, slim young lady, in a gray dres^. \v:t!j
n.ile face, and large, bright eyes. She gave her hand rather
('idly to her guardian, and listened while he unfolded his
|i' i:.i for her.
lie v/as eighteen now, and the time for leaving school had
c tme. Early in October his town bouse would be in order,
,Mi(l his sister and daughter ready to receive and welcome
K^. ]t was his wish she should enter society at once; her
rrtice, the Duchess of ^Clanronald, had offered to present her
at Court. Pending the ides of October, would Paulina mind
remaining quietly where she was?
"Yes,'' Miss Lisle answered, "decidedly, she woidd mind
it/' She had no notion of spending the midsummer vacation
in the convent. She had promised her friend, Mile. Vir-
j-^inia Dupont, to spend August and September in the frater-
nnl mansion, at Versailles. , And she was quite willing to
rrrike her dehui in society immediately delighted, indeed.
If Sir Vane Charteris should choose to come for her about
the middle of October she would be ready to go to England.
The interview ended, and the baronet had got what he de-
sired, an- inkling into the character of the heiress. She had
a will of her own that was clear and a very strong fancy
for having her own way. It would require all the tact he
possessed, and all the strqjigth of mind to come off victor in
a battle with her.
"She shall marry in her first season," he thought ; "and a
man of my choosing. Robert Lisle will never dare return to
England; and Olivia's life will soon end in her madhouse.
At her death her fortune becomes Maud's, for who is there
to say she everTiad an elder daughter?"
So ivthik Miia Lisle was enjoying herself very viuch in her
1
148
The Road to Rum.
frloiid's noiiie, thcro wero st'veral p0])lc acrr -hc Channel
\o vvhoTii she was an object of gnat iiittT^st. Sir Vane
Chartiris, busil.y preparing hi; town luiJse, in the aristocr;uic
uoifiljl'orhoud of J)( 'kehw S(piarc\ ffji' her reception jj.rd
]\Iontalicn, who ^col made up his mind, entirely to his rwn
Batisfaetion, to marry her, and thn spendthrift and prodiual
(iiiy, who was strongly recommended to do the same. J lis
advit-er was an old maiden aunt of his father's, from wli.ni
bo had expectations, who liad already paid his debts halt-a-
dozen times, and the thought of whose prospective legiuy
alone kept the Jews from swooping down upon him.
"You are the most reckless, the most wickedly e"^travagai)t
man in the Guards," this ancient grandaunt said to hini in
a passion; "and I will pay your debts no more, sir; do VdU
understand? Gambling and drinking and horse racing are
bad enough, Heaven knows, but let there come a whisper cf
anything worse to my ears, and I disinherit you, and give
everything to Frank; do you understand?"
"There is no mistaking your meaning, my dear aunt,"'
Guy ansAvered, with imperturable good temper. "I dare tay
you w^ill, eventually; I'm an unlucky beggar generally, juid
it will only be of a piece with the rest, if you do disinherit
me. It's a pity, for Frank's sake, I don't go to the bad al-
together."
"You have gone there, sir!" cried old Miss Earlscomt.
"You're a disgrace to your name and family, sir. AVliy
don't you get married? answer me that and change y(air
life, and leave the army, and become a decent member of
society ?"
Guy looked at hev with a face of unfeigned horror.
"Get married! Heaven forbid! My dear aunt, I don't
like to doubt your sanity, but to propose marriage to a ni.iii
of my age three-and-twenty, odd ! No, it is not so despr r-
ate as that, while there is prussic acid enough left in lhe
chemist's to enable me to glide out of life."
Miss Earlscourt struck her stiQk vehemently on the grou'id,
looking very much like a venerable witch.
"Lieutenant Earlscourt, I say you shall marry, and at
once! There is this girl, who wa^ your father's ward; she i^
rich she is handsome. I say you shall marry her!"
"Shall I?" murmured Guy, helplessly.
"She is coming home next month, I asked Frank, and lie
told me, and you shall make her fail in love with you, a ml
marry you. You are handsome one of the very handsoni'st
young men I ever saw and a favorite with? all the wouk a.
I dan't go into society, but I hear I tell you, sir, you shall
marry this PaulixiA Lisl^ or I will diaiuherit you! !Now
Paulina.
149
go '' and the witch's stick pointed io ttio, door; "don't let nie
^'c your wicked, spondtiiri It face n^ain until you. comG to
announce this heiress as your afHanccl wife!"
CIIAPTKR IIL
PAULINA.
Away along the dreariest part of tho Essex coajt there
s^ood, and stands still, a lonely oM manor liouse, closed in
from the outer world by funereal trees, juid called "Tht^
Firs." It was the country house of Sir Van*^* Charteris, an 1
had never been visited by him in the i)ast twenty years. A
frloomy and grewsome place, five miles from the nearest
country neighbor, a squalid fishing village lying below, the
long waves forever breaking upon the shingly shore, and the
gaunt, dark firs skirting it, smothering it all around.
The "Moated Grange" could hardly have been a more lone-
sonic and eerie dwelling, nor could "Mariana" have bewailed
her hard lot in being'shut up there much more bitterly than
did the mistress of "The Firs," the Widow (lalbraith.
Mrs. Eleanor Galbraith was the oidy sister of Sir Vane
Charteris, and had spent the last nineteen years of her
widowhood doing penance at "The Firs." When oue-and-
twenty she had thrown herself away uj)on a subaltern in rlio
Si.xtieth Highlanders, which penniless young officer, dying
within two years, left his widow to the cold charity of her
only brother.
Sir Vane had bitterly opposed the imprudent malch; now
he comforted Mrs. Galbraith in her \v(^els and widowhood
by that cynical aphorism as she had m; ,Ie her bed so she
must lie. He was shortly about to contract a matrimonial al-
liance with the wealthy and beautiful Miss Olivia Lyndith;
and a sister in weeds was an addition he did not at ail de-
sire in his nuptial establishment. There was "Tlie Firs" if
^he liked. "The Firs" stood in need (-f a mi -tress to keep it
from falling to decay. He never. neant to go near it him-
sef its dismalness always gave him the horrors. If Mrs.
Galbraith chose to go and reside at "The Firs," she was en-
tirely welcome, if not
Mrs. Galbraith did choose, wrathfully, and had become
sonaPy extinct from that hour. Nineteen years had passe;!,
and gray hairs had stolen into her raven locks, and crow's-
feet impressed themselves under hei* eyc^s. She was forty-
o'le years of age, and was a hamlsonie likeness of her
brother ."^^ck at her as she sits at her solitary midday meal.
l^M
150
P^^ulina.
./
with the hot Repteinber sinisJiino filling the long, dark, oUl.
fashioned dining-room. A line woman, most assuredly, in
spite of the crow's-feet a stout, handsome, middle-iiged Indy,
with a clear brain nnd a firm will.
The rattling of wheels on the drive without reaches h(r
ears a must unusual sound. As she springs up and goes to
the window, she sees, to her ungovernable surprise, Ik r
brother. Sir Vane Charteris. An instant more, and the (M
man who did duty as butler, gardener, and coachman, usli-
ered in the lord of the manor.
"Vane!"
Mrs. Galbraith could just utter the one word.
The baronet advanced with more cordiality than he had
ever displayed toward her, and held out his hand.
"My dear Eleanor, I am glad to see you again." lie
drew her to him, and kissed her wholesome brown cheek.
"Yes, very glad, "after so many years; and looking so nicely,
too. What! luncheon already?"
He flung himself into a chair, and glanced at the substan-
tially spread table.
"Dinner, Sir Vane Charlieris! I dine at the hour at which
people of your world breakfast. One nearl.f forgets the
usages of civilized life after niuv^teen years' solitude at 'Tlie
Firs.' "
"I hope not, Eleanor," answered Sir Vane, coolly, "as I de-
sire you at once to return to my world, as you call it. I have
come down to remove you from 'The Firs' to my town-
house.''
. Mrs. Galbrajith gave a gasp. At last! what she had pined
for, prayed for, sigTied for, during nineteen years had come!
''You have heard of my unfortunate domestic calamity^'
pursued the baronet; "I allude to my unhappy wife's in-
sanity. I had half resolved to sell the lease of the Merednn
street house; but circunastances have occurred lately that
have caused me to change my mind. I have been appointed
guardian to a young lady, an heiress, whom I wish to pre-
sent to society.
"Indeed !" said Mrs. Galbraith, with her black eyes fixed on
her brother's face. "I saw a brief paragraph in the Mornitifj
Post concerning it. A Miss Paulina 7isle, formerly the ward
of the late Lord Montalien is it not ?"
"The same; and a very handsome and charming youiifr
Indy, I assure you, with eighty thousand pounds as her for-
tune She will be presented next season by tlie Duchess f
Chinronald,'and make her dehut, with yourself for e:iaixrihi',
Meantime, she comes from France in a month, and will ?ro
out a great deal, no doubt, in a quiet way, this autumn and
Pftulina.
151
ark, old-
redly, in
ged Indy,
icVies lirr
d goes to
irise, li r
d the old
nan, u^li-
lU he liad
ain." lie
wn chetk.
so niocdy,
e substan-
r at which
Drgets the
de at 'The
(I
as
I d
it. I have
my town-
had piiud
|kad con 10 !
;alaraity^*'
I wife's in-
Mcredan
lately that
appointed
Ish to pre-
les fixed on
le Morninf]
the ward
ling yowA
is her f'^T-
luches^ (1
lelraiHrTdi:;'.
Ind will }ro
ituinn and
winter, ihc Christmas and hunting season we arc to spend
at Montalien Priory. My town house must be set u onler at
oiicp, and you shall preside in my wife's place. Maud shall
k'.ivo scdiool, and have a governess."
''Vou give yourselves considerable trouble for your new
\v;ird," said Mrs. Galbraith, who knew that giving hiniscdf
trouble for anything or anybody was not her brother's weak-
ness. "Who is this Paulina J^isle? One of the Sussex
Lisles?"
^'No ; I believe the father was of Scotch descent."
"She is an orphan, of course?"
"Oh. no; the father lives out in California, but not in the
K';i-.t likely to return to England. He w^as an old friend cd'
Lord Mont.alien, and intrusted his heiress to him, with flic
power to appoint a guardian in his stead in the event of his
death. I have been appointed, and trouble or no, I shall do
my duty to this young lady."
"The mother is dead, I suppose!"
"Of course. Can you be ready to return to town with me
tci-morrow, Eleanor ?"
"Quite ready," said Mrs. Galbraith; and then, while Sir
Vane went to his room, she finished her dinner, regarding
her plate with a thoughtful frown.
"Vane has changed very greatly," she mused, "or he nevtu-
would have burdened himself with a ward at all. Is he krcp-
ing something back, I wonder? lias he designs upon this
Miss Lisle's fortune? Does he expect his wife to die, and
that this young heiress will marry him?"
The baronet and his sister returned to town early next day,
and Mrs. Galbraith set to work at once with a zeal and cn-
enxy that showed she had lost none of her sharp faeulti'S
(hiring her nineteen years' exile from the world. Sim saw to
the refurnishing and repainting and rehaftging of tln^ house
and rooms, to the plate, the linen, the liveries alh Long
before the middle of October arrived, the house in Mcrcdan
street, Berkeley Square, was quite ready for the reception of
Miss Paulina Lisle.
Sir Vane brought his daughter home, and tlien started foi-
France. The baronet's daughter was in her sixteenth yeai
now, small of stature, dark of skin, and with a pah% preco
cious little face. She had quite the air and conversation of
aj;rown-up person, knew a deal of life, and French literature,
Onuld play a little, sing a little^ draw a little, and dance and
talk a great deal. Iler aunt and she fraternized at once,
1 drove out in the Park together, and 3peculated what r"M.TiM*
of person this Miss Lisle might be now.
152
Paulina.
'Youi fntli'Vi' says sho is vnry hnndsoiiw, Maud/' )bsiMvo(]
IVIrs. Calbntitli.
"liaiidsdUK'! oh dear, no; quite a plain young person \,tli
. i^iviit evis, and sandy liair. and tho rndest inannern. (^iiite
im uninforiiU'd, gawky country j^irl!''
I-al(^ in tho evening" of a dismal day in Ootobor, Sir V:iiifi
i\:u\ his ward, arrived. Jt liad rained and blown heavilv ;ill
day long. MiH Lisle had sufiered agonieb worse than (1 ;ith
erossinj^ the Channel, and was as limp, and pallid, and wm-
l)ef2:()ne an object as can be conceived. Mrs, Galbriiiih
shriiji}.:ed her broad shoulders as she looked at the wan, spii it-
less I'ace.
"And you called her handsome, Vane?" she said to lur
brother.
Sir Vane laughel grimly.
"Wait until to-morrov,-," was his oracular response, as Ic,
too, in a used-up state, retired t.o-his room.
Lorl Montalien, who, since the middle of the previous rii-
teniber, had spent the ch'cf part of his time in town, chau. id
to l;e in tlie house. II'^ was a frequent visitor. The li .iih'
v.as pleasant, the-^inrs and cook excellent, Mrs. Galbniifli
a c.ipital hostess and a clever* woman, and little Maud, in a
yar or two, would be marriageable. Her mother's forluiie
v.ould be hers, and should Miss Lisle prove obdurate to his
mit, why, it might be as well to win the regards of Mi*
Chartcris. To marry a rich wife he was resolved at lit ;irt
he was a very niivSer,'and worshiped gold for gold's sake.
"A sickly, sallow, spiritless creature as ever 1 saw!" was
^Irs. (^albraith's contemptuous verdict on her return to tlie
drawing-room. "There will not be much credit in chapi i 'ii-
ing her. 1 dare say she will marry; girls with eighty tlinii-
sand pounds are pretty safe to go off, but half the hk ii i:
London will certainly not lose their senses about her! .' .;il
my brother told me she was pretty!"
"She was pretty," said Lord Montalien, "more than pretty.'
if I remember right, two years ago. Allan Fane, an artist
friend of mine, the man who married Di Ilautton, you know,
nea. / went mad about her when she was only a poor, lit lie,
,/cni./^s country girl. Some girls do grow plain, and I sup-
;ip A one of them. We shall be treated to austere ron-
,-j"r .-v. . .). doubt, and have to listen to monastery bills
, anc "''*^r lymns, whenever she sits down to the pian(."'
^ 'Vome o dinner to-morrow and see," was Mrs. Galbraith's
r^ponse. And his lordship laughingly promised and left th|
house.
He did not return to hks own elegant bachelor lodgings in
Piccadilly, but drove to Gilbert's Gardens, and spent tin I
Paulina.
153
said to litr
evening very agroeably in Oio ^or-ioty of a ]\c.y whom lio
called "Alice," and to wiiOiH he did not speak of the return
of Paulina Lisle.
Lord Montalien, as a privileged friend of the family, came
early to the house .f Sir ViMio Cliarteris the followinjr oven-
in^'. There was to be a dinnr party, \\\{ lie u is the first of
the puests to arrive. Mrs. Galbraith, in crimson velvet,
stately and majestic, received him in the winter drawinjf-
ri'um. Two young ladies were present, one in her simple
schoolroom attire, for Maud did not yet appear in public,
another, tall and slender, in blue silk, with violets in her
shining, gold-brown hair. Lord Montalien ai)proaehed her
iit once with outstretched hand.
"As I was the last to say farewell to Miss Paulina Lisle on
her departure, so let me be the first to welcome her back to
England."
Miss Lisle turned round, and gave him her hand, scanning
him with blue bright eyes.
**I beg your pardon, you were not the last to say farewell to
iiie upon my departure from England," she retorted, and it
was characteristic that her first words were a contradiction.
"Vour brother came after you, Mr. Earlscourt."
"Not Mr. Earlseourt now, my dear," smoothly insinuated
}!rs. Galbraith. "Lord Montalien."
'Oh, yes! I beg your pardon again. The other name was
the most familiar."
"Then call me by whatever is most familiar," with a long,
tender glance, "as so old a friend should."
"So old a friend!" Miss Lisle pursed up her bright lips
with the old saucy grace. "Let me see we met just three
times in our lives before this moment! Now, I shouldn't
think three meetings would constitute such very old friend-
ship, but, of course, your lordship knows best."
She walked away to a distant window, humming a French
song. Lord Montalien looked after her, then at Mrs. Gal-
braith.
"A sickly, sallow, spiritless creature," he said, quoting her
words of yesterday. "Mrs. Galbraith, you are one of the
cleverest women I know, but don't you think you made ever
^o slight a mistake yesterday?"
The girl was looking superbly. The slim form had grown
taller and rather fuller, its willowly grace was i)erfect. The
face, perhaps, was a trifle too pale and thin still, out the
large, brilliant, sapphire eyes, the sparkling white teeth, the
^;incy, ever-dimpling smiles, and the aureole of bronze hair,
would have lit any face into beauty. In her nineteenth year,
enough of childhood yet lingered to give her a frank confi-
t
.1:,'
tM
Paulina,
(Iciu'o that raivl"' Iflsts thrnu;^]; Intor years. The blj: eyr?
looked yoii full, brif,}iil,y, .stc! liiy iri fho fncc, the friitik
lips told .voii the truth, v\ilh iili the audacity of a child. A
lately ii'irl, iu her lin.l .;, .utli, v.i;li o will and a spirit, and ;i
temper, trio, .)f bcr own, ready ait d moinent^a notice to (!(i
hiittle for frirndrt or with fn;s.
"A half-tan;od filly, v.ith a wicked light in tiio eyes,"
thought Lord Alontaiien, "Aly dear Mrs. (Jialhraith, I don't
want to dijJcourage you, but your spiritless dehntantc. will
give you as much trcjuldo in the future i.^ ever dehufanh',
gave ebap(rone. 'J Iiat y-'Unf? lady means to have her own
way or know the reason wiiy."
''Young ladios with eifihty thousand pounds generally d
have their own way," flu; hidy answered. "Do you monn In
enter the list, my lord' The competition vvill I)e brisk. Si,i'
is a handsome girl, (^"spi.'-: yesterday's sea -sickness. r!u.-;i
t= = ort of {-irl men lo.-o tb.eir bonds for most readily. By tlie
bv, f,;hn ha^ boon asking for your scapegrace brother."
Alls. (Jaibraith rose to receive some new guest, and Loi !
miontalien approach(tl the v.'ind(^w wherjs ]\[i^.s Lisle rti'-.
stiiod gazin:::: out at the twilit street. She glanced over h; r
Hhoulder, and asked him a question before he could speak.
"My lord, how long is it si)ice you were at Speckhavi n?"
"A little over a woek, JVIiss Lisle. You mean to visit it
soon, T ^uppo^e? By the way, there is quite an old friend {
yours stoi)ping at IMontaiien.'^ y-
"Indeed! Another old friend, like yourself, whom 1 hav(^
probably seen three tin.es.'
"More than that, Miss Lisle. I allude to Allan Fane."
"Oh!" said Paulina, and laughed and blushed. "Yes, I
saw a good deal of Mr. Fane at one time. He wanted me to
sit for a picture, you know. Mrs. Fane is there too, 1 sup-
pose ?"
"No, Mr. Fane is alone. Mrs. Fane is in Germany for her
health, which is poor. They meet once or twice a year, I be-
lieve, and are always perfectly ci^l to each other; but, as a
rule, they get on much more happily with two or three hun-
dred leagues between them. Mrs. Fane grows old and sickly,
and is notoriously jealous of her husband."
"Poor Mr. Fane! A.nd your brother, my lord is he, too,
at Montalien?"
"You remember Guy, then? ^poor Guy!"
"Certainly I remember Oxiy. I saw a great deal more of
him than I ever did of you ; and two years ia not such an
eternity! And why poor Guy?"
"Because because ^you haven^t heard, then?"
"Lord MontalienJ I only reached England late last night;
Paulina.
55
l:nvv was i to lioar anything ^ Ni.tluJig v(.rv 'Iroadful hay ho-
falloii yoiir hroilicr, I liopc^"'
"Y()i!r iiilrrrst tiocH liiin too inurii lioiior. ilr is (juito uii-
v.-ortliy of it.''
"Why, plrnse?"
"Hccjmsf - Tiiy dear Miss l/islr, it is iiol a plciisnit sfory
for iiK! \o ti'll, for you j iicar. (Juy has ^oiic \n the hal, ag
thoy say, if y(u know wliat thai iik aus."
"I sliouhl think I (lid; it scenis tohrahly jkhiiji I'liijilisli. U
(IK aiis, 1 su])poiJC, he has sjxMit all his inniu'v, ai d ^;it into
(l(l)t."
"It, means that, and njorc,'' Lord Monlalicn answrrcd,
gloomily; "it means debt, and Manihlinfr, and ail sort.^ of
horrors."
"Yos. But you are very rich, my lord, iwu] he i-; your only
brother. T should think his debts would imt sij^nify niuch
while you have plenty of money."
The dark blood rose up over his lordship's fnci*
"Miss l-i^lc, you don't understand, and it is imjiossihle to
explain to you. Guy has gone; to tlie bad in every sense of
the word. Pray do not ask me a:iy more."
He shifted away from the ^aze of the innoc Mit. wonderin;:^
blue eyes. She did not in the least eonipreheiMl vhat- ho
wished her to comprehend by his innuendoes. (Juy i^'aniLled
and spent his money; she understood just that, and no more.
"Well," she said, too hijirhly bred to press an ninveleoine
suhjeet, "that was not what I wished to say. Did you bear-
was there any news?" She hesitated a lit lie. and a faint
Hush rose p over her fair faee. "Has aT-ythin^'- boen heard
of Alice Warvpu i"
The questic confounded him, and yet he mit?ht have t.x-
l)octed it.
"Alice Warren," he stammered. "Alice W^arren ? Who '9
she"
"Who is she?" Paulina rei)eated, emphatically; ^'\(u did
not need to ask that question two years ago, when you ad-
n ired her so greatly, Lord Montalien."
"Admired her so greatly I oh, of course, I knov/ now how
stupid I am you mean the bnilifPs daughter, of eoiirse?"
"Vcs, I mean the bailiff's daughter. Poor Alic* I"
''There is no news of her, that 1 have h(ard. Tl is a very
ftrai^ge thing, her running av.-ay from home as sbg did."
"Xot in the least strange," retorted Paulina, with her eus-
1(tr)U!''y frankness. "Slie ran away 1o be married "
"To be married!'' Lord Montalien's face wae siait'ed and
pale as he repeated it.
"Certainly o Sh wrote to me tlie niij^ht befcra she laffc
i|fi;6
Paulina.
Ijorrm. T luivc flic letter yft. Slie tfI(1 ine sne \van U inM *:
bo niMrried."
"Did she tell you t( wlioin'r
His licint was l-eiitiiiK iuiek us he asked tlui iUfslin:!
t,hiUf;}i li(f knew what tlu answer would he.
"Nil. To HoiiH'. oik; above her in rank, thou^rli, 1 kiinn-
Jiord Montaiien, don't you suspecit it was one of tiie gentli-
men slaying!: at ynur place last month?"
lie had had time to ('ontr(d himsc^if, otherwise the g";i/( if
the iaiKS earnest eyes nuist havc^ disconcerted him liorriMy.
"Miss Lisle, 1 have thought, T have suspected! She ! tl
late in the evening. Have you heard who traveled up wiili
her to Lond(tn ?''
"Of course not; I have heard nothing hut what her own
letter tells itu', and a few hrief lines from Duke Mason, say-
ing sjie was gone, no one knew where or why. Who went
with her up to London?"
"Miss Lisle, will you take my arm? They are going in tt
dinner. And will you forgive me if I do not answer ymir
question? She was your friend it is not froui my iij)s y. j
should hear the name of her companion."
"Do you mean your brother?" she demanded, abruiitiy.
"T am sorry to say T do."
"Then I don't beliiRve one word that she ran a way to ' '
married to him!" answered Miss Lisle, with calm dec -i m.
"She never eared for him, and he never paid her the le;it
tentlon whatever, lie may have gone up with her to Lon I u,,
but I am quite certain your brother is not th(^ man whui': s .
has married."
"If she be married!" Lord Montalien said, stung to 1 it! :-
ness by her words. Miss Lisle did not blush one whit. S ;,
looked- at him wirh surprised, unshamed eyes; the open, fo:!i-
Icss gaze of perfect innocence.
"Of course she is married!" she said; "she told me sli( w s
going to be. Do yon Ihink she would run away to seek I-r
fortune alone in Londcn? There were othtr gentlemen in tlic
Priory last September besides your brother, T suppo.-o ?"
"Thr*^*^ others Allan l\\no, ^ir Harry Gordon, and C::i)-
tain Villiers."
"And yourself?" i^
"And myself." ~^" '^
She looked at him searchingly a moment: his face batHi'l
her. She turned away, and resumed her dinner with a rcso
lute air.
"1 shall find out," she said, quietly; "F am goin,? down k\
Spef"khaven f h " day afteifc to-morrow to spsnd a we)k; I shall
find out"
i,llt
Hwor yo'ir
Paulina.
IS7
'^oiriK down lo S|m'|||}iv'h." lir (('lii.cd. "to sporul a weok
il!t.y(M:i (iM fririil Mai)ii, 1 pit sumr."
"Vcs; (Iciir (till Dukcl lie will Ik* n;|;i' I . rn o itir. And
'' iij;!! iinl nut iill aliitiit Alicr Wnrrcn."
Ur(l Moiitalirn was li.y u* iruMins allnwfil mtri(|Mli/r ilio
(1. i'ltiiic (f the ovrninj^. Sir N'anc liad iiivitcd several Tcry
(1 i'.i|!' imniaiTicd nieii. and Miss Li-K'n l;mty iitid spirited
i.t\l! of t'(invr!'al ion li.id idr'j;d.v pidduced rnii^id.Tiililr ini-
luvHsicMi. Ilcr uianncr was sijii|.l.y prrfrct ; a licllc of four
Masons conM not have been inort' entirely and ^r-ieefnlly at,
Ciise. Slie talked v'ry nineli lictter than most yonn^; ladies,
rauiina was clever, and liad id'as of her own, and it wan
(luile refr(?shinf^ to some (d tlhtse men ahoul town to hear .ler
li' -h vi(vvs (f people and tilings. She was charming'; that
Wiis tJH^ univerKal verdict iu-autifnl beyond donht. aceoin-
plished and rich. She san^ after dinner, and iier rich v(:eo
; -lonished her hearers, so full, so sweet.
"She is (Miual to Patti!" was tlu' verdict of more tiian ono
present. "It is a wiiperh so|)rano."
Altofifetlier, Miss Lisle's first appearance, tliou^h Ik r i)art
this eveninjj: was a small one, was an entire succ(v^s. ]a)V(\
.Montulien fouiid himself fasMnated in a way la; could not
luiderstand. She was so unlike the ordinary English ndss
he was aceustonied to; slie was so pi(]uant, so sparkliufr. so
laij^htly handsome and audacious, that she bewildered liiin.
She possessed that apell irresistible in man or woman- the
frilt of fascination her joyous laugh, her ringing voice, tli.
bright flash of her eyes, took your lieart by storm before you
kiicw it.
Miss Lisle had said, in all honesty, that she meant t(t go
down to Speekhaven in two days; but with the best of inten-
tions, the sincerest affection for her two friends there, two
W(( ks elapsed before the promised visit was made.
London might be empty to some people, and the season
over, but to this young lady, fresh from her twilight convent
life, it was the most populous and delightful of cities. She
\v( nt out continually; and October was very near its close
\vli( n, one frosty evening, Miss l.ksle oi)ene(l.the little garden
Kate of Duke Mason's, and walked through the open front
door. There were changes, many and great, in herself, but
not one here. The roses and geraniums bloomed in pereii-
ni.il freshness, the old cat basked on the hearth, the .old order,
silence, cleanliness prevailed, and Rosanna,. on her knees, was
to'cisting muffins for tea. Two arms went around her n* rk,
and an impetuous kiss, the only kiss poor Rosanna had re-
ceived since she had said good by to her nursling, w^as ])ressed
Upon her withered cheek. Duke came in presently. The fire-
4
i
1 !-
1^8
Paulina,
lierht shone rrrilv throupfh tlio room, the lamp burned on tlin
niaiitol, tho tai)le was spivail for supper, and a j^raeeful, girl
jah figure sat on a low stool, frcrfh and beautiful as a rosebiiil.
Duke sttA)d a second legariling this picture, then advanced
with outvSt retched hand.
"^Vell, Piiehess," lie said, as if they had "parted two ^vecks
instead of two years before, "you have come back, after all."
And so ''Polly" was home again, but somehow it was not
tlie T*oily of old. The fault was not hers; she strove to be in
all thi?!gs preeiacly the girl who had left them, but she sat Ix-
fore them, a tall young lady, out of their world altogetlur,
with the new (dignity of dawning womanhood upon her edu-
cated, refined, rich, handsome, fairer than ever, but never
again little "Polly."
Late in the evening of the ensuing day, Mr. Allan Faii(\
bnsily at work sin(;e early morning, threw down brushes and
palctt", lit a eigar, and started for his daily brisk twilight
walk. On this particular evening, his steps tumMl shore-
ward, he str(dled along through the lamplit town, and d)\^ri to
Si;eekhaven sands. The Cave was a favorite resort of his
where he could sit and smoke and watch the gray, whisperiiii,'
aea, and think, perhaps, of the girl who had first brought him
there, lie wns thinking of her now as he advanced along t! .
shingly path whence she had long ago led him. The last rays
of the fading daylight were in the cold, gray sky; pale yellmv
ghvinis of wintry brightness lit the west, and there was a riii;,'
of sharpness in the evening air. His steps echoed loudly "ii
the sands, and a quiet figure standing at the entrance of the
(^tve, watching those pale yellow gleams, turned at the
sound. And be and Paulina Lisle stood face to face!
Ife turned jiale at the sight. He had not dreamed she w.i
in Speckhaven. Tie had been thinking of her, imagining her
rafliant in her new life, and here she rose up before him, like
a spirit in the gloaming! She recognized him immediately,
and held out her hand, with her frank, bright smile.
"It is Mr. Fane!" she cried. "The very last person 1 ex-
pected to see! Lord Montalien mentioned your being at ihe
Priory, too, but I had actually forgotten all about it."
Yes-the wliole story was told in those lightly ?})ukeii
words she had "forgotten all about it," and all about hiri,
as coniiletcly a** though he had never entered her life. He
had loved her as honestly and strongly as an honester m'mJ
stronger man he had given her up of his owu accord, and he
bad no right to complain. But the bittt^r ?ei.-e f I^^^.s w.s
ever there the brilliant, spirited face haunted him by night
and day !
^^Well,^' said Miss Lisle, ''you doo't look vwy cordial, I
Paulina.
159
;d on tlio
)ful, girl
i rosebud,
advanced
wo weeks
ifter all."
t waa Hilt
e to be in
he sat U'-
[Itojjcether,
her edii-
but never
Ian Fane,
usheH and
k twllifzlit
awl shore-
ad dov?n to
ort of hi-,
svhlsperiuL,'
ought him
I along tlf
\e last ras
jale yell'uv
was a rinjjf
loudly "II
mce of tiie
ed at the
cei
ed she was
gining lur
e hi in, like
lined! ately,
ile.
Tson I c^'
?ing at the
it."
tly fi)(jkeii
ibout hini.
life. Ih^
best or a '.id
n*d, and li*'
:f lor.s \V:i^
}\ by nlglit
cordial, I
must say : Do you take nie for a ghost, or a mermnid, Mr,
Fane? You see I have been paying ;isits iill djiy to my old
friends; and this, my seaside grotto, is the last on the list.
And now I really must go huir.e. Poor Rosannn has a horror
!)f night dews and night winds. She takes me to be a fragile
b!(ssom, that a sharp, autumn blast would nip in twain. If
vnn won't say anything else, Mr. Fane, i)erhai)s you vill say
^(XKl-night !"
She laughed Polly's sweet, gay Inugh drew her ?(iia\l
cldser about her, and turned to go. She was very simply
dressed, in a dark merino, a soft gray shawl, and a little
I (tik-pie hatj with a searlet bird's wing, l^nt tli^UKh he saw
her often after in silks and roses, the quem of the ball, never
(lid she look lovelier than at that moment. Ife spoke with
sniiiething of an effort good Heavens, how cold and coin-
nionplaee the words soundetl I
''You will permit me to st^e j^ou home, Mi-s Lisle it w'l
he quite dark before you are half way, and the town i.^ full
pf strangers, down for the October meeting."
A provoking smile dawned on her face. She had not en-
tirely forgotten the past, and the temptation to give him a
stiiall stab was irresistible.
"1 am not the least afraid; thanks, very much, Mr. Fane.
And, beside it is quite unpardonable of me to say it I am
afraid, but I ha/e heard Mrs. Fane is jealoin! Do you
think she would mind very greatly if I permitted you to es-
cert me home?"
He looked at her a dark, painful flush rising on his face.
"You are merciless," he said. "You had your nn-enge two
years ago, on the day you gave ine back my ring! You might
spare me now!"
"The ring you presented the same night to Mis TIantton!
1 saw it on her finger when T dined at the Priory. Please
(leirt try to be sentimental, ^Ir. Fane; T have grown dread-
fully old and wise since that foolish time, and pretty sp^-ecdies
are (luite thrown away upon me, T assure you. And you may
walk home with me let us hope !Mrs. Fane will never
hoar it."
After vainly trying to coniine the conversation to the (Om-
itiniiplace, Allan Fa^ie said, suddenly:
"Do you recollect the 'Jiosamond and Eleanor? Yes, I see
Villi do I am finishing that for the spring exhibition."
She looked at him saucily.
"And what little country ^irl have you eho-jen for Fair
iiosamond now! Please be merciful as you are strong, Mr.
Fane, and don't turn her head with your flatteries."
"I paint my Rosamond from memory my Eleanor is one
;|
!
i 1
t
1
i
' it'
' 1
1 i
1 :
i6o
Paulina.
of the houseninids at the Priory a tall, black-browcd, Ro-
iiiaii-iiosod youn^' woman. And I am quite alone up in llio
bi^, rambling old mansion. Ciuy was- with me durinj? tlie
races, but he has gone."
"Ah! (iuy Kailscouit ! Do you kno\y T have never met
him yet? and people s])Oidv of him as though he were the m;iii
in the Iron !\t;isk. or (uy Fawkt's, or anything cise dreadful,
Mrs. Galbraith calls him 'a determental,' whatever that m.iy
be. Pray, what has that unluippy young man doncf
"Nothing to any one save himself. You have heard of tho
road to ruin, I supi)ose? Well, he has been going at a giillip
along that highway for the last three years. The end nni-t
conio very soon now. If his old grandaunt does not die, ainl
leave him her njoney, he must, in a few months at the niu f,
send in his papers to sell and fly the country. He is involved
beyond redemption. Mrs. Galbraith is quite right; in a mar-
riageable point of view, he is a determental."
"Poor fellow," Paulina said, her eyes softening. "I atn
sorry! I used to like him very much. He was so handsome"
"And is still. T wonder his handsome face has not wm
him an heiress long ago. It would, I think, if he tried, lut
he seems to have no time."
"If he is ruined, as you say, how does he live?"
"By a well-made betting book, by a run of luck at cards, hy
ele^'erJy written magazine articles. Once or twice his aunt
has paid his debts he tells me she has refused to do it agiiii.
He has gone across to Germany for the autumn races."
They had reached the house now, and Rosanna was w\aitiiii,"
anxiously in the doorway. Miss Lisle bade him good-ni^ht,
and Allan Fane strolled homeward through the sharp Octohir
night, thinking well, not of his wife.
Sir Vane Charteris came down for his ward at the exiiiia-
tion of the week, and Paulina went with him very williii!;ly.
It was pleasant to see her old friends, no doubt, but life in
Duke Mason's house seemed hopelessly dull to her now.
On the night of her return she went to see Ristori in
"IVIary Stuart." The house was full, the actress magnifin i!.
and^ Miss Lisle, in pale, flowing silks and pearls, lo.ikil
charnMUgly. Two or three of her admirers were in the 1."n;
and when the first act was nearly over there entered l.-n'l
Montalien. His eyes lit as they fell on her, hers gave liiiu
he briefest, eoldest possible glance. She did not like l.od
Montalien. The girl's perceptive faculties were very knii,
She knew him to be false and cruel, sm^'oth and deceli u'.
iThe expression of his mouth revolted her, the liard, iCMj
5litier of hi: (.-os made her shrink away.
Paulina,
I6l
''*- nope you found all your frieiulA at Spookliavon (luita
leoll,'' he said to her as the eurtaiii weiit down
'^'Quitc," she answered, briefly. "All who remain.'"
''Ah; you allude, of eourse **
"] allude, of eourse, to ny d(arest friend, Aiiee Warren.
I toid you when I went to Speekhaven 1 sliould lu'natrnt*' ti
mystery of her flijiht, and I have fjiilcd.''
There was a satisfied smile just pereeptilile al)ut his mouth
:A{)ne in an instant. ^
"I feared you would. Her father eould tell you n"othin^."
"Xolhin.1^ that you had not aln^idy told nic th;it your
brother traveled with her up to town."
"Then Ouy is the umn. Are you satisfied now th;it my
suspieions are ri.uht V'
"Wiuld you like me tg tell you whom I do suspeet. mv
lord r
"I'ndoubtedly."
She looked at him full, bright, dauntlessly, and answered:
"You !"
"iMiss Lisle I'
"My lord, -your brother Cuy vvna never the man Alice left
home to lUarry. ^he never cared for your brother- -she did
for you. Guy may have traveled uj) witii her to Lotuhsn he
acknowledges it, indeed, but he hnd no part in her flight. lie
went to Mr. Warren's house, and told him so, and the old
man believes him. He tells, frankly enough, his share in tile
business. He :met her at the rnin^riy station, he traveled up
with her in i\e same carriage, and at her retiuest lie drove
with her to her destination. That destinatio he r* fuses to
tell she bound him by promise lun-self not to do so; and
Mathew Warreti does not urge him to reveal it. Jle is bit-
terly, cruelly angry he never wishes to hear her name if
she came to his door a wedded wile he would not t;ikt her in.
He will never forgive her he will not lift a finger to si-ck
her. But I will!" the blue eyes flashing "T shall find her.
and that before long!"
"May T ask what you mean to do?"
"T shall advertise T shall emj)loy the best detectives in
YiOndon T will move heaven ;intl earth to find her!"
"And when sIk^ is found, will she tlinnk you, do you t}ii'd,
for thus forcing her from the piiva'y she seems to desircf"
"She wili forgive itic we loved e;)ch other. T.oi'd MmiiI -
lien, will you tell mc the truth, will you acknowdedge you
know where she is?" 4.
"Mi^'3 Lisle, from any other lips the question would be an
insult I know noth'ing of Alice Warren. Wherever she is.
" T'1
1
i62 Now I Live, Now My Life Is Done!
/ ,..
wliosoover's wife sho may be, she is not mine. Will you not
believe me, when I pledge you my honor, I speak the truth ?^
She turned from him, and back to the stage, as the eurfain
went up on the next scene. Her face was set with an expres-
sion }\vw to every one who saw her.
"1 shall never rest until T know the truth; T will never de-
sist until I discover the secret. I shall find Alice Warren if
fthe l)e in England, and the man who promised to make her
his wife !" . " ^
CTTAPTER IV.
NCnV I LIVK, NOW MY LIFE IS DONT:!
It was the afternoon of the first of NovenibeF
That disnialest of mouths had come in with bitter, east-
erly wind, with dull fog, and miserable, drizzling rain, that
wet and chilled you to the very marrov/.
It W41S about fo\ir o'clock, and already the gas flared
through the city, glinunering in a gliastly way through drizzle
and fog.
At tlje window of the lodging-house in Gilbert's Gardens,
a vvv)ni.'in sat looking out at the wretched prospect; at the
daik, drift ing clouds; at the ceaseless rain, beating heavily
against the glass; at the blue-nosed pedestrians, hurrying Ly,
vvilli lurdirellas and overcoats, at the one lamp, flaring redly
lit llie utMrest corner. A woman, pale, and wan, anl haggard,
t hanged almost beyond recognition Alice!
On^y seven weeks had gone by since that warm September
nigiit vvhen, for love of Francis Earlscourt, she had fled from
hon:e and friends, and already the end had cam.e. It was the
natur:)! ending of ail such stories; but how was -she to know
thnti IVIad passion for a fortnight, cooling passion for an-
other, satiety, weariness, disgust.
The end had come. It was only the old, old strry, told,
and told, and told she had staked all on one throw, and
lost !
She had saf for hours as she sat nov/, her hands lyin^,
heavily in her lap, her haggard eyes fixed on the murky Lon-
don sky. The room was as pleasant as it is in the nature of
Lo! 'on lodgings ever to be. A fire burned in the grate, and
on the little center table stood a glass filled with yellbw ainl
pink roses. Their fragrance filled the room their sweetness
breathing of the summer dead, and of all she had lost with
its fading.
The nearest church clock struck the quarter past four. As
that li
gone
swervi
loM'r
the bl
of her
Her
had ^
a man
could
in her
St. Et
Aire
him t
loved
th(^ saul
Lisle
It Wl
ton em
read, :
dying
friendl;
and th(
of COUl
I not
rfain
pres-
ir (le-
en if
e her
, fast-
1, that
flaroil
drizzle
ardeus,
at the
leavily
iig hy,
r redly
[iggard
teniber
Id from
^vas the
know
or an-
, told,
and
lyini,
:y Loii-
Iture of
Ite, and
Ibw and
}e6tne*s
Ut with
mr.
As
, .,vv/ I Live, Now My Lite is Donef i6)
ehc heard it, she moved -ostlossly tor the first time, and a
spasm of intense pain crorisod her face.
"He should have heen here an hour a^o," she said, in p*
()vt of fritfhtoncd whisper. "Will he nut eouie after aW'i
Will he never come agaWn if"
She t;ot up, and walked over to the mirror on the numtel,
lfK)king with i)iteous eyes at her own wasted fac-e and figure.
She had been crying- for hours, crying until there W(re no
more tears to flow, and slie helield the natural roult dim,
sunken eyes, a bloated and swollen face. It is not given to
allf alas! t*' shed silent, pearly tears, such as you read of my
Lady Kowena shedding in her silken boudoir.
Alice had wept for hours, until eyes and heart ached
alike. She had dressed herself in Iut one best dress i)oor
soul! a dress of blue and whit^* that "Frank" had onee said
he liketl, but it hung loose fr 'i lier shrunken figure now.
Beauty and youth and hrightn(\ss had all gone. She
shrunk away, almost in liorror, from the sight of her own
pallid face, her hollowed, dulled eyes!
"And he used to praise my pretty looks!" she said. "What
will he think of me now ^"
She felt, without being able to thiidv very deci)ly, on that or
any otlier subject, that her pretty looks were the only links
that bound him to her. And her face was faded, her beauty
gone in seven weeks ! She was not the sort of woman to
swerve from the straight path with impunity: but if her
lover had been faithful she might at least have forgotten in
the bliss of that love. He was not faithful he had wearied
of her in two brief weeks.
Her pretty face and her tender heart were all the gifts she
had good and j)leasant gifts, but not likely to lon^j enchain
a man of Lord ]\Iontalien's stamp.^ She was not clever she
could not talk to him, could not amuse him, and he yawned
in her face three days after tJiat ceremony in the Church of
St. Kthelfrida.
Already the fatal spell of a fresher beauty had captivated
him the friend she loved best on eai'th; the friend who best
loved her had taken him from her! The sparkling beauty,
the saucy, self-willed, outspokej, graceful audacity of Paulina
Lisle held Lord Montalien (^ithralled.
It was ten days since he had been \h\\v (iilbert's Gardens
ten endless, dreary days. She had nothing to do, nothing to
read, not a soul to speak to, only her own miserable, never-
dying suspicions for company. Until yesterday, when a
friendly face and kindly eyes from home had looked upon her,
and those roses fresh from Sjjeckhaven had brought a breath
of country sweetnetjs to her dingy room. She had written
I
1 '11
I
l64 Now I Live, Now My Life is Done!
i' I
,,., I
last iiiKli^^^ ill iier l'spcration, to hor husV)and; and now, as
ho rainy afternoon wore , on, slic waited iijs coining.
As she turned ffoni the gUiss, the rapid roll of wheels
caught lier ear. She (hirted to the wln(hw. Tiiank God!
oh, thank God! he had eoii:f lie ^ as here at last! lie
sprang from the cah, hade the lriver wait, and a mighty
double knock a secnd after made the hcjuse shake. Mrs.
Howe came to the d(K)r in person. Sj;e knew that imperious
knock well, and was almost a.! glad to hear it again as her
lodger. Two weeks' rent was due, and "Mrs. Brown," her
lodger, never seemed to have any money, and spent her time
in tears and loneliness. U dawned upon the landlady's mind
that all was not right, and that the sooner she got rid of her
the better.
^'Whieh a man that mutfles hiniself up t-o that degree that
you never see no more of him than two heyes and a nose, is
no better than he ought to be, and must have something to
hide. I declare to you, mum, Mrs. Brown, if she is Mrs.
lirovvn, has been lodging with me nigh upon seven weeks, and
he a-eoming and a-going all that time, and I never once,
since the first night, had a good look at his face. A tall and
'ancteome man as ever I see; but .andsome is as 'andsome
does, and a millingtary swell he is, 1 know, and no more jjlain
Mr. Brown than you or me."
She admitted him now, dropping a curtesy, and scanning
him curiously. But the passage was dark at all times, doubly
dark now, and the tall form of "Mr. ]rown" brushed past
her, and dashed up the stairs and into her lodger's room.
With a cry of joy, a sob not to be supjiressed, she iiung
herself into his arms.
ou have c(
i^gain."
"You took devilish good care not to let me do that! What
do you mean, madam, by writing to me? Did I not ex-
pressly forbid you ever to write, or come near my lodgings if"
He turned the key in the door, breaking angrily_ free from
her encircling arms, flung himself into the easy-chair she had
placed for him before the fire, and looked at her with a darkly
angry glance.
She stretched out her hands to him, shrinking away lik. a
child who has been struck a blow.
"Forgive me, Frank; I meant no harm. T wr.', '-.n lonely
oh, so lonely; and it is ten days since "
Her voice broke, in spite of h(r. She covered her faei', and
her sn]pressed sobbing tilled the room.
"Oh, Lord!" groaned her visitor, "here it is again, before
I am twi seconds in the house I Tears and scenes, reproaches
"Frank! oh, Frank! you have come at last! I thought you
were never going to com^gs
jv, as
heels
j(l !-
lie
Mrs.
IS her
" her
time
miiul
of lier
se that
ose, is
ing to
s Mrs.
is, ami
ontH%
all and
iidsmne
[e plain
aiming
(louhly
d past
lom.
llunK
rht yon
What
not ex-
^e from
she had
darkly
V Ilk." ;i
uuely- -
.ee, and
I, before
)roache3
Now i Live, Now My Life is Done! i6s
and sob\i always tiio same! And you eomphiin that [ don't
come to sec you." . .*
Ho seized the i)()ker, and ^ave the fire a vieiou:* dig" Ho
had thrown 4is felt liat on the lloor heside him, and his tliin,
saUow faee was set in an ant?ry scowl. il( Kx.ked a ver
different man from the suave and eourtoous genthMnan wlio
had bent over the chair of I'anlina Lisle at the theatre oidy
the ni^ht before very ditl'erent from the ardeut \uvcr who
had wooc'l Alice Warren's fresh face down amoiij llu^ clover
fields and lir trees of Moutalien.
She swallowed her subs l)y a great etiort, and coming tim-
idly over, knelt down beside liim.
"Don't be hard on me, Traid-c,'' she pleaded; "I don't menu
to reproach you; but 1 am so mueli alone, and 1 have mith-
ing to do, and no one to speak to, and i get thinking of home,
and get low-spirited. Won't you teil me, Frank, why you
have stayed away so long^'
He looked at her with hard, cruel eyes.
"Because I have grown tired of coming! Will that do,
Mrs. Browr ?"
"Frank !'\
He was still looking at her. searchingly, pitilessly, not once
shrinking from the gaze of the large, horrorstru(;k eyes.
"You have not improved in my absence, at all events," ho
said, with a short laugh. '"V^ou are actually growing old and
ugly. 'Beauty is fleeting' certainly in your case. If you
had looked like this down at Speckhaven, I don^t thiidv
well, I don't think I should ever have given you the trouble
of coming up to town. Pray, what have you been doing since
I saw you last ?"
"Nothing," her voice seeming hoarse and unnatural.
"Only thinking of you."
"A very unprofitable way of spending your time. And now
that you have sent for me, will you have the kindness to in-
form me what you want ?"
"Frank, you ask that question ?"
"A very natural question, 1 think. And m the first place,
will you tell me how you discovered my address at all?"
She rose up from her kneeling position, stung to the cjuick
by the insolence, more even of his tone and look than his
words. She shed no tears now; she felt cold as death, and
her slu'.nking eyes met his steadily at last.
"I liad the right to send for ^ou, my lrd to go to you,
if 1 chose. I am your wife!"
1I(^ listened with a smile, his jiead lying against the back
t the chair a smile of insufferable insoh nee.
"My wife!" he rei/Cated. "Well, yes, of course, we did iQ
I :i
|66 Now I Live, Now y / Life is Done!
to the Church of St. Etholfrida topother 13ut, my deal
Alice, let me give you one piece of advice don't you pix^eume
on that little ceremony. Don't you write to njo a^ain, and
don't visit me until I give you leave. Perhaps you did )iot
hear my question let me repeat it where did you tijnl iat
my address?"
"Your brother told me."
"My brother!"
He startecl at the words, and then, for the first tini*'. Li?
eyes fell upon the roses on the table. He sprang to lis t''. t.
"My V other 'as been here?" he cried.
"Ho h. '
Slio an. Vi red ' im quietly. Her heart felt cold and siill In
her breast, :!. o^e had no intention of disturbing him with
*'sconos or tears" l .
He strode toward her, grasping her wrist until the maiks
of liis cruel fingers remained his face white to the very lips,
as was his way when really moved.
"And you dared do it! You dared, after all I said, bring
him here! Guy, of all men! You dare tell him "
"I told him nothing. My lord, will you let me go? You
hurt me!"
H J dropped his hold, looking down at her with a dangerous
light in his pale blue eyes.
''How came he here? You must have brought hin, or ha
never would have found you out. Tell me the truth, I com-
mand you."
She met his angry gaze with a calm steadiness, quite new
in his experience of her.
''He came with me the first night. You rer .ember he trav-
eled up with me from Speckhaven. He was very kind; he
v;as always kind. I don't know wjiether he suspected our
secret or not. I know he advised me to go back while there
was yet time."
"I wish to God you had taken his advice !"
"Yes," she answered, still very quietly, "it is a pity. But
we won't speak of that, since it is rather late in the day now.
It was late that night when we reached London; it was all
strange to me; and I was afraid; and I asked him to come
with me here."
The pressure tightened on her wrist*- again; he drev,- his
breath for a moment hard.
"Vou did! After all your promises after all T told you -
you ])rought him here !"
"I brought him here; but I told him nothinsr ar^c* ^ -eve;
laid eyes on him since until yesterday."
*^ was here yesterday V*
deal
I, and
cl not
1(1 iat
Lie, li?
is tVt't.
s,iU\ iu
m with
1, bring
)? You
ugeroua
^., or ha
I eom-
lite new
Ihe trav-
Lind; be
;ted our
Ue there
ty. 13ut
[ay now.
was all
[to cMne
Ivev bis
Id VC!U
Now I Live Vow My Life is Lionel l^?
r.
"He "was. Frflnk. do 'cu know th'y think At himiA I iit-u.
with him that--tbat 1 ain not a wife."
"Yes; I hapiifii to ho quito awaro of that faol; and whait 4
more, I mean tlicy shall continwe to tliink so. Hear m oi^U
if you please, and don't intrrrupt. Do you suppose I an
ffoing to ruin my prosj)(H*ts iy acknowlodprin^ my mnniaR'i
with you? A pretty htory, forsooth, for Bclgravia, that Loii*
Montalien has married his bailiff's danphterl"
"Lord Montalien should have thought of that seven weeka
airo.
"I know it. No need for you to remind me what a fool I
have been. And what brought my precious younge? broihc^t
hero vest(r(lay ?"
"Friendship. Only that. Mr. Guy was always the kinde.^i
of friends, the noblest of genth men. He t .-qpht of me h-s
broup:bt me thosp flowers from Montalien,'' 'ler yyes lightiBi;
"heeause he faneied they would remind m of. - no."
The nobleman seized the roses and tlun i. Ptca. into thA firo.
The f-irl staTted forward with a cry; i,f .le ^'..i struck her hi
would hardly have done a more brutal thinj,.
"Sil( nee!"' he said, with an oath. "(' or ' What brougli
him hcre^ Did you dare to tell him thai i- "
"^I told him nothing ^nothing, God help me! I have keT
your secret, Lord Montalien, at the price of my own gooi
name. I have broken my mother's heart, bowed my father 4
head in sorrow and shame, g-iving up the home where I wai
happy, the friends who cared for me, for you; and thia thki
is my reward."
She laid her arm upon the mantel, and bowed her farj(
upon it. Biit in the dark heart of the man beside heff the- :,
was neither pity nor remorse.
"Will you swear to me my brother knows nothing 4Ji:.a
yoahavo not told him?"
"I have not told him," she reiterated, and did not lift hf '..
ashen face as she made the reply.
He turned, and began pacing to and fro up and doTfni th-i
room. He wanted to shake her off, to have done with her ir-c
good;, to get her out of the country even, and to do that Wii.J
it wise to goad her to despair and desperation? He muert iX^-^X
rid of her that was the one inevitable thing to be done; ai I
to get rid of her quietly, without scandal or exposure, s ' '.
must still think herself his wife. The time to tell her .- i
truth had not yet come. He must get rid of her^ and at or-'* ;
and kindness here would do more than harshneflfi or ."^ecr
ination. He came owr and laid his hand upon iier shoai - ,
"Forgive me, Alice," he said, "and forget n^ unkirio t j .
^on know as well as I do* that I lore yim. as cb**'riy ?^ ?^
t
v
|68 Now ! Live, Now My Life is Done!
that I did not moan thcni , but I am out of sorts and ou^ o^
tomi)or to-day. I have a thousand t hinges to worry and annoy
mj of which you cannot droam; and it did startle mo to know
'luy was hero. I am sorry I destroyed your flowers. I shall
send you a handsome lou|uet to-morrow, (.^omc, look Up,
and say ve are friends apain."
She lifted her head slowly and looked at him. Even he, bad
to the core, harder than iron, shifted from the night of set-
tled despair in those haggard eyes.
"Do what you will, say what you will, Frajik, I can never
be other than your friend."
Her voice was broken and low, no tinge of color came to
her white face as he stooped and kissed her.
She knew the end had come her heart never beat with
hope while she lived again.
"That is my own little Alice! And now, to prevent a reie-
titicn of such visits, you nmst leave this lodging at once."
"Ye3."
"This very evening I will engage another, and to-morrow I
will send a cab for you and your belongings. Early to-
morrow evening you will ha quite ready to go?"
"Yes."
"And as it can't be any i)nrticular pleasure to me to keep
moving you about from one London lodging to another, for
-fear of detection, what do you say to going down to the
country, or even out of England for a little. You would be
better and happier, I am sure. You are used to a country
life, and I would come to see you just as often. What do you
say ?"
"I have nothing to say. I will do whatever you please."
"That is settled, then."
. He was delighted with her easy acquiescence. Nothing
would be simpler than to send her out of the country alto-
gether and for good. '../.*!
"To-morrow you will leave here, and within the week you
shall go to some pleasant country home, either in or o^t of
England, where you will remain until it is in my power to
proclaim you to the world as my wife. You hear, Alice?"
"I hear," she answered, wearily. "Frank!" she looked up
at him suddenly, "is it true that Paulina Lisle is in Lon-
don?"
"Guy told you that among his other news, I suppo-r^?"
"He did. lie told me, too, that you were her lover, or tlint
report said so."
"He told you a lie! I visit at the lumse of Sir, Vane Char
teris, and I see Miss Lisle, of course. He spoke cai-rfessly
enough* but in his heart he recorded a vow to add this te the
Now I live. Now My U^p is }^'^ne\ 169
.por )rolher. "I
and lell her
V. lio I was 'oiiig to
Yen knew -\\o v/as
i./ng list of hatrf'd he nlronrly ownrl Hi; yi;:
meant, to speak to .yoii of hor Wliy did you
of your c'lopcnirnt and intondod inarrijifrf ' nd nil my in
.iiincti(ns of socreoy niid yruii ^lr(llli^(. -A i.s it will dom-
AiiceT , ^
"1 meant no harm. I did uA fell iicj
marry."
"But you knew she would Kuspect.
'Uvare how prently I always admired yon. luit I overlook it,
Alice tliat arid all (he rest and look forward to the day
wjien 1 can proclaim you to the world as iuy lawful wife.
And now, farewell. To-morrow afternooii, at this time, I will
'isit you at your new lodpinp."
His lips touched h^T forehead in another traitor ki^s, and
then the door opened and closed, and he was j:one. Gone!
\nd Alice, sitting there alone hefore the fire, knew her fate
kn'^w in her heart that he lied to her 'that he wouil never
proclaim her as his wife that hope was at an end, ihat her
life was done. She touched no food, she had no sleep that
'.if^ht. She lay listening to the heating rain, to the com-
plaining wind, to the hours as they tolled, in a sort of dull
stni)or of misery. She had loved him, she loved him still, and
this was the end.
The cah eaine early next morning for "Mrs. Brown.''
Before leaving the previous day his lordship had paid the
l.mdlady, and told h'r of her lodger's dparture. And now,
in the dark Xcveniher nmrning, she watched her drive away
almost with- regret.
"She looko'l like death itself as she hade me good-hy," Mrs.
Howe said afterward; "it we, it to my heart only to see her.'*
The new lodging to which the enhiiian dr'sve her was in one
of the obscure streets leading from the Strand to the river
dingier, poorer, closer than that which she had left. But she
scarcely noticed how scinnlid it was, scarcely noticed how un-
utterahly wretclied she herself looked.
"What does it matter," she thought, turning away from the
^dass, "since there is no one in the world (o care?"
And then she lay down, and the dull, gnav.-ing, ceaseless
pain at her heart seemed somehow to go, and in its place her
lia])py girlhood came hack. ^ The dark, wretched room, the
foggy daylight faded away, once more the j!^reen fields of
Montalicn, rich with goldoi corn, the meadows sweet with
tl'e seoKe of .new-mown hay, the voiee of her mother, the wav-
ing trees, the golden sumn er sky, all eame Vvack to her; and
Francis Earlscourt's eyes looked love, and his voice spoke
Boftly and sweetlj* and Ma strong arm encircled her waist;
170 Now ! Live, Now My Life is Done!
oii'l her pyf's rlosrd, nnd witli Hie smilo of n happy child oi
her fiu'f, sho fell iislerp.
Sho slept for hours. Tin* aftornoon wore on tho roar of
tho jiieat c'i^-, of the busy Strand, worn uiihoanl h'voii tlip
op'niii;4' of tlic door, i\m\ the oiitraiico of tho man of whom
she drcnnu'd, failed to arousp her.
lie lookcrl Mt her, as slu^ slept, witluiuf one feelinp of pify
for tho heart he had broken, for the life ho hud blighted, lb'
}iiad tired of her, and he must remove her out of tho counlry
that ho miMht marry Paulina Lisle. Nf)thing remained nou-
but that.
While ho stood irresolute whether or no to awaken hii\
there was a taj) at tho door, and the landlady, with a startle-
fae(\ looked in.
"If you i)lense, sir, and askinp your i)ardon for dij*tur)inii
of you an(l your jijood lady, would you eome upstair--^ jut a
moment? The third-floor-front'i* a-dyin^:i:. and a-dyin^ ijard
and he says he can't so until ho has made his confession.
There ain't a soul in the house to ro for the j)araon or doctor
and I daren't leave him alone. Would you lie so ffood, kii) I
gentleman, as to step up to his room while 1 ruu fr the neai-
est c'lers-yman ?"
The "kind genrleman" addressed stared at her haughtily in
amazement at her presumptuous request. What was her
"third-lloor-front" to him, dying though its inmate might I'l',
that He should trouble himself in the matter.
"lie siiys he has a confession to make about some v(M-y
great lady he knew once, and about a great crime he heli)ed
to commit nearly twenty years ago. Ho can't die, he sa-,
until he has confessed it. Maybe it's only his raving, but !;'
says the lady's name was Miss Olivia Lyndith."
Lord Montalien swung round, amazed, interested at once.
"Miss Olivia I.yndith," he muttered. "Lady Charteri!
Now wdiat the deuce does this mean? Lead the way, my
good woman; I'll go up, and hear what your third-lloor-froni;
has to say."
He followed her up the dark, winding stairs, and into tho
stifling attic rooni, where, on a wretched truckle-bed, a gau!i'.
eniaciated form was stretched. Therenvas no fire in the liiil
room, and th. sickly, foggy daylight hardly found its way
through the blurred, dirty glassi of its one window.
'TTero is a kind gentleman, as says he will stay with you,
Porter,'' the landlady siaid, soothingly. "Now do keep qui'^'.
like a good soul, and I'll run round for Mr. Spearmnii."
She placed a chair by the bedside, and w^s hurrying^away,
but the sick man raised himself on his elbow, and called after
her shrilly :
first h
with 1
"Rob
The
delight.
"Tha;
he ( ( ;
''Not
ble to t
"He
Air. (if,
Hght h:
I^ut I'll
I i
Now ! Live, Now My Life is Done! 171
""Fetch pon nnd ink nnci pnper, Mrs. Vnuiiff. TTo niiint
write it down and give it to lier if flie ho alive. T can't die,
1 can't, with the ntory untold. I'm sorry T ever did it. I yee
her face so 8till nnd white; oh, Lord! fto still and whiti
slet'i-inK ;nid wakinjc. ni^ht and day forever. Voji'll \\rite it
(jowFi, sir; you l(ok like n p:entleman, nnd you'll find h. r, nnd
irive it to her, if she's alive. IVoinisc tnc that 'r'
lie ghired up in J.ord Montalien's face with hollow, wild
fcves.
T don't know of whom you're talking, my ^ood- fellow
his lordship answered, *riflly. "Who is she?'
"'i'wenty years a^^o her name was Mins Olivia Lyndith.
She married Sir Vane Chartcris, haronet. You're a .ir'ntle
/nan perhaps you hnve heard of Sir Vnne Chnrtoris?*' Hii
liollovv eyes wero full f hurniji^c ea^t-rness a^ he asked the
(iiKistion.
'Well, yes, T have heard of Sir Vane riiartfri?
'And Lady Charteris?
M
wt
'And Lndy (^harteri'
*ls she alive? Tell me that is Ladv Charteris nlive, and
ll?"
"Lady Charteris is alive certainly, hut not quite well. Slift
has had some preat trouble in her pal life, which -^hc hap
never ^ot over to this day.''
'rh(? sick man wruti^'- his hamls in a ]nro\ysm ..f aimnisli.
"f know it r know it! and I did it! T v.i-h 1 )i;m1 dropped
(lend 1)( foi'c I ever cons(nte(l! and now I am dyiii^. and her
t'ae haunts me ni^ht and day. l^nt she's alive, and it's not
too late yet. Perhaps he'^J alive too."
"Who?"
"Wvv husband- liim that she loved so dcnrly."
"You mean Sir Vane Cliarteris, T presume?"
110 ! She hated him! T mean the other her
e ran away
no.
firf^t husband her real husband- -him that sh
with Robert Lisle."
'Robe it Lisle is nlive nnd well.
Tl
le (. niir man uttered a crv a s
brill.
(11
wordless civ (j1
ere is
(leliojit.
"TliaidvCod! thank CJod! then it's not too late T Wh
he? Can you tell me that? Xot in Ki;frland^"
"Not in Knjrland, of c(ur'.'e, since he i o c^injinal .nueua-
blc to tlic law. Out in AmM'ii'a."
'Mlo is Iff) criiTiinnl. It was me that did it hi,'! \\\
Air. (it'otricy Lyndith {;nid me for doiutr it. f wis)- my
ri^ht hantl b:ui droiped off when I lifted it airainst him I
But 1*11 tell you all, and you'll writ* it dowii. and Robert
I i
r
J72 Now I Live, Now My Life is Done!
Lisle- will conio bnck. and porliaps Ood will forg-ive rue. Dq
you think Ih' will, if [ confess ail all ("
"Well let us ho))o so," roi'lii'i] his lordship, rather out of
his depth. "Who are you, to ucfvin with f
Tie drew tlie jjuper toward liiiu, toi^k up the jx'U, and
prepared to write, IFe was full ol" (niri.)sity and interest.
What revelation of villainy was this he was ahout to hear?
"I'm Jaines Porter, and ' was valet to Mr. Oeoti'rey Lyii-
dith twenty years a^'o. Will you jjroniise, on your houijr
as a jrentlenian, to ^ivo this paper yo\i are j.?oinf^ to wrih;
into the hands of Laviy Charter is, and no other, wlien I aiu
deadr
*;f p.'o!:iist. Cio on."
The sick man cleneluMl tlie bedclothes, and began at one* .
with feverish rapidity:
"I told you I was Mr. (Jeoffrey Lyndith's valet twenty
years ij^o. It's ni^her on five-and-tvventy since I first en-
tered his service, and a very j?ood place it was. lie was a
strn man, he liked to have his own way, but he was fret-
with his money, and a kind enijugii master. Whi-n I had
been with liim well upon four years, Robert Lisle came as
secretary and companion like. 1 can see him now!'' The
sick man's eyes looked dreamily before him, as he spoke.
"A tall, well-nnide youn^- man, and the handsomest. I think,
I ever saw. There were a ^reat nmny gentlemen, and baro-
nets, and lords, used to visit Lyndith C(jurt at September
and Christmas, but there wasn't one amonfr them, lords and
all, looked half as lordly, to my mind, as he did. He was
cleverer than master, and wrote his spe(?ehes and headers for
our county paper, and letters, and all that. Master set no
end of store by him, until he g-ot to hate him; and to them
he hated, he was the very devil!
"Master's niece came home from school: and a rare beauty
she w^as, only sixteen, with big black eyes" and yellow hair
the kind of beauty you don't often see. She was brought
home from boarding-school to live in the house with a young
njan as handsome and as clever as this Mr. Lisle. And w
in the servants' hall just saw how it would be from the first.
But master lawks, sir, it's wonderful how blind the smart-
est people be about some things; these sort of things par-
tieularlv master he was like a nxde. They were a-eourt-
ing from the first day, and he couldn't see what was goiriir
on under his very nose. I used to watch 'em in the pleasaii*
mooidiirht nights walking up and down under the trees; ani
time 'i!i 1 agaiTi it was on the tip of my tongue to give Mr.
Lyndith a hint, liut I was a-keeping company with a youn^
woman -the m^por housemaid she was, and she wouldn''
ne.
Do
r out of
icu, and
iiitorf'^L
to hear?
roy Lyii-
ir lionor
to write
eii I am
at oner,
t twenty
first eu-
le was a
was free
en I h:vl
came as
w:
v
The
ht' spoke.
. r think,
and haro-
"'eptonduM-
ords and
lie was
idors for
r set no
to them
ivi' heauty
uw hair-
brought
1 a younf?
And WH
the first,
he smart-
lings par-
e a-eourt-
wa goiii^--
pleasai '
trees; ani
give Mr.
,h a youn^
! wouldn'
Mow I Live, Now My Life is Done! 17 J
hear tolT of i4. All the wonien in the liou:-;- were half in
love with this Kol)ert J. isle; his good looks, and his gontlfe-
manlike ways, and his pleasant voiee took them all clown
sor ^liow. *And,' say.-. Lucy, 'our master's old enough and
big enough to look after liis own niece, and it's not for
playing the spy on her you get your wages. Jle'll find it
out soon enough.'
"That week ^Mi^s Oliviii wc^it to Scotland on a visit, and
tlie week after I think it was Mr. IJslo followed her.
And Lucy says to me: 'Mind, James, Miss Olivia and Mr.
Lisle w'ill he married in Scotland a sure as I'm talking to
you. And won't master be tearing mad, wlieu he finds it
out?'^
V'ou see, &ir, this Mr. Lisle, though he looked and spoke,
and had the education ff a real gentl(M.nan, \\as only the son
of a yeonuin farmer.
"Well, sir, Liu-y was right they did get married in Scot-
land, and came home, not together, imt following each other
very soon. And to this day I remeinlx r what happy, happy
faces those two had, how miss danced about the house like
-unshine, and her laugh was the prettiest, sweetest music I
ever heard. And Mr. Lisle didn't say much or laugh nnich,
it wasn't his way; but somehr)w, he looked taller, and nobler,
and handsomer than ever, and his pleasant eyes seemed smil-
ing for very joy whenever they looked at you. And miss
begged hard not to be sent back to school, but to stay at the
'dear old court,' as she called it; and her uncle, who was
fond of her in his way, consented. And for four months
more they went on together, and he neither saw nor guessed
a word of what every rme els? in the house knew ixrfectly.
"fJut it couldn't go on so forever; he found it out at last.
He never said, a word; that wasn't his s.rt; he just v;hisked
liis niece away from Staffordshire without a word to any
one. And wh.'n he came back alone, still ])leasant and ea^^y,
lie sent for me, and aled uk- if 1 v.-ould like to enrii five
hundred pounds?
"You may guess what my answ( r was. 1 was always f(,nd
of money, and 1 wanted to marry Lucy, and set up a public;
when I'd saved money enough. I would liave done a good
f'eal for half or quartf r the money; but I b. refuse at first
wlien^he told me what he wanted me to do. lie made me
take my book oath nc'ver to speak of whit |)asse(| between
us while I livofb and I tofk it. I never bioke that oath till
!iow but I can't-- oh, good Lonll I c:,n't die with my
wicked story untold!
"He told me Ilobert Lisle had nwrric'd his niece in Sccjt-
iand, and that Sir Vane Charteris, to whom she had bt^n
174 Now ! Live, Now My Life is Done!
eng-aged since slie was fourteen, would hold him responsible
A Scotch marriage was no marriage, he said, but the law
couldn't prove that without the ])ublic exposure of his niece,
an4 that Sir Vane wouhj never hear of. Robert Lisle must
just be got quietly out of the country for good and all, and
Miss Livy married to the baronet as if nothing had hap-
peneo ; and I was to help him to do it.
"That night he would place, in my prestce and in Lisle's,
a sum of money and a quantity of valuable jewels in the
little safe in his library, leaving them in Mr. Lisle's charge,
and going away himself as if for a few days' absence. Anil
when he was gone, ho would write a letter, as if coming
from jVli?^s Olivia, asking her husband to come to hnr at
once. He would go for certain, and take his portmanteau
with him. And what he wanted me to do, and would pay
me five hundred pounds to do, was to take the money and
jewels out of the safe, and se\V them up carefully in the
lining of Mr. Lisle's portmanteau. They would be found
there, and the threat of transportation would make him tly
the country. And he gave me the duplicate key of the
safe.
"Well, sir it's a bad thing to tell I did it. I took thft
five hundred pounds, and I sewed up the money and jewels
ill the poor young gentleman's traveling bag. It all turned
out as masirr had foreseen he got the letter, he pack.vi his
clothes, and started for London, and he was taken then^
and searched, and the valuables found.
"The next I heard, he had left England. I got my iivc
hundred pounds my wages of sin and I left Mr. Lynditli's
service, and married Lucy, and set up the public-house. But
T never prospered. Luck went against me from the first.
The money was ill-gotten; it was blood-money and every-
thing went wrong. I couldn't forget what I had done, li
haunted mo as if I had committed a murder, by day ami
night. I took to drink to drown thought, but I couldn't
drown it. I knew I had made two innocent people miserabl
fcr life. And two years after our marriage Lucy died; ^n 1
then I got, quite desperate, and the money went, and went .
and at last 1 was ruiyed outright. And from that day i
have been a drunken vagrant, and now I'm dying bore, an!
I couldn't die with it on my soul. IT-^^-? you got it all
down all all ?"
ITo raised himself once more on his elbow, looking mo;.;
like a galvanized corpse than a living being.
"i\ll," replied Lord Montalien-. "Are you able to sign
this paper?"
"I'll try give me the pn."
brcast-
ciitliko
Lady
t' six
Yes,
Now I Live, Now My Life is Donel 175
Tho lo(tr oponed on the word, and Mrs. Young, the land-
lady, tntcrcd with an elderly nuni, a clerj2:yirian.
'Sfuist in time to witio!s this man's sirnature," renmrkod
iiis IdixUhip, coolly. ''He is dyinj;-, h( says." addressinjj: the
i!( rgyiiian, "and has made a iloposition whioh 1 have taken
down. Will you just witness iiis signature, and atlix vour
;.wnr'
It was done. Lord ^fontalien folded uj) tlie paper, and
arose.
''Your wishes, my poor fellow, shall be carried out to the
letter. The lady for whom it is designed is known to niv,
and will receive it at once. Set your mind at rest about
that."
Ke quitted the room, the precious i)aper in the
p..eket of his coat, his eyes shining with a jireen,
light. ^ ...
"And so Paulina Lisle is the elder daughter of
Charterif*; and inherits in law my lady's foi-tune
tliousand a year in addition to her father's fortune,
yes! If I had never made the resolution of marrying her,
willing or unwilling, I would wtike it now. Why, she will
be one of the richest heiresses in the United Kingdom!
Whether you like it or no, you shall be my wife, my peer-
less Paulina !"
And' then a vision rose before him of Paulina as he had
seen her last night shining like a fai'ry, in pink silk, and
tulle puffir'fs, and dewy rosebuds in her golden hair a
vision whose very recollection seemed to light up the dingy
lodging-house in Harton street, Strand.
"And now for the other," he thought, opening Alice's door
alas! poor Alice! "What an inconceivable ass I have
made of myself about this milk-and-water, insi))id, weeping?
nonentity! But she sliall be disposed of as surely ar.l safely
as Geoffrey Lyndith disposed of Robert Lisle."
She sat shivering before the smoldering fire as he entered,
and rose up without a word as he approached.
The dull daylight was fast fading now, but in the glow of
the fire he could see the dead whiteness of her face; such a
contrast to that other face fresh, smiling, rose-crowned!
"Awake, Alice?" he said, kindly. "It is two hours since
I first came, and you were ash^^p on the lounge yonder, arid
I would n(jt distjrb you. I have been sitting since with a
wretched sick nuin, upstairs."
She looked 'ind listened in pale amaze. Frank Earlscourt
!-:lting two hours with a sick pauper!
"F trust I see you in better spirits than yesterday," he
went on. "How do you like your new lodgiiigs ?"
r
176 Now I Live, Now My Life is DoneP
"I havo not tliouf^ht about it. Tliey are very well."
llcr t;piritleas voice, her spiritless attitude, told moit.
plaiidy than words the story of her er-'-hed Ih^miI.
"Yoii will remain here quietly for the present; and if I
should not \k', able to eonie to you as often as you as I my-
slf would like, you must promise me to he pat-enl not to
write ii ;ne a^aiii. You promise this, Ali(!e^"
"1 promise."
"Of course, 1 don't like to see you unhappy or solitary or
that; hut, unfortunntely, in ou; position, it '.s inevitable. I
havo made a tremendous suer Ifiee for you. Don't be less
generous. Make this sacrifice for me. Wait until I giva
you leave to speak. You understand, Alice?"
"I understand." . ,
She answered him as an automaton migh^, never lookinj^
up from the fading fire.
"And you will obey?"
"1 will obey "
"On no account must yon admit my brother or Sledman,
or any of the people we know. Go (mt as little :.^ possible,
and when you do ^o out, wear a thick veil. In it lew weeks,
at most, I will find you a pleasant eountiy home, where you
will wait, in peace and comfort, until I cun 1 inj^ you for-
ward acs as Lady IVIontalien! You j)hMlge yourself to all
this, Alice, and you will try not tt) feel lofuly and low-
spirited ?"
She lifted her eyes to his face for tl.' cond time since
his entrance such hoK''ess, hopeUss eye.*.
"I will try," she answc ; ^n a voice more mournful than
death.
"Then, g'ool-by, Alice, ivvt-p up your spirits, anl don't
be discouraged if 1 shouldn't ^)e n^ve again for a couple of
we(^ks. Trust me that I will come as soon as I can.
(;()od-by."
"(Jo')d-by." She said it as mechanically as the rest, n(jl
etirring-. Ife put on his hat, opened the door, turned, came
back, stooped and kissed her. For the last, the only time, a
IKUig of compnssion touched his heart of stone.
"My poor little Alice!" he said; "good-by."
And (hen he was goii(\ Back to tlint bright othei- world-
back to the velvet-hung, wax-lit world, wliere lovely Paulina
Lisle shone a queen! And Alice stood where he had left.
her, neither . tirring m-r moving for hours and hours. An
n"+cast from iiome, from parents, from friends, from lo^c--
alone lovever and :/ .1.
'^-
'3|:
x-
X. C'lIAI'TKlt \T
\r iU{i(;iiTuN.
On , day snccccfliivL' lliis nicii;4ialilc second ol' Xovctu-
ber, Sir Vane ( "li;irlcri took his fmnily ( l{rij^lituii to spend
the reniain(U'r of the :iutiini!i. lie hud hired a hir-e I'ur-
iiislu'd' houso on the Mast (Mill". The situation was eharniin/j:
-the hroad, hri^ht sea spread a\vay and away until it
melted into the hroad hrij-'ht ly. On vei-y i-h'ar days you
saw the hohl eoast of Dieppe from tlie windows, and tlui
Chain Tier jiiinmierinj^' in llie fro^tv Xovemher sunshine
helow the (Mitf.
Miss Lish', for whose henetil lh' rennval had ehielly heeii,
(n.joyMl liriihf(;ii anmzin^Iy In the lir-^i phiee, there 'wat
the sea, and Paulina loved the sea, pu!^i,i! forever ihrou^li
the still chill air, there were lonj^ canter^ ovi-r the j^ojdeii
Sussex Downs, until the younf"- lady'^ eyes .-,1 one like dia-
monds, and the usually pale cheeks like Au^u t i-oses.
There were the pleasant sunny afternoop^, when in tho
most ravishing of Parisian toilet-- she loiten-d alon^ tho
l)arade, listeuiii^ to the Iwuid, and the airy, gallant n(thl'!i^s
of sundry officers (luartercd at the liri^hton Parracks. She
drove to the Dike, in the loveliest little turnout, with creatn-
colored highsteppers, for which her ^Miardian had ^iven a
most fabulous price at Tattersall's, handlinj^- the rihhons
like "P'our-in-Hand r'osshrof)k" himself, to the admiration of
all beholders. She'^vas the chief aim for all the lor^niettes s;t
the pretty little theatre; and she v.'Ont ni^ht after nighi t'
the Pavilion, where Patti wa^ioiow enchant ing^he P)rightou
world. She went through the whole cour- of Hri^^htori
amusements dining, dancing, iromenading leatre-going
and she never grew \veary; her bright ey
nor her smiles faded.
And so Miss Lisle was fairly lumched u
of soeiet.v, for which she had been made,
one drawback to all this blissful ^njoy!
lien, her ogre, who persisted in escortin, them everywhere,,
on being the eoni])anion of her gallops over the downs^ her
drives, her v alks, and hanging on the back of her chair at
the theatre all the evening long. He was at the baronet's
lioui?e by night and day; ho dined invariably with the family
whenever they dined at home, atid half worriel Paulina into
a fever with, the zeal and oppression of hi devotion. ]*eo-
ple began to link their names together.
Montali^n was a shrewd fellowalways liked money, and
%
never dinuned
n tlie sunny sea
There was only
it Lord Monta-
178
At Brighton.
ho was ffoinp: in for Miss Lisle. Doueed deep iellow, a
miser at liQart, not a bit like the Karlscourts a sliahh)*
he^KHr, too, at bottoirt* it was d pity o glorious a fjrirl
slioiild i)e fluii;^ away iiptni siiclj a cad!
At the close of the second week Miss Lisle herself rebelled
She had lx^e*i tryin,sr for days back to throw otf the yok(,,
but ill vain; there was a iuiet power and determination
about his lerdship that bent most jHiople to his resolute will,
liut this young- lady of eighteen had a will of her own, (luito
as strong as his when she chose to assert it.
"He's like the death's-head at the EgyiTiian banquets,*'
she said to Mrs. (ialbraith, bitterly; "always pn^sent ami
always si)oiling my pleasure. Why does he make pretense
of st()])ping at the Sliip Hotels Why doesn't he fetch his
belongings, and take up his abode 'at once in this house?
IJ(^ is like one's shadow, or one's poodle, followijig forever,
no matter where one goes. C^m't he see he is not wanted r'
"My dear, what language!'' exclaimed Mrs. (Jalbraitli.
* His lordship's attentions are most flattering to you. It is
plain enough to be seen ho is quite infatuated; and it
would bo. a brilliant, yes, a splendid match for you. His
in'()me is clear fifteen thousand a year, and tl^^ title one of
the oldest in Britain."
"ford Montalien has fifteen thousand a year, and he is a
miser If he wants me at all he wants my eighty thousand
IKtunds t add to his store. As you seem to be a friend of
his, Mrs. Galbraith, suppose you drop him a iiint to spar..' me
his company for the future. The more I see of him the
more I dislike him."
"You are more than unjust, Miss Lisle; you are unchris-
tian. I the i^ht yon were above repeating such cruel caluni-
nies as ihij-^c behind his back."
"1 will say them to his face, if you prefer it ! I will, 1
protest, if he does not cease dogging me as he does. What
business have people to couple our names? I would die bo-
fore 1 would marry him! You call me unju-t. I tell yon,
'passionately,' I am not. I have reason to hale him 1 know
ho is the man who lured poor Alice Wan^n fr(m hev home."
"Paulina! that person's name again!" sail Airs. (Jalbraith,
with austerity. "Did I not tell you it was indelicate of yuu
even to allude to her?"
"Yes, you told me, Mrs. (Jalbraith," the girl answered,
with a hard laugh. "You do your duty by mo in every
respi^ct. She has been unfortunate, through no fault of
hers; she is in misery and poverty, perhaps, and it is indeli-
cate in her oldest friend to mention her name I l*oor little
Alice!"
u \
At Brighton.
179
"Inrousli no fault of Ikts! I don't understand you.
Tho fault was hors, aihj slio must loar tho poualty. Ynu
IKTwistod in advortisiti^ for licr let that suffice, v^lu' is a
IfKMt ereature, wiiosc name you shouM Mush to mention.
And, for tlie ret, no one thinks of iier in oonnoetioii with
hin lordship the unhappy yonnjj: woman Hd from homo
with his disreputahle younger hrother."
"Never!" J^aulina's eyes flaslu-d fire. "They traveled
up to London toi/cthcr ; a eoineidence^ nothing? more. (Ju-r
Farlscourt affirmod to Alice's father that he was not the
partner of h(r flight, and Mathew Warren hclitn-cs hin.' So
do I so does (^iptain Villiers."
"Captain Villiers!"
"Yes; he was one o#the men stopi)in^ in the hou^^e at the
time; and he is here, you know. Yesterday on the pier E
asked him "
"Paulina! you asked him?"
"Don't faint, Mrs. Galhraith. Yes, I had the shockinjj:
audacity to ask him if he could throw any lijijht on the s^ib-
jcct if he believed Lieutenant Karl.Acourt to be the mini
with whom she iled. And he said no, emphatically no.
They all admired her he. Sir Harry Gordon, Lord Monta-
lien, and Guy Guy, least of all; Guy, in the way of court-
ship, never."
"Perhaps he told you also v/hom he did suspect?"
"No, men dim't tell of each other; he did not. Put uidess
Alice herself came before me, and told me Lord Montalion
was p^uiltlcvss, T would not believe it. Now you know why I
dislike him! His conduct to his brother, too, is abomina-
ble. Three times last week Guy was arrested for debt, and
taken to some horrid place; a 'sponpfin^-house.' Captain Vil-
liers called it; and not once did Lord ^[(ntalien, with his
fifteen thousand ])ounds a year, come forward to aid him.
No, he left it to his old maiden aunt. Who could like such
a man as that ? Why doesn't he pay his brother's debts, as
an only brother should ?"
"You talk lik(^ a child, Paulina. Guy Farlscourt de-
serves neilhei' your pity nor his brother's help. He is one
of the fastest, most reckle*;s younp' men of his fhy, pos-
sessed of every vice inider huuen, T believe "
"That will do, Mrs. Gfllbraith! Who is cnlumniatinpr the
absent now? With all his vices, T Im Heve he is far the
belter man of the two. He used to have a h.^art, at lejist.
liord l\fontalien, like the ^ochhvss Minerva, was born without
that inconvenient appendajxe. And now," nnllifiur ftut her
watch, and 'with her brighleH^ Hudle, "if wc have donft quav-
roliiflr fiiyjpofle we go for a drl?o?"
-m
- ''
i8o
At Brighton
"I wish I could seo Mr. Karlscourt/' fiho thought, as sht
hiy baek in the l)anu(.*hc'; "1 would ask h'lin about Alice
He went up with h'r to Ltnd()n, anl Ik* may know some-
thing. I will n"('j t^iv* uj.- -never re.-t U)ilil i tind her."
Miss Lisle had Iht wish that very nij^lit. As she, on her
guardian's arm, made her way, near milnight, through
feome crowded assembly rrjoms, she saw, htanfiing talking to
il'aptain Villiers, (Juy Karlseourt. . , .
An eager light of jjlensure and reeognition eame into her
face, lie was a spendthrift, a gandiler she had heard
lie was over head and ears in debt ; social outlawry threat-
ened him; the world spoke bitterly ot him; his (?xcellent
elder brother hated him; and for all^thls the girl's impetu-
ous, gen(rous heart went out toward him. It was eiiildish,
perhaps, but his very misde^'ds thr('\v a halo of romance
around him. He was Monto ('ri^1o, .Mephistoi)heles, Don
Giovanni; and he was so very, vi/ry handsome, i)oor fellow,
and he had such a noble air there was not another man in
the room who looked so distinguished as he.
She remembered him as she had seen him last, with the
sunshine lighting up his dark face as he bowed good-by.
The dark splendor of that Italian face was a trifle dimmed
now "lans(iuenet after balls, and absinthe before breakfast
will tell in the end," as Captain Villiers said to her; he
seemed thin and worn, and the great, luminous, pathetic
brown eyes looked at you with a tired light. Withal, he was
dressed in the i)erfection of taste a knot of Russian violets
in his buttonliole and more than one pair of bright eyes
b ide Paulina's turned upon him with shy admiration as
be stood there in that attitude of languid grace.
"I say, Guy! there she is, by Jove! and your brother in
her wake, as usual. The Lisle, I mean prettiest thing the
sun shines on. She rides better, waltzes better, talks better,
and sing* better than any girl I know; and sihe has eighty
thousand; and your brother is making play there in a way
that leaves no room for lesser mortals. Look at her!
: Loveliest woman in tlie rooms isn't she?"
Guy looked lazily. He had come exircssly (;lown to Brighton
to have a look at her; but the roonts were warm^ and not
even for the beaut.v of Brighton was he prepared to excite
himself. He looked, with lanj-niid {idmii'atien, at the ex-
quisite face, conscious of Ms gaze, and (lrfiO])ing a h'ttle
under it.
"Yes," he 'said, at Inst; "you're right, N'iiliers. She
. handsonw^ always was though, I remember and thorough -
bfpd Fis a i)riTicess. See how disdainfully he glances at
Monti! He has no show, I'm certain; and Im ^flad oi it
u
as Bhi
Alice
sonie-
icr.
on her
tii-cnijfh
ciiiyj to
ito her
icifrd
thri'Mt-
scoUent
iiupolu-
hiUlili,
oinancB
28, Don
fellow,
man in
vith the
good-by.
dimmed
rcakfast
her; he
pathetic
he was
violets
ht eyes
tion as
)ther in
ling tb^
better,
eighty
ii a way
lal her I
; right on
lind not
excite
Itbe cx-
la lUtle
She '-H
|(rougii-
|nfM?s at
ot it.
At Brighton.
Si
ft would bo a saeriligo to (brow sucli a girl as thai aw ly
on rraiik.*
"SuppcKSo yon go in and win, yoursi'If, Ciuy. Yon oou'ld,
you know. Slic talks of yon, and I'ciMcnihcrs yon, and pities
you for your misfortunes, as siic terms it. Migliiy tliiui,;iud
is about your figure; and tlicn it would \h- a pleasure lo eut
out your brother."
"Well, yes," (Jny said, stroking bis bhick iiin-t.-iclio; "if
anything eould make me enfer iIm' li't, it would lie that; but
I don't thiid 1 shall add fortunediniiting to my otlier
enormities just yet. Miss I.islt* de.-^erves n hetter fate, pooi
little girl, than to fall a victim to either (d' n-;."
"She is looking thin way." the (ttber said, eagerly. "C'-ine,
Earlseourt, let us go and ask her to daneel"
"What! you, too, George, one of her slaves? No; iho
'Tenth' don't dance. Not even Mi -; Lisle's attractions c.iii
induce me to the madness of waltzing, with the thermoiue-
tiT at its present height. I don't know that I shall tronbbi
Miss Lisle at all not worth while, as T return to town again
to-morrow."
So Captain Villier.s went up alone and wrote his name on
Miss l^isle's tablets; and if that young lady vvundered a I'ttle
at Guy's neglect, her face did not show it. She danced
with Villiers witli nearly every man who asked her. savo
and except T^ord Montalieji; and more than once her eyes
followed the tall form of Guy Isarlseonrt as he moved iu
his slow, graceful way through the warm rormis,
"Why does he not spe^k to me''?" she wondered. "I low
unkind of him! I am detfM'minel to s[)eak to liiin, how-
ever, before the evening ends, lie must tell me somethiog
of Alice."
She went into the music-room presently, on the arm (f
Captain Villiers, and sat down to sing. The rnm(r that
Miss Lisle was about to sing was enonjxh to insure an audi-
ence. She glanced saucily over he shoulder as the ap;iit-
ment filled, and saw, leaning against a column near the door-
way, Lieutenant Karlscourl, and a sudden insjiirati(.n sei/';l
her, and the song be had sutig two years ago at Mnolaiit-M
Priory, while he bent ov -r her, broke like a bird's trill \'v'.i\
her li])s.
He had dra\Cn near involuntarily be was standinu' r]t-()
b^side b.er when ^he aro-e from the piano, and she held "U"
her hand to him at ojice with her nu)st radiant, hev w \.
sauc.v smile.
"But where is County Guy? T thought you would ic-
membei :he old song even if you ha? forgotten pooa jri*\
'' t
U-
t
V
1 82
At Brighton.
Mr. Karlsc'ourt, won't you nuy 'how do yoi? do' to iVllj
Ahisoii f
(riuy Karlsroiirfc was no htoio. IIo bent above tlie li'tle
haiul, and niurniurecl liis thanks, at iter gracious leniciu-
braiicc.
"T \\a(\ scarroly boixsd for so ^rcat an lionoi," he said,
''aiiMtiig' the liundrcds f)f new friends, of adoi;ers, wlio '-ur-
round tlie beUe of Hrijlton. You must pardon in^f not com-
ing forward sooner, and ehnniing recojjnilion it was uiy
VMy ^^reat modesty, I assure you."
'"The first time T ever lieard you credited witli tlie virtue,"
laufjfhed I*aidlna, taking lis arm. She was at her bri^ditent
IX'W : she liad iiad wiiat sh( so dearly loved her owti way.
*'()r any other virtue, T fear. Doesn't Mrs, Galbraitli do
ht'v duty, and tell you what a monster T am?"
"Mrs. (Jalbraith does her duty, and tcdls me what a mon-
H\i .' you are. Hut I have n jrrent deal of eouraj^e thanks
to my early training; and I'm not afraid of monsters, Mr.
Earlseourt, I have been wanting to see you very much, to
s|)eid to you ujion a suliject, the one trouble of my life,
ni'd I (';Mi'l liens amon^' tliis crowd. Will you take me some-
whore where we can talk undisturbed C"
Her i)erfeet innoeenee, and the nearness of the subjeet to
h( r luart pave her eourajxe, verjiiuf? upon boldness, perhaps.
]ut -he did not mean to \)v bold, and she went with him out
on tlie baleony d( serted by all save themselves,
''You know what I want to talk to you about, \ sujipo-e,
Mr, Earlseourt?" she beit?an, impulsively. "When* is Alice
Warnn?"
' The blue, earnest eyes were curiously watchinjjf him. Was
he truilty? No, fjruilt never looked back at her as he lookod.
"T wisli I knew, AIis*Lisle. T don't, T assure you. I am
afraid our poor little friend has come to grief."
""Mr. Earlseourt, you know that some people say say,''
lur face dmoped a little, "that she fled with you."
"I know it. It is not true. We were up to town toorether
that was the first I knew of her flight, and ehe askeul ine
to see her safe to her destination. It was night, and she
was afraid alone in London."
"And you did?" breathlessly.
"1 did. T went with her to the place, a lodging in Tot-
tenham Court Koad, and left her in oharge of the landlady,
Tlint was riin.e weeks ago."
"And you have never seen her since."
"Yes, (.iK-e, nearly a fortnight ago. Upon my teturn from
viermauy I went to the place a second time. She was still
there oui;y ^liie paiUd shadow 9f the blooming Alioe yoC
At Brifrhton.
l
lit1c
3 suil,
lo ur-
t coiii-
irtiu,"
vny.
lith ilo
a mii-
-thnnks
. M r.
lueh, to
ny life,
some-
|l)jpot to
liiii out
iUppO-M?,
is A life
.. Wns
looked.
1 nm
say,''
totrether
kkoil int
land lit
111 Tot-
nullady.
I III from
ja& still
knw. But sh( rold mo nothing?, mux I M-^kc.l ih, que^Htions.
Slic was k^iowii ill tlio hduso l)y Hi..' name ol Airs, iinnvii."
"1 will p:o to LqjkIoii to-iuon-ow and lind Ium'," cried im-
petuous Tauliiia. "Oii. .Mr. Karlscourl. I irlt Miro you
could tell iiic .soiiirtliin^r. 1 am so j^iad, so lliaiikful for
Uiis!"
"Miss JJsle. I am sorry to dusli your liopes, but it is too
late. She is ^oiio !'
''doner'
"J'he following'- day 1 returncMl ap:ain. I pitied her very
mu(;li, KII.-- Lisle. Hor wan, wn^tclied face, iier tears, made
ine miseraMe. I \n^nt hack, and she wa.s ^'one. The ^jontle-
man, t^li( servant, said, had ealled after 1 iiad left, and Irs.
iii'own looked (ir(^a(iful when she ut-nt away, and he jiaid
tin- laiulhhly, and told her Mrs. lirown was about to leav(!
London. 'ext inorninjf a cab came for her and took her
and her things away. I could hiarn no more the servant
km^w nothing of her destination."
J'auliiia's t"ae' looked very blank.
'*()h, Mr. Karleoiirt, tell me who this man is this bad,
l)ad man, who has lured her away from her home who
pn^miscd faithfully to marry her, and make her liappy ^
Ynu suspeet you must suspeet tell me who it is I"
"J*ardon me, Miss Lisle; not even to you may 1 breatho
my su{)ieions."
"Ft is your bfMther I know it is ho always admired her
years a^o, v.lieii lie saw her first, he was struck l)y her.
And h(! dcirn's it; but I have vowed to discover the truth,
fw'id 1 shall !"
Her handsome lijxs sot tlieniselves in a resolute line her
blue ey's flashed in the starlight through her passionate
tears.
"Vou are a true friend, Miss Lish-, and they say women
do not know tlie meaning of the word frieydship for eacji
other."
**I love Alice like a sifter. Those I have once liked I like
always, let them do what they will."
"Your fri('nls are fortunate |)eople," ^Fiss Lisle. You
t^hould^dd me to the list; it would be a splendid opportunity
of exerCTSin^ your charity. I don't deserve a friend, J am
quite aware, still 1 think it would be phnisant to have one."
"I am your friend," she answered, qnietly.
"What! in spite of all the atrocious thini^'s Frank, Sir
Vane, ]\Irs. Cialbraith and the world must have told you of
Suoh a black sheep as myself?" with his ra?e smile.
"In apite ot all If one deserts one's friends because they
ff aiLioir',uaie;, I would not give much for frieudsJiipc''
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
k
//
^/
^
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Qc
^
1.0 !f:i- IIM
I.I
1.25
IM
2.0
1.8
U ill 1.6
V]
^
/a
A
w y
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^
Photographic
Sciences
Corporation
23 WEST MAIN STREET
WEBSTER, NY. MS80
(716) 872-4503
u
rv
jH
At Brighton.
^r'nfortun'ate!" l:e smiled again. "That is a miM word
\o apjuy to such a ne'cT-do-wclJ as 1 am. Stili, 1 'tlu iik you,
Ali^s Lisl{i; 1 will not soon forget your Ji'uid indiil^T'iice."
She glanccnl at him, looking very haugJity and handsome
in the dim light. Tlien her head droojicd she begun play-
ing n(.'rvously witli her tassels. Jle was in (hht ; she had
riH^re money than she knew wliat to do with; ^he felt a great
compassion for hirn stirring in her heart; if he would only
let he I' help him.
"Mr. Earlscourt," she faltered, "they say you are in
debt," words coming slowly and painfully. "If I ani ycjur
friend, will you not let me oh, don't* be hurt don't he
offended, please but won't you let me help you? I have so
niue'h moicy. I don't want i*, and it would make me so
happy if only you would "
Jle made a sudden, swift motion that stopped her.
"Not a word more, Miss Lisle! From my soul I am grate-
ful to you, but you must see it is impossible. Believe me, 1
will not readily forget your generosity of this night, un-
worthy of it as I am."
lie was more moved than he eared to show.
She shrank away a little, feeling pain, pity, embarra.ss-
incnt in his presence.
"I am un-worthy of your compassion remember tli.it.
Miss JJsle. All they have told you of me is true, Wluit-
rver has befallen me is merited. I have wrought my own
ruin. And the end is very near. 'FdclH.^ dcsccnsuf! AvernH'
And I am at the bottom of the i)it. W(11, the descent at
least has been pleasant, and when oblivion comes thvYo is
iiothing to do but let the waters close over my head; to g)
out to the exile I have richly earned; to accept my fate and
sink from sight; and when the finale comes a shot in a
gambling hell most likely to cover my face and die witli
dignity. Am I boring you with a sermon? and you shiver.
while I selfishly keep' you here in the cold. Don't waste
your pity on me, Miss Lisle; I doii't dc^^erve it; let me take
you back to the ballroom."
She was shivering, but not with cold, and she was veiy
pale in the glaring gaslight when she re-ejiteied the warm
rooms. He resigned her with a low Ixnv to her nexl^ partner.
The tears were hardly dryon h'r long lashes yet as she w;is
whirled away in the redowa, tears not all; jierhaps, for Alief
Warren
Five minutes after Lieutenant Larlseonrt iuitted the ball.
By the first train next morning he quitted Brighton, carry-
ing with him the memory of th sweet, iuipaesioned face
upon which the stars had 8hop. * l
..' t
ill the ont be-
ball was break-
-. OHAI'JKR VV.
IN WHKII Miss LlSI.i: IS DISi'oSKl) vF.
Miss T.islo was (b'stiiiod to liavo still aiiotluM- fete-a-teh
liat meniorable iiij^ht. The rcdowa ovt-r, she snit her part-
ner for an ice cmly a pretext to get rid of him, however.
The i)laee v.as stiHingly warm, it se(Mned to her now; tlie
(lances had been interininabhs the eominoiiplaee nothing
if the youn^ officer insufferably stupid.
She passed alonj^ unobservel, as she fancied,' to the half-
lit, wholly deserted music-room, and throwing herself into a
seat by the window, lo(^ked moodily out at the eoiiiinp
(lawn.
The stars had set; faint strejTks of gray
lokened the down of another morning, "^rhe
ing up already.
Mrs. Galbraith was h)oking for her, no doubt; but she
n(!ver thought of that long-suffering chaperon. Iler heart
was full of a great pity for the man who had gon(--seiiti^
mental and undeserved, you will say; but she was on]y eight'
een, and he was so very handsome. IJad Mr. Karlseourt
heen the hapless possessor of a i)ug lUise and dull gray
eyes, he might have gone to his ruin without causing Miss
Lisle a second thought, but the )ale, dark face was simjdy
perfect, and the large, brown eyes pathetic in their dark,
dreamy lustre, although their owner might be musing on the
odds for the Derby, or whether the bailiffs might not pounce
upon liim the instant he returned to Londoiu
As she sat there lost in thought, a voice at her elbow
spoke :
"I have been searching for yon everywhere, my dear Miss
'Lisle. I have come to reproach you you have treated me
with merciless cruelty all night."
She ^ooked around angrily at tne sound of the voice sh
detested- most. Was she never to be' rid of this man?
"Lord Montalien gives himself a g"eat deal of unneces-
sary trouble," she answered, in her iciest voice, and ignoring?
the reproach altogether.
"Miss l.isle, you have danced with every man in, the
rooms, T believe, but myself. What have I done?"
"Xothing whr/:Gver. Like Ca'sar's wiTe, my Lord Monta-
li(n is above reproach."
**How bitterly you say that! Miss Lisle, do ^ ^a hate mf*
iBw Lisle V;:;:; 3ileBt, playisg with her ffti.
i' i
i86 fn WhicVi Miss Lisle is Disposed Of.
"Ag'ain I ask. Miss Lisle, what have I done?- At loa-t ]
have the right to know that!"
"And again I answer, Lord MontaHen," replied Pauliun.
atruggling with another yawn "nothing! Your conduct iv
every phase of life is exemplary. Will that satisfy you ( [
hear Mrs. Galbraith bleating after her lambkin in the dis-
tance, and must go."
"Wait one moment!" his lordship impetuously exclaiiiic!
"only one instant! I can bear this suspense no longer! I
must speak to-night! Paulina, I love you! Will you be mv
wife?"
lie l)ent above her, his eyes glowing, his thin, sallow fac*
flushed. The excitement of the ahase had ca^'ried him away ;
her very disdain, hardly concealed, spurred him on. \U
knew perfectly what her answer would be yet he spoke.
^She rose up and looked at him, neither surprised nor eiii-
barrasseil; then she turned away.
"You honor mo by your preference," she aaid, in her cold-
est voice. "At the sam^j time, I do not think you expect
me to say anything but *no !' "
She moved a step away,' but he came before her, his ariiLS
folded, that pale glow in lys eyes still.
"Miss Lisle, I am to understand you reject me?"
She bowed her head.
"You do not love mo?"
"I do not love you."
"But, Paulina, pause think. I offer you one of the oldest
titles in England; and my position and income are such as
to prevent the most malicious from calling me a fortune
huntei'. And I" love you to distraction I would serve t tr
you as Jacob served for Rachel. I will give you time, onlv
do not do not utterly reject me."
His voice broke, he turned away; his acting was xx^rfeci,
but it was acting, and a faint, cynical smile curved tho girl's
perfect lips.
"My lord," she said, and her sweet, clear voice rang silvrrv
and distinct, "let us understand each other. You d() n^t
love UiC, whatever your motive in asking me to be your
wife. My feelings in regard to you I have not slrlvt.'u ij
conceal. Before you spoke to me you kn';^w perfectly whrit:
my answer would be. I believe you to be, in sspite of eveiy
thing you have said, the betrayer of Alice Warren T ^V "
it I know it, as surely as we stand here. Let there be ii'
jnd of this farce then, at once and forever cease to per '^
Bute m with attenions as unwelcome as they arc useles:
8he bad fitivij^ rous^ itim, lairl au^j^orod his^ m sh.9
meant 1
critical
"Tak.
when n
Much a:
1 know
brother,
wlum s
"My
(ialbrait
"Pass,
ruelty,
U'tter yi
any pur
^et very
take my
(;u are
1)1 V o^Vr
'-The
iieliancc
n:e, l-dfi
-p'':!k Oil
He on
"A ch'
Hut s]
iici" eyes
and hnti
'V\ (dl
tCJMh. "
}
He St
I hough I
hand to
him as k
her wrai
then Si;
Montalit
He wa
f^ene in
cussed t]
f(r iipp(
h'ancu h
leauty i
Miss I
never sj
would s(
The \i
1 know iiotliiiij^ of Alice WuiTcii orNlicr ini-;t'ralle -t.)r.v.
Lrother, of whom .you isin-uk so U'iii(ily, is \ho iiuiii
i\ii-s.
your
In Whch M^ss Lisle is Disposed Of. 187/
meant to do. II in oi-vn onniity wa.i bottor thai his hypo-
critical ilf'votiou.
''Takn caiv!" he suid, under his hrcalh, as he always Hpoke
wiieri roally moved; "even yuu mny f^o tc) far, I'aulina.
Much as I love you, even from you 1 will not e'xlure ins',;lt.
My
with
wlumi she H(m1,"
"My lord, will you let me pass' 1 re])eat 1 hear
(lalbraitii's voice."
"Paa, Miss Lisle," he said; "I forgive and overlook
ruclty, a^d will still venture to hope on. If you knew me
better you would kuow I am not a man easily turned from
any purpose on which 1 have set my heart, and niv heart is
M't very sirongly on winnin.a: and wedding you. Will you
fiike niy arm to the dressing-room^ You will not ^ Ah, well,
,v(;u are exinted now. The day niay e(me when 1 will repeat
iiiy o5er, and you will listen more graciously.'''
"The day will never come," she retorted, in a blaze of
lieiianee. "How dare you address such insolent words lo
ii!(\ I.ord Montalien? You are less tiian man; 1. will never
^p'.'k one word to yon again as h;ng as I live!"
JJe only saiiled.
"A child's threat, my jjeerless Paulina."
liut she had sw(?pt away like an outraged y(uing empress,
her eyes flashing fire, her whole form instinct with auger
and hatred.
"A child's threat," she thought, setting- her white, ktuhII
teilL "He shall see whether or no I can keep a woman's
fill
. oV.
lie stood at the carriage door when she reached if as
Though nothing had happened, and courteously held out his
liand to assist her to enter. Her eyes flashed their fire upon
him as she rejected the lielp proti'ered, and sank back among
h(T wraps in the remotest corn( r. Mrs. riall)r;rith followed,
then Sir Vane, and, to her unspeakable disgust, Lord
Montalien.
He was completely himself again no trace of the stormy
f^ene in the music-room showed on his placid face. He dis-
cussed the ball with Mrs. (lalbraith, his brothj^r's mdooked-
Ui' ai)p?arance tliere with Sir Vane, and once or twice
leaned smilingly forward to addr(?ss a renmrk to the sullen
Leanty in the corner. Dead silence followed those reuiaiks
-Miss Lisle could keep her word as well as he. "She would
never speak to him again," she had said in her passion; it
would seem she meant to keep her worl.
The ji/allid dawn was already overspref \^ th ukjf y/ihun
\
i88 In Which Miss Lisle is Disposed Of.
thf'.v r( u'liod tlie Ivist C-liff. His lorflsliip followed tiit-di
iiit-o the house. Miss Lisle tiud Mrs. (lalhr.iitli went at oik-o
to their res})eetive apartiri'. iits, aiwl Sir Vane, yawninj^ v;'iv
much, looked well dispc'scd to follow, hut his lordshii id
Ins hand farniliarlv on his shoulder, and detained liini.
"Rather an unse.i'^onablo hour, I know," he said, blandly,
"but could I have a word with you in private, Sir Vane, be-
fore you retire?"
The baronet looked it him in surprise, and led the vv;iy
toward his study. A fire burned in the grate, two easy-
ohairs were placed before it, a i)air of wax lights on the man-
tel. By their light the baronet saw that his lordship look( d
as widely awake, as little sleepy, as though it had been hinh
noon.
He flung himself impatiently into one of the armchairs,
and i)ulled out his watch.
"iralf-i)aut five, Montalien," he said; "and I'm infernally
sleepy. Look sharp about it, will you, or I shall be as fast
as a church before you are half through."
"I have no such fear, my dear Sir Vane; you will not \s:o
to sleep until you have heard every word, I am qui^e sure.
Can you guess, in the least, what it is I wish to say?"
"I am no Oedipus, but I may venture to surmise, it is
something about my ward."
"Precisely, Sir Vane."
"I noticed she cut you dead all night, and in the carriiif^e
coming home. Have you and she had a quarrel? She's
the devil's own tefnper, I believe, when her blood's up."
"Quite right in every respect, Sir Vane. We have qiuw-
reled, and she hqs" the devil's own temper. Now who do
you suppose she inherits that unhappy disposition froin^
Not her mother, surely-^Lady Charteris, it seems to me, was
xhe gentlest of created beings."
The baronet rose from his chair his dark face turning?
^,Acm. \ \ .. ..
"What do you mean?" he asked. "What has the name of
Lady Charteris to do with Miss Lisle?"
"Sit down. Sir Vane; pray don't excite yourself. I moridy
uaid Paulina must inherit her temper and headstrong dispo-
sition from Robert Lisle, Lady Charteris bein;:: the most
fcractaWe ot wives, the most yielding of women."
"Lord Montalien, what am I to undcri^tand-
''That I know all," his lordship interrupted, tersely,
**Tha:t Lady Charteris nay, give her her richtfu^ name-
Mrs. Robert Lisle, is Paulina's mother I"
The baronet sank down in his seat, livid with amaze*
inent and consternation..
)
mise, 11 13
In Which Miss Lisle is Disposed Of. i8q
"By what rij^'ht." lie (IcmMiidcd, Iionrscly, '\\o you dure
irinkp this iiisiiuiatioi) ^"
"P.y th(^ ri^lit of kiiowlcdj^o, l.y tlic ri^li* of truth. I'iinliim
\.\-]o is the t'l(h'r dauj^'lit*'!' and heiress cd Hie Lidy the world
thinks your wife. Thinks, ^iily, for .1 lias never for
Olio secoud really been that. Kohort Lisle is her husband.
Paulina Lisle is her cbiuj^hti'r and heirless, as I said, and
yiiur daughter is "
fic paused. Sir Vane sprang from his ehair once mort^
I very devil of fuiy in eitiher eye.
"If you dare!" he cried, "I will throttb^ you where you
^it."
"Then I will not dare," returned Lord Montali(!n, with
is quiet smile, that was like oil thrown upon fire. "Sit
lewu. Sir Vane, sit down, and don't you lose your temiK^r,
(s well as your ward. It is only a weak man's folly a wise
'10 never permits himself to i2;Qt nu^ry. Sit downi, and let
is talk tihis matter out quietly and elearly if we can. I
knew you would be interested, and even at half-past five in
the morning would not fall asleej)."
The baronet sank back in his ehair, literally trembling
vvith rage and terror, lie had thought his secret so safe
L;idy Charteris shut up in a madhouse, llobert Lisle in
exile, and Duke Mason afraid to speak, bound by promise
never to reveal it. And here, in the hour when he thought
himself safest, the last man alive he would have sus{Kc'tHi
nf knowing it, started up, aware of the whole truth!
"This has taken you by surprise. Sir Vane," continued the
imooth tones of his lordship, "and yet I have known it for
.eme time. It is no clever guesswork, no supposition, as
perhaps you may think. ,1 happen to know what T am say-
'iig. I happen to be able to" prove it, if necessary. Carry
^our mind back twenty years ago or so to the lifetime of Air.
Oi'offrey Lyndith, and try if y(m can recollect a very useful
''.ilet in his service, by name James Porter."
The baronet gave one inarticulate gasp at the name.
"Ahl I see you do remember. Perhaps you thought the
man dead. Well, he is dead now, and the deposition he
made in his dying hours is in my possession at present. I
only wonder a clever man, such as I take the late Mr.
Lyndith to have been, should be so weak as to intrust this
kind of secret to a servant. Believe me, we should do the;e
p''"t of things ourselves. Sir Vane, or leave them inulone.
'^ ne lower classes, you will find, as a rule, are troubled with
nervousness conscience, I think they call it and scHiner or
later make a clean breast of the whole aflPair. Porter did.
By tibe moreet accident one of those accident ^ 'hat rule th
'i
190 In Which Miss Lisle ^i. Disposed Of
livf'S of all of us I camp upon him ir his dyin^ hours, and
took down his doposition. I have that document aafe. 1
wonder what Robert \A\e or .your wift^ let us call her
your wile would not give for hi You comprehend n(jw,
Sir Vane, that youv secret is your secret no longer?"
"What do you want?" the baronet asked, in the same
hoarse voice.
"I want to marry Paulina Lisle."
"And to claim the fortune of Lady Charteris?"
"iSO, Sir Vane! if I did I should not ask your aid. T
proniide to resi^ni all claim upon Lady Charteri.s' estate, ta
hand over to you J*orter's confession, on condition that yiju
con)i)el Paulina to marry me."
"(^lorapel !"
"l^rin^ all the influence 'you and your sister possess tr
bear upon this willful ftirl ; let fair means be tried until
patience ceases to be a virtue. Then take her to 'The Firs.'
I will ^o with you; night and day I shall plead my suit,
until, as constant dropping wears a stone, she yields at
lenfi:tli."
The baronet arose, and the two men coldly^ shook hanils
and separated.
*
*
"Mrs. Galbraith, who is to take us to the concert to-
night?"
Miss Lisle looked up from Le Follet to ask this question.
It was the evening succeeding the ball. Dinner was ov( i-.
and, for a wonder. Lord Montalien had not dined at the Last
Cliif.
"Yesterday morning," pursued the heiress, "it was decided
we were to go with Sir Vane. Two hours ago Sir Vane left
by the express train for London. Now, who is to take us to
the concert ?"
The concert of which the young lady spoke was a concert
f more than usual interest for her. Her love for mu^-'v^
anounted to a passion, and to-night the Signor Carlo" Friell-
son was to make his first appearance. Iler heart had beeu
set upon going, as Mrs. Galbraith very well knew.
"Lord Montalien, of course," she said, in her smooth, even
voice; "I expect him every moment; and really, it is al-
most eight, and quite time to dress."
Miss Lisle's eyes fell once more upon he pages of Lf
Folh'i, anj Miss Lisle'o lips set themselves in that reaohite
line that Mrs. Galbraith very well knew meant "breaker!*
ahead." ^, - $'
"Paulina, dear, you lieard meV in her most dnksei toned.
' I i
book liainU
coiipcrt to-
nkiei tones.
In Which Miss Lis!e is Disposed Of. lOi
^TMaud, riiij? for Paulina's maid. It is tinu' to dro-^s for tlio
ocTicert. There will bo aiich a crush, that it is best to bo
early."
'^Doii't trouble yourself, Maud," euid raulina, quietly; "1
shall not go."
'Not fro, Paulina?" i
Paulina laid down Le Follet, and looked aoross at lier
cliaperon with steady blue eyes.
"I shall ixot go, Mrs. (Jalbraith. More T will never ffo
iiiywhere again with Lord Montalien. Tf he h;id eoine here
to dine to-day, I should have left the table. It is quite out
of ni.y powcT to forbid him the house, or Sir Vane's box at
tlie theatre, or you from picking him up whenever we go out
to drive, but what is in my power to do I will. Tt shall be
no fault of mine if peox)le couple our names to^'etlier. T
til(l Ix)rd Montalien last night pretty plainly what I iliought
of him now I tell you. Do not let my whim make any
difference in your plans. You and Maud are both dying to
p to the dchut of this new Mario. Go, bv all means I
AuiW not!"
And then she went back to Le Fftllct. All Mrs. Galliraith
cdukl say was of no avail. Miss Lisle's ultimatum had Ixhmi
spoken, all the eloquence of men and angels would not have
moved her.
Lord Montalien called, and Mrs. Oalbraitli and Maud
wont. lie listened, with his calm smije, to the story of
Paulina'ji Jieadstrong cajirice.
''As the queen pleases," he said, with a shrug;
a
littl
solitude will do her no harm. In half an hour she will be
frauitic that she has not come "
Would she^ The instant the cfirringe drove away
Paulina jumped up, flung Le Follpt across tlie room, and
rang a peal for her maid that nearly broke down the l)ell.
"Quick, Jane," she cried; "dress me in two minutes, and
make me as pretty as ever you can."
Her eyes were dancing now. ft was little, wild, mischie'V-
ous Polly Mason once more.
.lane was a well-traiufnl English lady's maid, and nothing
iHi(l(r the canopy of heaven ever surprised hef. She did
dross her young mistress in ten minutes, and to perfection.
Paulina looked at herself in the glass, and saw that the flow-
ing pink silk, and the long trailing cluster of lilies in lier
golden hair were exquisite. Diamond drops sparkk'd in her
ears, soft illusion veiled the snow-white bust and arms. Her
fan of pearl and rose silk, her bouciuet of lilies and blush
roses lay side by eide. She looked like a lily herslf tall,
aUm, faij^ .
i5;i.
^
I9J In Which Miss Lisle is Disposed Of
"Now my opoin rloiik. (^uick, June."
Jane lluiifj: If ovrr Uvr shouKlcrs iind the hood over li ;
lio;wl. Mlsa \ah\c drew on her j^I(ves, |raili(re(I np hor shivi-
nitM'iii^r silk'n (rain, ;ind swrpt out of tho honso with th it
djJiK'ii)^' Iif,''ht in Ikm- 'y(s, that provoking sniik; on lier liis.
Sho li'ippod (h)wn the front steps and ah)njj: the lanipliL
fltroot for a few .yt'rds. Then she ran^ tlio hell of a hn'm?
Iiousc, and was afhnitcil hy a fool man.
"Is Mrs. Atclirrl.v at liomc^" she asked.
"What! Tanliiia!"' cxchiimcti a hidy, in tho act of cro^-
iiif^' (ho hall, in fnll cvonin^- (h'oss "here! alone! and at tlii-
honr! I thonuht yon wen ^oin^- to the concert?''
'So I am, dear Mrs. Atcheriy, if you will take me? [
would !Kt miss it for a kingdom. You are all ready, 1 see -
how tVutunate I am n't to he to() la(e."
V "Hnt, my love Mrs. (Jalhraith "
"Mrs. (Jalhraith has frone, and Maud and Lord Montalit m.
I'll tell you all ahout it as we fxo alon^. IMease don't let us
he too late."
Mrs. (Jolonel Atcheriy, a stately matron,' her (huij?hter ind
her hushand, descended to the cari'iaji'c. On the way Pau-
lina whisicred the story of her insuhcrdination into the ehiir
lady's ear.
"You know how T detest Lord Montalien, Mrs, Atcheriy.
T couldn't go with him, and T should die yes, I should, if 1
missed hearing the Signor Friellson. What will they say
when they see me?"
"That you are a hare-brained damsel. What a lecture Mrs.
Galhraith will read you to-morrow!"
They reached the pavilion. The curtain had fallen upon
the first act as the Atcheriy party swept along to their hox.
Sir Vane's was nearly opposite, and the glasses of LoiJ
Montalien and the -baronet's sister fell together upon wickiil
Paulina.
Good Heavens!" Mrs. Oalbraith gasped, "can I bel
n
i(n'i
my eyes!"
Lord Montalien burst out laughing. Though the joke tuld
against him, yet Mrs. Galhraith's face of horror was not l
be resisted. "
"It is Paulina!" cried the lady. "Lord Montalien, is it
possible you can laugh?"
"1 beg one thousand pardons," the peer said, still laujili
ing. "It is the best joke of the season! And, egad! she i-!
more beautiful than ever I saw her!"
"She has the grace at least not too look this way. IInw
dare she do so outrageous a thingi I will never forgive her.'
All th lorgnettes in the house turned to the Atcherlj box
over li
luM* shi' 1-
kvitli til :'.
icr liis.
e laniplit,
f a liiiM'
of cro-=i-
11(1 nt tin-
e mo ? I
ly, I s'' -
Vrontnlirii.
)ii't let us
ifjjhtor riiid
way Paii-
) the el(lr
1 Ateherl.v.
lould, if 1
they say
c'tuve Mis.
Ion uix'ii
their hx.
of Loll
on wiekifl
I believ.'
joke told
vas not to
lien, is it
till lan^li
ad! she i-
ay. llnw-
give her.'
cherly box
n V^^ich Miss Lisle is Disposed Of. 19)
nian.v to tin* K''eat ludre - -'iia'i^ more to l!i' noM*^ and
Jovcly li(iil. (^iptain Viilicrs left hi? .scat, in iJie Htnlls and
jofiic tier, and until tlio curtain foil upon the last not an
aninui.cd ilirtation was kepi up. 'i hen .Miss Li^lo. tltin^
her boufiuet to tlie fllioer-vsful tono:*, and took tlie (iuarda-
nnuTrt arm t tho ciirrla^c.
"Mr^^. Atcliorly,'' A\o said. Iau:hin}r1y, "your ^r"olMess em-
boldens UK! to a.-k still an itlu'r f'av;r. Will you ke'p nie all
ui^lit ^ I'crhaps, if Mr-i. (1 illiraith ile^^ps on her wrath, it
will fall less heavily uion iu2 tomorrow."
MisH Lisle did not return hntnc all uit,''ht. Next morning
Sir Vane returned, and was informed of the reh.lUtnis and
uida-ard-of (onduet ol his ward.
The baronet's anger W'HP^ scmtpoIv less than that of hi.s
sister. lie went at once for her; and no death's-head ever
looked more grim than lie jm lie l-'-d he r home.
'And now, Miss Lisle,'' he aslvod, sornly. "may I demand
an explanation of this disgraceful eondnet f"
"Disgraeeful, Sir Vane! 1 don't (luiti- see that; I went to
the eoneert beeauso 1 want'd to g(j to the eoneert, and \ did
Hot go with Mrs. (lalbraith because Lord ^l(ntalien w;is her
eseort, 1 hope thai is satisfa(;tory !"
"It is not satisfactory. I rojieat it; your conduct has been
dis^Taceful."
"Sir Vane, you may ubc that word oncf loo often. Xeilher
low. nor at any future time, sliall Lord MontalicMi appear in
public with me."
"Lord Montalien has done you rno honor to propose to you.
It is my desire my connnand that you shall accept him.'f
iMiss Lisle smiled (juietiy and took a seat.
"Lord* Montalien iias h.id ii coinplaint against me. has Iio,
and my giiardian's jjower h to be brouglit to bear in his
favor '^ Sir Vnne, tuke my advice and spare yourself a great
deal of useless rlu torlc ami breath. If Lord .Montalien were
the ruler of the v;orld, and my lite depended on it, I would
lay my head on the bloek sooner than marry him! f hopo
that is conclusive! I will never step across his thr 'shold,
or sit at the same table with him. I will not g4 down t/
Montalien at Christmas. I ho])c that is eoncUisive !"
"Tlien hear me," eried her guardian, whit' with anger.
"Until you do speak to him, sit at the same ^''hle with hiiu,
and consent to marry him, you s-iall remaiii in your room
w;!t('hed. The escapade of lar-.t'r.ij^lit shalhnot accuv again.
Solitary confinement, perhaps, will teach you oheliencH.
11:
N
OW go I
t
Mias Lisle rose at once. TTe had expceted an outburst . f
iiidi^rnant protest and ixassion, but who was to judge iLi^
1
194
ff
A New Way to Pay OH Debts/'
irir]? She pn{ up T^itll fl p''' ^^'l^i'iK ^^milo on Ikt fflvT, aud
vvalkMi straight out of tlio ruuiu." lu tlic duurway uhc
paused.
"I liavo oidy ono roquf^t to niM^c," slic said, still with that
pr()Vokill^^ sinilr; "iUm.-t dor^t fct d iiic on hrcaii and wnter.
1 sliouldn't IIIk; to firow uuy thiiUHT, and do hv kind to poor
littlo I'aiulorc! (hc^r roodlo). For tho refit, Sir Vane, I hoar
but to oboy."
She: wen*: Up lo her room'=. Slio.had tlii-eo on the sunify
RouthciJi side I't'droon', dressing-room and sitting room.
8ho glaiicf'd around. Heaps of hooks and magazines wore
everywhere, heaps of P(rlin wool, and beadwork, heaps of
nmsic and a pirtno. She risng the hell, and wl' n lier maid
eanio slie pt('j)ed out through a crevices in the door.
"flane,'* she said, with soh'innity, 'Tm a ]ri^oner here, and
t^) prevent tlie pospihility of my escape I am going to hjck
myself in! You will fetch me my nie-ds, niul when you wiint
anythin.iif, Jane, you will raj), you know, and tell me through
the keyhole.*'
8Ir Vaiio had followed her and heard every word of this
whimsical speech.
'^What is to 1k' done w lh such a girl as thai ?" the haronet
demancknl of his sister; '*shc is afraid of notliing imprison-
ment, solitude notliin^;-, I say. Jlear her now!"
Mis=^ Lisle was seated at lier piano, and her high, sweet
BingiU;? echoed through the house.
"Paulina Lisle is danirerous." Mrs. GHlhr;ilth said, with
emphasis; "that girl is capable of anything when fally
aroused."
Mrs. CJalhraith was right. She and her brotl^pr were
speedily to learn of what Paulina Lisle was capaWe!
CTTAPTER VIL
"a new way to pay old debts.*'
It A7as the twentieth of December.
Francis, Lord Montalien, rose from the luxurious dinner
iji his bachelor apartments, prepared by a first-rate French
artist, and wilkcd into his reception-room. Lord Montalien's
lodgings \fere on the s"Hiny side of 8t. James street, and rather
more luxurior-, if po^^sible than th? apartments of a youii
duch(rs. lie had but coi^a from a funeral a few hours be-
fore, the funeral of his vich grandaimt. Miss Eerlscourt.
After the funeral the will had been read in the lawyBi^s office
the will tha^ V the utter amaze of everybody save the lav
i
A iNew Way to Pay Old Debts '* 195
yr Jiinl lt'p:ktM'. Icf' i-r\ sliilliui,' s)u' l)osv.s^Pfi to }ur t-Mer
iirphc'W, 1 'U'd Mdiiiii.M : . liuy ji ..'1 lufti cut oi\ witli'iuf 'Wii
ti uinrt u buy a un'uniin^f riiiv;, "tor his 'vil courses," \\w
Afcill ptiiiifrdly said tl)o shaiMiful (ouiscs waich, for llu* t'lr^l
linH', 1!mI ljroilit di-;rju't( \i)on the iiaiiH- af I'larlscourt.
Ill fli.it hour of triiitiiph the rhlor lirolhcr h;id cast, in spito
ut himself, one Khinco (f lriuiii|li at the di-^iidu'ritcd favur-
itc. (Juy stood perfectly ;idrM it wmh his de itli-w:irraiit ho
heard read, hut lut! a iiiiisch' moved; his liaudsdiin' iTice
looki'ii as serenely, a- eo'dly indifferent as ihoiii^h he liad half
a iiiilliuii or so at his h.MikriV. And Lord Mout.ilieTi had
set his t(efh with an inward (alh--lie could not coiKpn r him
iu the hour of his lwnfall ho rose above him still.
'(Jurse him!" ho hisseii; "I always hatetl him for his
d d patrician beauty and lanvrm^r, his air nohh'. ;n tlio
Women calT it, and his insutferable insojeiiee, and I hate him
more now, in Ids utter downfall, than I ever did before. I
wisli h(; worf la re, that I nii^'bt for once throw off the mask
and tell liiin (."
The mntc'r )h* served seeinod iiK'linod to let him have his
way in this as in all otiur things. The wish had scarcely*
taken shajie, when tli( door was tlun^ open, and his juroom
of the chambers announced "iMr. KarNcourt."
Lord Montalien paus'd in his walk, anl, crossinf^ over to
the chinirieypiece, leanerl his arm upf)n it, and looked full at
his brother, that exultant, Satanic smile brij^ht yi^t on his
face. J To l)ad this last desire, as lie had had all others; tho
man ho hated, and whom he had helped to ruin, stood before
him, in tho dark hour of his life.
(Juy camo slowly forward nwd stood directly of)posite to
him, at tho other end of the mantel. Ile too, won? mourn-
ing:, his face was very prravc, very hnf.':p:ard, very pale. rark
circles surrounded his ey(v., but that noble air, which his
brother so hated, had not h'ft him. Tie looked handsomer,
nobler, now in his utter downfall, beyond all co!ri{)arison,
than the w'althy, the well-reimtcd T.ord if Montalien. And
Francis Earlscourt saw it and knw it.
"Well, Ouy," he began, slowly, "and so the worst has come.
Have you visited me to congratulate leC, or to ask my sy^tn-
pathy for your own great misfortune? Who would have
thought Afiss Farlscourt would have had the heart to disin
herit her favorite?'*
Tho mocking toi;.e, fhe oxultan- look, were indescribable.
Guy lifted his dark eye: and loo.cd stenlHly across at him.
"It must have b*3en a tremendous blow," the elder con-
tinued; "it WiK. your ias^ hope. Perhape, though, I': is not
196 *^A New Way to Pay Old DeHs
9*
t'..
i.i : i
aw, ,!gi ,.r
your \i\'^i lio])o; .; rhnps you have -conic to me to. help you iB
J'ftur liour (f lire;!/'
"No, Frank."' Uuy said, (luietly, "I have fallen very low,
but my misfortunes, or evil courses, which you will, have not
(juitc turned my brain. I have never asked you for a far-
ihinj^: ret, and T never will.''
"And yet, you remember after our father's death, I told
yon to come to me in your hour of need, and I would assist
you. You were your father's favorite, Guy; you are the son
of tlie wife he loved ; he left you all he had to leave. I won-
der hov/ he would feel if he saw yoii novv?"
"We will leave his name out of the discussion, if you
please. And as neither now nor at any past time I ever
troubled your purse or your brotherly aifection, you're hit-
ting a man v^hen he' down is in very bad taste, to say the
least of it. I have neither 3ome here to-night for symjiathy
nor money I know how much of either I would get or de-
serve to jj^et. Shall I tell you why I have come?"
"By all means to say farewell, perhaps, on the eve of
your lifelong exile. What place of refuge have you chosen
Algeria, Australia, New Zealand, America? I should really
like to know!"
"I did not come to say farewell. I came to speak to you
of Alice Warren."
The elder brother started at the unexpected sound of tliat
luime. Not once had he seen her since the night he had vis-
ited her in Barton street.
"Alice Warren," he said, with an oath; "what has Alice
Warren to do with it ? Do you expect me to look after your
cast-off mistress when you are gone?"
"I expect nothing of you nothing how often must I re-
peat it? And Alice Warren is no mistress of ^nine of any
man's, I believe in my soul. Whatever she is, you are- the
scoundrel who has led her astray, under promise of marriage.
Hear me out, my lord; I have come to be heard, an' will. If
you have one spark of manhood left, you will atone in some
way for the great wrong you have done an innocent girl.
You will not leave the fresh face you wooed down in Lin-
colnshire exj)osed to the disgrace of London gaslight."
"I shall do precisely as I please in this, as in all other
things. It is refreshing, really, to hear you, of all men, the
defender of female innocence, of soiled doves, such as Alice
Warren."
"At least no innocent girl's ruin lies at my door, no man's
betrayal. I repeat, if you have one spark of manhood left,
you "ill atono for the wrong you have done her."
"As how ?" with his sneering amiie; "by a real marriage
you IE
^ry low,
lave not
: a far-
, I told
Id a.-sist
the sou
I won-
, if you
} I evor
u're bit-
I say the
ympathy
et or de-
e eve of
chosen
lid really
,k to you
d of that
had vis-
las Alice
ftcr your
ust I re-
! of any
1 are- the
marriage,
will. If
in some
ent girl,
in Lin-
it."
all other
men, the
as Alice
no man's
hood left,
arriage
A Jew Way to Pay Old Debts/' 197
make the hailiiT's diuKhtcr my I.ady Moiitali-ti ? M.^y 1 a-^k
when you had the pleasure of seeing the l.idy l.i^t. and ff
she connnissioned you to conic here and plead her ''a^c?"
"1 f.aw lior two hours ago, and she comniissioncd me to do
nothing of the sort. I was walking along tlie Stra;. 1 wilh
Gus Stedman, and we camo face to fac(^ witli poor A!:'-e. I
should not have known her she has become such a /re.elied
shadow of herself. If ever a heart was hntken, 1 believe Imts
to be. By Heaven, Frank, it is a cruel shanu ii vou iiad
murdered her in cold blood you could not be more guilty
than you are !"
The sneering smile never left the other's face, though he
was pallid with supjfre.ssed passion. lie took up his eig;ir
case and lit a ^lanilla, though his hands shook as he did it.
"And she told you, no doubt, a piteous story of my be-
trayal and my baseness or is all this accusation but the
figment of your own lively brain i"^
"She told me nothing; she is true to you, false as you hi've
been to her. We scarcely exchanged words she seemed !o
have something to say to Stedman, and 1 walked off, and Irft
them. It is of no use your wearing a mask with me. Wluu
Alice Warren came up to London last Septend)er, p( or, cred-
ulous child, it was to become your wife."
"You are right!" exclaimed Lord Montalieti, suddenly;
"and I will throw off the mask wtih you, iny virtue-preaching
younger brother! In that other land to which your mis-
fortunes are driving you, you might, with p-easure to yoiir
self and profit to your hearers, turn Metliodi-^t parson the
role seems to suit you amazingly. I shall deal witli .Mice
Warrer. exactly as T please, and for niarriagv', I slinll marry
Paulina Lisle!"
"Poor Paulina," Cluy said, bitterly. ^'May Heaven kc(p
her from such a fate I"
"You believe in Heaven? At least It has not dealt very
kindly by you. T s-hall marry Pauli)ia i.isle and lu r for-
tune; and it will he the delighlfu! occupation of my li!( to
break that high spirit while you are hrt-ak'ng s.oms oi, i he
roads out there in Australia. (^r Alice Warren, slie will
far(^ none the better for yoir pdvocacy. l.er u- -,)"'!; r-t'
yourself I really feel ati interest in yi ur fate, thoimli you
may not believe it. You have ^ent in your pa;:ers to c]l,
T suppose? You are not mad enough to try rtnl rcmi'.i in
England?"
(luy bowed his licad in asse!it,,and turned to go,
"Pray, do not b'^^ in sui-h haste I have not half tinislied
what 1 desire to say to you. Have you chosen as yet the
place of your outlawry t"
'. '
198 *'A New Way to Pay Old Debts.''
''T]u place of my outlawry is a inatter that in no way coih
L'vnis you.''
''V('ry true; and what dct'S it signify America, Australia,
A!;i-ria i' is all the , same. But don't you feel a curiosity
lo kiiow how you came to he disinherited? Most men would,
{ 'li i k; and you were t^uch a favorite with old Miss Earls-
coiTt, as with all women, young and old, indeed."
"'J'hrou.Th your hrothorly kindness, Frank, no doubt."
**(^uite right through my brotherly kindness. lut for
ine you would to-day be heir to our lamented maiden aunt's
large fortune, able to snap your fingers in the faces of the
Jews, and marry Paulina Lisle yourself, if you desired it.
She was ready to forgive ^'ou, seventy times seven, to pay
your de!)ts to the end of the chapter, and leave you all when
she died but for me! but for me! Shall I tell you, Guy,
how I did it ?"
"If you please."
"By means of the girl whose case yon have come here to
plead by means of Alice Warren. Your gambHng, your
;lrinking, your mad extravagance in every Avay, she Wi!-- ])r(
pared to forgive and condone, but not the luring from home,
under pretense of marriage, and ruin of a young and virtu-
ous girl, whose father nil his life had loved and served you
and yours! T went to her two weeks ago, my brilliant, care-
less (luy, and I told her this. I made her believe this, tha
only thing tha: could have ruined you; and that nig it she
tore up the will that left you all you hear all! and made
me her heir!"
He paused. Satan himself, triumphing over a lot t soul,
could not have looked more diabolically exultant, r or Guy,
liQ listened, his elbow on the marble mantel, his calm, pale
face unmoved, his eyes fixed steadfastly on his only brother's
face.
"You did this," he said, slowly. "I know you always
hated me, but I did not no, I did not think, base as I
know you to be, that you were capable of thil. Frank,"
with a sudden change of tone, "will you tell me why you
have hated me? I have been a worthless fellow b"^t I neveT
injured you."
"Did you not?" I-ord Montalien ground out, with a deep
oath. "Why, curse you, T believe I have haied you from
your cradle! You were the Isaac, I the Ishmacl; you the
prttcil. the caressed, the admired I the unlicked cub, the
.nlovcd son of an unloved mother! T have hated yen for
that beauty which v^omen have so admired, for the taleii's
anl acvomplishments that have rendered you a favorite with
men; and I swore to tave re jnge and I have had it. Your
sp
8t(
Wf
hr
W
an
8p(
hei
fa(
one
coib
alia,
jsity
:)uld,
larls-
t for
unt's
f the
:k\ it.
3 pay
when
Guy,
ere to
your
2? Y)rc-
hoine,
virtn-
3(1 you
, care-
is, tha
it she
i mdtlo
soul,
r Guy,
n, pale
other's
always
io as I
^rank,"
hy you
I novoT
a deep
u from
ou the
ub, the
you foT
taleii'!^
ite with
'*A New Way to Pay Old Debts." 199
brilliant life is over; you . iv a be^gnr; yen a:o forth to
exile and outhnniy and (lii,n-aco to starve or work in a for-
eign land! And tlie title, and the weaUh, anl ihe l-mm'I re-
pute are mine! lias nu)ro ;j()t to be said^ i wid rnirry
IV.ulinii Lisle before thf next London season, and Aliee V/ar
rcu nniy go, as you have gone, to perdition. Mr. Guy Kails-
court, permit nie to wish you good-night!"
IIo rang the bell.
"Show Mr. Karlseourt tu the (ln,,r," he -aid to the servant,
^'and admit liini hej'c no more I"
He could not forbear this last inult. With (nie look a
look not soon to be forgotten (luy went forth, never to eroas
that threshold again.
"And now for Berkeley Square and Paulirui!" exelaiinod
Lord ^VFontalien, taking up his greatcoat. *'\Ve will see
what frame of mind that obstinate little beauty is in to-
night!"
But he was not to go yet. The door opened once more, and
the groom of the chambers ap{)eared, with a disturbed
countenance.
"j\Iy lord, there is a young i)erson here who says she must
see you. I have remonstrated -'"
lie stopped aghast. The young person had had the au-
dacity to follow him, and stood now upon the threshold. It
was Alice!
"That will do, Kobinson; I will ^ee this wonian ! CJo!"
The groom of the elunnbers vanished, closing the door
after him, and dropping the heavy curtain of erinisoii cloth
that effectually shut in every sound; and Aliee, wan as a
S})irit, covered with snow, with wild eyes and ghastly face,
stood before Lord !Montalien in all his splendor. His face
was literally black with rage. lie hatod her, he loathed her,
ho had forbidden lujr in the r'lo-t emphatic.' manner ever to
write to him or intrude upon him, and she had had the
audacity to force li(M' way hei'e !
"llovv dare you!" he saiil, under his breath, as he always
spoke v^hen his passion was greatest "how dare you come
here?"
She was trembling with cold. Slie was miserably clad and
fatigued, but he offered her no chair, did not bid b"r ap-
proach the fire. She remained stamling near tlie door, h'-r
face, awfully corpselike, tnnie(I uixni him.
"Wliy have you come here?" he thundered. "Speak at
once why have you dared +o come here?"
"I have come for justice, L(jrd ?\lontalien. 1 am your
wife, and you leave me to starve! I am your wife, and an
outcast from home and friends! Frank 1 Frank 1" her voice
. ,1
i
V
1
i
m
1;
*
:..'L
200 ''\ New Way to Pay Old Debts."
rising to a ?}jii]l ci'y "I havo not scp.i you for six week.^--=
1 liiid to come lure I should havf jr(iM: mad or died i A
had not c!onio."
"It lii a pity you did not!" hn hrutally answered. "Go
mad and die the sooner the better; lut don't come torment-
ing nie with the sight of your niiseralde, white face."
She clasped both luMids over her heart and staggered as
though he had given her a blow; her lips moved, but no
Bound came forth.
"What do you mean by coming here for justice, as you
call it J" he went on. "Justice means money, I suppose.
Well, here are ten guineas take them, and pay your bill,
and begone !''
She rallied again; after an effort or two words came from
her aslien lii)s:
"I came for justice, an1 T must liave it I am your wife
your lawful, wedded wife why, tlien, are you trying to
marry Paulina l.isle^"
He strode a ste{ toward lier, then stopped.
"Who has told you this'" he cried, with suppressed fury. '
"Mr. Stedman. I met him to-day he told me you were
engaged to marry Paulina l.isie, and would marry her.
Frank, it must not, shall not be! T can bear a great deal,
but not that. 1 love Paulina; she shall never be ruined as I
have been. You shall own me before the world as what I
am your lawful wife,, or 1 will go io her and tell her all."
There was that in her fac', in h(^r eyes, in her tone, a
firmness, a resolution, ho had never seen there before. The
crushed worm had turned; he knew she meant what she had
said.
"You will do this!" he exclaimed, hoarsely,
"I swear I will! My heart is broken, my life ruineil-'^that
is past hope you hate me, and wish to cast me off. But
she shall be saved my good name shall be saved. Unless
before this year ends you promise to. proclaim me as your
wife, I will go to Paulina Lisle and tell her all."
"Then go!" he burst forth, in his fury; "go weak, drivel-
ing, miserable fool! My wife! Why, you idiot, you have
never been that for one hour, for one second. The man who
married us was no clergyman, but a w(rthle , drunken va-
grant, who entered into the plot with Stedman and me. My
wife! Faugh! T was mad enough, but never half mad
enough to lo that! Now you know the truth at last no
iuore my wife than any streetwalker in London. Go to your
friend, Mr. Stedman, and he will indorse my words."
There was a ''^^'^ near her eh grasped it to keep from
"D
gerin;
upon
many
What
fellow
stead
Miss
born
what
and
fortal
a nig!
out tl
,. ^^''
n'en (
"Tl
in a c
"A New Way to Pay Old DeMs.'* 201
falling, and in the licig'hl of his mad fur^ ':c liad to shift
away from tlie gaze of llic lar^c, horror-' ruck vyvs.
"5sot ills wifcl" she wliispcred; "not his wife!"
*'\ot my wife, I swear it I I did iK.t nxan \, tell you
until 1 liad g)i you (|uietly out (d" llie coinury. hut as weH
now as hiter. And, mark you if vou '^o near I'aniina Lisle
I will kill you!"
The last words came hissin^^ llirongh his set teeth.
"Not his wife," she repoaled '.nco more, in a sort of whis-
per; "not his wife!"
Sh(^ turned hlindly toward the door, grooinpr like one in
the dark. He lifted the eurtain, and opened it for her.
"(Jet a jL'uh, and go home," he said. "I will call ujjon you
in a day or two, and see what can he done. I will prctvide
for you, have no fear of that. Jlere is the money go hack
iuietly and wait until 1 eome."
She did not seem to hear or heed him. She never notieed
the money he offered. Slie w( nt forward in the same hlind
way, the servant looking at her curiously, and passed from
the lu.xurious wealth and light of those eostly rooms to the
bitter, drifting snowstorm without.
"So niueli the better,"" muttered his lordship; "if she p(T-
isli in the storm it will save me a world of trouble. Half-past
nine! The devil's in it, if I cannot go to Paulina now!"
The devil was in it he was apt to be, horns and hoofs and
all in the same room with Fraticis, Lord Montalien. Hifore
his wraps were on, the lof)r was Hung open for the third
time, and Mr. Stedman announced.
"Didn't exj^eet to see nie, old boy!" his visitor said, swag-
gering in with easy familiarity. "(Joing out, too, to call
upon the lovely Paulina, no doubt. Well, T wc^i't detain you
many minutes. So let us sit down and be comfortable.
What a cozy erib you have here. I'rank, and what a lucky
fellow you are! All Miss Karlscourt'^ money left to you, in-
stead of that unfortunate beggar, (iuy. And now the rich
iMiss Lisle is goiiig to marry you, they say. It's better to be
born lucky than rich, but when a man's both lucky and rich,
what an enviable mortal he is! Ah! the world's a seesaw,
and some of us go up and some of us go down! flow coui-
fortable this coal fire is such a night- the very dickens of
a night, rean tell you. Hy the by, who lo,you thi'^k I met
out there just now in the storm?" . . ~ -,-
Tie looked cunningly at Lord Montalien, but Liu'd Montn-
:ien did not srx'ak. His face was set in ai; angry frown.
"That poor, little, unfortunate Alice of yours. I put her
in a cab~-6lie didn't seem to know where she was going, and
ao2 "A New Way to Pay Old Debts.'
ii'
paid tho drivc^r to take her hom: I believe, in my soiii
she would have perished before morning."
"I wish to Heaven she had, and you with her!" burst out
the badgered peer. "What the deuce brings you here, Sted-
ujan i Don't you see I'm going outi"
"Now, that ig inhospitable,'* murmured Mr. Stedmaji, ro-
proac'hi'uliy; "and to such a friend as I have been to you,
too. Didn't you tell me I had a claim upon your gratitude
you would never forget when I chose to call upon you ? The
time has come. 1 leave England in three days, to seek my
fortune in Australia; and I have called tipon you to-night,
Lord Montalien, for a check for three thousand pounds."
Lord Montalien laughed scornfully.
"Three thousand demons, perhaps 1" he said.
"No, my lord, one of them 1 find quite enough to deal with
at once. I want three thousand pounds, and I mean to have
it before I quit this room!"
"You are mad or drunk which?"
"Neither, most noble lord. Your secret is worth the
money."
"What secret?" with a scornful stare.
"That Alice Warren, the bailiff's daughter, is your lawful,
wedded wife!"
"What!"
Mr. Stedman looked up at him with an exultant smile of
power.
"That Alice Warren, whom ten minutes ago you turned
from your doors to perish in the snow, is your lawful, wedded
wife, as fast as the Archbishop of Canterbury's license and a
clergyman of the iChurch of England can make her! That is
your secret, my lord! You thought I would be your cat's-
paw, run my licad in a noose to oblige j'ou do your dirty
work, and tak(^ a 'thank you' for my pains. That was your
mic'take. You are as .tightly married to Alice W^arrcu as
though the ceremony h?)d been performed under the roof of
St. George's, Hanover Square. You can prove my words if
you like, easily enough Alice Warren is Lady Montalien/'
The two men looked at each other, and Lord Montalien
knew he spoke the truth. In the waxlight his face was
deadly pale.
"Stedman," he .aid, "why hnve you done this?"
"To wi{)e out all old debt of six years' stivnding, my lonl.
Y(ni know to what I refer to Fanny Dashon. You thought
I had forgotten, didn't you? that was your little mistnke.
The debt was cleanly wiped out on the night you married thr
bailiff's daug^hter. Now will you give me your chock :.c
three thousand pounds or not i''
'C-jmili."'': Husband.
303
i do not ^
If lior, T will ^o ^1r;^i;.Mlc from this room a Pauliiui Lisle.
rihI tell hrr the wholes story. To obtniu iuformnt
ic,:\ )
f 1
1
nciu
1 sli
V uili f,'-iv(' me ut least oiic tlousniul. juui mv rrvi'i
will l.o worth the (ithcr two. 1 think, of iho two courMs, 1
really should jtrcfcr it.''
L'trd Montalieii, witlu^iit a word, opened his cheeklx'ok
and wrote an order for three thousand ixmiid-.
"What surety have I," he saitl, ''that yon will not -till ;:o
to ]VI!ss Lisle when 1 havc^ ^ivcMi you this?"*
"My promise, niy .ord, wliieh I will keejt. (Jive nir \\u)
chick, and I swear to leave Enj.rl.ind, and keep yom* -een't
invi.i'ate to the end of my life.'"
\Vi;hout a word his lord.ship passed him tin- slip .,f jtapir.
?lr. Stedman folded it up with a satisfied smile.
"Tiianks, my lord, and farewell. I will d'Miii ycju no
He took his hat and aj^pvoaehed the door. Then he turned
round for a second, and looked at Lord .Moutalit'n slandiiVc
like a statur".
'Jv h)rd," ho said, "it wasn't her fault. Don't he *
OO
h'r.vil on h'r wdien 1 am i-oi
le
,*-..)
d-ni^ht, Mr, Stedman,"' his lordship ans\verel, icily
\ know what T ov.-e her, and how to leal with her.
iVUi
1 tl
leii he was aume.
Al
one
.\
o ,
r
nseen tempt^rs.
dark spirits, filled the room. Tie thi'cw off his overcoat and
walked U]) and down. Tlonr after hour sti'uek it was h'li^'
past midnight, and still he never })aused in that ceaseh*ss
walk. Jlonr after hour wore by morning- datvned, white and
cold, over London firelight and waxli^ht lunl flickered and
died away.
And with the morninji;, Lord ^rontalicn know how he
meant to deal witii Alice.
i
1i'-.|
CHAPTER VIIL
CAMILLA S HUSBAND '
Rir Vane Charteris and his family had heen back two
days in the house in Berkeley Square. The Christmas i\'s-
tivities at Montalien had been postponed indefinitely, all
throuj^h *the headstrong disobedience of that wilifnl girl,
Paulina Lisle.
a
I will never jro to ^Afontalien Priory of my own wi
11,
she
.said; 'and if you take me by force, I vill
un
refuge with Duke Mason, an hour after we get tlitre.
away and .seek
204
Camilla's Husband.'
"jicr (J('vlli-^]i (li'tcriiiiu'Uioii 1 uovor saw cf[uakil in old
or .yonii^!" Sir \'i\nv. .said tt ilu* last day of his litV.
And indeed there was truth iit the forciljh- remark. Slje
had I;' pt her rooms, t;j the surprint,' of everyljody for a foil
iiij^ht at JJri^hton iiavliif^' her meals sent up to her, not
seeiii;^- a soul l)Ul lier maid .lane. Tlie, weather had h'-cn
dismal thi-ouidioiit, and with jilenty of new hooks and lew
music, I'aulina eould not fed very lonely. The Brighton
world bejjjan at last t( ask so many questions about its
bright favorite tliat at length Sii* \'ane sent up his own
man, with a polite recpie?. : that Miss Lisle would join them
that day at dinner. Miss T.isle's prompt answer was ehar-
aeteri.'.t ic :
"Tell Sir Vano Charteris, Brownson, with my e(jmpli-
ments, that J have stayfd a prisoner here for two weeks to
please him I shall now stay two more to please myself!"
With which the door closed emphatically in Brownson's
bewildered face. And Miss Lisle would hav(^ been as good as
Her word had not the baronet wdiisked his whole family back
to town.
I.ojidon was deserted now by their world, but Mrs. Atch-
erly, Paulina's friend, had a country seat at Twickenham;
and on the twenty-second of December was to give a grand
ball, to be preceded by private theatricals; and to these theat-
ricals and to this ball Paulina had promised faithfully to go.
But Sir Vane ruled it otherwise.
"If Mrs. Atcherly should happen to call," he said to his
sister, "tell her Paulina is indisposed, and unable to attend.
If she thought she was to be taken to 'The Firs,' she would
throw hej'self upon the Atcherlys protection, as soon as not,
and the old colonel is a veritable Don Quixote about women."
Mrs. Atcherly did call on the twenty-first, and was told, in
Mrs. CJalbraith's smoothest way, i)oor Paulina would not be
able to attend the child had been indisposed since a fort-
night before they left Brighton.
Was t]u list of Miss Lisle's enormities never to be filled^
The drawing-room door, opened as Mrs. Galbraith spoke, and
the yonng lady herself walked in, her cheeks glowing, her
eyes sparkling, the very impersonation of excellent health
and spirits.
"Not so indisposed, Mrs. CJalbraith, that she cannot grci't
an old friend. And, dear Mrs, Atcherly, T will go to Twick
enham to-morrow night if T have to walk there!"
"I am ;-o glad. Kemember, Mrs. Oalbraith," risii?g to :r-,
"we shall assuredly expect you and Miss Lisle."
Mrs. Galbraith turned passionately to Miss Lisle the in-
stant her visitor had quitted the house.
t
Camilla's Husbarri/
20^
iliss Lislo lifted muc Iniiid. with linu^dit.v ^'osturo, thirt
stilled tiu' risiii/^- Icmpcst.
'VMi . (iiilltraitli,"' li(' sjiid. in n voice flinl rjinir. "eiinim-h
of lhiI 1 am nil cliiid to In- wliipiicd and pnt to IxmI, ;is you
see iit no i)Oor, timid, spiritless ereMtnre. to lie tynmni/cd
over by yin. ov your brother! I ^Indl ^'o t 'I'wickenliMm t(j-
nuM'row i.i^lit as .surely as to-murrow ni^ht comes."
She sweiit out of liie room superbly. A-; he jvissed I ho
library--lie door ajar she was suddenly ehecke*! by hearing
her ev n name from the hated lii)s of I^ird Montalien.
"Does raulinu know yet you are. koIuk to take her to ''i'ho
Firs' for the winter?" he asked.
"Not yet. 1 tell ytju, ^Montalien, tli.' determined will of
that g^irl is past belief! She is capable of a!lythin^^ Sho
shall not know her destination until we are fairly started
Eleanor will fabricate some story to satisfy her. Once at
The Firs' J hav' no fear. It will b( all our own way then
the house is as lonely and desobite as a'toirdi; and I will
take care she does not pass tlu; gates. You will be with her
day and niidit -f you cannot inake br-r consent to marry
you before s[)ring, why then ;"
"She .-hall consent, by fair means or foul. She shall only
leave 'The Firs' as my wife."
lie rose as he spoke, and Pa\dina Hit ted away.
In her own rcx)ms, she sank down, white and cold. Wiiat
horrible plot was this they were concocting against her?
They were going to imprison her at "The Firs" f(/r months
and months, that dreary house Mrs. (lalbraitb ever s[)oke of
with a shudder. And Lord Alontalien was to be her constant
companion, and by fair means or foul she was Mdy to leave
it his wife. Her heart grew s'ick witinn her. Her own will
might be strong, but that of those two men was stronger.
Imprisoned there- friendless bow could she hop(! * outwit
them i
. "Something must be done to-night,'' slie tlwHiglit, as she
dressed herself for Mrs. Atcherly's ball. She h.id not the
least idea what, but something must be (.ne to avert her fate.
Never, never, never! would she go rlown to "The Fir*s."
She was thinking this as her maid dressed lier thinking
it as they drove rajiidly throrgh tb.e cold, mnotdit ni.!.iht
thinking it as she entered' Mrs. Atclierly's pleasant rooms,
filled with pleasant people. She was looking beautiful in a
dicss of silver-blue moire, with diauK-nds ^pnrkling in her
rold hair, on her marble throat and arms. She was jjale as
ma-'ble herself, but there was a feverish fire in her eyes that
told of the unrest within.
Sir Vane, Lord Montalien, even Maud, attended this part^
;{..!
.
206
"Camilla's Husband."
t' witness the thoatricnls. Hills priritof^ cv whifo Hatin were
|)tis8('(l aromid. Tin* phiy was ''Camilla's llusbaii*!." "Ca-
milla," ly Miss Att'hcrly, and tho yomi^ artist, who is the
hero ot" tho piece, by Cuy KarUeourt.
"His h^^^t ap|)oaraiiee on any sta^e," laughed liis Irotli'T to
Sir Vane, "before ho goes forth into the outer tlarkne', te
be seen and heard of no more. lie was a' ways a sort of [iv\
with those {teople. He has Bold out, y u know, and must
leave Knuhind within th^ week, or the Jews will be down
upon him, and all his brilliancy, and all his b'auty, will
Ik' wasted sweetness on the des:rt air of a lebtors prison.''
"How you do hate your brother," Sir Vane thought; '"and
you do nut possess even the common decency to conceal it."
l*erliajs many of those who reail this have seen the play
called "('amilla's Husband." A youn^ huiy, persecuted by a
tyiaimical KU{''dian, makes her escape, and asks the tirst
man slie meets to marry her.
The lirst man i^ a strolling artist, who consents, marries
her, receives a jiurne of y!;o\d, is told he is never to see or
seek her a^ain, and slie disappears. Of course it ends, as
it ought to tiul, in the arti^ saving her life, and eventually
winning her hnc and herself.
Paulina Lisle sat watching the progress of the play, led
away from the great trouble of her life in its Intercast. How
well he playel, slie thought; how magnificently he lookel!
llow like Camilla's fate was to her own! Oh! if she could
but cut the Gordian knot of her difficulties by asking some
body to marry her too!
It was the last scene of the last act. Camilla is hopelessly
in love with her artist, and that moment is drawing near
when she shall fling herself into his arms and declare that
"irapi)y am I, since you are Camilla's husband."
CfUy was playing superbly; and when, in the last monjont,
he opens his arms, and his wife falls into them, the whuh'
house lant forth into a tumult of applause, in the midst of
which tho curtain fell, and the play was over.
"I Tow well he acted," a voice near Paulina said, as a young
ofRcer of the Guards arose with a military friend, "for a man
irretrievably ruined. His debts are enonnous; aifd his old
ftuut lias died, and left all to that cad of an elder brother.
What a pity the days of Faust and Mephistopheles are over!
Guy Earlscourt wouM sell his soul to the Evil One, I verily
believe, without v. moment's hesitation, for twenty thousand
pounds! He must leave England in a day or two, and for-
ever."
The speaker passed on; but his light-spoken wonis had
been beard and iieeded. In that instant, as alie Iktenedf it
II
Camilla's Husb;-
.} !
207
ail jU:"ihc(] upon y*uulin.i like -^ '"'lihMTip; r-lonm. l*;iy Knils-
C(i!i-t \*i' till iiiMii llu" iriaa Ir- iiiiri-.v, and nave Ium The
Mi'^'i to t il\n linlf lior fortniu^ and l':iv(' Ium* forovor.
i-di ' I'juiioti ugaiu.st a sioinltir pilustt'r; \.\\v room, tin- iightn,
*Vc' rj/'. J swinuijin^i: iu fciro iu r. \\iv i'.yrs wrrc tixtd witli \hc.
iiiU'i'-ity of iiiMuity upon tlio face, of (liiy Karlsroiirt, sur-
1^ 'ivded by ail tlic vdnion in tlic vootiim. rcfcivinji^ tlwir 't?ii-
I'limont^ and coiigratnlationp, witli ids nual n('^:lif;ont,
courli.v j^raco. Ail licr lilvinjr, ail lii*r frltMidsliip for Idin, all
her j ity, vanisiiod. He was liardly a man, oidy tlio iinltu-
Moi; :, tiic aiitcniaton, wlio was to save hw for a certain stip-
ulatod ])rir'.
ilo turneci laug-liiiiprly away at last from Ins adnun r-^, and
saw Irr. How stranprrly, liow wildly slio looked! 'i'hc deadly
pallor of lier faeo, tin? I)i "idiif]^ hri^htne-^s of her 'yo, what
did it luean was she ill? He approached the 14 e II (d those
fevered (yes drawin^^ him to her.
''What is it r ho asked.
Siie eau^ht his arm.
"1 want you," she said, iti a hreathless sort of way. "Take
me out of this room."
Wouderinf:!'. ama/ed, curious, he drew her hand within his
arm and led her through several ror)!ns t) a sort of small,
half-lit boudoir, lie was the friend of tlu^ house, atifl h.' knew
it well. A clouded light, like moonlight, idled this small
room, flowers nnule the air heavy with jx-rfume. Mo dropped
a velvet (curtain over tho doorway, and turiK^l to her.
"Nowf he said. Somethinj^ uncommon was ef)ming', ho
knew not what.
8he looked at liini; tlie burning light in her v.yv^ almost
friglitened him. Was she in the first stage of a brain fever?
"V(ju arc going to leave England?" she asked, abruptly,
"I am."
"When ?"
"In three days."
"For where?"
"The new world. I am going to setik my fortune in Amer-
ica."
"You will never return to England never, never!"
"Never, in all j)rol)ability."
"'J'hon v.hat can it matter to you! It will make your fat
no worse, and it will save me. You shall have half my for-
tune cW you hear ^forty tliou^and pounds if you will
swt'ar tPkecp tho seciet, and never to come back, never to
come near me, never let the world know I married you,"
The words hurst from her wildly incoheren^t^*
208
''Camilla's Husband.
9t
llo lookod a( Ihm' in iJaiik ainnzo. Wn-; Miss Li-ilf fynliiR
iiwmI i
(t
()l, you don't iindcrstjiiMl,'' site rid. "I am liko the
woinaii in tliut pla.v 1 a/n iiwf in.-id, though tlie.v will drive
liK! so ill tlic "lid. 1 t'II \ou tlicy arc noiii^ to iiiak*' na'
marry Lord Moiifalicn, ami [ liatc liimi I li.ifc him! 1 will
kill myself first!"
A li^lit lf'/^an i dawn upon (iiiy. By soiiu* sulH^ instinct
ho understood her at on'e.
"They meaning Sir \'ane Charteris and Mrs. (lalhraifh,
I sui)pose-- are f^'ointT ' iiiake yoii marry Lord Montjilien ^"
"^'s. You k.iow 'The I'lrs' that desolalr', ahaiuloned old
inanordiouse. on th(^ I'lssex coasts 'They ure Roin;^ to im-
prison me there \nilil 1 eonsent. They will do with mo as
wa^ doiui with my mother," compel me to marry a man I
ahhor. AmL there is only one way of eseupe."
u
And that is tx) marry some one else
lie was ent(?rin^ into the sjirit of thr thing now. Mad
escapades of all sorts had hcen the delifjriit of his life. What,
could h(! better than to finish his caicer in Kngland by th^
niaddest e^seaiado of all. He understood her as few men
would have done, and pitied her intensely in this hour of her
desperation.
"Miss Lisle," ho said, "w"T you marry me?"
He had spoken the words for her! She gave a sort oj gayp
of intense relief.
"I will if you consent to my conditions."
"What are theyT
"That you accept half my fortune, and in the moment of
our marriage leave me forever."
"'I'he first is easy enough the second well, not so pleas-
ant. Still,' to oblige a lady in distress "
'I'here was a ^jinall Bible, bound in gold and pearl, on the
table. She snatched it uj) and held it open to him.
"Swear," she cried; "swear, by all you hold sacred, never
to molest me, never to claim any right as my husband,
never, come what niay, to betray my secret, to leave me at
the church door. Swear!" y
He took the book without a second's hesitation, and
touched it with his lips.
"I swear!" Iw, said.
She drew a long breath of relief. The cold dew was stand-
ing in great drops on her white face. She sank down in a
chair and hid her face in her hands, with a dry, choking
sob. The young -'lan stood and looked at her with a feeling
of intense pity.
t
vo t)ie
(li'ivc
ko nif'
I will
ifttitu't
hraitlj,
iiM'ii :
l(() old
t im-
nio as
iriaii I
, Mm.1
Wliut
by th(r
of lier
oi {^asp
nont of
pleas-
oii the
, iiover
nsbaii(K
me at
n
, ami
stand-
,vii in a
hoking
feeling
Camilla's Husband/'
209
ti
And
Poor cliild!" 1m' said, very Moftly; ''it la hard on yttu.
now- when is 1
it to 1
"They nuMiii to start for 'The I'lr^ l.y tli" eailiesl iraiii,
on ( 'liiitnuis I'!\c. Onci' il.cn. all i^ )i.-f.''
" Ihcn wr iiiii^t be h'l".r'}iai.d will; tln-m. CJad! svlmt i
triumph it will lo over Kraiih!" lie laUKlird as lie spok.-
ruiiii'd, and exiled. (Iny l'!ai l.-t .uirt cmld .|i|| jiiu^^h. "I.rt
UH see.
Will
yoii iu iniin'K (I in a iuircli m flux eitv
Li^le, at daydawn, Christinas Kvef'
M
H.I
Xot ill a cluirch! such a iiianiat' in a cluiivh
a nio(
a
Th
kf-ry
en,
by J
I sacrih'm'- aiiywiicic r
won
Id
(em
ove
1
have it I What do yon s.iv to a mar
riaue before a re^i-trar:' \i\i walk into an otlicf. verv nnK-Ii
like any otbi'r f)lli't', and you sre an ollicial, very much likn
any other oilicial, and a few words are said, a littli? si^niiiLT
and cMuntcrsif^MiiiiM'. and the tiling is over. A inarriaiAc he-
fore a registrar lu^tween the iiours of ei^ht and twelve in the
fjrenoon, with open doors, in the presenee of two witnesses,
etc., (te. Nothing 'an he uu.w -imple, and you wi!! leave
the otHee i\A le;;ally married in the eye of the Ijiw ("what yoii
want. I take iti as though a iliMii and chapter had doiu' the
business. There will have to \.o a little fibbing about your
age; ^ will arrange that,
W
hat
ujil you
rerfectly. My niail will accompany me. and \ will go di-
rectly home when the cerennMiy l^ over, ami tell them there
that I am out of their power at last. If you will call at tho
house, a eouple of hours lat'r, Sir Vane will pay over to you
til!' sum I have promied."
He smiled slightly.
"I shall eall, Miss T.isle. And now as to the hour. Wo
must be very early, in order to be beforehand with them.
Say botwe(m eight and nine? (\in you be ready so early?"
"1 e(ul(l be r(\idy at nudnight to save myself from yur
brother I At eight o'clock I and my maid will steal from the
house and meet you wherever you say."
Mv cab shall be 111 waiting at the eorner. The eoaeliman
will do for the other witness. Is your maid to be trnfc,l
(
I think so, wluni well paid.
"And you will not change your mind you will not faiH"
lie would not have had hei fail f(r worlds now. Tie- ro-
mance, the piquancy of tlu^ adventure, fired his imagination.
Of the future, in that lionr. he never tb.oufrl,t; jumt at nresent
it look(d a eapital ])raclical joke,
"Am I likely to failf she cried, bitterly. "Mr. lOarls-
court," lurni^ig to him with sudden passion, ^ I wonder wliat
you think of me !"
"I understand you!" he answered, respectfully. "Desper-
210
On Christmas Eve.
ate cases require desperate remedies. A^a7nst two ^uch men
as Lord Montalien and Sir Ynne Charteris you stand no
cTiance. Your marriage with me will save you at least from
a marriage with him, and you may trust me to keep my
oath."
CHAPTER IX.
ON vJ II RIST M AS E VE.
Over the fire, in her dingy lodgings, on the night preceding
Ciiri.-tmas Eve, a bloodless, attenuated shadow of a misr-r-
able woman crouched. It was Alice, but Alice so changed
that her own motht r, had she by any chance entered, would
have failel to recognize her. Alice, with every vestige of
beauty, of ycruth, of health, gone as utterly miserable a
woman as the dull London light fell on.
It wjis snowing without, and was cold. Sho had drawn a
little shawl around her, and crouched with her hands out-
strctclif'd to the blaze. The few articles of summer clothing
she had brought from home, in September last, were all she
had yet.
September last I only four short months ! Heaven I what a
lifetime! what an eternity of misery it looked to her!
How she had reached home that night, after she left St.
James street, sho never knew. Some one put her in a cab;
and when, after a day and a night of stupid, painless torpor,
she awoke to consciousness, she found herself again in her
own poor room, and the landlady's face looking half-compas-
sionatc'!y,half-impatiently at her.
"It was my luck to have my lodgers always a-falling sick
on my h'lnds, and a-dying with their bills unpaid, like that
Porter upstairs; and it does make a person hard, T confess,"
Miss Young afterward owned, with remorse.
And then memory and consciousness slowly came back,
and she recollected all. She was not Frank's wife she was
the lost creature they thouf;ht her at home, and Frank v.TiS
going to marry Paulina. No; he should never do that. Slie
scarcely felt anger, or sorrow, or oven pain now; beyond a
certain point suflFering eensos to be suffering, and becomes
its own ana^estlu'tic. She had reached that point she w.js
past hope, past care, past help. Sho v.-ould iind out Paulitia,
toll her her story, save her from a like fate, and die.
Sonu^ such thoughts were \u her mind as she crov.ched shiv-
ering over the fire. The wintry twilight was fast filling tlie
room wiA its creeping darkness, when the uo5r suddenly
opened, and, without a word of warning, Lord Montalien
stood before h.
f *
On Christmas Eve.
211
She had never tliousht to soo hhn ngain in this world.
She looked up with a low, strariirc fry.
''Frank!"
"Yes, Alice, Frank I Fraiik *!-., t.) \-o^ your pMrd'!i for
the crue), thonpfhtloss words he s]vk(' the otlKM- nijxlit. Fr:i)k
come back to tell you he loves you. iU).! to ask you to ior--ivo
him for what he snid."
"There is no. need. 1 jini not voiir wife." she answrrod,
in a slow, dull way. ''I hat! rather you had not eoau'. I
only want to see Paulina, and di( in |k\'U'(.''
Andwhvr
"You want to stH* ^aulina ^
ii'^V
Vo fell her all to save her frov.) you, Frank! Poor
Polly! She used to be so l)ri^lit, so liai)i)y, you know, aUvav.-i
lauyrhinfJT and sin^nng-; it wuld be a pity to break her liei..
Mine is ])rokcn; but then, it doesn't so much mati.'r uloul
nie."
She drew a \ou^, tired sij^'-h, and leaiif^d her head on her
hand^s. Then suddenly she lof)ked up in his faer^.
"Frank!" she said, in a voice of indescribable pathos, "w!^
did you treat mc so? T loved you, and I trusted you, and I
thought T Avas your wife!"
It misht have moved a heai't of stcuie; he had no lieart,
even of stone, to be moved.
"You foolish child, "'he said, with a sli;j:ht lauprh, "you aro
my wife my only wife, as truly as ever you thouj^dit it. Do
you really believe the an^ry words T said to you the other
night? Silly Alice! I was an^ry, T own I did not want you
to come to my lodj^inprs, and I spoke to you in my anf2:er, as T
hr.d no ri^ht to speak. You are my wife, and I myself will
take you to Miss Lisle, if you wish it."
She rose up, her breath cominji: in (juick, short irasi)s.
"Frank! you will! Oh! for TTeaven's sake, don't decH'ive
me now! I couldn't beai^ it!"
"I am not deceivinj*- you T am telling you the truth. You
are my wife, and you shall leave this miserable hovel, and at
once. Pearly to-morrow morning T will ctmo for you, and I
will take you first to Paulina, and from her straight down
to Montalien. Your Christmas shall be a happy one yet,
Alice."
She took a step forward, staggered into his arms, and lay
there, so still, so cold, that he thought her fainting. Il^
shrank, too, from her clasp with a shudder, and placed her
hurriedly back in her chair.
"Compose yourself, Alice!" he said, looking away Irom
her. "Can you be ready as early as eight o'clock, or oven
before it, to-morrow morning T*
"WhenevtT you come for me, Franks X can bo ready. Oh.
i-t
L-
312
^ On Christmas Eve
Mess O 0(1! bloss Gofl! and I never thoiigli: o see you again
iny darling.'"
Morning dawned the ^norning of Christmas Kve. Thou-
sands jf liiiiJi).v people awoke in the great city to wish eacih
otlu^r "Merry Chrij^tinas," but I doubt if among them tliere
"Was one happier than this poor ereaturc, in her bleak lodg-
ing, waiting for the coming of her idol. She i)aid the land-
lady, dressed herself in the sickly dawn, and stood by the win-
dow watoliing. It was snowing fast the wind blew cold and
shrilh aiid her garment^ were wretchedly thin. 1'he landlady
pityingly made some such remark to her. But Alice only
laughed.
"I shall feel no cold, Mrs. Young; and I shall soon be
beyond feeling cold, or ill, or lonely, any more."
8he had uttered a prophecy poor Alice. As the hoi)eful
words passed her lii)s a one-horse vehicle drove up to the
door, and she saw Frank, muffled beyond any recognition but
her own, sitting therein.
She gave a little cry of delight.
"(Jood-by, Mrs. Young," she said; "and thank you for
your kindness when I was ill."
She ran downstairs and out of the house. The man leanecl
forward and helped her up beside him. And then the whirl-
ing wilderness of snow shut them from Mrs. Young's sight.
He did not speak one word. The wind and the snow were
driving in their ^aces, rendering speech impossible, 'i'he
morning light was still dull and pale the city clocks wt ic
only tolling eight as they quitted the Strand. Tie drove across
one of the bridges, and out to some dismal waste ground in
the neighborhood .of Battersea, a remote and forgotten tract,
as wild, and lonely, and forsaken as an African desort. And
here for the first time he spoke r*
"There is something the matter with the horse," he said;
"you Tnust get out."
He si)rang out himself and gave her his hand to deseenn.
They were close uj)on s:)me deserted brickfields, and he madt
a motion for her *o follow him.
"Comu out of the storm," he said; there is a place of
shelter near."
He seemed strangely familiar with the desolate locality.
Tie led her to a sort of dry-ravine, so hidden away among
rubbish and the debris of the forsaken brickyards as to ren-
der I'litei'ing almost an impossibility. She shrank away in
almost nameh'ss fear.
"FraTik!" she cried, in a frightened voice. "I can't go intc
this hideous place. Oh^ my God, Frank! what are you going
to do^
igain
Thon-
1 each
thi've
: lodg-
' Imid-
10 win-
lid and
ndlady
v only
lOon
1)6
hopeful
to the
tion buT
you
for
h lean'l
le vvhivl-
sij:,ht.
o\v w'i-vo
k^ wove
Ive across
ound in
on traet,
rt. And
he said;
(lesccnn,
he niadr
plaee of
locality-
^y amonjr
IS to run-
away in
^'t go intc
rou goirg
A Mad Marriage,
7\%
"To take your lii^^! you f(-ol y(Hi l.alil.ler!" he nn'^werrd,
in a horribh} voice, betwoon fiis clenched tcctlj. And Ijcforo
8he could utter one word, one cry, tlicic ',ti! c a Ha.ih. a re-
poi-{, and Alice fell like a stone at hi fed.
Tlierc was a pause of a second. Had dealh i)een instan-
taneous ? No; by a mi^liiy eH'ort sh' !;;df raieil lierseif. and
cla-ped her arms around his knees.
"Frank!" she whispered; "Frank!" and the old deatidike
devotion looked out of her Klazinu' (ves. '* Frank von h.ive
lo\ed-
vou so ! Oh, ( iod.
killed nie and I loved you so 1-
have mercy on me and for^ivc^ "
She fell down with the sentence nntinisheddead.
He knew she was dead. He drat^{;ed the i)ody away into
the darkest depth of tlie cavern, piled up the rubbish and
heaps of waste bricks again. Thousands of jx-ople nii^-lit
pass that dreary tract and never notice this frij^htful i)!ace.
And then he was out again in the light of day, wili the
white snow whirling around him, and his horse standing with
bowed head exactly as he had left hini.
"Now for my handsome, high-spirited I*aulina!" he
thought, as he leaped in and drove away. "All thingu suc-
ceed with me, and no shall this! In my vocabulary there's no
sueh word as fail !"
CHAPTER X.
A MAD MARRIAGE.
Paulina did not find it difficult to "buy over" her maid to
secrecy, and on the morning of Christnuis Kve they set out
together for the appointed place of meeting.
Guy was waiting, pacing up and down by a four-wheeled
coach.
"Punctual!" he said. "It is eight precisel.y. Miss Lisle; I
hope you are well wrai)ped; the morning is hittiM-. Tak' my
arm the walking is dangerous."
She declined with a gesture clinging to dane,
"(fo on, Mr. Earlscourt; we will follow yo.i."
He led the way to the cab and held the door oi)en for iheni
to enter. Then he closed it and sprang up beside rhe driver,
solacing himself with a cigar.
They stopped aliruptly at last, the cab door opened, and
(Juv stood readv to help them out,
"This is the place," he said, briefly; "allow me."
He half lifted Paulina down, drew her hand within his
arm, and led her up a flight of dark stairs, and into a dark
WHtt
* i
^
214
A Mad Marriasfe,
and i^rimy office, wliere a fire burned in a round stove and H
dirty little boy was swwpiiig.
"Where is %\\ Markhanrf Guy asked the boy.
The dooj* opened on the instant, and a lively little red-
facerl man came in.
"Kcjit you waiting, sir? No?" as Guy answered impa-
tiently; "well, I am huky for this once! Now, then, if the
huly will stand up, and the witnesses approach, we'll do youp
little job for you in a twinkling-."
lior heart was throbbing with almost sickening rapidity
now throbbing so that she turnc \ sick and faint once more.
She looked about her for a second with a wild instinct of
Hight, but it was too late. Guy had led her forward how
firm, how resolute his clasp se&med ! and -he was standing
before the legal official, answering, as she was told to answer,
and hearing Guy's clear, deep tones as in a dreamy swoon.
She. heard, still faintly and far oif, it seemed, the solemn
wo^ds, "I pronounce you man and wnfe," and then she was
signing her name in a big book, and feeling rather than
seeing the little red-faced man staring at her curiously, and
knew that she was the wife of Guy Earlscourt!
The registrar placed a slip of paper in her hand.
"Vour marraige certificate, madam," he said, with a bow;
"permit me to offer my congratulaions, Mrs. "Earlscourt.'
The clock:: of the district were striking nine as'tliey left
the office and re-entered the cab; and once again Guy
mounted to his seat with the driver, to face the December
blasts, and smoke a second consoling cigar. As before, Pau-
lina sat in dead silence during the homeward drive.
Tliirty minutes' rapid driving brought them to Berkeley
Square. In front of Sir Vano Charteris' mansion the cab
stopped, and Mr. Earlscourt assisted them to alight. Then
Paulina directly addr'^ssed him for the first time.
"I shall tell Sir Vane Charteris, the moment I enter, what
has taken place," she hurriedly said; "and if you will call,
within an hoyr or so, the other business of paying over tho
forty thousand pounds will be t ansactcd."
"I will call," Guy answerel, briefly, "if I may see you for
a moment to say farewell. '
She bent her head in token of assent, and flitted up tlio
steps. From the library window Sir \'ane Charteris had
watched the "whole extr. ordinary i)roceeding, utterly '^^'
tounded. What did it mean? Had this recklss girl out-
witttnl them after all? He came forth into the liall. She
..flung back her vi^ii for the lit t time, and met his angry, sus-
picious .t4.')K0 witii {Jasliiug, karless eyes. Tho sight of liini
"On I
Worth
A Mad Marriage.
215
id
red-
mpa-
i the
your
piAity
more.
t\ct of
, bow
luswer,
swoo.
solcnm
ibe was
er than.
^ly, and
a bow;
uvt.'-
boy leit
ill (viy
(H'einber
lue, Tii^-
berlveley
the cab
It. Tben
Iter, what
Urn call,
over tbo
[e you
lor
U\ up t^'O
tcris bad
torly ^^^'
o-irl o^t"
all ^^^
...111*
nijfTy
SU8-
ibt of ^^^
restored all her aiidaoity, ?\\ her dc poratc courage and de-
fiance. Weakness and faintnesd were wholly gone now.
"Miss Lisle," ho doniandrd, sternly; "what dtws this
mean ?"
"Sir Vane ChaiU'ris," ^he returtetl, meeting his swartli
frown without Hinching, "it iiHans that you are outwitted
vanquished that you are no longer my tyrant, nor I your
slave. It means that at last I am out of your power it
means that I am free !"
Ilis dark face turned yellow with rage. As plainly alT he
ever understood it after, he understood on tlie instant what
had taken place. She had married Guy Earlscourt.
"Go into the library," he said, brielly, and she went. He
followed her, and closed the door. She stood before him,
proudly erect, her eyes alight, her haughty head thrown hack,
her resolute face white as death. "You have married Guy
Earlscourt?"
"I have married Guy Earlscourt !"
And then, for fully five minutes, they stood face to face
as two combatants in a duel to the death. U was all over
then rage as he "might storm as he would it was done,
and not to be undone. She was married, and out of his
power her fortune her own he could do nothing nothing!
"I am married," Paulina said, her voice ringing hard and
clear. "To escape one brother I have asked the other to
marry me. You hear that, Sir Vane Ckarteris asked him
to marry me driven to it by you and Lord ]\rontalien.' 1 over-
heard your plot to carry me off to ^The Firs,' and bury mo
alive there, until I should be forced into a marriage with a
man I hate. Sir Vane Charteris, if there had been no other
escape, I w^ould have escaped by death. Guy Earlscourt, on
the eve of his exile, has married me, and freed me from your
power."
"On the eve of his exile, Paulina! The husband of a lady
worth eighty thousand pounds need hardly think of exile."
"No; in his place you certainly would not. Mr. Earlscourt,
however, happens to possess the manliness and genero.-ity to
leave me free in the hour that makes hk^ his wife. Do you
think, Sir Vane, I am going to let the world know my secret'?
do you think I would have married Mr. Earlscourt if he
had meant to remain in England? lie has sworn never to
betray the secret of our marriage, and he will keep his oaih.
In an hour he will be here, and you are to makr over to hiui
the half of my fortune Torty tliousav.d i)onnds. In two
days he leaves England, and f()rev(r."
She turned to quit the room. The bewildered baronet de-
tained her.
\
2l6
A Mad Marriage.
"For Heaven's yakc, Paulina, wait! ] ilon'c audcrstanu
1 can't understand. Do you mean to say this marriage is
no marriage^ That (Juy Karlseourt leayes you free and lor-
everC Tliat lie goes from England never to return, while you
remain here ("^
"Precisely! You can't comprehend such generosity as that,
vnn you ^ You would act very differently under the circum-
stances, aftd so would his immaculate brother. Lord Monta-
lie^i. But there are true men. This marriage shall never bo
made public if you keep the secret my maid is sworn to se-
crecy, and I shall still be Miss Lisle and your ward in the
eyes of the world. If, however, you prefer it otherwise tluMi
1 shall take care to show you as you are to society a
guardian so bass so tyrannical, that he drove his ward to the
maddest step ever woman took. Now choose!"
She stood before Irm in her beauty and her pride, more
defiantly bright thaa he had ever setni her. He knew her
well enough to know she would, to the letter, keep her word.
He came forward suddenly, and took her hand.
"I will kH^p your secret, Paulina," he said; "and I beg you
to forgive me if 1 have been harsh. I havt been driven to it
I have indeed I am in J-.ord Montalien's power, and he
forced me to do this. I will keep your secret from hini,
from my sister from the world. ]-.et things go on as thougli
this strange marriage had never taken place; you are free to
do in all things as you will L in the eyes of society, your
guardian still. I am sorry for the past; 1 can say no more.
Paulina, will you try to forgive me il"
"J. will try," she answered, bitterly, and gathering her
mai.tle about her, quitted the room.
She went up to her own, threw off her wraps, fell on hr
kn"cs by the bedside, and buried her face in the satin cov* i-
h I. She shed no tears, though her heart was full; she 'y
lay there sick, tired, numbed, as though sh-^ never cared .i
rise again.
No one disturbed her; the minutes went by, the mornin.tr
with its life and bustle wore on. At half-i)ast eleven Jai.t
tapped at the door.
"H you please, Miss Paulina, Sir Vane sends his conipli
ments, and would you stej) down to- the library. Mr. Ivarls-
court is there."
She rose up slowly, painfully, and Went down. It was due
to him she should go, but if he had only spared her this.
Sir Vane admitted her, and locked the door the instant slie
entered. Another ligure, trailer, slighter, stood leaning
against the mantel staring moodily into the fire. Ai him
Paulina did not dar to look^
m
A M:id Marriage.
117
^'ifou told Yxw, my (Nmi." ' C hiintin t said, in his most
kindly voice, "tlimt Mr. I^iitl-comi uus to accept lialf your
fortune. There must le son.c ii.il.;k(- lie utterly refuses to
doit." ;
She turned to him with staith'd eyes. (Juy siiiilel.
"That part of the compact was jk^i in the hoiui at least.
If I liave served you 1 am ecntent. I ca)i mily Iioik* tliat tlio
day may never come when you will nurct uk re than you do
at present this morning's work. For the money, I distinctly
refuse it. J have fallen very low; hut 1 find there is still a
lower depth than that to which I Injvc sunk. To accept your
generous offe would he a dcMradatfon you must permit me to
decline. 1 leave Kn^laiid in two tlay forever, in all hninau
jrobahility ; hut if. at the otlier side of the world, the day
comes when my wre.-ked fortunes ;.i-e retrieved, and I can re-
turn with honor, i will return. 'Jliat, too, was not in the
hond."
Hhv looked at him trcndding white to the lips.
"You will return," she slov,Iv repi-ated.
"If I can, with credit to myself with my debts paid; uiost
certiaiidy. l^nt you need Inive no fear; T will keep ny oath.
.Never, come what may in the future, shaU 1 betray your se-
ret. Whether oceans divide us, or we stand side by side
nj.'-ain, will make no ditTcrence. If I have saved you from my
half brother, I am ^a'isfied 1 ask no more. And now,
Paulina, for (he sake of old times, say 'farewell, and j;ood
.^jxed' before I pro.''
Jfe held out his hand, the smile that lit it into such rare
beauty bright on his face and in his eyes. He stood b^'fore
her, handsomer, nobler than any man she had ever beheld, in
his generous renunciation his great self-sacrifice; and her
lieajt went out to him and in that moment she knew that
she loved the man she had married.
She gave him her hand her proud head drooping in an
agony of shame, of remorse, of pity, of teiulerness. If her
life had depended on it, she could not have spoken even tlie
"good speed'' he asked. Her lingers, icy-ccdcl, w(Te clasped
for a second in his warm, firm grasp one half-sad, half-
f^miling look from the \rown eyes, and then she had fled from
the room.
They had parted perhaps forever and in the hour that
'A\Q lost hiru, she knew that she loved him with a love that
uould last a life. She was his wife, but she would have died
a thousand deaths rather than say, "Guy. don't go!" and die
knew how utterly unavailing tlie words would have been, if
she could havf^ crusJied down her woman's pride and spoken
them. It wa& as fixed %a fate that he should eo. And
,') I
^i:
4
2l8
A Mad Marriage.
she had laleii her leap in tho tlurk taken it blindly, des-
perately to save herself from a worse fate. And the hour of
her bridchood was the hour of her widowhood in the fuUe^st
sense of the words, she was wedded, yet no wifel
Two days after th(; Oneida steamed down the Solent from
SouthaniptoH, bearing away to his long exile Guy Eurlscourt.
#
f^
i
/. '
?'v/
HaKT ^^OUHi..
CHAI'TKU I.
Arri:ii six vf-\hs
j.|i|
ic was a hot night in Virginia.
I'p and down a long, bun'-lo(iing room, as iuUvvv paced
restlessly, his hands crossed behind Itini, Ins brow bout, his
Hy(\s iixed on the floor. The nxnn was the privnte iipaittrK rit
nf the officer commanding the eavalry division stiitioned for
tlie time at this outpost, and the officer was Colonel jjjiwks-
ley, of tJie th, IJe was a very tal), \ory fair man, tin's
('olonel flawksley, with a face so thoroughly Sa.\(jti that n(ft
all the bronze of foreign sums could hile his nationality. lie
hiid dark, close-cropped, brown hair, a niugnificciit tiiwuy
beard and uiustache, and eyes blue and bright :is the X'irginia
sky without. lie was a man oi" six-aiid-forty ; magniticenf ly
jirjportioned a model for an ath!'tie Ajxtllo looking
younger than his years, despite the silver threals streaking
Ins brown hair, and the deejj lines that can' or thought had
plowed along his broad brow.
Tj) and down, up and down, Coionej JIawk.-.ley paced, with
iliat thoughtfid frown, for npwarl ff an hour.
"Who is he^" he uiutterel, hulf-aliud ; 'Sviiat is lie to ]\i y'i
If anything, why is he hereof if nothing, how came he by her
[icture? "J'he night is fine; he is e iiHlieiitly rccovere*! to
walk over. I have half a mind to sci d for him, restore him
]i!s prop'erty, and ask ''
He stopped tt glance out iit the night. The great, briglit
Southern stars blazed in a cloudless ky. not a bnitl; f air
stirr(d the hot stillTK\ss it was certainly (piite fine enough
for jiuy one to vejiture out. The colonel rang a^ handbell,
with a look of (bvision. An orrh.Tiy apjeai'ed.
"(io to the hospital, and iwjue-t Lieutciumt Karlst ourt, if
qnite able, to wait ujxai mc licic"'
The soldier tonchcd his ca[) and v.ithdrcw.
Tl'.o colonel glancel at a little package lying ii;)o!i the
table. It was a gold repeater, -f't with jewels, and ieui^ifij?
Ircm the slender gold chain a bucket of rare beauty anl wiirk-
manship. The officer took up this If.'ckrt, touched the pring,
and looked long and cHrtiestly at th face within. A beauti-
220
After Six Years
fill and .lo'lo inoo, niul a j!:r:i('('fiil. girll.-ih l];rrat -V.:? pbotr^
i.\:.\] li i.f pjuiliii 1 I/'m!('.
"VVIwit is hc' to hcr^ how cmiiics he to wear lic?r porli'i'J
iNx'H hi' know ?--but, of c-oursc, lio docMii't! It ia Strang',
strjiii^e."
It was ^oii'cwliiit. 'I he circiiiiisluiKT'-i wfrc llic^e: A hatil
liiid taken i)la'o tivi* weeks liofnre; and during the licat of ih-
'ii;aKonient, Coloiirl I lauksK-y's allention Imd 'oeen attract J
by a younjj; ottieer of liis own tnjop, wliose cool oouraKO ."Uil
superb fiKhtiiitr rendii'cd him conspieuoiis oven in that hum.
The battle had ra^cd froni early iiioniin}^ nutil dark, aiiil .ill
day lon^, whei-e the fire uas hoth'St, and llio blows fell thiik-
est, the dark face and tall form of IJeutennt (jruy Kari -
'ourt had been foreniowt. And at last, as vietory turned in
tlieir favor, half-a-dozen tremulous blows aimed at Iiim it
ouee had hurled him from his sachlle. "Killed," the eoloin I
thought, with a passing pang of regret, beyond a doubt.
It looked like it when they earried his senseless form inio
the hospital, and among the list of "killed" returned after fii;
fray was the name of "Lieutenaiit Ouy Karlseourt." But Ik;
had not died. Covered with wt)unds from head to foot, tin n-
was not, as it tiwned out, one of them mortal not even very
dangerous.
In five weeks Lieutenant Karlseourt was able to quit his
bed, and walk about, for a few moments at a time, in the hos-
pital yard.
On the day sueceeding the battle, wdiile he still lay senc-
les3, his colonel had visited the hospital expressly to make in-
quirias after him. The young man liad fought so daring !,
his coolness had been so remarkable, and somoihing in iiii
general air and manner marked him different from his ouin-
rades. He lay terrHdy like death now, but the rare beauty if
his face, that had made him the pet of boudoirs in anotli'T
land, that, had made scores cf higli born beauties smile up^n
him, was unmarred still. Whiter, c(diler than marble, he 1 iv
the breath scarce stirring his bloodless lij)s.
"Poor lad!" Colonel Tli^wksley said, looking down oc -m
him with real regret; "h(^ fought lilce a lion yesterday. W'li*
is he, and where does he belong?"'
No one knew. Except his name, anl tliat he had eiitenii
the ranks as a private, there was simply nothing whatevi-r
known of his story.
"Look here, colonel." the nur-'e said; "this belongs to him,
and should be taken (*are of until we see I'' the poor fello,;
recovers. His name is on it engraved here on the ease."
She handed him the gold watch and chain and lock' '
Either intc itionally or by accident, she touched the sprim; a
After Six Ye:
2?!
})Hn(lIinj? it, and the lo-|(.| tl\v \y'\\. And (il.iru'i II.wUh-
]ey, with a startlcci \('l}niijiti(tii, citn^lit ii up. .u.il 1 kcd in
iiniuzc upon ids djiuf^'litcr's fjiir, pnjtid j'iKr
if. was a vi^r.'Httc of I*auliiia \aU l)cy,;in! a d.;:'. t. Ifo
wrirc ofic near ids dwii in jirl, a lairr pictu'. in wliirij (!;" x-
f'/.il
I ^ n
iidsito face l(tnl('d dlder, fxi'avcr, less l)rl^iilly snd!;
in tlds l)ut tiie sauii'.
'i'iiis stran^r-r was an Iji^rlisluinin, iIk n, an I h i-i
I'aulina.
llo cxaniinrd file watcli closely, I'c-idc lii-* nm
tlio crost of a iioldc iioursc a mailed hand, and tl':*
"Semper Fidel is."
(lolnncl liawk^lcy's intM-cst d cpc!icl tn Intcn-c c
Wio was tins ydwii^ rn;in wiio had entered flic rank^ ;f t!i:dr
winiy as a cnmrnon soldier, and who wm-e ins daughter's pic-
fnre and tiic crest of an Enj:lisli nol)lenuin ^
"He looks like an Enfilishitnm, in sj)ite of his oIi\e skin
Hfid jet-black hair and innstaelie. Heaven end hini a- speedy
recovery, or I sliall ])erili mi-erahly liy curiosity."
The coloticl's prayer was heard laeuteinnit Karlscourl's
recovery was astonishing: in its raiidity, considering his
dozen wounds. And on tins niji'ht susj)ense was to he hoi-ne
no longer, and Colonel Ilawk^ley had dis[)atched the orderly
to summon the invalid hero to his presence.
Fifteen minutes wore away. Then the orderly's kii ^-k
cimie to the door.
"Come in," the colonel cried, flinpin^' liimself for tlie fir^t
time into a chair; and the door oiened, and Lieutenant Kar's-
court stood before him, with a nnlitary saJute.
"You sent for me, colonel '^"
".I did, sir. Come in and take a seat; you are unfit to
stand. I trust there has heeji no itnyirudenc( in your ventnr-
iii;.' into the night air'!"
"None whatever, colonel, T am happy to say. My s'r;it-hes
are pretty well healed I slndl he fit for service a^aln in a
wr-ek."
The colonel snnled he liked the hold, -oldi( rly s])!i'it Ia)
liked the look and manner of th' man altoj^cther.
"Hardly, I fear," he said, and indeed the lieutenant, wiili
his arm in a sling, and his dark face still terribly thin :::ul
bloodless, did hardly look lik(^ it.
"T have been very anxious for your recovery, lieut( ntnt -
that we can't spare so brave a fellow, for one reason; tint f
^ .mt most anxiously to ask you a few (piestion^. for ;in-
omer.
7?
The wounded lieutenant listened in grave silence. He hal
[taken a seat at the desire of his officer, and the lamplight fell
323
After Six Years.
fiil upon Ilia hnndsonjc. pallil fafo, while that of tho (lil ?
111. Ill WJH in thf .-hiKhnv. What, duos it matter now whctli-r
tiu'.v wore tlir l)liM' (tr tU; K'''*'y 1 hey wcn^ both iCnjj^li'i.
riKMi, iiiid fou^rht for the Cau.-'-c witli whii'li their synipath.i -.
l.y.
"I have a portion of your property in my poi-sftssion," eun-
timit'd Colonel llawivslcy, "friven in cliMr^e to me on I'lc
day after the battle. Permit mo to return it to you, nnii ;.)
own that, by tho merest ('han'e, 1 saw and recoj^nizcfd ihn
faeo you wear in that loeket."
(iuy p]arlseurt took his prcjju'rty. To bo v'ry much sin--
prised at anything wowld hav* beO!i in direet opposition to
all tho codes of his life. His fa(?o betrayed none whatew."
now.
"Recognized it, did you i \ shouldn't havo thouj^ht tli:tt.
A very handsome fa^'o, eoloncd is it not ^"
Colonel Ifawksloy produ('el from an inner pookot a ph't i-
graph, ^iiid handed it to liim.
"1 received this from England some throo months ai^D.
Tlu^ face you wear is younger, but tho satne."
Cuy ICarlscourt looked Ion;;- and earnestly at this aoeond
picture of what he felt his calm face showing no siffn wli.if
ever. It was Paulina, six years older than when Ihj had " ii
lier last, more beautiful in her stately womanhood even tiiati
the brij^^ht, j^irlish face and form ho remendiored srt well.
He handed it back with a bow and smile.
"Years mar some of us; they })ut add to Paulina Li1i'-!
crown of beauty. It's six years since I saw her, and she h:is
changed; but I should recognize that face anywhere. It is
not tho kind of face one sees every day."
His colonel watched him as he spoke- -keenly closely
but his serene countenance kept his secrets, if he had ihein,
well.
".Mr. Earlscourt," he said, abruptly, "I am Roing to a-k
you -eeminR-ly a very impertinent question, which, of cour-c,
you are at liberty to answer or not, as you choose. What is
Paulina Lisle to you?"
Ciuy smiled perfectly unembarrassed.
"An ac(iuaintance, colonel, whom I met in all about half :i-
dozeii times in my life, who doesn't in the least know that I
havo tho audacity to wear her picture. T was guilty of potty
larceny abstracted it from a friend's album on the eve of
my departure from England. T admired Miss Lisle vory
much, as all men must who have the happiness of knovviiiL'
hor, and I fancied I could not bring with ma to my exiio aj
fairer memento of the life I left. That is the history of her|
picture in my locket." '.
After Six Years.
323
inlK'li "^iii'-
po^iti^ to
With tho 'rfinitr cnlin 'x\\iv]\ n.ifurc mu] liahit butli li.ul
jrivcn him, ho rcpliu-ciJ llu; wutc)i in hi& belt and wuilod
ijiiij'tly for his coiiiiMiiiion in ."jxak.
"And I his is uHT' Cohuicl lluvvkU\v snid. 'I fjucicd you
ii.i;.^l)t iuivc h(.'( ri-* "
"A (lisc'ard('(i lover? No, (.'oloiicl, 1 ncvir was tiiat. JMiss
l-islc, witli lior K'''iit hcaiily, and licr ^n at f-trt'iiu', was alto-
(Tfth'T above my Jiumltlc reach. Oiu,' might a soon h)vo
Komc bri;,dit j)arlii nhir star, otcv'
"Above y(Jiir reach, and you wear the en ! ol" a noblo
Una Li si''-'
and sho h:is
here. It \^
\f closely-
had llicin,
oinp to i'-'^
1, of eoii !-,
;e. What is
bout hnlf :i-
know th:it I
ilty of pelty
the evp ct
Lisle very
of knovyiiiu
my exile a
istory of her
tliil|K(
.'/"
"A wliim, perliaps, like wearing ^\U^ Liale'b iortrait."'
"Y'ou are an KiiKlishman, at least."
"I'ndonbtedly, colonel.''
"May 1 ask liow many years .since you tir.t came io U\\:',
ountry i"
"Six years, i)reelsely, ne.xt January."
"I am afraid my (lue-tions are intrusive impertinent,
perhaps; l)ut 1 am an Knglislmian my.-elf, and, .someluiw, I
fe(l a singular interest in you. ^'ou remintl nie -yuur voice
--your manner of one whom I knew tvv(!nty-two yujr3 ago.
I wonder if yoii knew him he was a man of rank Lord
Mnntalien."
Ili.s lieutemnit looked at tlio sieaker, suldenly, with a nev
interest, a new intelligc.'nce in his glance. At tlie jnentioi: ol
fatlier's name all Ixcamo clear. Why, the very n;une ot
Ilawksley nnght have t^'ld him, taken in connection with the.
recognition of l*,iuliiia's i)icture, this man was her father!
"You knew Lord Montalien !!'' Colonel Ilawksley said,
I loaning forward. "Your face .shows it, at least. Yuu are
|like him, yet unidce. Was he anytlung to you i!"
"Well, yes; he v;as my fathor.''
"Your father?"
"Yes, colonel. You were not aware, i)erhai)s, our family
|n;iie is Earlseourt? My elder 'brother took the title ujton
nur father's death, and 1 well, I may as well own it I
|?quandered my patrimony and was oliliged to fly from Eng-
land six years ago, over he;id and ears in (lei)t. That is my
htory. I came to tliis country to retrieve my fillen fortunes,
|as poor a man as ever landed at the New York docks."
Colonel Hawkslcy listened, his eye,' lil uj). his face fuil
|of wonder and eager interest.
"And have you retrieved them?"
"Well, partly. 1 have managed in those six years to pay
Iff the greater* half of my debts. 1 fancy it will lie half a
Idozen years more, however, before I have sufficiently cleared
loff my incumbrances to return."
^
224
/fter Six Years.
?
"^'Deci Icdly as . ooii its I can
"May J ask' in what way you have succeeded in doing even
so llUU'll V
Guy lauirliocl,
"By (juili-'lrivinu, coloiicl. 1 w',\a alw'nyi a Doliciiiian the
life suited 'ne, and 1 turned journalist, nui^a/ine writ'.-r,
l)ook-nuder all that tli('r( is of th(; most literary. 1 boiu; ;
T have contributed to half Uic i)eriodi('als of Aineriea aii'l
London. You may, by ehance, have lit on the nam de plume
of "
ITe nM'utioncd a name famous then, far more famous nov,
ill the annals of iictional literature.
"What!" IFawksloy exclaimed; "are you the author of
'Paul Kutherford's Wife?'"
"I am."
''And of 'Gold and Glitter?'"
"Yes."
"Why, you should have reali/.cd a fortune from the sale nf
those two works alon(. 1'heir popularity over here has bcin
something: inniense."
"They have paid toh^'ably well if they had not I should
not have been able, las I have told you, to pay off the larLccr
Iortion of my debts. My extravaj^'ances in the past make my
very hair rise now. I'm a reformed character, colonel; th' i'*
\vas great room for improvcunent, too, I assure you. 1 ])i)r-
sned my scribbling; here in camp; it passes one's leisiirt^
hours, and as far as renjuneration goes, T find the pen l-
eidedly 'mightier than the sword.' "
"Mr. Earlscourt," tJie colonel said, "you are one of t!ie
cleverest novelists of the day." Mr. Karlscourt bowed wltli
gravity. "You are destined to become a famous man, and 1
am proud to h.ave made your acquaintance. ]t was as yi^r
father's vard, then, you first met my Mi-s Lisle?"
wondered a little at the growing change in her.
At the close of tjie fourth London season, the Duchess of
CO
:i
A Belle of Five Season*.
231
^j
Olanronald carrird !^^is.s Lisle nway to hor dijitnut TTitrhlMiid
castle, to speiul flic auluiiiii and winter. She liked l*uuliiui,
wit^a a likinjiT that ^^rew stroiijjor with each year. At (M;ni-
roiiald Castle Miss Lisle eiieountered, th:it iUitUMin, her
grace's only son, the ^Inrfiuis of l[(^jilherl:intl. lie hnd l.een
absent in the East for the i)ast seven years, anl had eointi
home on a Hyinjr visit to his niotiier before starting- f(r
E(iuinoclial Africa. He cann; home, a .urave, vveather-beiiicii
man of seven-and-forty, with every intention of leaving
attain in a week, and he nw^t Paulina Lisle, and his fate wa^
fixed. Jfe fell in love" with her, as scores of otluT men had
done before him, and Equinoctinl Africa and gorilla hunting
were forgotten. In three days his infatuation was patent to
the whole house.
Two days after the marquis proposed, and was rejected !
lie was a man. of few words. He took his rejection as
quietly as he took most things.
"And this is final?" he asked, slowly. "There is no hope.
Miss Lisle r
"There is none," she answered. "I esteem you, I respect
you highly, my lord, but I will never marry nev(r!"
There was that in her face that told him she meant it.'
There was infinite pain in it, too. It gave her no pleasure,
yielded her no triumph these rejections. She f(dt like a
cheat, like an impostor; she felt shame -humiliation iniutter-
able. She a wedded wife, and men constantly asking her to
marry them ! It was part of her punishment, richly deserved
but very bitter.
, She went up to her room after he left her, slowly, wearily,
sick at heart. A packet of American papers, that shonhl
have reached her two months before, lay on the table. She
opened the jiackot with eagerness there was mostly news
of her father there very often mention of another name,
quite as eagerly looked for. The i)a{)ers were three months
old, they gave the details of a long and terrible battle, the
lists of killed, wounded, and missing. And almost h'ading
the list 01 killed she read' the name of Lieutenant Guy Earls-
couri.
Yes, there it was. Guy Earlscourt killed! The room
arwam round her, a hot mist came between her eyes aud the
paper. Killed! His image rose before her as she had seo.n
him first eight years before "beautiful with man's best
beauty," when she had danced with him' undc* the waving
trees of Montalicn during that bright June day. As she had
seen him with the bunshine on his dark face, as he rode up
to her carriage to say good-by on the day she left Speck-
haven for scJiooL As she had seen him last in ^ke libraiy of
.
'-^i
235
A Belle of Five Seasons.
Sir Vane Cliartoris' lunisc, wlicn he lir.d refused tlie onej
f-he proffered, and liad pone fortli penniless to his oxile.
Killed! And then the mist eleared away, and she foreed her-
self to read. Tlu^re was a brief i)arafrrai)h ertneernin/;? him
very brief and elociurnt. He was an Knj?lishman, and he
liad fouirht like a lion diirinp the whole day. And it had
beerx newly discovered he was the anonymous author of those
two books wliieh had created sueli a sensation in the literary
world, "Paul Kutherford's Wife" and "CJold and Glitter."
The paper dropped from her hands, she sank down on her
knees and buried her pale face in them. Lonp: before she
arose they were wet with her tears tears that eame fast and
thick from a stricken \u art. She had loved him, and he was
dead.
Miss Lisle left the Highland Castle abruptly enough next
day no doubt because she had rejected TTeatherland, every
one said. She looked so pale, so cold, so wretched, that the
duchess had not the heart to be too severe upon her the
young' woman must be mad, simply that.
She went home home to Speckhaven to Duke, and
passed the winter as though she were once more "Polly
Mason," and all her wealth and grandeur but a dream. She
was in trouble those faithful friends saw that, and askel no
questions, only too hanpy to have hr'r vvith them once more.
When April came Sir Vane came with it, and took her back,
and the world saw no change in her. And for the fir-^t time
for many years the Marquis of TTeatherland appeared in so-
ciety his old madness strong upon liim still. Tie had no
hope but to look U])on her fac( to hear her voice, were
temptations too great for him. They met once moic. and
how it came about need not be told. ITe proposed agnin. and
this time was acceited.
She was proud, slie was ambitious she liked and esteemed
him highly. . r
"T will be your wife," sh(^ said, sim]ly. "Your faithful
wife I know, your loving wife T hope in time."
TTe asked no more. Tfe lifted tl.e fair, small hand to his
lips gratefully, gladly, and she was betrttthed to the ^Fanpiis
of PTeatherland.
Mrs. Galbraith and her two young ladies came back from
the Park to dine and dress for a reception.
They had met Lord lleatherland, and shaken hands with
him, and he was trt be at the reception also. The marriage
was to take place in thr(^e weeks; he had hurried rverything
on and she had 'onsented. Why should they wait?
And she was to be a duchess. The title poor Duke had
given her long ago in jest, wsi one day to bo hers in reality.
passe
blu^li
dea(
her
KarJ
shiid
man
and
span
looki
stani
svvai^
in h(
iiig,
intcil
to hi
far-(i
HI
sakej
Held Asunde-.
2^3
The pres''iit duke lufd Ix n ludritldcii for ycixn^, an (U| old
iiinn she wouUl not long l* ^!;l^(lion^^^^^ of lloatlu-i Ijind.
'MI(w stranj^e it all sccnis," she thou^lit, with a lian-sinile,
l(M'kinK Jt hor inia|?e in the glass. "1, little I*oll.v Mas(n,
to 1)0 in three weeks' time Marehioness of Heatherland. It
18 almost like a fairy tale !"
She was looking beautiful to-night, her best, in a dress of
blue satin and point laee overskirt, diamonds in her goVl-.
brown hair, and running like a river of light about the graee-
ful throat. She was looking beautiful, and an oetogenarian
minister, sprightly as a schoolboy, eame up to shake hands,
and congratulate her.
"I 1 ve been telling Heatherland what an unspenkably for-
tuna J fellow he is! I think he is as fully "^ ble of it,
though, as I am. If it were not for my eighty ,, ears and one
wife already. Miss Lisle, Heatherland should not have had it
all his own way."
The Marquis of Heatherland was by her side. She blushed
and laughed with her own frank grace.
"T can imagine no age at which your excellency would not
bo a dangerous rival," she said. The words had but just
pas^ifd her lips, and she was turning away, with the smile anii
blu-ili still lingering, when she stoi)p'd suddenly. Had the
dead arisen? There, staiuling a few yards away, gazing at
her with grave thoughtfulness, she saw, face to face (uy
Karlscourt !
CHArTKU TTT.
H K L 1 A s r N ii: H .
Guy Karlscourt! No myth, no illu;ion of the senses, no
shiidow from the dead, hut tlie living, breathing, vigontus
man! Sonunvhat tliinnrr, somewhat browner, soinewliat W(rn
and grave, as if he had thought and suflF nul much in the
span of the i)ast six years, but as surely as she stood there
hooking at him Ouy Karlscourt!
She did not cry out, she did not faint, though, for an in-
stant, the rooms, .the liglits, the fares, the flitting forms,
swam giddily, and there was the surging roar of many waters
in her ears. She stood there stock still, her great eyes dilat-
ing, every drop of blood leaving her face. Dimly, after an
interval of five seconds, in reality of five hours it seemed
^,^ n(.,.__the voice of Lord Heatherland, sounding faint and
far-oft. came to her ear:
"Paulina, you ar ill you are going to faint! ^ For pity's
sake, sit down a nwmf/nt wliile I go for a gla c ' water I**
I-
JM
Held Asunder.
She caught at tlio hack of a chair he plftcod toi her, and
Baw him hurriedly disi^upcar.
Tiu'ii, by a nullity eiiort, she colUictod her dazed senses,
and luriK.'d, still dizzily, to leave the room.
On the very instant of her recop^nition Guy Karlscourt had
turned slowly away and disappeared in an inner apartment.
She made her way how, she never afterward knew, sick
and dizzy as bhe felt out of the crowded rooms throuj^h an
open window, and on to the piazza. There she sank down,
half-eronchin^, half-sitting, in her gay ball dress, while the
wind oi the cold May night blew upon her uncovered head
anl death-white face.
Jler cold hands clasped themselves over her pale face, her
brain ceased to think, a sort of stupor, partly of cold, was
creeping upon her, she crouched there in her laces and dia-
monds, as miserable a woman as the great city heUh Oh,
Heaven ! to be able to retrieve the past to recall the work of
the long-gone Christmas bve. How long she had been there
she never knew, probably not more than twenty minutes an
eternity of suifering it seemed to her.
A hand was laid on her shoulder a voice sounded in her
dulled ears.
"Paulina! Good Heaven! what, are you here? Do you
know you will get your death ?"
She looked up to his dying day he never forgot the dumb,
infinite misery of that first glance. It was the Marquis of
neatherland's anxious face that bent above her.
"What is it. Paulina?" he, cried; "are you mad to expose
yourself like this in the cold night air?"
She rose up slowly, shrinking from his touch, ani feeling
for the first time, with% shiver, how cold it really was.
"T am not mad," she said, in a slow, dull voice, strangely
unlike the soft, musical tones that had been one of her chief
charms, "only miserable the most miserable creature on
earth, 1 think My lord, let me tell you now, while I have
courage tlia.t I retract my promise that I can never be
your wife."
The words dropped spasmodically from her lips, with inter-
vals between. She did not look at hini, her eyes staring
straight before her into the blue briii^ht night. He listened--
not uiwlerstanding, bewildered, anxious, incredulous.
"Take back your promise not be my wife!" he repeated.
"What is the matter, Paulina? Are you taking leave of your
senses ?"
"It sounds like it, I dare say," she answered, with a heavy.
heartsick sigh; "but no, my senses, such as they are, or ever
were, remain. Oh, my lord, how caa I nuke jou uaderstand
Held Asunder.
215
what a 1)080, r^ : wroto^ ^ TiiUHt n(rm to yni I - .innt
do you hear ine, '..rtl Ih'alhcrlaiid ^ I caiiiiot ! .v.i;r wilrf"
"I hear you, Paulina," ho said. ^Tfiwiu^' altiiost as white ns
licr.soli*, "but 1 cannot understand. Will you he too^J ii(tUKh
to oxTjl.'tin ?"
He wan a nnni of stronjjf self-conjinaiid, of p.twerrul will.
Ho folded his arms over his chest ani wail(Ml to hear what
slie had to nay, only the i;ri\y j)all(r of his face hetokenin^ in
any way what he felt.
"] cannot. 'J'liink 1 liave clijin:('d my mind, tliink I am a
heartless co|Uette, thiidv anything you will, oidy release me,
JvOt the world think it is you who cast nic^ off I deserve it -
and aiul what does it matter^ In a day or two 1 shall leave
Knj^land, and forever."
Her voice broke in with a hollow sob if she could only
die, slu5 thought, and end it all.
"At least I have not deserved this, J*aulimi," the grave, snd
voice of the niarcjuis broke in, "If you claim your promise
your promise is yours. But oh, Paulina! my bride my wife
it is hard it is oTuel it is bitter as death."
It was the first, the last, the only time she over saw him so
moved. She fell down on her knees before him and held up
her clasped hands.
"J'OrKive me! forgive me!" she cried; "you shall know
all, cost what it may the wretch, the impostor I am. You
thou^jfht you knew my whole history that it was only my
pride or my indifference that caused me to refuse so many
offers before I accej)te(l you, and you honored me for it. Ah,
my God! how utterly unworthy I am of your respect of any
good man's Paulina Lisle was, and is. Six years ago, my
lord, I was pledged by the strongest ties to a man who
(luitted England forever as T thought. You n'mend)cr the
day 1 left Clanronald so hastily the day aft(T that on which
you tirst proposed^ On that day 1 read the account of this
man's death in a foreign paper. T don't krow that I loved
him I can't tell at least the news of his t.eath had power
to move rie as nothing else had power to do. Then yf)u know
what followed. Next season we met again, and again you
renewed your offer, and I accepted. I did not love you, my
lord but I thought myself free and I knew it would be
easy to love one so good, so kind, in tiiic. \'ou (h^servciJ
better than that, and my j)rido and ambition have received
iboir rightful punit-hment. ^fy lord-r-oh, how shall T tell
vou? this very nipht I have discovered that the man [ speak
of whctrn I thought dead to wliom ties 1 could not break if
1 would, bind me is alive and in London!"
The broken voice 6topied the pale, tortured face droiped
2)6
Held Asunder.
into her hands. SIjo still knelt Wforc liim droopinp- -in tt
etran^c, distorted attitude of pain, lie* had listened without-
a word, without a iiioveiii nt, the dull palk^r ^till hlaiiehiiig
his fae. ^his arms still f( Idcd. WIk'M she ceased, all that
was i^reat, that was noblo in the man's nature wa.s stirred.
Slie had doiu^ him a wrong, ju'rliaps, hut she was the vvoinau
he loved, ami she knell, Iwioro him iu he r great trouble, lie
Stooped and tried to rais' her up.
"Not here, Paulina! not here," he said; "kneel only to
your Maker."
"Yes, here, here!" she eried, wildly; "hero on my knees at
your feet! Oh, my lord, you cannot forgive me but you
iniu,ht pity me if you knew what I suflFcr."
"1 do pity you," he answered, gravely, "from my soul.
Rise, iMiss Lisk? 1 command it!"
She rose at once.
"And this is all?'
' "'J1is is all."
"J^'t me try to understand it, if T oan. You arc bound by
promise to marry this man of whom you speak you mean to
marry himT'
"My lord, I will marry no one. I have told you I mean to
leave England and him forever in a day or two. Of my own
free will I would never look upon his face again."
"Then you do not care for him, this man to whom you
stand pledged?" with a thrill of new hoiX5 in his tone.
Her face dropped she turned it far away from him in the
starlight.
"Paulina, you hear mo. Do you or do you not care for
iliis man?"
"I I am afraid I do."
He paused at her answer. The hope that had arisen
crushed out in his faithful heart forever.
"You care for him," he said, after that pause; "and you
tell me in the same breath that you an- going to tiy trom him,
that you will never be his wife. Miss Lisle, you have told
me part of your secret, but not all. Nay," as she was about
to speak, "tell me no more I do not ask it; I free you ut-
terly and entirely from this moment. The woman whose
heart is another man's is sacred from me. I would no more
ask you, knowing this, to marry me. than T would if you
were already a wife. And I will try to be just, and forgive
you, if I can. You have done wrong, by your own showing,
in not telling me this at first, but you could-not ftrese( what
has ha])i)ened. The secret you have confided to me shall be
kept inviolable the world shall be told you have rejected me,
in justice to oyself. since you found you culd not love mft
4.
Held Asunder
3^7
No more need be Baid, I think, ami you Imvo beer ncrc for
too loiiK alrendy. Take my ami, Aliss iii^l^, and U-l mo cou
duct you back to fho house"
Tho (liKiiity of the niau rendered his rciiucst ii(it to U' dirt-
putcd. In all her life nho luid never admind liiyi; iirvcr re-
H|)('('ii'l him as she did at this instant. Now ^ncniU"', how
nolilc every one woh tlie niiirquin (inv- wUih' slic di,
words are weak to tell how utli'tly dejrrided slie was in her
own si^fiit ^liow bitterly she despised her.-tlf. All Iht prilo
was eru-'hed to the very earth. She tofk his arm, and in dead
silence they walked back to the crowded moiiis. Wiiaf a
mockery it all seemed 1 thi; music, tlu; smiling laces, the hril-
liant dressea, the liglits, the roses, and those tortured human
liearts! They walked through the midst of their frienls, and
iio (Mie noticed much chauK^ in either. Miss Lisle htoked
vry pale paler than usual, but she never had much color,
and her five seasons' experience had taught her not to wear
her heart on her sleeve. The manjuis led her to a seat, stood
Bilent for u moment, looking- down upon her, then held out
bis hand.
'M*aulina!'' it was the la-t time iiiat name ever pa^ed hia
lips, "will you say goo(l-by r
She lifted her eyes to his face almost for the first time
Binco he had found liai" on the piazza, J low pale he was
pale to the lips.
(
Vou
are going away
"
"1 shall start for Africa to-morrow. I am such an old trav-
el(^r that 1 can p'ack up for tho other end of the world at five
minutes' noti'e. And. ;is rvery one who goes to Central Af-
rica does not invariably return, 1 should like you to say good'
by and good spiH'd, before we part."
They soumh'd almost like the last words Guy had spoken
to h(r when she had seen him last.
She laid lu-r hand in that of Lord lleatherland, but f^he did
not speak she could ncit.
"CJood-by," he repeated.
Tier uplifted eyes, full of speechless pain, answered him.
One close, warm pressure of her cold hand, and then the nuui
she had pledged herself to marry had passed forever out of
her life. ,
It slio could only go home a wild desire o fly away from
this house and those peoi)le, ,iind hide herself forever, camo
iipoi! her. \Vhere was .NIrs. Galbraith, where ^^auh or Sir
Vaner She hM.ked around, antl f(M* the second time waa
frozen by tiie sight of (Juy Earlscourt.
lie was approaching her, her old friend Mrs. Atcherly on
his arm* Mx0* Atcherly chatting gayly and volubly m thej
ns
Held Asunder.
came up. Low as the words were spoken, Paulina's strainjei
ear heard them :
"To be married in three weeks' time, you know, to the
Marquis of Ileailrjrland by far the most brilliant match of
the season. She is good enough and beautiful enough to
marry a prinee, I think. And do you know, C4uy," laugh-
ingly, "I used to fancy to hope, only you were such a shock-
ing wild boy, that you and sihe you understand? But
Heatiierland will make her a much better husband than you
ever would, or ever will make any one, Master Guy."
"Mrs. Atcherly, don't be vituperative. I've turned over a
new leaf several new leaves, and whoever the lady is who
has the honor and bliss of becoming Mrs. Earlscourt, she will
be blessed beyond her sex. For Miss Lisle I have had always
the profoundest and most hopeless admiration."
She heard ihe carelessly spoken words, and her heart hard-
ened and revolted against him. IIow dared he sx)eak of her
in .that light and flippant tone, when his coming here had
broken her heart, blighted her life? Her eyes brightened, a
faint tinge of color came back into her face. She looked at
him straight a hard, cold, steady glance.
"Paulina, my child," cried the gay voice of Mrs. Atcherly,
"here is a surprise for you, a resurrection from the dead the
prodigal returned a prodigal no longer, Guy, I don't think
there is any need of an introduction between you and Pau-
lina."
"Not the least, I hope, Mrs^ Atcherly," Guy answered, bow-
ing low.
She had not offered him her hand; her face looked cold,
hard as stone; no smile of recognition passed over it. The
coldest, slightest, haughtiest bend of the head '\cknowledged
him. She spoke, and her voice sounded as hiird and icy as
her look.
"It is a surprise. Months ago I read of Mr. Earlscourt's
death in an American paper. But, perhaps, it was another
Guy Earlscourt."
"No, I fancy not," Guy said, coolly; "I was the man whose
oJ)ituaiy* you read. It was rather a close thing, but good
nursing br(ught nie safely through it, as yoy see."
He was not one whit dashed by her freezing hauteur her
repellent toiu'. He stood theite before her the most coolly
self-possessed man in the room : heedless whether the Marquii:
of Ileatherland'S aiHanced bride smiled or frowned. She saw
it with silctit, suppressed anger, um'ust as it was strong.
^ *When did you arrive ?" she asked.
Hhify iksB ftermxio; and m the ground oC M ftJgmWiiy
Li!
ainej
o the
k'h of
t^b to
augh-
sliock-
But
111 you
)vcr a
who
ic will
always
t hard-
of her
re had
ened, a
jked at
tcherly,
ad the
't think
id Pau-
id, bow-
3d cold,
t. The
wledged
I icy as
scoart's
auothei
n whose
lit good
ur her
t coolly
Marquis
She saw
iflodship
IS.K
2)9
to see
Held Asunder.
ventured to nitriide here to-night. Besido, I w
you I'*
**To see me?" with. a fine lady's stare of insolent v.'onder;
**and what can Mr. (Juy Karlscourt, after his bix yuar?^' exile,
possibly have to say to nie i"
A sniilo curled his mustaehed lii)S a smile of lunusenient
at her look and tone.
'Nothing whatever concerning myself with .'11 bis pre-
sumption he does not presume so far as that. L canu' as the
messenger of another person, in whom I think even the fu-
ture Lady Heatherland may be interested."
Her fingers tore in half her costly lace handkerchief. This
6torn of contending feelings within her was growing more
than she could bear.
"I know of no acquaintance of ^ours, Mr. Earlscourt, in
whom I take the slightest interest. I have no idea what you
rjan n'ean !"
"No," he said; and again the amused smile that half-mad-
dened her played around his mouth; "not even Colonel Kob-
ert Hawksley."
She barely repressed a cry.
"My father!" she exclaimed; "what of him?"
"Ah! I thought you would be interested," still smiling.
"Colonel Hawksley is here, Miss Lisle, and I am his messen-
ger."
Paulina caught her breath; she arose and looked at Guy,
flushed, eager.
"Here!" she cried, "here! my father! at last! Oh, Mr.
Earlscourt, where is he take me to him? At once! at
once !"
"Ilestrain yourself. Miss Lisle at once would be impossi-
ble. 7\nd his presence here must for a tinu; be a, dead secret.
Above all. Sir Vane Charteris and his family are to be kept
in total ignorance. lie bade me give you tliis it explains
everything, and tells you where to find him. Conceal it
quickly here is Mrs. Galbraith."
Sh(i thrust the letter he gave her into the folds of her
dress, just in time to escape Mrs. Galbraith's keen, black
eyes. As on that other night, he canii^ noiselessly upon
them lliis time with a bland smile on her face.
"Ah, Mr. Earlscourt! so happy to welcome you back.
Such a surprise, Paulina, l(ve, is it not? and a celebrated
author and hero and everything. Everybody is talking of
you and your books, 1 assure you."
"Everybody does me too much honor, Mrs. Galbraith. Miss
Lisle, adieu."
He bowed with his old, negligent, courtly grace his old.
-F,
740
Held Asunder.
careless smile, and snunUrofl away. Paulina looked, with tLv'
incxplicMble expression, after the tall, graceful form, and saw
the (lauMliter of the house, Lady Kdith Clive, flutter smil*
inprly up to him, with both han\ls outstretcluHl in ^hul wel-
Con;o. tShc turned abn!itly away, and looked no more.
"Mrs. Galbraith," she said. "I want to go home."
"Certainly, Pau'' ui, love but where is Lord Heather
land?"
"(iono lonjJT ago. Order the carriage at once; I am tired
,and sick to deatli of it all."
Mrs. Galbraith looked at her in astonishment. What was
the matter? Where and why had the Marquis of Heather-
land gone, and what meant all this unusual, angry impa-
tience ?
Sir Vane came up at the moment, his florid face a shade or
two less florid than usual, and his small, black eyes looking
strangely startled.
"Paulina!" he exclaimed, in a half whisper, "do you know
who has come?"
... "Yes, I know."
"But, good Heaven, Paulina, what is to be done? You
showed me the paper that spoke of him as dead, and now
here he is back again. And^there is Lord Heatherland, and
the settlements prepared, and the wedding day named. Pau-
lina, what is to be done?"
"Go home, the flrst thing," with a hysterical laugh. "Let
me alone. Sir Vane (Miarteris; I am not fit to talk to you or
any one to-night."
He looked at her, and noticed, for the first time, the
ghastly pallor of her face, the dusky fire in her eyes. He
gave her his arm, without another word, and lel her to the
carriage. On the way home not a word was spoken. Mrs.
Galbraith sat in silent surprise, but asking no questions.
Maud In.v back half aslec]) Sir Vane kept inwardly repeat-
ing: "What the deuce will she do?" And Paulina, in a
corner of the carriage, sat white and cold, with only a dull,
sickening sense of misery in her heart. Her father had
come was here! At any other time those tidings would
have driven her half wild with delight, but even this news
had little power to move Ikm* n(.w.
They reached honie. She toihnl wearily up the stairs to
her own luxurious apartm^Mits. ITer Pn^nch maid. Knglish
Jane's successor, sat waiting for her young mistress, half
asleep in a chair. Paulina dismissed her at once.
"You may vo to bed, Odille -1 shall not want you this
morning.'
The girl departed, yawning. The mom^it she was gone
tr
Si
h(
cl
li
tl
63
Ill
Held Asunder.
S41
Paulina locked the doors, drew a chair close to tjie waxlif^hts,
and took the letter (hiy Karlscourt had ^iven Ivr from tlio
corsape of her dress. She knew tiiat hold, manly liand well;
she tore it impetuously oi)en and read its brief eont'nts:
. Chariiie: Crnss Hotr'..
. Tuesday, May 11th. IStU).
. (My Paulina: You see I have answered yiur prayer at last
I am here here to redres.s the wronKs of the living or to
avenge the dead here, after two-and-twcnty yt\irs, to rwhiim
your mother my wife.
My young friend, Guy Earlscourt. has persuaded mo, con-
vinced mo that this way ties my duty. He has urged me also
to tell you all, and claim your woman's wit and aid in my uti-
dertaking. The hour has come when it (s time for you to
learn who your mother really is that you have been kcpL in
Ignorance bo long may have been a fatal mistake. My daugJi-
ter. have you never suspected? You have met her. known h-.-r.
Think! Shall I tell yoii her name at once? Paulina, she who'n
you knew as Lady Charteris was ruivia I.,yndiih. t1v.'-:in 1-
twenty years ago, Robert Lisle's wife, and your iiiot)ier.
The letter dro])i)ed from Paulina's hand, witli a low,
startled cry. A thousand tilings rushed 011 lui memory to
convince her of the trntli of lir father's words. 'I'lie iii-xlit,
in Lyndith Grange, where my lady had kissed and cried over
her, the midnight visit to Duke's cottage, and, ahove all, a
vague, intangible something that had always drawn her t'
the unhappy lad.v. How stupid, how blind she had been, not
to guess the truth before !
The letter went on :
I never knew, until a few months ngo, tiie terribb? fact f-' it
she was not insane when sliut up in a madhouse. Mi-. ElIv
court told me. T have returned it the earliest [)osiMe moment,
and I will never rest until I have found, have reelaimed h'-r.
Heaven be merciful to human error. I may be too late -to s ive
her, but I meant it for the best. You will come to rne here I
long to see you, my dailing my Olivia's child.
You will ask for "Mr. Hawk^ley," and .von will ke.-p the fact
Of my presence in England a deHl secret. Do not, in any way.
show to Sir Vane Charteris that you suspect or know the
truth. We must be subtle as serpents in dealing with a ser-
pent. Mr. Earlscourt mies to the Countess of Damar's ball to
give you this to-night -to-morrow
it the earliest possible
hour. T shall expect you here. T'^ntil I see you, my own dear
child, adieu.
She knew all at last at last. The mystery that for tke
past eight years had been the unfathomable mystery of her
life was solved. Her mother wa^ found.
ling of the letter had calmed her. .She held it to
Tl
le reading
the lightcul tajjers and watched it ^i"'" t^ ashes. Then she
extingui.shv'd them.
The rosy dav/n of the sweet May day was lighting the east
ili^
itKi I
',}f:
m
.11
242
Working in the P^ X.
already as she drew back the curtains of silk auu lace dud
Uuiif^ ^ido the casements.
'Jlie sun arose, another busy day had bcKun for the great
fity, ijiid Paulina Lisle, in her floating satin and laces and
diamonds, sat there pale and spiritle:5S utterly worn out.
The breakfast bell rang. She bep^an slowly unclaspinp: the
jewels, unloosing her rich drc^s. Then she threw on a dress-
ing-Rown, and rang for her maid.
"Clear away those things, Odille, and fetch me a cup of
tea here."
The girl, with the nimble fingers of her craft, ]ut away the
ball robe, and diamonds in their casket, and brought up Miss
Lislf'.'s breakfast.
With an effort she swallowed a few mouth fuls, drank the
tea, and then pushed aside the scarcely tasted meal.
"Dress me for the street, Odille, and be quick. I am going
for a walk. If Mrs. Galbraith inquires for me you can tell
hqr so."
Odille unbornd the s^hining tresses, and built up her young
lady's chignon with practiced rapidity. In fifteen minutes
Miss Lisle stood attired in a walking cosfumo of quiet gray,
a close veil over her face. It was no unusual thing for Pau-
lina to start for a brisk morning walk at the hour when all
fashionable people were asleep; and Odille was in no way
surprised.
It was just eleven as she hailed a cab, and gave the order
to the driver:
'^Charing Cross Hotel."
Tier heart throbbed with almost sicker ing rapidity as the
liSnsoiri flew along the many streets.
At last, at last in ten minutes she would be face to facs
witli lier unseen father! *
X
CHAPTER IV.
WORKING IN THE DARK.
In his room at the Charing Cross Hotel, Robert Hawke-
loy snt alone by the open window, smoking his meerschaum,
and waiting for his daughter's coming with that grave pa-
t:ence that long habit had mad(5 second nature.
Th-^re was a tap at the door and a waiter entered.
'^A ic.dy to see Mr. Hawksley," he announcgd; and then a
stately figure appeared close behind him, veiled and simply
dressiHl, but looking a "lady" from the crown of her head to
the sole of her foot. '.
The waiter disappeared, doting the door behind him.
Working fn the Dark.
243
i.t^Di. c TTawk^loy arose, lavinti: down bis pijie the lady
fluhjf back her veil, and fathor diuI duugbtLT stood face to
face.
I'or tbe space of five isoeonds tliey slood in dead silence
lookinjiT iit eaeb oilier. Sh' s.iw n niaii bronzed and weatlier-
beaten, but bandsonier and nobler it seemed to ber tban any
otiier man sbe liad ever known save one. Iff? saw a Ix^auti-
ful and graceful yonnj? lady, witli soft, sa|)pbire eyes, and
gold bronze hair ri[)i)linj,r low over tlint broad, white brow,
with sweet, sensitive lips, and a liltle curved, sj)irited chin.
They were strikingly alike, too eyes, hair, features the
most casual observer might have told the n-iationship.
He smiled a smile of great content })assed over Colonel
ITawksley's bearded lips, and he came forward with both
hands outstretched.
"Paulina! my daughter!"
"My father!"
He drew her to him and kissed the pure white brow, and
the first meeting was over w.ithout seencvs or exclamations.
For long they talked togetiier, relating the grim actualiti(^4
that had made up their lives and specubiting as to what
might have been.
Presently Ilobert ITawksley touched upon Ouy Earlscourt.
"I wonder," he said, "if your hatn^d of Lord Montalieii
extends to Guy? I hope not, for 1 have grown as fond of
him as though he were my own son."
Her face flushed all over a deep, painful, burning rel.
"I have no reason to dislike' Mr. Earlscourt," she answered,
the words coming with an effort; "he did me a great service
once a service few men would have rendered."
"You must have been equally astonished and delightel
when he appeared so suddeidy before you last niglit at the
Countess of Damar's ball."
"Very much surprised beyond a doubt, since T thought hini
dead. Ho you not know that his death was announced many
months ago in one of the .American papers you sent me?"
"T did not know it. And you really thought him dead
until he appeared like a ghost before you? Not that (luy
much resembles a ghost at present. Tt was as close a thing
at; ever T i^aw he liad half a Inindred wounds, and fought
through the camiKwgn like a lion. It was while he lay si(?k
in the hospital, almost to death, that F founl your picture in
a locket attached to his watchchain, and discovered that he
-knew you, and was a countryman."
That Jeep flush rose up once more on Paulina's fair face.
"My picture!" 'he said. "How oam he by that? I cer-
tainly neyr ave it to him."
i '
I
244
Working in the Dark.
"ITe told me as much af'terwanl owiiod that he piinoinGcl
it as a souvenir {f Kii/iUmd and .v(u, to carry into his exile.
Ah, he is a hrave hid, and a gallant one. He saved my life
oiico at the risk of his own."
"Tell me about it father."
Ilcr voice was straiigcly soft and tremulous her facQ
droojjcd forward on her father's shoulder, something vague
and sweet stirring in her heart. It was a theme Robert
llawksley liked well the young man had grown as dear to
him as a won. Jle told her. while the moments went by,
stori(s of his braver^', of his generosity, of his genius, of his
irrej)roachable life of how nobly he had redeemed the ])ast.
'I believe, at the worst, his greatest crimes were but the
thoughtless follies of youth. TJuy Karlseourt has the noblest
nature of any man I know. He eould not stoop to do a mean
or dastardly thing. His comrades idolized him his officers
respected him. 1 believe he is a true genius, and destine^l to
make a shining mai'k in the literature of his day."
An interval of silence follo\ved his daughter's face was
still hidden, but it was to hide the tears that were falling
now.
And this was the man she thought eapable of selling his
manhood for her money th{ man who had sacrificed his life
to s{!\'e her from his brother!
"1 don't see the need of our spending the first hours of our
meeting in talking altogether of Earlseourt fine fellow
though he be. It strikes me I should like to hear some-
thing of yourself."
She lifted h?t'^-face, and laughed a little bitterly.
"A most unprofitable subject. I am a fashionable lady,
wra])ped up in dressing, dancing, driving rather a striking
contrast 'to the sort of life you have been speaking of."
"And engaged to the Marquis of Heatherland ?'*
"No." - o
"No? Why, T saw in the 'Mornhir/ Post' "
"Very likely still even the press is not infallible. Such
an engagemcjjt did exist, but it has ceased."
"It has ceased' IVfay 1 asksince when?"
Rh" flinched a little under his grave, steady, kindly eyes.
"Since last night."
"Did you love Lord Heatherland, my daughter? The
World siie;;ks well of him."
"And he deserves all_ the world v .m say he is one of the
best men I vr knew. Hut T never loved him. I don't
know that 1 ever loveil any one that T am capable of it. I
am hard, and selfish, and worldly, and ambitious, and all evil
things ^unworthy to be any good man's wife. I shall never
Working: in the DnrkJ
245
marry .yuu lual luit Inok nt ice in tli;ii way T moan it.
My Mi;^M-r(MiM'iit willi j.onj I It'.itlKMhiiid li:i-; ('f\H(.'l wliat t
am now I will no to my frr;ivr. \Vlj*'ii we find njy mother -
all I why should we t;i]k of ;iny tiling" bu! hr I - w' three will
leave this J.ondon life, ;iiid ;i!i pertaiiiiiijj: to it, niid j^row old,
in pcaee, somewhere out of the worhl." .
Her voiee *;ave wjiy in .1 ^r\ of -uh. Xut eajjnhic of lovinj?
any one, wlien she knew thnl sh( loved (Jny K.trlsecdirt dearly
dearly, and that sjie had loved him from the first -ay, in
the days when Alhin F;ine. the .irtist, iiad whiied away in.
her company that rosy sununer ei^iht years ^-one.
"T.et us talk of my motlier," she n'pe;ited. "What do you
propose to do how to find her ^"
"I shall set detectives on the track at once, and renniiii
quietly here to await events. Can you come to see me often,
Paulina, or will it inconvenience you too much?"
"I shall come to see you every day at this hour, if you like.
I am in every way my own mistress, free to come and fi^o a.H
I choose. And now, as it is close upon two o'clock, I think
I had better return. They mi^ht [)ossii)ly fall to wondeiing
what had become of me.''
He led her to the door, and they parted with a handclasp.
He was never demonstrative, anl la r relationship was new 03
yet to Paulina.
Guy Earlscourt had made up his mind not to re-enter
society upon his return to London. lie hud learned how
hollow and empty it all was he had learned a healthi{r kind
of life in the past six years. IJut he found himscLf (juite a
"lion," the hero of the day: society siujj:ht him crowds of
invitations pc^ined in upon him from the hij^hest in the land.
Many were old friends whom Ik^ could not well refuse. So
he said to himself, half ashamed of this yielding; but was
that solely the reason^ Wherever he went he saw the proud,
beautiful face of the girl who was his wife, flis wife! what
a pang half pain, half remorse it gave him! He should
not have taken advantage of that hour of madness, ha
thought, when she had besought him to save lu^r wh(n, car-
ried away by the excitement of the private theatricals, she
had become his wife. It was blighting her life, he could see.
She hated him, and took little pains to conceal it. Night
after night he left those gtiy ass(nd)lies where she shone a
(jueen by right divine of her peerless beauty and grace, vow-
ing, in his passion, never to return, and yet when to-morrow
came, the temptation to look ence more upon that perfect
face, though colder than marble to him. was irresistible, find
he yitlded. And she never dreamed, in the rtmotoftt wa.y
v
\*
246
Working in the Dark.
how with hin whole, stnd!*^ heart, nud foi the first titiie ic
his life, he wm:; j^iowiii^ to love her.
Miss I, Isle wu-s alnio-t as much an ohjVct of interest to so-
ciety just now as (luy irnnseif. She had broken c*fT Iier en-
gagement with the Manjuis ol" rieatherhnul at tiie elevchth
hour-- positively refusing the best mateh of the season and
a prospective duke. J.ord JTeatlierland had gone abroad, but
before his departuie he had taken care to let the ehdis and
the drawing-rooms of JJclgraviu know tliat it was by ^'iss
Lisle's own express desire the mateh had been broken.
**r admire her above all women, and I always sIimII," !:;id
been his words. "It is the great misfortune of my life that
she cannot care for me strongly enough to be my wife.""
It created a profound sensation. Peoj)le said very hard
things of Miss Lisle behind her back, called her a heart!(-s
jilt, who would end, no doubt, as she deserved, by being an
old maid. But they locked upon her with new interest, as a
woman capable of tramjding under foot a ducal c ironet ; and
the beautiful heiress was more sought after thar. ever.
Nearly a fortnight had passed. She visited h( r father
every day but her mother's hiding-place had not yet hrvn
discovered. She met (luy perpetually day and night, nut]
with the rest of the world saw the marked preference Lady
Kdiih ('live showed him. They rarely spoke a formal bov^
in jjassing was the oJily gr(uting they exchanged, but in bn
heart she knew she was intensely jealous. He could net,
would not, marry the Lady Edith; her secret now and for-
ever was safe; l)ut who was *o tell he might lot learn to lf)ve
her; She grew rest!' ss and miserable the world began to
say she v^as regretting the step she had taken with th-^ ir.ar-
(luis tli.'it she was approaehing five-and-twenty,inid growing
quite faded uid pn.sse. She was sick at heart sick, body
and soul longing uns{)eakal)ly for the hour when her mother
migljt Ih' found, and she herself free to (juit England and
him forever.
It was ckn-e u})on the la^^f of the second week, that, making
her morning visit to her father, she found him pacing up
and down his hotel sitting-room Hushed, excited, anxious.
"You have found her!" was Paulina's first cry as she looked
upon liis fiice.
fie li;ul found her or rather the detective in his employ
hud. 'llw i)rlvat' asylum was at Cheswick ^he held the
adflre^s in his hand \.A]y Cliarteris was in tolerably good
heairli. both nn'otally and bodily, and the medical superin-
tender; i;-ii been xpeetiiig Mio baronet every day for the
past tliice weeks to eome and take his wiie home. The
asyluni war a tborouglilj respectable institution, and Lady
IC
Working in ttie Dark
247
ci
n\:
hiid I
cMiiKMi, \vn.-4 almost ciitirelv rosforcd, an'
rendy Jit any moiiiciil to leave
((
Veil must ^'o to C.'heswiek at mico, Paulina," Ium- fatlier
said.
)U will introduce; yoursclt" as the patient's dau;;hter
snit ly Sir Vane, to lirin^ liei liouie. Here is a note 1 liav!
written--a j.retty good imitation of his handwriting', I tliink,
in which lie says illness nrevonts 1
ns aeeompanyuij^r yon.
"iou must lose no time I liave arranj^ed evc^rytliiug. When
yuu (luit the a.^vlum, you will take the tit: t train for Lin-
Cvlnshire. (io tj your old friend, luke Masoji's- I will fol-
low. On the way you ean hreak to her the news of my ar-
rival prepare her to uK'et me at the cottaKt'. ()ne' there,
and with me, let Sir Vane Charteris eliiim her if he dare!"
Paulina listened hreathlessly took the note, and ( titerel
the cah her father eallel. 'Vvn minutes, and she was speed-
in;^' aloni^ rapidly Cheswiekwanl, fully i)repari'd f.)r the part
she had tc play.
The part was so easy, it required little duplicity to fj^o
through with It. Miss Lisle met the medical superintendent,
and announced herself as Lady Charteris' (lau;.jit(!r. She
gave him her father's forged note he read it as a matter of
course- bowed low before the stately, beautiful woman, and
led her at once to his patient. Paulina's heart beat fast.
How was she to tell her mother might not betray her in her
first surprised She paused as the doctor was about to open
tho door.
"Stop," she said; "my mother has not seen me for many
years. The shock may be too much for Ium-. Do you go in,
and tell her I am here, and let u.i meet iuite alone;."
"As you please, Miss Charteris," the polite superintendent
sa'd; "you can wait here."
He Ushered her into a sunny apartment. She stood, her
back turned to the door, looking out of th' window, trying to
calm her rapid heart-throbbing. She was not kept waiting
long. In three minutes the door opened, she turned slowly
re und mother and daughter stood alone together!
Those six years of misery and im7)ris()nment iiad donc^
their work upon the wife of Robert Lisle. Her face had
blanched to a dead waxen whiteness her golden hair had
turned 10 silver. The g.oat black eyes looked out from the
bloodless face with a frightened, terrified appeal. She stood
on the threshold irresolute trembling she (lid not ieco;jni/.(^
this tall, Juno-like young lady with the lovely face and
large, pitying blue eyes.
"Are you?" she faltered; "no, you are not Mau(i." vSh
.Irew away, trembling violently all over. "J. Ho*Vi- kno
^.vo
u.
;he said; "did he send you here'i
';'
^^
II
m\
MS
Working in the Dark.
r
un'iiiji cjirno oVfr, put licr "^fiwtfi^r youii^ nrni'
l)OU
t lief.
aimI !;ik('l l()\vn into that l'riKii''H(Ml tncc with a hii.vc ov-
ji:^ sii.ilc.
"I Mill not MamJ," she wliispcKwl with a kiss; "I am Pau-
lina I.isl*'- mother dear little, snfferin^r mother. No, don'*
^ly out; you will spoil all. 1 have eoiiie to take yfiu away
and Sir N'ane Cijarteris knows nothinjj ahout il. Don't wait
to ask questions now and he enlin don't excite suspicion.
1 am ^ioiiif? to lake you away the dotor thinks 1 am Sir
Vane's daughter- don't undeceive him. (lo, ^^'t ready at
once- every second is jjiccious, and l.c 'aim for all otir
sakes try anl he calm."
She was ci'^ner th*n Pauliia had h(i)cd. Her eyes lit up
- hop' flaslu'il over iier tace. "1 will," she answered, firndy;
"wait for nie heic."
She '(ft the room in ten minutes sIh; wad back, accom-
l)ani('d hy the medical man.
"I can safely pronounce l-.a(ly (^harieris })erfoctly restored,
Miss Charteris." he said, blandly." "I told Sir Vane so,
weeks ajjfo. and Jiave hccn expectinjj;^ liim daily. vVmusement
and 'lian.u,'e cd" air are all she reciuires now\ And how about
tlio hv^i-a^e?"
"You will wjiit until Sir Vane visits you in person," Pau-
lina said (piietly, drawing' ber mother's arm witbin bcr own.
"ITo will i)robably be sufficiently restored by to-moridw."
They \Korv at the dotr slio could hardly i^redit lier own
f^uceess. 'i'be bland superintendent bowed- low, as he bade
adieu to the baronet's beautiful daughter, and assisted my
lady into'tbe cab. The uioment after, they jicre whirling
awa.T far from the asylum, where for six lonj.^ years this jxior,
pale woman had been incarcerated
Paulina leaned forward to jjrive the driver his order, then
ehe turned and clasped ajain that weak, frail form in her
arms.
"You look bewildered, darlin^r motlier oh, how easy, how
:!iatural the name comes! Tt is suftit'ient to bewilder you, or
ijie, the rapidity with which this has been manajjeil. 1 know
all, you see that you are my mother everything'. Wlio do
you think has told me?" She kissed again, with a smile, the
appealing: face "my father." _ f*.^
"Your father!"
"And your husband yonr mly, your rightful husband,
mother Hobert Lisle."
She clasped her wasted hands^ she tried once or twice
before the words she wanted to say would (luit her pallid lii8:
"Robert my Robert! he is alive still!"
"Alive and well, dear mother ; and now try and bear irood
"P
"M(
Ry
term
renio
prisoi
sane
entra
covi
be re
nevei
At ot
and
had
()
conv
peat
abro
Van^
last
for
trns
out
dtiso
Workinor in the Dark.
249
lis
news as hrnvcl.v mv. you Iuitc honu' inisforfim* crHniiJif hcit
to cliiiiii .voii."
'I luTo was a faiiii, luw cry; PiniliMa drow lu-r closip to hor,
:tiil kissed lici* nK!ii :iii(i a^aiii.
"I'oor liftl' inotlurl ^'cs corniu^r Ikhim' ti clnirii you.
Noll art' his witV, you know- iu' luis the rijrlit Mhat \v;(;k(d
baronet, none, lie is coining?! mother! inotlier! tliiiik of
that!"
'M'aulitia," lur iiiothor said, wilh a sort of erv, "he !
hero r
\'\v an answer, Paulina held her eJo-er.
"'I\'ll me," Olivia said; "tell me. ! aulina- I rati hear to
hear such joyful news Uohert is lure!"
"My fa I lu-r is hero. Nothinj; ean ever cojne between you
him af^ain."
and ,,
fler mother fell ba'k, noarly falntiii^r. Paulina eauKht
b(th hands, and lookrul straijfht, almost sternly, into her oyos.
"Mother, if you faint, 1 will never forgive you. Von have
a jcnirney to take we are ^oin^r lown to Lincolnshire, to
Duke Mas(in'. My lath* r will follow by the next iiain.
Tlien 1 K've y(tu leave to faint, if you will insist upon it.
Meantime 1 am Moinji' to fasten this veil over your fac
there is vo telling' whom w(; may m.-et at the station."
e;
X-
*
*
By one X)f tlie fatalities which rule our lives, and which \v
term chance. Sir \':inc Charteris had chosen that very day to
ren.ove his unfoi'ttniate captive from the a.sylum to another
prison. She had been received in all ^^ood faith she was in-
sane most likely for the time, and for weeks after her
entrance raved In delirlnm c^ a brain feve". Upon her re-
covery, she had been at time.- vildly exeitea, demanding,' to
be )'elMised, crying out she was no wife of Sir Vane's, and
never had been, that her true husband had been in America.
At other times she would lapse into sullen despair and f^loom,
and i)ass wliole days in speechless misery. So the first years
had jione.
Of late, however, even the jicople of the asylum became
convi!ced cd' her perfect sanity, anl the physician had re-
peatedly urjicd the baronet to remove Ids wife to take her
abroad, and give her amusement and change of air. Sir
Vane had delayed doiiifj: so to the last possible moment. At ^
last a happy thoutrht struck him. lie would fit up "The Firs"
for her reception, employ a thoroufrhly unprineiplpd and
tnistworthy woman to take care of her, and leave her lO draj?
out the remainder of her wretched existence in the dreary
dttkjulation of that desolate coast. It wa^ Mf ^; sea iog and
1'J
|!1
a;o
vVorking in the Darlr.
(.MHt winds wcro ahuiuiuiit, tli: hoiiso was djiinp nud drauglifcy
ff;ith, no doubt, would simm dily rid him of a hatod in-
('unil)ranco. He longed intras'ly for her death, anl tlie mlo
reversion of her fortune tq^ ^laud the time was very near,
li' thoimlif now.
rie drove up to thr asylum in a four-wheeled eal) ho
meant to take his wife straijfht to Kssex. He was admitted,
and met the doetor in the hail.
''What!" the suixM-intcndeiit exclaimed. "Sir Vane, so
(Boon after hi.s niessen^'er? And your note said you were ill.
Yours has been a speedy recovery."
'*\Vhat note ^ I di't understand you. I have eomo for
my wife."
"Your wTFe! My dear Sir Vane, of course you know your
wife has gone!"
"Oone!" The baronet started hack blankly. "Gone! Do
you mean dead f '
"HeavfMi forbid! Lady Chartcria* health, considering all
things, is remarkably good. Is it possible? but no, I cannot
have been duped. Here is your own note, demanding her
release."
Ho handed the baronet the note Paulina had given him,
with an injured air. Sir Vane read it through, turning the
hue of ashes, with mingled amaze and rage.
"This note is a forgery. I never wrote it so poor a
forgery, too, that I am amazed any one could be stupid
enough to be deceived by it who ever saw my Und. Do you
mean to tell me, Dr. Harding, that Lady Charteris has left
your asylum?"
"Left an hour ago," replied the doctor, sullenly.
"With whom?"
"The bearer of that note."
"Who was the bearer of this note?"
His thou^'hts flew to Lord Montdien to Lord Montalien,
who never forgot nor forgave, and who fully meant to place
the pap(T he held in Olivia's hand, should he ever succeed Iv
finding her.
"A young lady your daughter."
"My daughter! Impossible!"
"She announced herseli as Lady Charteris' daughter the
same thing, I take it."
"Will you tell me what she was like? 1 iift my daughter
Maud ill at home of a headache."
"She was tall, the finest figure and mof5t class^icaliy beauti-
ful face T ever saw. She had daik-blue eyes, and gold-browu
hair, and the manners of a lady in waiting."
"Pau^'na!" the baronet cried, under hi breath; "the vets
last iK*rso
th# dro\
"Cilyw
Mie, Sir ^
"Kver^v
bevw a 1(
With
Where e(
yho hal
thought
trlys, th
takin;; tl
upon hii
"She'l
She won
that girl
anl 1 n
He lo
an hour,
eah to
Paulina
at tlu' I
])aper w
easily I
lie had
"Cun
she wa
1 fe n
inouirii
left tw
l)eeulia
(Hieial
questio
j^ro.ul
tii-ket,
for *1
flowinj.
he kiif
He
evt Li
wif'.
Of wli
I'.hMiia
posuri
^ee tl
He t.
K
^
Working U\ the D:irk.
2^1
last iHTHon T nln.iiM rvrr think of. W, \i\\ kriov, vvli'li wny
th# (Irovr upon Living lirrt;, llanliiiK'''
"Cil.Ywani I know no rnoro. Do you rrnlly monn t(. ti II
un\ Sir V;nu', tlitTo in nnytliin^ wroii^ iiLout nil this^'
'Kvcr^VtliiiiK i"* wron^'. It in an iiifcrnii! plot. Ymu Ikivc
l)ocn ii 1(M1, iind I jini a ruined mnn."
With that answor Sir Vano strctd** out of \\w hnu-^e.
Wht'H' could Paulina y)ossihl' havo takon Iht niothcr!' ]] w
sho hai fo\ind her he did not tin n stop to iiuiuir' . Ho
thought over tho people Ik; knew in i-(nidon; except the Afch-
crlys, there wn.s n(t a family wlioni he could inKi;^iiic her
takinj; the sick lady to. A sudden, swift inspiration lla-hed
upon him.
SI
'She'll 'ake her to T.incohisliire, to her old home, of em
I r--e.
le u
ould never attempt to kicp her in London, 'i'o ihink
that f-'irl has heen i)lo1tin^!: against me, for month-, j ("h.i| s,
anl I nev(!r suspected it."
He h)oked at his watch uii express train would j : " In
an
hoi
ir,
II
e ga
ve the driver his oi-der. and fell h:iek i
cah to think. Not jdea-aiit tlioUiihl-. \y any e c
Pjiulina to(k her to Speekhaven, Lord MniifMli-ii. .-i
I I 1 1 !
MJlt
at the Priory,
won
Id 1
lear ot It at t.nee
ind
paper which implicated him for hii^amy. His mani.
I r (
d
j'asi
l.v 1
te proM'U ill
'.laud
ii;( uif iiiiate. and i
he had coveted so go ahsolutely to liohert Li-'(''- d i i.' ''i r,
"(Hirse her!'' ho muttered; "why did 1 not j)oi.m !; : .\i.. m
she was in my power?*'
Jfo reached the London tcrnunu'', and was al ont '' ; ikc*
injjuiries e(ncerning the pas-en/jertA hy liw n:i]. ' ' !i d
left two hours l.efore. Pjudina'^ co!iiiii;;nd;ii^ Iwi;* "n\
])eeuliar grai-e could not fail t attrat the atteu:'**': . i -'.e
oHicials, even at a crovviled liondou railwjy stutitni. I'; i tlu
luestions he would have a^ked died upon his lips, ; .i|-
proarhed the ticket ofHce. for standing thei-e tik ;u h'S
ticket, was a nian h- knew well. .\ migi lie liai n ti -iM-n
for eloso u]ion a (|Uarter of a century, hi!t v\!ieni, in p'te of
flowing heard, of foieijiii hronze, of the slcrchcd o!!:l't j-o,
lie knew at once -IJohert Lish^!
lie drew lack among the crowd. All w;h c'ear im .'. ' I?"h-
ert Lisle had 'ome hai-k. a I'leli man, ni doul'i. lo c1."mi his
wif', ami ex|)ose tlu- villainy llial l:eil j'umh an.irt (; h.- :r.
Of what use was it to folhiw now -the game wi's up I o"4
i.loni.alieii's revenge was rdl that \\ 'js needed for hi-^ .\-
posure and disgi-ace And yi he d^'t''rndned to foliftw to
^'O the play playec? out to face his fate without flnichinj?.
fie took his ticket and his place in a different rtomuartinejit
f:
2*)!!
"Paulina to Alice.'
from that of Robert Lislo, aiul London was left beliind lilu
a ."-nioky dream. *'
Into t!io fresh conntrv, wliero i\\o younj^ gra-^s and rowslip
were l.riglit into tlie iiiritic lieait of IJneolnshire. the e;-;
press train flew. It was close upon six, and tlie at'lerno!-!
sun was slanting westward as tlic.v rnshrd into tlie Speck
haveji station. Still kcepin/:;' out of si^^lit. the haroru *
watched his rival. Roliert Lisle took a fly- -the haronc^t took
another remaining? well in the rear. Duke Mason's hou^i
was tlie destination of the forere.ost. the othei followeil,
liol crt Lisle sprang' out and eiitercd the litth^ p:ard(Mi ^at \
will) rapid steps approaehinj? the house. Sir Va!^(^ (^harlcr;-
al-.'. disn)ounted, also entered the f2:arden, and approaelu^d.
'ill ' li'^ise door was opon, he heard a womati's shrill scream.
I.\ w'fe's voice he knew, and hurried nearer, and stood look-
irj.^ -n.
He aw a very striking picture.
Duke Mason and his sister stood apart Paulina was in
the middle of the floor, and standinp: near her was Robert
Lisle, and the woman who had been his wife in the eyes of th^
world for so many years, lying still and senseless in his
arms.
CHAPTER V.
*'PADLINA TO ALICE." "
The bold, evil spirit within the man rose with the sense of
his utter defeat. He set his teeth, and strode resolutely in4o
their midst.
Paulina looked up and recognized him growing very pahv
Duke Mason took a step forward with a startled exclama
tion. Atid Robert Lisle lifted his fae, white from excess of
feeling, and looked at him.
The two husbands of tbo one wife after a quarter of a
cei t'-jv were once more face to face! ' -
T!i( it'i-enet took the initiative.
"Wli '( ' tlie tr(tniini.' of tlii-if" ]\c demandcMl. ''Who are
you, sir who lio^d my wife? Paulina Li^ie. how dare you
remov; I ndy (harteris from the asylum where I placed her?"
]?el'i.!v Paulina could rejily, hr c father interfered quite
gent1.\
"^la-;in. will you carry nty wife U]stair-''' Panhna, you
will a(.'coiin)any Miss Mason, and endeavor to restore her
For this man, T will answer his questions." - ^
Pa i'^ uv clasp^ -hter hands anxiously abunt his arr^-
**You \
K. Ther
Tie sm
'1 pro
()lijsie:ini
tron.Kt'V
law.
IIo pi;
watched
made a '
"Lady
peril yoi
Dnke
powerful
liesitatec
monuMit
''Now
his arm?
haronet,
moment
to ask t
"You
ago inv(
sconded
fled to
know y
"I ll
a marr
Vane C
never, f
on the
answer
I was
how wi
charge
to let
rey Ly
accusa
dark -
law sli
second
respect
never
unless
you o\
land
K
ii;i(l lik(
'(wslin
fho (:
t(n)(Mi'i
r Sju'ck-
haroiic'
iK^t fook
ollov.Oi),
(Ml fJTilt ',
screen! I.
xh] jook-
a wns in
'OS of tllP
s in his
"iTiitiiilfliiMi
I sensp of
itoly \^yio
'ery ])n]\
oxclnrn.i
excess nf
t'ter of a
Who ore
(hire vmi
ed lior?"
'H qiiile
^u\{\, you
toi'p hor
''Paulina to Alict
2S?
**You will Tiot (junrrcl with him. falhti. Tie is not \V(jith
K. Tliere will be no ahcrcatidu iiroiiiis* ikc that."
Tic stiiiled gravely.
'1 promi-e, my tl^'Jir; I have ii(;t the slif:iu('t intciitiuii (if
{iluslniii^ (r (lunrrelin^ willi Sir Vaiu- Charteris. A
.troM.Kcr power tliaii mine shall deal with iiirn the Kii^lish
law."
IIo i)laced Olivia's faint in^^ form in Duke's arm-, and
walchfd him and the two wonuMi iuit the room. Sir \'ano
made, a s'c'ond iiois,v attempt to interfere.
"Lady (-havteris shall m.t (juit this room! Mason, on your
poril you t(iieh my wife!"
Duke paid no heod. 'i'he haroiiet surveyed the six-foot,
po\\'rfu!-lookinji", soldierly iijrure hoforc him, and wisely
liesitated before tryinj? to enforeo his w(rds by deeds. In a
moment tluy were alone.
''Now then. Sir Vane (^harteris," said Hobert Lisle, folding
his arms, and lookiiij]^ down at the small, pursy figure of the
baronet. "I will hear what you have ro say. You asked me a
moment ago who I was J don't really think you ever needed
to ask that (piestion."
"You an- itobert T.isle, the yeoman's son, who twenty years
ago Inveighed a sim[)l(? girl into a sham marriage, you ab-
sconded with her unde's nuuiey and jewels, and afterward
tied to America to escape transportation. You perceive I
know yon well."
"I thought so. For (lie sham marriage, as you call it, it is
a marriage that ur English law holds binding. ^'u. Sir
Vane Charteris. are a bigamist with intent. Olivia Lisle
never, fxir one instant was your wife. You saw me in chun-h
on the morning of that mockery of marriage. IIov; will you
answer to a Kritish jury for that ^ WlicTi Oliv-ia discov(U"e('
I was n^ive, you shut her up in a madhou-^e t'or six ytars
how will you answer a jury for that { As to tlie other alxurd
i-harge you speak of, 1 was a fool the greatest of ftxds, ever
to let tliat bugbeai- alarm me. Xeiiher you now, nor (JeofT-
rey Lyndith, if he wer( alive, niild support that trumped-up
accusation. For the rest, I have work tl as you did, in the
dark I have found my wife, ami 1 mean to keep her. Tho
law shall julge between u- of the legality- d' the fir-t and
second marriages. You are free to act as yoii please, in all
respects, save intruding here yonder is the door go and
never dare to degrade this house by your presence ag.iin,
unless you wish mejo take the law in my own hands. Did
you ever hear of Judge Lynch, Sir Vane^ I conu- from a
land where he ia well known. If you ever ro yonder
-H
li
254
'Paulina to Alice.
f
thrcsliold again, I'll straii^le ,011 as^ I woulfl a snake that
CI'MW
Ird
atToss
sy I'
iith. X
ow
Will you wait one nionu iit ?" said n voice in the doorway.
loth men tiiiiujd round. All this time the house dour lial
stood open, and a third person, quitv^ unlooked for, had wii-
ness^H
1 thf
^ interview,
J.ord IVIontalien had sjient the past two years traveling for
his health, lie was passing the J-ondon season in the eouii-
try now, for the same reason a chronic affection of the
heart. Strollinci: by, taking his usual afternoon exercise, ho
had es])ied the two Hies from the railway at Duke Mason's
jfHte. ile saw the house door open it might be Paulin?i;
curiosity proni{)ted him to approach. lie saw Sir Vane
Charteris, guessed in au instant who his companion must be,
and heard every word of Robert Liale's speech. At last thi'
hour of his revenge had come, at last he could pay off thiit
debt now six years old.
"Excuse me," his lordship said, blandly, coming slowly in,
"if 1 have inadvertently heard every word Sir Vane Char-
teris, I am exceedi'igly ha}py to see you on the present oc-
casion; you, sir," turning with a bow to the other, "^ire, 1
presume, Mr. Robert ]Jsle."
"I am, sir," was the stem response ; "who are you ?"
"Lord Montalien, very much at your service, and disposed,
like my father before me, to do you a good turn. X owe Sir
Vine here a little grudge, and am inclin(Hl to wipe it off.
Have you any recollection in your past life of a man namerl
James Porter^"
Th American officer looked bewildered, and Sir Vane
stood with bent, black brows, and sullen ferocity, waiting for
the 'nd! d
"He was valet, five-and-twenty years ago, to Geoffrey Lyn-
dith perhaps that- will aid your memory."
"I recollect," Lisle said, brusquely; "what of him?"
"Only that he is dead; and upon his deathbed made a-depo-
sition which I took down, and have in my possession at pres-
ent, duly witnessed. In that confession he gives the whole
nefarious plot by which you were driven out of England. It
clears you in every respect. If you will do me the honor to
call at the Priory this eveniiig, I shall be happy to plae(
the document in your hands."
Ile looked with a diabolical smile at the baronet. Sir
Vane, livid with f \ir and fury, moved toward the door.
''Robert Lisle shall answer for his abduction and retention
of my wife," he said, trying bravado ,0 the last; "for you and
your miserable documents. Lord Mwutalien, I care nothing.
The law shall i':dge between ua."'
"A
:--^*
"Paulina to Alice.-
as5
"The law shall," Lislp snid, Travely. "I thank roiir lord-
ship for this tmexpccted fav(.r. My ^ood name shouhl have
been cleared by my ovvii efforts; but the conforfsion of Porter
simY)lifios all that. I will call this cvcniuu: at the Priory."
Lord Montalion bowed, and turned to go.
"Perhaps you will be good enouj^h to mention this fact to
y iir daug'hter," he said, "t wisjied to make her my wife
some years ago, and I am afraid f^he has never forgiven me
for it. She may be induced to think somewhat lessMinrdly of
me when she learns this. May 1 also a^k one question did
my brother return with vou f
"He did."
"He is at present in London f"
"He is."
"A successful author (juite able to meet all his little
liabilities r
Lisle nodded somewhat inipnti^ently.
"Thanks," Lord Montalien 'aid; "I shall not detain you
any long(r. Permit me to congratulate you upon the recov-
ery of your wife and daughter, and to wish you every hai)pi-
ness in the future."
He left the house. The smile faded from his lips, his sal-
low, worn face darkened an-i grew, bitter, with hate and
malignity.
"All my i)lotting has been in vain, then," he thought.
"Guy has returned thf? past wiped out and forgotten rich,
famous, handsomer than ever, no doubt. And she always
liked him always 1 know it, and will marry him now.
Why did she break off with Heatherland if not for love of
liim? And one day this accursed heart disease will carry mo
off, and he will reign in my stead at Montalien."
His face was black with impotent hatred and rage. All
had g07ie against him. The only woman he had ever wanted
to marry had rtd'used him he had speculated largely and
invariably lost. Ill health had overtaken him at thirty-three
he was an ^)ld, disappoinled, soured man. He had grown
nervous with illness, and in the dark dead night, the white
face of Alice Warren roe to haunt him and drive sleep from
his pillow. vShe lay unburied and unavenged, but retribution
more dire than anV an ear*hly tribunal could intiict had come
home to h(^r murderer.
Kobert Lisle watched his retreating form from view, and
then ascended the stairs. His wiTe had recovered from her
swoon, and lay he]i)less and tn-nibling on the couch wh re
they had placed her. Roi)eri alive! Kobert back! After
four-and-twenty years of endless, intinite misery, Robert was
to be hcFft again. The others rose as he eatored* Fanllna
A
llliliii
"^
256
''Paulina to Alice.
etooped and kissed thv wan, startled Wn'.v, nud tlie !oiig-
Bovcrc'd husband and wife were loj4:('ihcr -ouc(^ inor(\
J'roceedin^s were itnniediau'ly institiifc^l to prove (ho
validity of tlu; fi;st, liie invalidity of the se'-ond niarriaj^o
1'here was little ditticulty in iloin^ so. Itohert J. isle's Scot'li
marriage was ns bindini; as though tlx* Archhishoi) of (Pinter-
bury lijid pronounced the benediction. The second niarriagv
was a farc(\ The suit and its results produced tho pro-
foundest sensation. Kvery day new and interesting? revela
tions came out about Miss Lisle, Xow the myster.v of her
lirth way cleared up. She was not an orjihan, as half I.^mi-
don had supposed, and on the mother's sid\ at least, her
descent was irreproaehable. And Sir Vane ("harteris wn?i fi
villain, who liad lied l the Continent to bury himself and
his di^{.',rac out rf siuht.
Mrs. Gilbraith and Maud had become socially extinct down
at Essex, And Miss Lisle and hei* ronnmtic fatluM* and
mother held tJiemselvcs sedidously aloof frHn wonderiufr niet
ropolitan society down in some cottage in i^incolnshii'c, wIkm-c
she l^ad been broug:ht up. What a nnnanec it was r(iinil to
any of Mr. Earlscourl's charminf;- plots!
Inunediately the suit was ended, Mr. Lisle and his wife (he
iiad discarded tl^e name of. Uhwksley) were goin^ abroad.
Mrs. Lisle's nervous system had been utterly shattered years
must j)ass of peace, of change, of hajipiness before she be-
came fully herself a^ain. She j^rew pale and territiel wheii
Kobert left her side she Hew to him trembling and pant-
ing when he returned. She lived in constant dread oi some-
t'ling tearing her f n m him again she shrank from stran-
gers as only nervous people can shrink. The sooner she was
taken abroad, away from the scene of her troubles, the better.
It was evident, too, Paulina needed change. In those three
weeks of waiting she had grown thin and pale as a shadow.
All her old joyousness had left her, she wandered silent and
.spiritless about the old familiar haunts. Lord Montalieu
never troubled her solitary rand)los now. The fricMids who
loved her so well lookid at her in wonder it was so unlik*^
Paulina this pale, silenl, noiseless bhadow whose smile was
as cold and fleeting as moonlight on sllow. Her friiMid, Mrs.
Atcherly, ran down once in a whilh to see her old favorite,
and retail for her benefit the town gossip. Auiong Ihm
budget. Mr. Karlscourt had a new work in press, and was
engaged to be married, m evervbod.v said, to the Lady Edith
Clive.
Paulim\ turned her pale face far away as she listenec'
Mrs. Atcherly rattled on:
"The Lady Edith makes no secret of her preference, and i
" Paulina to Mice."
257
is certainly at Daiitar House perpetually. But, do you know,
Paulina, 1 don't bcaeve Guy's a Uit in love with hvv, in spito
of her beauty. 1^ he marries her it will he heeau-^e she i^
the riehest heiress of the day and an earl's daughter. I some-
times fancy ho has left his heart heliind him in Amt^riea,
amonf? those lovely American women he talks of so much.
He says American ladies are all pretty al)solut(iv without
exception that a plain girl in the streets of New York is as
rare as a black swan. The world says he and Ljuly Kdith will
be married for certain nex'^ spring."
And then Mrs. Atcherly departeti; and I greatly doubt
whether Miss Lisle's health or spirits were at all improved by
her lively conversation. She longed with feverish, hidden
impatience for the day of their departure to come. When
Kngland was left far behind she would be bet' r. she thought.
A fever Hush came into her cheeks sometimes, her lips IM)ked
dry and parched her glorious dower of perfect health, that
for four-and-twenty years had never failed lur, v. as rapidly
failing her nov 'J'hey spoke of physicians, and she laughed
at them she W(uld be (luite well agnin, she said, when they
started on their travels it was England and the hot .lunc
weather that disagreed with her.
The last day came. Everything was seftlei Air. Lisle's
peryetual flying up and down by express trains between Lon
don and Lincoliis'hire was at an end. His legal business was
satisfactorily over. On to-morrow morning they would -tart
direct for Paris, 'iiaking no delay in London.
A gentleman accompanied Mr. Lisle from town on this last
occasion a gentleman, who, at his esj^eoial reqittmr, IkkI run
down to see his wi"'*e.
"Where is Pauli la !" her father asked.
' Paulina was ou, as usual, on one of her daily aimless ram-
bles. It was a murky sort of day, with a light, damp fog
cLnging to ever.'? thing a dark, gray sky, lying low over a
bleak, wet earth. It was no weather for any one in delieate
healt)- K. be abr )a(l 1 t Paulin/ neither felt nor eared for
the drtiUi). It : uited ner, this ',,'loomy evening it seemed
somehow like he 'cold, ,';ray life. The last, lingesing shadows
of the dark da.V were departing is she cmuc si )wly ln'me-
ward. In bod,/ and mind, heart and brain, she wr ; tir.-d tuir,
as she drew ne ir her face pal(r th.an u-ua\, her lar^if eyes
haggard and Kuiken. A man's tall tigun leaned i' litly
against one ol the gate posts as .-.he drew near. Her heart
g-ave a great bc^und, and then seemed to ee ise its beating alt*^-
geth'-r, 'So need '.o look twice to recognize (iuy Earlscourt.
lie jaw hor and opeued the gate. Without lifting her eyea
i
( I
I
^
158
" Paulina to Alice.
99
,to his face, 'without speaking, she bowtxl, ana would have
|)asbc(l on, but be stopped her.
"Not one word, Paulina?" he said, in a low voice of re-
pi oycli ; aiid it is the l.'iHt time w may ever meet. For
the sake of eight years ago, when we wore friends, when little
'Polly' did not hate me, say good-by !"
lie held out his hand. Her heart smote her she stopped
('(ijii'usrdl.v giiinced up once into the dark, reproach+'ul eyes,
half turned away.
II.'iic iiint! In that moment she knew, as she had never
kn)\\ii U't'ore, that stH3 lovet' him. with a paG.-.iouate, death-
leys love, that would remain with ner to her life's end.
She ^ave him her cold fingei-s. IIIl- hand closed over them
wanii, strong and firm; his eyes were reading her pale,
Bvi-ted face.
"You you eame to say farewell to my mother," she fal-
tered.
"And to you, Paulina I may call you so, may 1 not ^ It
ifi for tlio last time. I, too, leave England in a few days, and
forever."
"Forever f" she echoed. A cold hand seemed to clutch
hi'V henrt was Mrs. Atcherly right, after all, in her surmise?
Hlv'. (how 4ier hand suddenly and forcibly from his grasp-
"1 shall return to America," he said, quietly, "and tJiere
pass my life. As soon as my new book appears, I leave. You
will be abroad then, and I could not go without saying good-
by, and asking you to forgive me."
"Forgive you! For what?"
"For letting you sacrifice your life," he said, firmly,, "six
years ago. I see clearly now that I should have saved you,
but not in that way. You were mad that night driven wild
by their persecution, the fear of imprisonment, and a mar-
riage with Francis. The play had excited you you scarcely
knew what you were doing, but I was sane enough, and I
have never forgiven myself, in all these years, for taking ad-
vantage of your helplessness and terrors and making you my
wife. You loved the Marquis of Ileatherland, and he de-
served it as few men do, and it holds you apart. You hate
me, you have not tried to conceal it, and, I dare say, I de-
serve it. But I shall not banish you from England my
prc.Liice here shall be no barrier to your return. Farewell,
once more, and try to forgive me if you can when I ara
gone."
lie lifted his hat, she heard the gate open and shut, heard
tbe light, fiiTu fall of his footstep on the road growing faintwr
And fainter. Tli soft euminer rain was falling and wetting
mai
advj
Wal
SI
advj
I si
sl
chi
..t a . .--
(
Paulina to Alice."
259
her tlu'ough lights twiiiklHl in the cottage windows, and
Chiy was gone- -lurovorl
"Paulina!'' her father's voice called froilti tiie doorway,
"conu; ill I Do you not know it is raiiiiiigr'
She wa3 standi ii^jt where (Juy had left her, motionless. Sin*
atarted up now, staggered dizzily, and grasped something
for support. The next uioinent her father's strong arm en-
circled her.
,"Vou will get your death" he said; "you look like death
now. Did you see Karkcourt?"'
"Yes." The word dropjied heavily and slowly from her
lil*H. "He lias gone."
He lookel "at her keenlj. But even in that hour, when a
pain bitterer than death was piercing her heart, her pride
upheld her. The cold, set look that had grown habitual of
late !ind warded off all questioning, came over her pale,
proud lace. Her step grew iirm; she entered the house, and
iione present saw anything more than usual in her look.
Tea was ready Kosanna's best cream cakes, and fruit pies,
and whitest rolls, in honor of the occasion. As they gathered
round the bright little lamplit table, a loud knock came t)
tiie door.
"Who is thisT' said Duke'. "I thought Air. (iuy was our
last visitor."
He opened the door, and saw a middle-aged, sailor-like
man, a total stranger, standing there in the rain.
"Does Miss Paulina Lisle live here?" asked this nautical
visitor.
Duke nodded.
"And what may you want of Miss Lis!**, my seafaring
friend?" he asked.
Paulina heard and approached the door, looking at the sea-
man in profound surprise.
"You want me?? ??he inquired.
The sailoi* pulled off his hat and scraped a nautical bow.
"I do, misB, if so be you are the Miss Paulina Lisle what
advertised In the Times, six years ago, about a Miss Alice
Warren, missing. You offered a reward, you reck-lect, for
news of her, dead or alive."
She gave a low cry, reached out, and drew the speaker in.
"Come this way!" she cried. "T am the Paulina Lisle who
advertised, and I am still reuly to give the reward. At last
I sliall hear of Alice."
She drew him into the kitchen deserted now placel a
chair for him, and stood herself, breathless, expectant.
^What do ^ou know of iierl" Bhe excUimed. ^'She wia
'r
)
26o
* r*aiilina to Alice.''
tny dpfirrst frieiifl, ni.l 1 linvo iipvor hoard ft word of hei
fciiicr iliat time. Is she ulivc; nr dciid f"
"Dciid, miss!*' tlin sailor said, solonndy. "MurdorodI"
' She clasped her hands mid sta/^'^p:ered hack.
"Murdered!" She whisjx'rcd tlie word with aslieii lips.
"Look here, miss," the man said; and after fumhlin^'a
moment, produced from an inner pocket a little TJarcel rolled
in nuHiy i)apers. He undid those shwly, one i:)y on'^ and
something golden glittered in the light.' He handed it to her.
It was a locket and chain. She gave a second low cry; she
recognized it at once. It had heen ber narting gift to Alice
ere her (^ parture for the F 'ch hool. -She touched the
spring it ilew open tliere w h*.*' own picture, and a ring-
let of her golden hair, and on ihn r ,'erse side this inscrip-
tion : "Paulimi to Alice 18()0.'-
"You know that ere locket, miss?" the sailor said. "Yes,
I see you do. Well, I have had that these seven years come
Christmas Eve. On Christmas Eve, 1862, the young woman
what wore that locket was foully murdered, and her body lies
a-hleaching, for what I know, in the same spot still."
She mastered her emotion hy a powerful effort. For a mo-
ment she had grown sick and faint, and had been obliged to
sit down. It passed away, and the white lips spoke:
"Will you tell lue all ? If this locket and these dreadful
facts have been in; your possession for six years, how is it
you only reveal them now ?"
"Well, miss, I did wrong, f suppose I ought to have made
a clean breast of it there and then, but, you see, I went to
sea, and once before, out in Bermuda, I got into a scrape by
finding a body that way, and nearly got lagged for a murder
1 didn't do. I don't know that I'd have told now, but it
kind of haunted me like, and gave me no rest; so for the
])ast two months I've been a-trying to find you out. A pre-
cious deal of trouble it's been, I can tell yop. This here's the
way I came by that locket."
And then the sailor told his story, Paulina lisjtening, white
an.d still.
"My name's Bill Saunders, miss, which T was christened
William James, and T follows the sea for a livin', as you
n)ay see for yourself. I'd been away on a year's voyage, and
when I got home I started from Liverpool to see my old
mother, livin' at that time at Battersea-way. I stayed with
the old woman nigh upon seven weeks, coming up to London
off and mi, and sig-ning article? Christmas week to sail for
(^hina in the Golden Pagodh, on a three years' cruise. Tlie
Golden' Pagoda, was to sail down the Thames about noon,
Christmas Eve, and, bright and early in the morning, I slung
C(
Paulina to Alice.
26!
my buiidlo over my slioirKIor, liid the old iiiMtlior ^ood-hy, aiid
started nt'oot for London.
"It \v;is a tariial stormy inoriiinp:, mis^, nxin' your pardon
for swearing, a-snowiu' aii| a-lilowiiT liUe jis if it was ('aiiad:i
instead of old lOii^land. I was used to snowstorms, though,
and trudged along-, never nilndin', tliough aloiif^ the waste
fields, iJiid marslus, and old hriekyaids it hiew lit to take
your head off. It wasn't the sort tf inornin' nor the time
of day you would look to see any one out a-(h'iviir, and so
when I see a horse and wagon a-eomin' furious in the other
direetion 1 stood still Ix^hind a pile of ruhhish, and made a
teleseope of my fist, and looked hard to see what tlie parties
was like.
"They was a man and a woman I eould just make out
that, and no more; hoth was 30 muttied up and so white with
snow. While I looked, the wa^on stoii)ed sudden likt. the
man jumped out and help'd the woman after. 'I'his was an
other move I did not expeet in sueh a i)laee and in sueh u
storm.
"'Something wrong- with the turnout,' I says to nys*'i,
and keeps well out o' sigrht and waits to see. Th( man IowKi d
all about, and then takes the womiTii round an old pile e
broken brieks that hid them from sight. A minute af '
it eould not have Invn more I hears the r(port of a |)i .0 ;
and then I knew for sartin what I had suspeeti ( when the
man first got out, that Un\\ play was going- on, aiid that I'd
better keep still if I didn't want a seeond pistol hall through
my own skull.
"I waited about two minutes. IMind well. 1 pulU'l (,ut
my wateh, and looked to see the time, afeared T might be late
for the sailin' of the (loldcn P'lf/oda. It wanted just twenty
minutes o' nine. T ean swear to the v(ry mitnite, for she's a
good one to keep tin.e, she is. .As I put the wateh back, \
sees my cove a-eomin' round the heap o' brieks, and taking a
second look in every direction. If 1 kejjt out o' sight afore,
you may be sartin 1 was inwisa!le now. He lor.ked at his
watch, then jump.ed into his trap, and drove awa.v as if o!l
Nick (savin' your presence, miss) was scuddin' after him.
"T waited there until he was clear out of sight, then T
made for the spot. Ahind the i)ile ' rubbish was a sort
of hole, like a little cave, made, maybe, to hold tools, and
that, when the brick fields was in use, and into this the botly
had been dragrged. lie 1;nd piled uj* in a hurry agin the en-
trance a heaj) o' ]noo brick, and stone, and wood. Y(.u
migrht pass the sf)ot scores o' times anl never take notice.
There was some blood ui)on the snow, but not mugh, and the
mark of where he had dragged her in; and away insido I
.1^,,
1 ,
tl
m
^*.-.-.
262
' Paulina to Ance."
could see, when I took down the piled up rubbish, i nomaD't
iit^ure lying on its face.
"Well, inies," the sailor went on, ehiftinK away unensily
frohi the gaze of the large, horror-Htruck eyes, "nui.vhe I did
wrong, but 1 piiwl up the stuff agin as I found it, and made
uj) my mind to say nothin' of what I'd heard and seen. Out
in lierniuda, as 1 said afore, I nearly got lagg(Kl for life,
getting accused of a murder 1 didn't do. A burned child,
they say, dreads the fire it was no business o' mine; I
wouhi just go off in the Ooldim Pagoda, I thought, and lft
tiic .young woman's friends and the London police find her
at their leisure.
"I was turning to go away it was nine now, and I l; .d
no time t(; spare when- somethin' a-ahinin' in the snow
caught my eye. I stcoi)cd and picked it up. It Wiis that
there l((;ket, miss, bent a little, as you see, where it had been
tramped on, and the little chain broke off short, as if it had
be^n dragged from her neck. I put it in my pocket and
tram|)ed nway to London. That a/temoon the Golden Pa-
goda sail(id, and me in her, and I've never set foot in Eng-
land since, until three weeks ago.
"Hut I couldn't forget what I saw that Christmas Kve
mors ling 1 couldn't forget it, miss. In my watch on deck o'
nights that there young woman used to come afore me. and
] could see her again lyin' dead on her faex3 in tliat disiiial
S{)ot, wliere nobody might ever find her. I couldn't forget
it, and at hist when I sailed from Canton for England. I
made up my mind, come what would, I'd make a clean breast
of it and tell the whole story.
''T was ;itting in a coffeehouse in Liveri)ol the night T
landed, thinking how I had better begin the busiiiess, when I
came across an old London i)aper, six years old, and th'io,
as if Providence had put it in my way, the very first thing
my two eyes lit on was the advertisement offering a reward
for any news of one Alice Wairen, misring or dead. Now,
on the locket I'd seen them words i)rinted, 'Paulina to Ai:ce
--18(50,' and this here missing woman was an Aliec, too.
That Vas all I had to go by. Any news was to be brouj:(it
to a law firm in London. I started for London next morn-
ing, and found out, after a sight of trouble, the law firm. I
showed 'em that advertisement. T axed 'em who put it in.
They couldn't give me a })lain answer they badgered raid
botliered, -MMd said 1 ^^h^, to tell thpm anything I kuf n . T
said I'd hf' Mowed if I iJid! 'hat brought then) to tlrr
bearings, and they said it was n client of theirs, a young
lady. Miss Paulina Lisle. When I heard that name. 'Paul-
ina/ I knew I was on the right track. I axed 'em h they'd
"Paulina to Alice."
26)
rer fouiul this nero Alicu Warren, and they atiid no; nothiii'
had fvor boMi heard or s( en ol" her iron* that (hiy io thw.
'ilien I told them I wanted to see Miss Paulina Lisle; that
I'd -oiiuthinjy; to say to her ahout this lure husinj ss .she
inifjiu like, to know; and at last, utter a leal o' fns.-^in', they
Kave inc tlie direetions Lure. Here I eaine; and there. niiw,
i tho whfle sjlory. Aliee Warren was murdered on Clirisl-
iTi IS live, ISd-J, and her hones lii-s a-nmlderin' to this day, Tor
what 1 know, in that hole o!i Baftersea Connnon."
The sailor liad finish(Ml his story. I*aulina sat perf(:.'tl^
ri^id. with dilated eyes, listonin^ to ov(M\y word. She spoke
now;
".\n(l the man who murdered her tell me what he was
like."
'J didu'fc see liis face, miss; he was thai muiiityj up with
^a great iicarf,j^isted round th(i lower part of his face, and
a fur cap, wiln a peak pulled over his nose. He was tall
and slim like; he 'voro a rouj^li-lookinj^ ^nvateoat, and I took
him to he a gentleman. Rut I s^houldn't know him Hguin if
I ^aw hinj."
"Tall aiid .slim, and lik(^ a gentleman." Paulina's thou^-hts
were of Tord Montalien. lie was tall and slim and gentle-
manly, hut deeply, strongly as sh( felt on this suhjeet. sho
was too just to make any rash aeeusations in so supreme an
hour.
She rose Uf with an effort that was ahnost painful. She
knew tho trutii at lat. Alice had Ix'cn murdered l-^'-efi tie,
lovinjj: Aliee! and for six long' years hud lain unhuried and
unavenged. She felt f;iddy and si-k, as she stood up, and it
was a moment hefore she euld speak.
"I will call my father," she said. ''Do you wait here. You
must repeat your story to hinj. Something must he done,
and at once I"
She opened the ?sitt ing-room door, and sununonod both lier
father and Duke.
The two men looiu-d al her in alarm at her awfully *
cori)se-lIki face.
"Paulina, my dearest, vvluit is the matter?" exclaimed Rob-
ert Lisle. "What has this maii been telling you? Your
friend is "
"Murdered, father^ foully murdered, six years ago lyin^
unburi(^d and unavenged! Think of that! Thi.s uum will
repeat to you what he has said to nt( the horrible story of a
horrible murder."
"Too horrible for your ears, my poor, overwrought (^ild.
You look fit to die this moment. For pity's sake, go and lio
down ! Keraember- you start upon a ymnuaw Un^moscromp and
^r
264
Paulina to Alice."
k-l)0(l than Itrif^thy
just iK.w you npiM'iir more fittc*! fr i\ sirl
jonrrify. (lo to .voiir motlicr, INiuliiia."
lie kissi'd tlx' If'Mtlilik' fat'c triulfrly antl led Ikp fr''Vn
llic r(Miii. Slir i|,('.\;'l wifli wi-ary pat iciUM'. Was HiU' ill^ A
liill, iiravy pain tlir(l)l.rl in lidth tcniplcri; hor forclwad
HrnnrMl rncirclcd with an iron hand; a hot mist diiniiil her
ryos. She hal never heen ill in her life; wart sho lU'oinj; to
ho ill now i
lie left her in eliarKe of her mother and KuHtvnna, and re-
turned to the kitchen.
jMr. Hill Sannlers, very much more at hi enHo, ii(w that
the luautiful lady with the nnirhle-})ale faee was gone, rr-
peated his story, ahnost word fftr word as he had told it to
I'anlina.
Duke listen'd, tnrnin^r eold with pity and horror. I
nor.
little, pretty Alice! So sweet! so f^ontle! beloved hy alll-
and this had heen her fate!
"I shall lay this matter hefore the jwlice at once," Mr.
LJHle said. "You will aecoinpany me to town to-morrow, niy
man, and repeat your story hefore the proper authorities. A
most f(Mil murder has hren dne, and must be brought to-
light."
Mr. Saunders expressed his readiness, and took his de-
l)artiure. TFe was st(iping over night at one of the inns in
the town, and would wait upon Mr. Lisle the first thing in
the morning.
"This is a nio^t shocking thing, "Mason," he said; "and in
Paulina's present state of health there is no telling what
effeet the news may have u|)on \\or. She seems to have heen
very strongly attaehed to this unfortunate Aliee Warren."
"Very strongly," Duke answered, moved himself more than
he eared to show. "It is her nature to love with her whole
liearfc those whom she does love anl they were like sisters.
Poor little Alice!"
"Who was the man with whom she eloped? Was it never
known ?"
"Never for certain." *
"Tt was suspected ?" - . '
"Tt was." ^ .
"Who was the man?"
Duke hesitated. Tt had always h^en a story he had strunk
from- now niore than ever.
"Who was the man with whom she flel ?" Lisle vei)eated.
"The man to whom she flinl I don't know. The man with
whom she left Speckhaven was Guy Earlseourt. '
"Mason!" '
''I can't lielp iV* ^^^ B&il doggedlj. ^'Evflry one Iier^
ly
n
A
11(1
liT
to
l.lt
r'-
to
ink
Paulina to Alice.
2f)5
knows il. Shr lft S[)(rkl\}ivM, siiid irjjvi'N-d up to Loinlon
willi Mr. iiJ.v ; tuid most pc*i|)t lt'lnv' liin miill.v. I dmrt
I
rn vrr (IhI
no niorr |(H'S
M
tri.rw
w
irmi '!
r
lUiiiiia.
"Will ,vwu (rli n\v itil iiltniil ir, Miist.i;^' l.Av said. Kravtly.
lit' was ln^Mniiii!/'' to torc^cc iKc tiniiUIr in store lor the
younj? man hn [ikt-d o. stronKl.. .
TIh-.v n{ top-tlirr I'nr i'\rr an Imiir. hii! 'Mn(lniiiK him-
self to simple laci.-. Injd all he knew I he letfr r I'auliiui had
e riUeeecMlin^
n
eeived, flic liijjit in cunipari.v with (iiiy lli
!venin^r- of the revelatiop of (In.v fo Paulina at JiriKhton,
which she had r( patcd \n Duke. Lil(^ listened, ^rowiujc
more }ind iiKtcc ^rravc.
Karls
court IS no
t tl
ic man.
h
aid
(lecH
Icdl:
(
lU.V I?
simply incapaldc of lurii^f any ^'irl deliheratdy to her ruin,
however many and jfrcat his faults f the past. I'nr ihe
har^re of niurder, in coniMction wiih him, it i.-' .d ;MirHe
ntterly mon.'tmiis. lint his leaving the place, and ac'om-
panyiiiK' the ^iil to Ldiidon may plaee him in a very dis-
Hpreeahle posliion until the criminal is founl. Were none
of the f)lher men st )ppiii^' at the Priory suspected at the
time ^''
"Xotic. That i-^"- Duke liesitated "Paulina .uspected
L(rd Montalien, hut Paulina's suspici(ns wore .scarcely un-
prejudiced. She always disliked his lordship. No one else
ver suspected him, and there never was tho slightest proof
afjrainst him. lie may have almircl Alic(\ as they all did;
but (Juy was the only one amonjr 4hem with wh)m i)eopIe
eonnocted her flight. It is a most mysterious and shockinj^c
affair altojrether. I almost wish tliis sailor, having kept his
confession so lonrr. had kept it forever,''
Tlie kitchen door openc(|, and Olivia Lisle hxtked in. Her
face had that anxious look it always won- when herhushand
was out of her sight.
"Are you here. Jv'ihert ? Ah!" hriirhtcniiig as she saw liiin.
"I thought perhaps you had gone (tut. lias that strange man
k'f t ? What has lie he'n .-jiying to distress Pjuilina so^'
"Where is Paulii f K(hert I. isle a-ked, following her
hack to ttie parlor.
"(iojie to lier room she w(u1d let neither Rosanna nor
jnysrlf accompany her. She is altogether untit to U- h-ft
alone. She insists upon it, though. What ia the matter^"
liislo told the story the sailor had repeated his wife and
Kosanna listening, greatly shocked. *
"And Paulina loved this girl as a sister," her motlur *4iid,
rising. "Robert, I must go toiler."
But Paulina's door was locked. There was no response to
her niotlijr*s kiiock. ^ .
I
w
I'ii
fit'
I
m
tii'ip
-N
s66
For a Woman's SakCo
"Paulina, " ..v, it is T wiP you not let me in?" Mrs, Ludit
iii(J, ill a frightened voice.
Still no ''.-ply. Terrified now beyo;id measure, Olivia's
Crtlls bruuiiht the other thier to her i 'de. Ij. five m"nut(!S
It'jhert J.isl' 's ptrong hands had orccd the door. They en-
tered, the ]anij h'nnof^ v.pon the able, and Paulina was
lyinu: lis sh* had ,-vidently fallen, half across the bed. Slie
ijover ^(iJr'(l at their ntrauce.
'The child has fainted!" Kosanna cried, shrilly.
Her father lifted her up. No, she Iiad liOt fainted she
was lyirifir in a sort of stupor, that rendered her d;af and
Minl. The last shock had finished the work Guy Earlsiourt's
iuidden apparitioji weeks befoce had be^n body and brain
had i^iven way. Before rnorninp^ broke Paulina Lisle lay
tosrfinjj: in the wild delirium of brain fever.
CHAPTER VI.
Foil A woman's sake.
For the first time in her four-and-twenty years of life
Paulina lay ill ill unto death. The airy upper chamber in
which little Polly Mason, had slept her brief, bright life away
was silent and laikened now. A great London physician had
been teleg^raphed for, and came, and Kosanna, grim and gray
in tiie green dusk, took her place by the bedside of her
nursling.
The great lyoiulon doctor looked portentous, and shook
his head. Flushed, and delirious, and restles:^, Paiiliiia \uy,
talking incoherently or tossing in hot, unrofrcshing sleup
very, very ill. Of course all further thought of departure
was at an end who was to tell that Paulina Lish'b first
journey nn'ght not be to the tomb?
And the grief of the faithful Iiearts, v.'ho loved her so de-
votedly wlio shall jiaiiit that? They had to banish hov
mother by force from the sick-room her self-coinnT;nid had
all gone in those long, miserable years of asylum lif(\ and
her uncontrollable sobbing filled the place she was uttM'!y
helpless and useless. It needed but one word from the hus-
band to make her yield.
"You distress Kosanna you may disturb Paulina you
will injure^ y(urself come, Olivia."
He was haggard and pale himself his very life seemed
bound up now in his' new-found wife and ch'ild that death
or danger should apiroach either he had not di*eamed. And
death and danger w(,'re here, i^ut his life's training never
failed ^his grave face told little of the bitter pan the mis-
erable dread witliiiL
Mr*u
For a Woman's Sake-
267
^TToTi and I will go up to town, Mason," he said, *'by th
noomhy train. Duty before all other things. If Paulina,*
he paused for a second "'were with us, she would listen to nd
dehiy. The information you can give may be needed. Yon
will accompany me and this man Saunders."
"I will do whatever you think for the best, Mr. Lisle,*
answered Duke, but his reluctance was visible; "but I don't
like I don't like repeating this story. It places Mr. Guy in
a false position, makes him appear guilty, and he is as inno-
cent of any wrong against poor Alice as I am. It's a story
I hate to tell any one much less an official of the detective
poHce."
JJbIc laid his hand heavily on the scene painter's arm.
"Mason," he said, impressively, "Guy Earlscourt is as near
to me as a son more, it has been one of the dearest desires
of my heart, since I have known him, that ho should become
my son. That hope 1 have not yet resigned, ant' 'n order
that his character may be entirely freed from the slightest
imputation of guilt, I wish this matter to be thoroughly in-
vestipalcd, and his part in it made clear to the world. He
has suffered already too much in his reputation on this un-
hajjfjy girl's account. The story of the flight, and the rest
of it, is no secret; every man anri womnn in Speckhaven
seems familiar with it. Hotter that the London police should
hear it from your lips than listen to their garbled version.
When tlie real criminal is found, (iuy will be free from
blame; never before."
The three men went up to London by the noon train.
Alice's letter to Paulina, written the night before her flight,
was senrchcd for, and disc'overed among her papers. It told
little to them, but there was no knowing what it might rot
revel to the practiced eyes of a detective officer. Ttiey
drrvo to P'leet street, and were set down before the office of
Inspector Burnharn, the detective, who had already discov-
ered the hiding place of Olivia.
Mr. Burnliam was at honiC a wiry little man, in olack
clothes, with a sallow face, compressed lips, and light, n.'st-
less eyes. Lisle introduced his two companions and began
with the matter in hand at once.
Did Burnham remender the case of the missing girl, Alice
Warren, for tlie discovery of whom a large reward had been
offered about si'x years af;o?
Mr. Bnrnham shook his head. There were so many miss-
ing pcftple, and so many vrwnrds offered, that it was impossi-
ble for any one liuman mind to recall them. Had they a
copy of the advcrtiscmenl ? He would probably recollect il
be saw it, . . . .--^
268
For a Woman's Sake.
The sailor luul. I'he jinpoi tliat had attraotcKl his attontion
ill J.ivcrpuol he n^ill carriiMl ah(iit with liiiii. J!*^ lianlMl it
now to the detect ivi'. Mr. i'.undiam rec(f4nized il at one
glance.
''1 reiMciniier." he Siiid, 'I nnieiidx'i-. (-ase altraet(;d cun-
siderahle aUentinn ;il the (iiiie. I was not coiieenuKl in it.
Party niissin;^ nev.'r was lound, or lieard of, was slje i"
"i\ever np to th(! present. \\v tiiiidv th! eh^w is found
now. We thiid\ the ^irl was niurJen;(h''
"Murdered!'' Mr. l^iuahaui |ricied uj) his oHieial ears at
,tho agreeahle sound ot* that worcL '*Ah!" with professional
relisl). "inunjered, was slie ^ And liow h)\\i^ a^o, and h(jw wad
it. aiid h(vv has it co.ne to lij^hl f
"'I'eil your story, Saunders," Mr. l.isle said. And Mr.
iSauiniers, who was ehewiiiji tohaeco, and spittini;^ politely in
e .Tiier. reiiu'veil his (juid and repeated liis story of (hrist-
uia r.'i :'Si.
InspM'tor Bui'nhani listened k'-enly, never for one second
takin.r his light, sharp eyes off tlie sailor's stolid, sunhurned
face.
"On Christmas Eve, 1S(;2, pncisely at half-past eight
a. hk' Mr. Burnhain produced a dirty poekefhook and a
stumpy pencil, whi'h retiuired to he sucked audibly before it
would make its nmrk. "You're certain of the time, my
man v'" paiioinj? with the stumpy peiicii poised and transfix-
ing Bill Saunders. "Precisely half-past eighi wheii the shot
was fired? You can swear to this, if necessary V"
"Before the Lord Chief Justice, sir," responded Saunders^
sturdily: "My watch is a yvatch wot never goes wrong. It
was twenty minutes to nine wlu^n that ere chap fired that
ere shot, and it was ju.^t a (luarter o' nine when he jumped in
his trap and drove away. At nine, sharp, I left the place
myself; it wasn't the sort o' pleasant spot to make; a maa
linger." .
"Let me see the locket," the detective said.
i-iobert Lisle handed it to him.
"You recogni/.ed this locket at once?" he inquired, exam-
ining closely the inscription and picture. ^
"My daughter recognized it; Mr. Mason, here, recognized
it at first sight."
"1 could swear to the locket," said Huke; "I was with
Miss Lisle when she purchased it, and ordi red the inseriptio;?.
to be t n^raved. That is also her picture, and a tress of her
haia*. It is impossible to be mistaken."
"Mr. Mason " said the detective, "will you be kino, uough
to tell me all you know of this girl's story. I reeoilect, quite
distinctly no\7, the rumor that she ran away from home witlt
For a Woman's Sake.
269
some one a gcntlcinan imirh ahuw lui in station 1 am
right, am 1 not i"
"^bout the rumor? Well, yes," Duf^c a.lmittod, n-luc-
iantl.v. "slie did run awav."
"Witli "
"SIu' (raveled up to London witli Mr. ^Juy Karlseourt
LieutcnanL Karlseourt li- was thcji s'(,?id son of Lord
JVIontaiicn. I)Ut Jiiind you, she didn't run away with him."
"No';:" Mr. i^urnliam was takinj; note . a^ain, suckiuK the
stumpy penc-il, as if it liad hcon a slick of candy, in tlie inter-
vals. , "She went up to '.niid(,ii witJi Idni, but slie diln't run
away with Ijim. Xow, liow was tiiat C
"They met, by chance, at the .station." answered Duke,
very mueh disef r.posed ; ''by the merest chance. Siie told
him she was going up t ' London it was late iji the evening,
and she was afraid to travel alone; and slu; asked him to
take eare of her."
"Ju^t so; very natural. She aked Jum to take eare of
her. She ht'.d known Air. Karlseourt a very long time, 1
suppose V
"For two years, off and on."
"She was a very pr ny girl this Aliec Warren?"
"Very pretty, indeed."
"Did any one ftres* nt on the occasion hear this eonverna-
tion passing between Miss Warren and Mr. Karlseourt at the
station iJ"
"No one, that I am awire of."
"Air. Karlseourt saw her to her destination, then. What
was her destination f
"Some lod^itig-liouse, Totteidiam Court road way. I for-
get tlie exai'l aldress. lie took her there, and left her in
eharge (^f the huifllady"
"Ah!" F^urrdiam said. "We mut find tiiat landlady. Do
you know. Mr. Mason, i'f he ever J^aw her again?"'
"^'e^, once. Wo t(ld lier friend. Miss Li le. that, several
weeks after, lie visited In r at her I(dgings, and (hat he founl
her mueh ch;nged- -looking ill and uidiappv. He went
again, next flay, brit in the meantime s!ie had Ix-en removed.
She has never be.-n heard of since, until now."
"Humph!" Mr. Lurnbarn said, with a thotightful grunt.
"Did Miss Warven leave no word, no mcs-age, 10 farewell, to
anybody befrtre (luitting boTuer'
' l^isb' produ'ed her riote, and bandel it to h-'m.
"She wrote this to mv daughter on the night preceding her
departure. You will see she speaks oT b.er marriage there for
eertaiik"
I
270
For a Woman's Sake.
* Mr. Burnham read the note nttentively two or three timw,
tlu-n placed it with the h'tkct in his desk.
"Miss Warren bein? a pretty f?irl, as you say, Mr. Mason^
slie had doubthss u'.imbers of admirers both in her own sta
ticMi ftnd above her. Tlje month was Seiitember. Were there
maiiv j^entlemen stayinj^ sit Montalien Priory in Septem-
ber, lH(;2r'
'*'rbere were six," Dnke answered, after a second's pause.
"Lord Montalien himself, his brother Guy, Mr. Allan Fane,
the artist, Sir Harry (Gordon, Captain Cecil Villiera, and a
Mr. Auj^ustus SUHJnian. I remember all their names be-
cause there \va so much talk at the time.'"
"Yes; and were any of those gentlemen admirers of Miss
Warren? Did they visit at her father's house?"
"They all visited there except, perhaps, Mr. Allan Fane.
who wjis a married man, and out of the question."
"The others all visited at the bailiff's house, then. Did
suspicion fall upcvi none of these? did Miss Warren evince
no partiality? It must have been pretty clear which she
liked best, and -^lie was evidently very much in love with the
man she ran away to marry?''*
Duke hesitated. He knew Paulina's suspicions of Lord
Montalien, but they were only Paulina's suspicions no one
6hare^, thein. He had no right to repeat them.
"No," he answered, after that pause. "T never heard she
evinced any particular partiality. They all went, and she
was pleasant to all. I know no more."
"And Pm very much obliged to you for telU; ;. what you
do know, Pm sure," Inspector Bu^nham said, politely.
"Now, if I only had the addresses of those tjentlcnien you
couldn't furnish me with them, I suppose?"
Nu. Mr. Mason could not. Sir Harry Gordon and Captain
Vllliers were in the Guards, Mr. Allan Fane and Mr. Guy
Eaxl^^eourt were in London, and easily to be found when
wanted. And Lord Montalien was down in Lincolnshire,
t the Priory, in very bad health.
Mr. Burnham shut up his pocketbook, locked his desk,
looked at hi' watch, and got up.
"Half-p: -^t four. I don't see anything to hinder our tak-
ing a drive oui *o Batt^rsea way, and having a look at this
spot Mr. Raun(( rs telis us of. We'll dismiss the cabs some
distance o^, ,\V'] /. nn foot to the place."
He rang a ':eU, \Vii.\;pe^*Hl a fev words to a subordinate,
and preparr] for the ririye.
"ItV not i'yk'cly -fae remain* have ewer been discovered, or
we'd have hea^ : of t. Curious how those tjiioge l;#ra w.
For a Woman's Sake.
271
ti
Yf)U
"liv4 tiidnVsee the man^s face, you say?" to Saunders.
couldn't ideiitif;y him again ix you met, 1 supposed'
"In course not," answered Saunders; "1 never see his face.
He had a muiiier, or a comforter, twisted up to his nose, and
it was snowin' like all creation. He was a tall, slim chap i
sea that with the look of a gentleman, but I couldn't tell
him af^ain not if 1 ran slap agin him this minute."
"Cabs waiting, sir," a voice called, and the men went nnt
io the street. Two cabs were hefore the door, and in the
foremost, which Inspector Burnham entered, a man at who
had an official air, like the inspector himself. A large box
was placed on his knees.
"I'll go in this, with my friend Timmins," Burnliara said.
"You three gentlemen will take the four-wheeler."
He gave the word, and the cab started. In tlie second '-ar-
riage the three men sat in profound silence. It was not a
pleasant errand they were going upon to look at tli" spot
where poor Alice Warren had been so foully murdered, and
tind all that remained of her after six years.
The drive was not a very long one. As the bleak cxtcnl- of
waste ground came in view, bleak even this golden suturirer
day. Inspector Burnham stopped the cab, and with his cvni-
panion got out. That conif)ani()n carried under hi- arm the
box before spoken of, and in his left hand a liglit spadf. Tlie
occupants of the second carriage looked witli some furiosity
at these things, but no one asked any quc-^tions.
"You are sure you will recognize the exact spot, Mr. Saun-
ders ^" the policeman asked.
"Sartin, sir," the seaman respondwl. "I've se'n it. sleep-
ing and waking, every day and night since I was unlu'ky
enough to lay eyes on it first."
He went' on ahead, the two detectives following, and T/re|
and Duke bringing up the rear. The July aftern)n was n
its mellowest as they crossed the comnion yellow sunshine
everywhere, and a bright, blue heaven over all. Teii rninui s*
walking, and the sailor stopfwd short.
"This here's the place, sir,"' he said 4o tl' letec' ' s.
"Things hasn't changed a mite since I was here ix years ago.
There^s the old kiln, behin'l which I watched the man, and
this here's the spot where I picked np the locket. Dig among
this rubbish at the entrance, and you'll find all that's hft of
that there misfortunatc young 'ooman."
The place to which he pointed was a srt of excavation,
hollowed out of the high, clayey embankment, the mtra! ^*9
choked up with rubbish of every sort.
"1%, Timmins," Tngpector Burnham saiH. sentcntiously,
nd Wimc ciown bu bcs.
i
\
M'
272
For a Woman's Sake.
'i'iiiniiiiirf ftot 1m work, 'i'lio Jrv inljlrfsh came away easily
t'liniigh. Five i!iiiiuU's' work, and the fiitiaiico was cloarcnL
Mr. lUiriilinin sfoopcd and luolu'd in. The liollow place
was (tiiilc dark ami (juitc liry an cartliy inlov aloJUi was per-
cept ildc. It was Icderaldy Inrpfc, nof hi^'h ct:ou^ii for a maa
to tand upriiiht in. It had ('\idently Ijccii madi and used
lon^' a^o for the purpose of lioldin^r tocds.
'*l'"ct'li aion^' the lantern, 'i'immins," the; (kitective said.
"I thought it mij;ht be dark," to Mr. Lisle, "and came j)ro-
vided. Il" you please. I'll trouble you to follow nu; in."
Tinunins ])roduced a small lant'rn from the box, 'if^hted
the candle, and handed it to his supt^ior oflicer. Inspector
liurnham went in at once, holdinf^c the li^ht befoi'(? him.
Lisle followed. The idace was perfectly dry and of con-
siderable exteul.
Three steps from the entrance, and what they sought was
found.
A human skull lay at the detective's feet, human bonr^s lay
scattered and dry and flesld(ss, a mass of long, brown hair,
and torn frag:ments of a woman's dress.
"Look!" said In^^pectof lurnham.
lie picked u,* the skull with perfect coolness, an^ passed it
to his companion.
Put Robert Lisle declined takiiif^ it by a motif)n. Death,
in its Most horrible forms, Jmd been familiar to him in his
checkered career: scddi^rs he had seeii mown down like corn
before the sickle; but this was different.
A helpless woman, nuirdered in cold bio 1. is, perhaps, of
all terrible anl unnatural thini^s, the mo lerribk; and un-
natural. And this wamin had been his i 'oved daughter's
deares' friend.
"Til unins,'' IVIr. Burnham said, setting- down his light, and
;:ettin^ on his knees, "fetch us the box."
Tinniiins groped his way in the box was evidently
iirought for the })urpose of removing the renniins. Lisle
- watehcd till' deteclive and the sergeant, wondering at their
' professional coolness. They gathered together everything
hair bones every shred of dress.
"Have we all?" asked the inspeotor, peering with his lan-
tern over the ground.
"I think so. No not all; what's this?"
It was a tiny silken bag, with a string, as if it had Ihh'U
wovTi al out the iiCi-k. Something like paper crackled within.
Inspector l^urnham opened tlu^ little bag. and drew out a slin
' of paper. Was it a niarriage c(rtitieate? No, ic was an ad-
dress the ad(keas of Lieutenant Guy Karlscourt, Piccadilly
the a^ldress Guj had turned back to give Alice on the iiiKht
of
ror a Woman's Sake.
27J -,
of her arriv 1 at fJilhort's (Jardcus, wlit'ii lie had told lu?r, if
ever in trouble or need, to send t(j him. and he wuuhi eoine to
her.
SIh.' had kept it al\v;iys in p^iMfeful renieiiihranee- -jkuP
Aliv'^* of his kind words and looks. And now it had ('onic to
bear !-;ilent witness a^ain^^t him,
Notliing- renniined the hox nnd its j.vhr.sti.v ennf. nfs wero
taken out h.y 'I'immins. 'ili i thre* mcfi once more stood in
tiie bright snnliglil, and the se;ret of th:it d;irk exe.ivatioii
was its seertj no longer.
Timmins shouldered the bt)X and started bifk for his eab
the others foll(wiiig--silei)t, ^fxim.v. All save Inspeetor
liuridiMni his silence w.is the siK-nee of deep thought, not
gloom. Here was a splendid e;ise cropping ii})- a ciisc that
would create an excitcTnent throughout the length and
breadth of P^ngland.
The Honorable iUiy Kiirlseourt, the brother of T.ord Monf-
alion, the popular author, hunted down for murder, and by
him. Inspector liuriduim. Why, if he could track the deed
clearly home to him, his reputation for life was mal'.
He linlced his arm in Duke's, who would much ratlvr not,
and drew him a little behind,
"T have another question to a^k you, Mr, Mason. .\re you
a'vare by what Jianie this IVIiss Warren went in her lodgings?
An assumed name, I'll wager."
"Tt was an assumed name," answered Duke. "She was
known as Mrs. Brown."
"And how do you happen to bo aware of it^ Oh." care-
lessly, "Mr. Earlscourt, no doubt, infornu'd Mi"-'s Lisle?"
"He did."
"Mrs. Brown." The notebook and pencil came out again.
"Tottejdiam Court road, I thinks ^'ou don't remettd)er. or,
perhaps, you never heard, the name of the landlady^ It's (;s-
sential to find that woman, Mr. Mason."
"1 have head the name, but I forget. It began with an TI
Holmes, ir Ila.M-^. sonielhing of that kind."
"liul Miss I. isle will remendier. no doubt T'
"Miss I. Isle is ill of brain fever- she will r 'oember noth-
ing," Duke said, and relapsed into silence and glocnn.
Mr nurnham left Dnke and appioai'lied Saundei'
"And where shall we find yon, my nian, win n we \\m\t
yaWi You w'v tfie most imporlanf personage in the matter
just now, and must giv' bonds by and by for y*i|r apftear-
ntU'e when called tipou. Do ynu return to T/meolnsliin or
remain in London V
"I stays here," Hiiunders answered; '*! ain't got no busi-
neefi in Lincolnshire, and I menu to stay asljore until 1 ^^
1
i it t
^u
r^or a Woman's Sak
When you wants me
f TO
0
Th
thti cud of tliiH horo matter.
hand . ud williu'."
Jle j^avc an uddross. Mr. liurnliiiiu took it down, i uea
thc-y re-entered tluir resjtoctive eubj;, and drove back to Lou-
don.
It was very late when Mr. Lisle and Duke reached homo.
Olivia tiew to lior husband as slie always li(i, wliethcr liin
absenee was long or short, lorgeltinu, in tlie rapture of his
return, everything else for thl; moment.
Paulina was much the same no better no worse know-
ing no one resth'ss parehed with thirst delirious always,
calling sleeijintr and waking for "Alice, Alice I"
Lispector I)U. diam, of the Metropolitan J'oliee, went to
work at once, and with a will, working up this extraordinary
ease; extraordinary only in that .so distinguished a man aa
Guy Karl-court was the sus[)ecte(l criminal, lie notilied the
coroner of the district, and placed the box and its dreadfid
contents under his charge. And then ho s c to work to hunt
up the lodging-house in Tottenham Court road, to which
Nlr. Karlscourt had brought Alicu' Warren.
T' task was not difficult to a man of Mr. Burnham's skill
and experienc(\ ^Irs. Howe still resided at tlie same phu;e,
and in the same house, and remembered, very readily, whn
Mr. Burnham asked the question about the "Mrs. Brown"
who six years before had been her lodger.
'"Which a nicer young persing, or one as gave less trouble,
never set foot in this 'ouse since or before," said Mrs. Howe;
"and from the day she !- ft to this minute, I've never heard
tale or tilings. And I do 'ope, sir, as 'ow the poor lady is
W(.'ll and 'appy, which she certainly was neither when she left
here."
"Xeither well nor hap])y? I'm sorry to hear that. Mr.
Brown, ])erhaps, tn^ated lier unkindly?"
"Hrown!" cried Mrs. Howe, in shrill scorn; "no more
Brown than I'm a Dutchman! He w^as a millingtary swell,
as I always said it from the first, and always shall, and
whetlur she was his wife or not, he knows b(!st. She thought
Bhe was, poor donr, for a^ more hiimocenter ereoter never
came up from the country to go t) her ruining and misery in
London. Tie was a millingtary gent, and the very 'and-
soniest T ver see. thoijjih hi"^ hnctions were the rewerse of
'andsoire. Not brt that he raid up the bill without a word
basking iin a receipt in th;it 'anghty way of his bul he
treated her shameful, poor soul, and left her to worrit herself
to a shadder, as she was when took away."
"A raillinf^ary gent," repeated Mr. Bumham. ^'What was
lie like. Mrs. Howef"
For a Woman's Sake,
275
"Tall 5111(1 'aniLsomc, carrying hia 'oad liko thftt," Mm.
Howo flunpr UP her own "dark-complectcd, (lark-h\vfij,
black 'iiir, very j^losny, curly, jui.i black inuHtach. I iicvor
'ad a good look at his faco, hut onco tbc ni^^ht be first
brouffbt bor berc bo balways came rriulHcd up bat'tcrvvardH,
but 1 s*e bim as j^Iaiii now ns 1 did tbat minute."
"Is tliis anytbing like bim f incjuired Mr. IJurubam,
quietly. He im-m1ucm1 a pbotof^rapb, and Mrs, Howe utt're(l
a cry of recognition.
"Tba^t's bim! tbat's bim Mra. Brown's 'usband! Tbat's
the very gent I mean I could tell tbat picture anywbere!"
Mr. Hurnbanj replaced tlie pbotograi)b of (iuy Harlscourt
in bis pocket.
"Now, Mrs. ffowe," bo said, "I'll tell you wbo I am. I'm
Inspector Burnliam, of tbe dotoctivo force."
Mrs. IIovvo gave a gasp. "Don't bo afraid; I'll not do you
any barm. Tbis young woman, you knew as Mrs. lir avn, is
missing bas l)oon for some years back and we want to \iiu\^
hor, tbat's all. Wbat you've got to do is to tell me every-
tbiiig you knew froni tbo bour Mrs. Brown entered your
bouse until sbe left it."
Ho produced tbe notebookf and gave tbe stumpy pencil a
preparatory lick.
Mrs. Howe, in mortal terror of a detective, began at tbo
beginning the visit of Augustus Stednian to engiig;' the
rooms for a "party from tbe country, a runaway match, g'-
ing to be married tbe day after bor arrival." "Wbicb," said
Mrs. Howe, "them were bis own expressions."
"You don't know tbis young man's name?"
No; Mrs. Howe had never heard it, and never set eyes on
him again, though be did call on tbe young lady next morn-
ing.
"Describe him.'*
This was not so easy as describing Guy. Mr. Karlscourt's
was a face, once seen, very easily remembered. Mrs. Howe
liad a good memory for faces, however, and bit off Mr. Sted-
man pretty well.
"We'll find him when we want bim, I dare say," said tbe
detective, writing rapidly. "Go ahead, Mrs.TTowe."
Mrs. Howe described tbe arrival of Guy and Alice about
midnight, and tbe appearance of both.
Mr. Burnham produced a second portrait, this time of
Alice, procured from Speckhaven.
"Is this anything like her?"
"As like as lil^^ that's Mrs. Brown, as T saw her first; ae
swe*t and pretty a fac^ a? ever I set my hoyes on. Not that
her good looks lasted long, poor thing.'*
i
t i
t
'W
276
For a Womnn*s Snke.
What wuH tlw ifcutle'iuan's iiiuuikt K-Hffectionato, now.
f
arr
HH a lfvor'H rjuKht !' (
"Well y's," Iicsitjitiii^r sniiHvvluit ; "In.' -.*cmfil vi'ry c
fiH of licr iiiMi lliiil, iiml -iilI((l her 'I lalirc;' jitid wlici he ii|
tf((i(l-ly, iiiil left tlic rooiii. In- ran hack to licr u^iiiii. Yes,
ho WHS hafl'rtioiuit'. Mr. liuinliam, sir."
"Did .you \unv hrr juidn'ss him hy his (Miristiuii narnoif"
Tlw luiHJlad.v shook licr hrad.
"X(t, sir, ^\h' didn't in my 'raring; 1 slio\dd liavc nMiicni-
hcrcd it if siic Ijaih No, sir, sh' diihi't. And I lien he wrnl
away, anl she went up to hcd. And tlic next aftcriionn,
alxiut six fi'cdock I think it was, t-ah drove up, and a jjcntle-
man j^ot (ul, and ran upstairs. I went to the frnt window
to see llieni jioin^ holT to h' married, hut I eouKUi't ^ee liis
face, lie hal a wide, hhick Init, shiudwd down over his nose,
and lii coal collar, that turned up there was no j^ettin^' a
h)ok at him. And it was after (huk hefore they eanie hack.
'And when he came after that, it was lialvvays in a sort (d' dis-
guise. M(st of the times I was husy in the kitchen, and
didn't see him at all when 1 did, 1 couldn't get another hi^k
at his face. He genrwally cjyne ahniT dusk, too, and the
l)assap' Is daik, Xo. sir, except the lirst night, 1 never got a
look at Mis. Hrown's 'ushand's face.*'
Mrs. Howe had very little more real information to give
Mr. Hurnliam. W(uld she try, and think had not the tal',
(huk, military young gentleman called afterward, unmntHed
and undisguicd '.''
Mrs. Ih^wc shook her h:nul. Not that she had over seen;
hut now Mr. Hurnham spoke of it, she did rememher Sarah
Hann (the girl) telling her of a visitor Mrs. Brown had had
in her ah-^!ice, who called early, and on the first oci-asiou
hrought a hont|U't d' roses. SJk; hal hen very husy at the
time, and j)aid hut little attention. It was the very day he-
fore Mrs. Hr(wn left. Later that same afternoon her hus-
})and had called. It might and it might not he him as had
}rought the roses. She hei'self .had let him in. It was dai'k
and rainy, she remendierecl, and he had a shawl wound about
the lower part d' his face. He and Mrs. Brown had |uar-
Tcled they had heard her crying, and his voice raised as if
i)i anyer. He had i)aid the hill himself m the passage, and
informed her her lodger would leave n\\t day. So she had
for the country somewhere, she hal told Mr. Howe in goin';
"and if ever any poor soul looked hearthroke," the landlady
pathetically coufduded, "it was Mrs. lrown as she got into
the cab and drove away. From that^day to this I've never
set eyes or heard tell (f her, hut Sarah Hann, she told nie
next day, when I came home from market, how the tall, dark
tor
in V
di^c"
left
llttl.'
For a Woman's S;iko.
277
fXeui liiid Im'Cii liiirk iu;iin, li.i.sUiii' f-tr Al 1 -. Hrown, .-nui
S4''irn'(i upset like wIhh told sjic wiis {',''. **\\ li 'li," ruii^
chulcil tlio lauHllad.v, *'\vji- lil" li's 'jirtl'.'s^ fiiikx l dcccivM
pr.ipic, iiiid iiiixln tlu'iM tliiiiU ;is 'ii\v lir wn^n'i llic party as
took Imt away Iiiiii-rlf."
Mr. lUiniham inqiiirfd fur "Sarah ll.niii." Mi'-. Now**
sIiomU her lirad in -i i.M'laiclioly way. "Surah llann hid htM-ii
(|('a(| and ^oim* lh(-c two year- of a dt'cliiic. Slw had 110
nioH' lo tril. To what slic had fold she was ready to l.d\' her
ali\da\*t in any eoiiit in !,(ndon."
";^ hd I'm very niueh ohlin:ed to you, Mr-. Howe." In-ipee-
)! I'urnhanj sai!, ri-lny; to depart, "for the pN-asanf manlier
in wlilt h you h;ive ^iven your inlorniat ion. If \\v 'an only
di-ei'\ now, wherealioijfs Mr. lrown took liis wife when sho
left (iilicit's (larcVii , I think wo shall have a very pretty
Utile case worked up. (lood-day to you, nui'ani."
;: -x- * * * * *
Two lays later, and in his studio, with the slantiiiLf rays
of the .July sun streaming: in upon the canvas, an oM friend
of ours stands, busily painlinu;. It is Allan Fane, the artistr,
wlioni, in the press of others' affairs, wo have (|uit(^ lo^t sij^ht
of lately. The studio is a v.ery small, very luxurious iitthi
room, sacred to the ai-list him(df, his most cherish(d jdc-
tures, and most intimate friends. There is a lartrer, outer
atelier, where fjrentlemen cou^refi:ate to smoke and talk lon^-
liair((l gentlemen mostly, who didn't patronize harhers the
Brotherliood of the Brush.
The years that have Ixmmi so frauj?ht witih events for others,
have not passed without chanfj:e over the heiid of ,\Ilan Fane.
He stands hero to-day with tlie y(dlow sunshine on hi'^ face,
p:reatly chanp-ed, greatly improved, from the effeminate,
weakly, iiahdent, and selfish youn^ man. Wio. ei^ht years
aji:o, fell in love with aiid lescrted little Polly Ma-i-n. Tho
fairer, soniewhat womanish beauty of his face remains, hue
his lon^^ ^(.Iden beard, and the firmer curve of the lips, tlu^
graver lipiit of the eyes, tell now of str(Mif?th and power-ay,
penius within. Tie is a celebrated man he has won for
himself fane and wealth; and the Bond street tailor hart
ear.sc at last to be proud of his son- -a soji, wh( has sendo
enough to be ashained of his humble (tri^in no mr)rc.
A month after that October day on which he hal met
T'anliiiii down in Siieckhaven, after her retiirii froui France,
1 i .''*.' Iiad died nbroal. ITer fortune had p:on^ with her
t!: ! !'':triM i'ov which h.*^ had so weakl.y sold himself, and
(/I." r-arc he was free. Ffe tried, manfully enon;.ih, to re-
press the feelinf^ of relief and pfladness that would rise his
wedded Jife had beea unspeakably bitter, aud eiflrbtt months
I.'
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ill
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IMAGE EVALUATION
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Photographic
Sciences
Corporation
23 WEST MAIN STREET
WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580
(716) 872-4503
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278
For a Woman's Sake.
after their union t]iey had parted by mutual conscnl and he
was free and Paulina Lisle.
He went back to his brush and easf 1, and worked r.c he had
never worked in his life before. The picture was his long-
drcamc(!-of, lonj:-talkeH-of "Rosamond and Eleanor;" and he
painted his RoHariiond from memory. All that vfinter he
spent at Montalien Priory over this one pjlinting, and in the
Hpring it went to the exhibition. On the chances of that pic-
ture his whole future hung if it failed, his ruin was com-
plete. The picture was a great, a wonderful success crowds
flocked daily to see it, the newspapers praised and abused it
without bounds all London talked of it, a royal duke bought
it a fabulous price orders rushed in upon him, and the ar-
tist's fortune was made. The world had not seen Paulina
Lisle then, but a little later, and people began to talk of the
marvelous resemblance between Sir Vane Charteris' ward
and the fair Rosamond, and to discover that Miss Lisle must
havfi !*at for the original.
The picture was a striking one.
. You saw a bleak stone hall; a "red, rising moon through its
one wide-open casement, rending it? way up through piles of
jajrgered black clouds. Queen Eleanor stood, a wrathful,
murderous womov.^ robed in heavy purple draperies, with
bent, black brows, and eyes of dusky fire, proffering the bowl
and dagger. Rosamond stood with the red light of the rising
moon upon her fair face and flowing golden hair a form
slender and girlish, drawn up to its fullest height the face
wliite as death, the blue eye* flashing as b^iie eyes anly flash;
the whole fearless face full of pride and defiant scorn.
So, surely, never looked the fair, frail mistress of the king,
confionted by the jealous wife, but so Allan Fane had
choi^en to paint her. The face shone out so vividly, so star-
tlingly lifelike, from the canvas, that you seemed to hear the
scornful words of defiance with which she braved the in-
fuiiato queen. Had Paulina Lisle ever really looked like
that, people wondered? No; but in the twilight of a summer
day, P0II5 Mason had, as she flung his ring at Allan Fane's
ftet, and stood before him in bar new-found womanhood,
scorning him.
While life remained, Allan Fane would never forget how
slie looked, how she spoke then.
'J'iie ])icture was a success, and his fortune made.
ITc f]id not go into so( icty ihtxi year; he heard in silence
of her beauty and her triuniplis: and the second 'season he
met her. T1k3 old love, stronger than ever, filled his heart
he was famous now, 'and rapidly acquiring wealth, and ht
laid his kurd crown very humblb^ at her feet. He Iq^ved hm
de
hi
cr
kiuR,
Ivad
star-
r the
e in-
iike
m
ane's
hood
ence
n he
rt
d h
For a Woman's Sake.
279
devotedly with a love th^t knew no change would she- ho
his wife? Her answier liad beeu a refusal, a refusal that
crushed out every atom of hope.
"The ffme for all that is past, Mr. Fane," she said, cjuiotly.
"T could/not care for you now if 1 tried. Will you let mo
be^your friend ? Your wife I never can be. It is too lati-."
Too late! The old, dreary refrain. Once her love had
been within his i^rasp, and he had turned away from the pi ft,
and now it was too late! He accepted his fate, with a brave
patiOiii'e that made her like him as nothing else could have
done, and they had been "friends," as she wished it, since.
There are not many men who will remain the faitltful
friend of the woman who refuses them Allan Fane was one.
Wisdom and generosity were coming to him with years and
suffering!
Ue stands this July afternoon painting busily. He is not
ilonQ. On a Turkisu divan, smoking a hmg, twisted pipe,-
stretched at full length, lies Guy Earlscourt. It is the last
day of his stay in England by the latest train he departs
i.T Liverpool, to sail to-morrow for New York, and his last
hour he is spending with his friend. A greyhound lies at his
feet, and looks up in his face with darkly loving eyes, as
Guy pulls his long ears tir ugh his fingers.
There is silence in the little room the artist works indus-
triously, and Guy smokes and watches with dreamy eyes a
picture hanging opposite. It is the fair head and graceful
throat of a girl in her first youth the lips wear a saucy
smile, the sapphire eyes sparkle with laughing light, and fol-
k)w you wherever you go. The picture is richly framed, and
never leaves that spot it is a portrait of "Polly Mason."
"What do you think of it, Guy?" the artist says, at length
catching the glance. "It is like her, I think, as as we knew
her first."
It was almost the only time her name had passed his lips
to Guy. lie dreamed not of the yoiing author's secret, of
course, but he had seen them together, noted, with surprise,
the marked restraint and avoidance between them, and felt
thece must be a secret I ehind.
"Very 'like," Guy answered; "so like that I can see that
birthday fete and her, as she stood dancing in the sunshine.
Allan, I should like a copy of that picture to take with"
me "
"To your second exile? You shall have it. T have already
promised a copy to another old friend of hers Duke Mason.
What a strangely checkerel life hers has been little Polly
Mason reject a duke! Guy, I wonder why ahn threw over
Ueatheflaud 2 It it not like Paulina.^'
\
I
i
28o
For a Woman's Sake.
Ja'ovc (jJii.y could sprak, xho l((tr ojx'ned, and Paulina
I.isU-V iatlifr stood bifore tlu'iii. (Juy spraii^' erect.
"My dour colonel! Ycni hcic! I thouKtit .you had left
Kiijiiaiid a week atfo. X(jtliiiiji: vvrdii^'. J liope^"
I'or Robert Lile v. very pule, very worn, ai'. rave.
"Mrs. Lislol-Paulina I"' (Juy exelaimed; *'t' :' are well,
ile still addressed liim ly the faiuili.ir title that had Ixmm
his when tliey first met.
"Paulina is ill very ill. J knew it was your last day in
London, and 1 called to tell you. Your people said I would
find you Ikm-c."
Allan Fane dropped his brush, and turned very pale, (iuy
listened what he felt, his dark face sliowin/j: little.
"Very ill," he rejjeated slowly; "how lonj? if"
"Slie was taken ill on the nij?ht you left us. It is brain
fever. She had received a terrible shock the revelation of
file death of a dear friend, and this, coupled with expctsure
to damp and previous ill-health, broujrht about this result.
She lujs been delirious ever sincf! she is so still. What the
end will be Heaven only knows."
Fie walked away to the window. Ikm] silence fell. It whs
broken by a tap at the door, and the entrance of a servant
with a card.
"Inspector Burnham, of the Metropolitan Police," read Mr.
Pane, aloud. "Who the d#uee is Inspector Burnham, and
what does he want here ^"
Kobert Lisle wheeled round from the window with a star-
th^l expression.
"He says his"business is with Mr. Karlscourt, sir," the man
answered, "and is most pressing."
Fane looked doubtfully at his friend.
"I don't know what he wants," Ouy said, answerintr that
look; "but PH see him all the same, with your permissif)n,
Fane."
Mr. Burnham appeared on the instant. He bowed respot-
fully to Lisle and addressed Guy.
"I believe," Inspector Burnham bej;an, politely, "I am
spakinjj: to the Honorable Ouy Farlscourt?" *
Guy nodded.
"F have been informed, Mr. Fd.-lscuurt. that it is your in-
tentin to sail to-morrow for New York. Is it true?"
"It is (juite true." answered (Juy. "May T ask, in turn,
how niy dei)arture can possibly concern you f
"In this way, Mr. Earlscourt that it must be postponed."
"Indeed! And why?"
\It. Burnham glanced at Mr. Lisle, who had grown even
f
For a Woman's Sake.
381
paler than upon I'is entrouce,' couglutl apologoticjilly. and
drew a stt n nearer.
"^ly bvisiness here is of a very unpleasant nature, but it
must be done." Il( laid hi- hand suddenly juul heavily upon
(Juy's shoulder. "Mr. Karlscourt, I arrest you on the fliar^e
of havinj^ caused, (jr been i)arty to, the death of Aliif War-
ren, on the morning of Christmas Eve, 18(52. Mr. (Juy Karls-
eourt, sir, you must cojisiiler yourself my prisoner."
Thero was an exclamation fron Allan Fane a dccpt niii^
of the gray i)allor upoii Robert Lisle's face. For (luy. he
shook ofT-the hand of the detective, and stood lookin^^ iit iilrii
only (ne expression in his eyes; an expression tt utter
amazf.
"The death of Alice Warren I" he exclaimed. "Vou mean
to tell me that Alice Warren is dead!"
"Alice Warren has been murdered," repeated Inspector
Burnham ; "foully murdered, on the morninp: of Christmas
Eve, 1SH2."
".Murdired I" h^ n^peated the horrible word, starinj^ at the
officer mechanically. "(Ireat Heaven I"
His thoughts flew to his brother, and at the awful pos-
sibility that su^jicsted itself his dark face blanched to the
hue of ashes. Alici' Warren Uiurdered. He renuMubered her
as he had seen her last, wretched and alone in a wild winter
storm- he remembered the liok his brother's face had worn a
few lioui's later when he had spoken of her. Who but .Monta-
Won had an interest in her death? Kvery trace of color
slowly faded from his face, leaving? him white to the very
lips. Inspector Tiui'nham saw th' chang^ was it the con-
sciousness of ^uilt, he W'(lulered ? (luy slowly recovered
himself, and spoke:
"Will you tell me, ^fr. TJurnham," he said, "what proofn
you have that Alice Warren is dead at all, and why you hav
cause to suspect me?"
Before the detective could speak, Kobert Lisle came hastily
forward.
"Allow me," he said. "T was about to tell you of this. (Iny,
when Buridiam e'ntered. My shaie in bringing about this
denouriicni you must hear from my own lips."
And then he told the story of the sailor's arrival at the cot-
tage, and the confession made to Paulina, which had tinled
in her dangerous illnt49li his and Duke's visit the next
day to Inspector Bundiam, and of fheir discovery at Ihittor-
Fea.
"Insjxctor Bnrnham knew from ns, (luy, that you were fhi
companion of Alice Warren from Lincolnshire to London;
that yon Mw her aftenvard at her lodging;* facts W Wtievv
I
i
t
ml
282
For a Woman *s Sake.
yon woulJ have willingly, freely, tola him yourself, had you
been prosent. I never dreainetl though that "
(tuy pranped his hand.
"Say no more! You did (luite right. My share in this
unhai]\v ^'irl's story the whol( world is free to hc^ir. iJut
niurdiTcd I (IcKid TFeavcfn! It seems too horrible! 1 eannni
reaii/c il ! When did you say?"
'*(^M the nidrninp: of Christmas Eve, 1802, between the
liours (;f eij:,dit and nine. Of (course, this prei)Osterous ehar^^'d
afiainst you will fall to the Ki*f""l imnuKliately. I only
wond(r at a man of Mr. Burnham's astuteness hrin^in^ it
forward at all. You will prove an afihi at once. Carry your
mind haek to Christmas Eve, six years apo the very time,
was it not. wlien you left Enj^land? Try and reeolleet whore
and with whom you were on Chri^mas Kve, between tlie
hours of cijjrht and nine."
Robert Lisle laid his hand affectionately on the youn^?
man's shoulder, and looked into his face; and the whole truth
burst upon (hiy.
On Christmas Eve, 1862, between the hours of eig-ht and
nine, his strange nnirriage had taken place!
What singular fatality was th's! A dark-red flush rose up
over his olive face, then faded slowly and entirely away. He
was very pale, but perfectly calm, as ho turned to the de
tective.
'"Have you a cab, Mr. Burnham ? I am quite at your
service. An absurd mistake this, colonel!" turning:, with a
smile, to Lisle, and holding out his hand, "which will post-
ptne my journey to New York. Farewell, for the present!
Let us Jioi)e a few days will set* this ridiculous en'br right!"
"Rut, good Heaven, Guy!" burst forth the artist, "you can
surely disprove this monstrous charge at once! Make an
eifort -.you certainly rememler what you were doing, and
with whom you were on Cliristmas p]ve at that hour."
"1 remember very distinctly what I was doing, and with
wiiom I was,'' (iuy said, coolly. "I do not see fit, however,
ju^t at present, to take Mr. Burnham into my confidence. "T
am quite ready to go with him at any moment."
"And when the time comes in a few hours, or days you
will prove an nUhl and overthrow this preposterous charged'
Lisle demanded, in intense anxiety.
Guy looked at him with a smile a smile that seemed to
have some *trange, hidden meaning in its depth.
"And it i ^nnot prove an alihi if I cannot, or will not,
^voal where and with whom I was on that dajjr and at that
^' ir, will 0U believe me guilty, coloudlf
-:.*
ft
had
' '"'J tin's
'. FJiit
'''U tlio
f oiiiy
'^iiiK it
'I'.v you,.
.V tiiJic,
1" where
f'f'll till.
If^ truth
Jit and
I'oso up
.V. He
he (lo-
t your
U'ith a
I post-
vseiit!
iffht!"
II can
ko an
and
vvffh
'ever,
'e. I
-you
pre ?"
1 to
not,
that
Semper Fidelife."
283
"Never!" answered Robert Lisle, firmly. "But you do not
mean this, Guy ?"
"I mean it. This charg'c must, and will, doubtless, fall to
the ground of itself: but, come what may, it|is out of my
power to prove an alibi, (iood-by, for the present ! The in-
quest, no doubt, will set this disagreeable business all right.'*
He was gone before they could speak Mr. Btirnham' pris-
oner. He sat back in the carriage, his hand pressed over
his eyes.
'*Come what may, I will keep my oath !"
He remembered the words well, and to whom thev were
spoken. Come what might, the secret of that Christmas Kve
never could, never would be revealed
CHAPTER VH.
"semper fidelis."
After the arrest of Guy Earlscourt every effort was made
to persuade him to tell where he' was on the morning mI
Christmas Eve between the hours of eight and nine, but he
persisted in refusing to give any information on the subject.
The trial and all the evidence occupied four days, and tlie
verdict of the jury was "that the remains found were tl:oe
of Alice Warren, and that she came to her death by a pistol
shot fired by the hand of Guy Earlscourt, on the 24th of De-
cember, 1862."
The coroner then made out his warrant committing Guy
Earlscourt to prison foj safe keeping until set free by due
course of law.
Most faithful of all his friends had been Robert Lisle. He
called on him every day. His own private troubles were
lessening. His daughter had been pronounced out of dani^cr
and wns now able to sit up. But he could not leave I'Jig-
land while his young friend's fate remained undeciled. Ml
his efforts and persuasions, however, to get Guy to ^tate
where he had been on that fateful morning were of no
avail. He was with him the day before the trial, and as he
was about to leave, Guy asked hesitatingly, "Miss Lisle con-
tinues to improve, I trust?''
"Not as she should." answered her father gloomily. "The
(loctnrs speak of hidden trouble, something preying on l.er
mind, and advi^^e change of air and climate; the old stereo-
typed formula."
"You should follow their advice," said Guy, "take ?^er
abroad immediately. I hope she does nut know of :::y
r,
rrr
-
284
( (
Sieniper Fidelis."
affair. I 'or the sake (if past times, wlien we were ^ocA
friends. I should not Hke her to know 1 am even siispecU'd
of tlie ninrder of her friend. \'ou have not told her?"
"Most eerl.'unly not. And, strange to say, she lias UuuW
no inquiries whatever on the subject of her dead friend sinct'
her recovery. She is in a state of apathy that seems to
blot out ad feehng and memory. She never reads, she .see-
no visitors, and we tell her nothing."
(lUy drew a long breath of relief. "I am glad o* that.
Take her out of Hngland in ignorance if you can, and let
her never know of this if it is in your power to prevent
it." And after a pause: "I may tell you now what I wouM
not tell you out there in Virginia. I love Paulina with ;i
love that is as devoted as it is hopeless. Alice Warren wa
to her as a sister, and I cannot endure that she should
think I was suspected of her murder. Promise me, .I 1
friend, that you will do this, the greatest, the last favor.
I shall ask of you. Promise."
"I promise," Lisle answered, wringing the young man
hand, "but sooner or later she must learn thr- truth in spite
of me."
At ten o'clock the next morning the prisoner was taken
to the court. Mr. Fane was the first witness and he had
very little light to throw upon the case one way or another.
Had seen prisoner in company with Miss Warren many
times. Both the September of her flight and other years
during his summer visits to Montalicn Priory. Had nevor
thought Mr. Earlscourt a lover of hers; had not known him
to pay any more attention to her than other men did
stopping at the Priory. Knew that he went up to London
one evening late in September ; could not remember the
date. Heard next that Miss Warren was missing and had
gone with him. Was surprised at the news. Did not credit
it. Believed Mr. Earlscourt's own statement that he had
met her by accident. Knew that the reputation of the pris-
oner had not been stainless in the past, but his guilt hal
been the common follies of youth, never crimes.
A profound sensation ran through the court at the name
of the next witness. It was Francis Baron Montalien, the
prisoner's brother. His face was deathly pale as he was
sworn, and when he spoke his voice was almost inaudible
from agitation, the natural agitation of an upright man
seeing his only brother placed in so dreadful a position.
He had known Miss \^'lrren for many years, and always
had the highest respect for her personallv and for t'.ie
whole family. Had visited the cottajje often in passini;-.
and had met his brother there. Had frequently jested hiui
f3
*'Semner Fideiis
fri
r?"
i"^ made
ifl since
cems to
^ that
and let
Wfiiil,!
witli a
n ua
should
pe, old
favor.
I spite
taken
e had
other.
many
years
nevor
1 hini
1 did
)ndo[i
- the
: had
red it
had
pris-
had
anie
the
was
ih!e
nan
avs
the
iini
ja is^htor, 'Ml nac
.icV' li.; brothct* .vcn.
i/tli, but '-lid no:
day. VVn.; surpriscc
kd :;ogether. Had
I- several limes, biv
'lloweci o stand
Profounrl sym
Iccp sorrow wis
iuitc ghastly as he
. ed convulsively in
yes followed him,
lad istened to his
ius r:^uilt had lingcrec
'lour.
ivery wish
felf:
left
the
hi:
dc
about hiis attentions to the bailiff's pret'
never considered them serious. Knew m
to London on the evening oi the
hear of the girl's tlight until the nex
and shocked when informed they ha
tried to speak with him on the sub) ".
had always been rebuffed.
Lord Montalien was cross-examine unci
down. His emotion had been very '41 eat.
pathy for his delicate health and
through the court. His face wa .
the witness box, his hand was pre
region of his heart. Guy's dark
handsome face set and stern. A
liberate perjury, and if any doubt
in his mind it was dispelled in Jr..
Captain Cecil Villiers came nc -.i, and \vith
to save his friend, did more to l.aiig !iim ihan ill Ihe rest.
He had known Alice Warren, an( .ulmired her c;s every one
else did. Was not aware that G ^v ^arlscourt had been her
lover, and believed that the neetiiii^ M the railway had been
mere chance, as he had been old. Mr. Earlscourt had
stayed at his lodgings for two c ys .)revious to his departure
from England. He had been hsent .on duty n ly all of
the Si^d of December, .^^"ound i.he .jrisonei in his cham-
bers upon his return late it light. They lad^ sat ogethcr
smoking and talking for i couple r^ lours aefore .Toins; lo
bed. Awakening next mcrni'v iboit daylight, ic lad rccii
Gny in the room adjoining 'rcssin^', limself )y candlelip;hl.
and asked him what he .3 -^ettin?^, ip 'n he niddle nf ih
night for. The prisoner ^ad answered Jiat t ^-as la'f pas:
seven, that he had a pressing engagement for :vght. "There
is a lady in the case, Villiers," he had said, 'ano adic'^,
brook of no delay." He came back about half past ninr
covered with snow. He said he had been out riding, and
was tremendously hungry. We breakfasted together. .\t
a little before eleven he left, and two hours later I saw him
go off on the noon train for Southampton.
While Captain Villiers was having all this reluctantly ex-
torted from him, a messenger had made his way to the pris-
oner's counsel, Mr, Carson, and placed a note in his hand. It
was of evident importance, for the face of the lawyer flushed
up with surprise and delight as he read it.
When the case for the prosecution closed with everything
pointing to the guilt of the prisoner, Mr. Carson rose, and
after a few prefatory remarks on the evidence given he
observed that, in regard to the silence of -the prisoner as to
1
i
r:
M
286
"Semper Fidelis."
his doings on the moriftnp: of that memorable Christiua.s
Kv, Mr Karlscourt had admitted that there was a lady in
the casa, and this was the truth, but that lady was not the
murdered j;irl, as he was prepared to show the court, f(jr
his client had been from eight til^ nine in the morninp;, the
time when the murder was committed at Battersea, in com-
pany of tiiis lady and her maid. Illness had prevented her
hearing of Mr. iCarlscourt's arrest until yesterday, when she
was away in her home in the country. To-day she was
here !
The door of the witness box opened and a lady stood
there, tall, elegan^, veiled. She lifted one gloved hand and
flung back her veil, and four hundred eager eyes fell and
fixed on the proudly beautiful face of l^aulina Lisle. She
was white as marble as she faced the bench. Once and once
only she looked at the prisoner. He dropped his head, and
until he stood up free he did not raise it a.^ain.
Mr. Carson leaned forward and blandly spoke.
"Your name, madam, if you please?"
To the legal gentlemen present Miss Lisle was we'l known
by reputation, the celebrated London beauty, who only a
few weeks ago had refused to marry t'-e Marquis of Healh-
erland. And the beautiful wealthy heiress and belle stood
licrc in a London police court, to vindicate {he innocence of
a man suspected of murder ! She came and stepped forward.
For an instant the blood rose up bright in her pale face.
Then, in that sweet vibrating voice, that had always been
one of her chief charms, s!ie spoke:
"I am called Paulina Lisle, but it is not my name. Wait;
when you have heard what I am here to say you will under-
stand."
There were scores present who knew her well, but with
the exception of two none of them understood what this
meant. Even her father stood confounded.
Simply and without hesitation she told the storv of her
marriage to Guy Earlscourt. It took her upwards of an
hour. She grew faint and giddy before it was done. She
reeled with the last words she looked like death, and as
permission was given her to stand down she had to grasp the
rails to keep from falling. A second later she was in her
father's arms lifeless and cold. For the first time in her
life Paulina had fainted entirely away.
Her maid, Jane Seaver, was called to the stand, and gave
her evidence with a clearness and precision that cirried con-
viction to every hearer. It vindicated Guy completely. She
swore positively to the time, at the hour when the murder
had been c^^^niittecl ^Mr. Earlscourt had beea evcoc iasUot
wit I
or
Gl
A
call!
Ste(
r
"Semper Fldelis."
287
With her and her mistress. No cross-examinaHon could shake
or aher her.
Guy was free !
At this moment a man nished into tlie courtroom Piid
called out: "1 (Icmand to be sworn. My name is Augustus
Stedman."
At sight of the newcomer a grayibh ])allor had spread over
the fate of Lord Montalicn. The game was up! He had
thought Stedman safe in Australia for life, and yonder he
stood, speaking the words that told his life away. There
was a singing in his ears, a nli.^t before his eves, for a mo-
ment a sharp, sudden pain in his left side. He had reason
to dread those swift keen pangs. His medical men looked
grave when he spoke of them, and warned him to avoid
agitation of all kinds. He made no attempt whatever to
leave the court; a fascination he was powerless to control
chained him to the spot where he stood. His life perhaps
depended on his escape now, but he stood there listening as
greedily as the most unconcerned spectator.
Clearly A-gustus Stedman told the shameful story in all
its details: the mock marriage, which turned out to be a
real one, the heartless manner in which the poor girl had
been neglected wlien her noble husband had tired of her,
which he had done in a vcrv short time, his ambition to marry
the rich Miss Lisle, and his reasons for wishing to get rid
of the wife who had become so distasteful to him.
At the close of this recital Guy Earlscourt was dismissel
and the heavy hand of Inspector Burnham fell with grim
satisfaction on the shoulder of Lord Montalicn, who.i;eemcd
dazed and looked straight before him with a sightless stare.
They led him from the courtroom. He went peacefully.
Once he looked back. He saw his brother surrounded by
an eager throng shaking hands and congratulating him. Their
glance met. He turned away. He had looked his last on
the face of the brother he had hated all his life.
That night, alone in his cell, he thought of Guy free,
and himself here. Guy was the husband of Paulina, and he
was the murderer of Alice. Guy would inherit the title and
estates; his children and Paulina's would grow up amid the
green beauty of Montalicn; and he
A vision of a gray dawn rose before him of a gaping,
eager crowd of a scaffold, ghastly in the chill light of a
condemned man, led forth to die. He fell down on the bed
with a cry of anguish and despair, and lay still.
The next morning when the jailer brought in his break-
fast, he was surprised to find his prisoner still asleep. He
approached the bed, bent down, listened for his breathing,
"^
:i66
a
Semper Fidelis."
placed III. ' . . upon tlu* region r,i \u, lic.irt. felt the pul-c,
and stood tipiij^lit. Lord .Nloutalicii was dead! I'icndlc
and al)ne in the (hsnial |)ri.son room the dark sf)irit ol Aliri'
Warren's murderer liad j^one fortli to answer for \{-
crimes.
Hcforr the sun set tlial August day. the ceremony per-
formed hy the I-ondon registrar was repeated hv the rector
of S|)eckliaven in Duke Mason's Httlc parlor. Ten miiuito
after tlie hen diction had heen pronounced there stood Ik-
I'ore them a . gai-lookinj; jjfeiitienian who took (iuy aside
and whispered in his ear tlie news of his brother's death
It jjave him : patij^, the thouj^ht of how he died; but therv
was Jiof a creature on earth who really rej^retted the dead
man. So in the hour of her marriajije Paulina was Ladv
Montalien. They left l'nj;land at once and went abroad for
their honeymoon. . ' * ' -
Mr. and Mrs. Ij'sle went to T.vndith Court, where the first
happy monfis of their clandestine marriage had been spent.
Sir \'aue Charteris died so(n after, and Maud made her
home with them, and found tiic tenderesl of fathers in Rob-
ert [.isle. }
Winter, spring, summer passed, and when September lav
bright on the green glades and waving trees of Montalien
Prior;-. Lord and Lady Montalien came home. Not alto-
gether as they went, for a Sw^iss nurse accompanies them,
and there is a dark-eyed baby in long robes, whom they call
"Robert." and who is the heir of Montalien.
And miles away, in Allan h'ane's studio, there hangs a
picture of a smiling girlish face. Allan is famous and
wealthy now. He and Lady Montalien meet often in .so-
ciety and are very sincere friends. His best wishes are for
her and Guy's happiness, but he never goes to Montalien.
He has no thought of marrying again. No woman in this
world will ever be to him again quite what "Polly" was in
that lovely June of years ago. s.