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diff --git a/old/53676-8.txt b/old/53676-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fb63f77..0000000 --- a/old/53676-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10453 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Dangerous Flirtation, by Laura Jean Libbey - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: A Dangerous Flirtation - Or, Did Ida May Sin? - - -Author: Laura Jean Libbey - - - -Release Date: December 6, 2016 [eBook #53676] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DANGEROUS FLIRTATION*** - - -E-text prepared by Chris Whitehead, Demian Katz, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made availiable by Villanova University Digital Library -(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Villanova University Digital Library. See - https://digital.library.villanova.edu/Item/vudl:439857# - - - - - -A DANGEROUS FLIRTATION - -Or - -Did Ida May Sin? - -by - -MISS LAURA JEAN LIBBEY - - - - - - - -The -Arthur Westbrook -Company -Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A. - - - - - -CONTENTS. - - PAGE. - - Chapter I 5 - - Chapter II 9 - - Chapter III 13 - - Chapter IV 17 - - Chapter V 20 - - Chapter VI 24 - - Chapter VII 27 - - Chapter VIII 32 - - Chapter IX 37 - - Chapter X 40 - - Chapter XI 45 - - Chapter XII 47 - - Chapter XIII 54 - - Chapter XIV 59 - - Chapter XV 65 - - Chapter XVI 71 - - Chapter XVII 74 - - Chapter XVIII 79 - - Chapter XIX 87 - - Chapter XX 90 - - Chapter XXI 94 - - Chapter XXII 97 - - Chapter XXIII 99 - - Chapter XXIV 103 - - Chapter XXV 107 - - Chapter XXVI 111 - - Chapter XXVII 115 - - Chapter XXVIII 121 - - Chapter XXIX 126 - - Chapter XXX 129 - - Chapter XXXI 134 - - Chapter XXXII 137 - - Chapter XXXIII 141 - - Chapter XXXIV 145 - - Chapter XXXV 150 - - Chapter XXXVI 154 - - Chapter XXXVII 159 - - Chapter XXXVIII 160 - - Chapter XXXIX 164 - - Chapter XL 169 - - Chapter XLI 174 - - Chapter XLII 177 - - Chapter XLIII 182 - - Chapter XLIV 187 - - Chapter XLV 190 - - Chapter XLVI 193 - - Chapter XLVII 196 - - Chapter XLVIII 200 - - Chapter XLIX 204 - - Chapter L 210 - - Chapter LI 213 - - Chapter LII 217 - - Chapter LIII 222 - - Chapter LIV 227 - - Chapter LV 230 - - Chapter LVI 235 - - Chapter LVII 240 - - Chapter LVIII 241 - - Chapter LIX 244 - - Chapter LX 248 - - - - -A DANGEROUS FLIRTATION; - -OR - -DID IDA MAY SIN? - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Three young girls, as fair as youth and beauty could make them, stood -with arms twined about one another on the sands of Newport one hot -August afternoon. - -Neither of the trio could have been over seventeen. All three were -dressed in white, and looked as delightfully cool, sweet and airy, with -their floating white ribbons and wind-blown curls, as summer maidens -can possibly look. - -"If I were an artist, I would immortalize that glorious scene," cried -Lily Ryder, her blue eyes sparkling with the fire of enthusiasm. - -"And if I were an artist, I would paint _you_," cried a handsome, -fair-haired young man _sotto voce_, who had stopped short in his stroll -along the sands with his friend, to admire the three lovely young -girls, feeling sure that his keen scrutiny would not be observed, they -were gazing so intently out to sea. - -"Who are they, Ravenswood?" he asked, eagerly, turning to his -companion. "You know everyone at Newport worth knowing, of course--'a -golden key throws open all doors.'" - -"Oh, of course," echoed Philip Ravenswood, with the slow drawl habitual -to him. "They are called at Newport 'The Three Graces.' The blonde -fairy to the right is Lily Ryder, an ex-governor's daughter. The -bewitching girl in the center of the group is Miss Hildegarde Cramer, -a banker's daughter; and, by the way, she's one of the jolliest girls -that ever dazzled a fellow's wits as well as his eyes--looks more -bewitching every time you see her." - -"But who is the other young girl?" interrupted his companion, -impatiently. "According to my ideas of feminine loveliness, she's far -the prettiest of the three." - -"Hold on, my dear Royal Ainsley, lest you provoke a duel here and now. -Remember, that trio contains the peerless Hildegarde," laughed Philip -Ravenswood, relighting a fresh Havana. - -"All allowance made for difference of opinion," smiled Ainsley; "but -really, Phil, who is the dark-eyed beauty this way?" - -Little dreaming of what would come of those few idly spoken words, -Philip Ravenswood answered, carelessly: - -"Her name is Ida May. She's the only living relative of the Mays of -Boston, I understand. I do not know the Mays personally, but know them -well by reputation. They are fabulously rich, it is generally believed." - -"Suppose you introduce me to the Three Graces," said Royal Ainsley, -banteringly. - -His companion flushed, and looked a trifle uncomfortable. - -"At another time, my dear fellow," he said, answering Ainsley's -question after a moment's pause. "Let the girls enjoy their rhapsodies -over the sunset in peace this time. We really haven't time just now. -The fellows are waiting for us at the club, you know." - -But Ainsley refused to go on; yet he did it in such a gay, off-hand, -rollicking, fun-loving fashion, his friend did not see the fixed -purpose in his action. - -He was quite sure that if they stood there long enough they could not -help attracting the attention of the pretty maidens, and there was -no time like the present to meet them. In this surmise, he was quite -correct. Attracted by the sound of voices almost behind them, Miss -Ryder glanced around. - -"Hildegarde--Ida!" she exclaimed, in a flutter of delighted surprise, -"why, here is Mr. Ravenswood!" - -She stopped short, for just then she observed that the handsome young -gentleman in the white linen suit, standing a little apart from Mr. -Ravenswood, was with him. - -It was too late to beat a retreat then, for he had been discovered. He -was certainly in for it, and there was no help for it but to bring his -companion forward with the best possible grace and present him to the -young ladies. - -Ainsley bowed low in his most charming manner, raising, with a smile, -his white straw hat from his fair, clustering hair, and Philip -Ravenswood could see, with consternation, the apparent admiration for -his friend on all three girlish faces, including Hildegarde, whom he -had believed to be quite smitten with himself. - -Royal Ainsley made the most of that next half hour on the sands. He was -so brilliant, so witty, so clever, he fairly astonished his friend, -used as he was to his gay _bon-mots_ and to see him the life of all -the affairs at the club. - -They chatted brightly enough, until Hildegarde exclaimed, with a little -cry: - -"Why, there is some bell striking seven! We have been here over an -hour. We must get back to the hotel, girls, or we will never be dressed -for dinner. Won't you stroll back that way with us?" she added, with a -dazzling smile to both of the young gentlemen. - -"I think not," replied Ainsley, quickly, taking it upon himself to -answer for his friend. "We have an engagement, and have barely time to -save ourselves from being the annoying cause of giving our friends a -cold dinner." - -"We hope to see you both soon again," said Lily, with another blush. - -"We do, indeed!" echoed Hildegarde, archly. But the girl with the -velvet pansy eyes made no audible remark, though her crimson lips -parted, then shut quickly again. - -The next moment the two gentlemen were gone, and the three young girls -retraced their steps slowly hotelward along the beach. They had a much -pleasanter subject to discuss now than the sunset. - -"Isn't the new-comer handsome?" remarked Lily. - -"Splendid! but not quite as Phil, though." - -Again they both asked together: - -"What say _you_, Ida?" - -The girl with cheeks like a damask rose and velvety pansy eyes blushed -to the roots of her jetty curls. - -"He is like the hero of a novel. I have never seen any one so handsome -before--so fair, so smiling--so--so--delightful," she answered. - -"Ida May's heart has been hit by the first shot of those arrows of blue -eyes," laughed Lily, mockingly. "I knew when she declared that, come -what would, she would not fall in love with any young man she met at -Newport, she was more than likely to meet her fate." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -For some moments the two young men walked on in silence, which was at -last broken by Ainsley. - -"I say, Phil," he began, eagerly, laying his hand on his friend's -shoulder, "do you think any one of those three beauties would accept -an invitation to go down and see the yacht-race with me to-morrow -afternoon?" - -Ravenswood looked shocked. - -"You are surely jesting to ask my opinion as to whether any one of -those young girls would accompany _a stranger_ to a place of amusement. -You certainly know, as well as I do, that they wouldn't entertain such -a thought for an instant. And even suppose they did? Their parents -would soon let you know what _they_ thought on the subject. Like all -sweet rosebuds, they are guarded by thorns. A very stern _duenna_ -usually accompanies them on their afternoon rambles, and woe to -anything masculine who attempts to hold a few moments' conversation -with any one of them. I confess I was surprised to find them alone -to-day--very much surprised, I must say." - -"Fate interposed in my behalf," laughed Ainsley, nonchalantly; adding: -"I tell you, Phil, I am a strong believer in fate, no matter what -any one says to the contrary, believing with the poet--everything is -preordained, planned out ahead for us, and we can not escape it. -We are to meet certain people. One girl makes no impression upon us -whatever, no matter how pretty she may be; we meet another, and lo! -with the first glance from her eyes, the mischief's done--_we_ are done -for. Now, am I not correct?" - -"I hope you have not made such a fool of yourself as to fall in love at -first sight with any one of those young ladies to whom I was mad enough -to introduce you, Ainsley!" cried Ravenswood, very much nettled. - -"And why not, pray?" returned Royal Ainsley, coolly. "You should blame -fate if I have done so, not me, my dear fellow." - -"I am sorry for you, Ainsley, if such is indeed a fact," declared -Philip Ravenswood, gravely, "for I do not think you could win the girl. -Plainly speaking, you are no match for either of them. You know that. -But which one of them is it?" - -"The one with the pansy velvet dark eyes--with the face of a damask -rose--Ida May, I believe you called her." - -Ravenswood looked wonderfully relieved. As long as it was not -Hildegarde, he would not trouble himself. - -"By George!" exclaimed Ainsley, stopping short, "I believe those three -young girls ride the bicycle. Now that I think of it, I'm sure I saw -them whirl past the club yesterday morning. They wore natty navy blue -suits and blue veils. I couldn't see what their faces were like. Two -elderly gentlemen accompanied them." - -"Yes, they ride the wheel," assented Ravenswood, reluctantly. "The two -gentlemen were Mr. Ryder and Mr. Cramer, who are very enthusiastic over -the sport. There's a millionaire's club of wheelmen here at Newport." - -"I presume they will be at the fancy masquerade cycle tournament next -week, then?" said Ainsley, carelessly, though he listened anxiously for -the reply. - -"No doubt," returned Ravenswood. "They were all at the last one. By the -way, it's a very select affair. One has to be a member of the club, or -have considerable outside influence, to secure tickets." - -"Are you a member?" asked Ainsley, quickly. - -"Yes," returned Ravenswood. "It was Hildegarde's father who proposed my -name. I did not get even one black ball, and was consequently voted a -member." - -"Do you suppose, if you had been a poor devil of a clerk, instead of -a millionaire's son, you would have been voted in?" asked Ainsley, a -trifle bitterly, a hard light flashing into his eyes. - -"Possibly not," replied Ravenswood, with a good-humored laugh. - -"I should have thought you would have improved the opportunity of -seeing considerable of the Three Graces awheel," said Ainsley, after a -few moments' pause. - -"Their fathers discourage anything of that kind," laughed Philip; "as -more than one young man has found out." - -"But Miss May's relatives--do none of them ride?" - -"They are too old for that sort of thing," laughed Ravenswood. "The old -gentleman is as deaf as a post, and is relegated to the hotel piazza -because of the gout. His wife is equally as deaf, and is too unwieldly -to venture far from her corner of the piazza. It is laughable to hear -them shout at each other through their ear-trumpets. I have often -thought what a lonely life of it that beautiful young girl must have -with those two old people. It would be unendurable, I fancy, if it were -not for her two young friends." - -"Probably they make up for not being companionable by not being so -strict with their pretty prospective little heiress?" suggested -Ainsley, again listening eagerly for his friend's reply. - -"They certainly allow their granddaughter, or niece, whichever she is, -more liberty than Hildegarde's or Lily Ryder's parents do. Still, I -suppose they are confident that she can come to no harm, surrounded by -such careful friends and companions." - -"Did you say, Philip, you were going to the fancy-dress masquerade -tournament?" asked Royal Ainsley, slowly. - -"I do not propose to miss it," responded Ravenswood. - -"Do you think you can secure me a ticket, Phil?" asked Ainsley, -point-blank. "Grant me that favor if you can. Remember, I ask it _as a -great favor_. Surely you can manage it somehow for me." - -"I'll try," replied Ravenswood. "If it's possible, you shall attend." - -During the next few days that followed, handsome Royal Ainsley saw as -much of the Three Graces as was possible. One day he was content with -a bow or a smile--on the next, a few words in passing; but he was wise -enough to keep out of the way whenever their relatives were about. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -The fancy-dress masquerade cycle carnival had been the talk of -fashionable circles in Newport for the last fortnight, and now, as the -auspicious evening drew near, excitement was almost at fever heat. - -The tickets of admission had been closely guarded; gold could not buy -them. The tickets, which were strictly _not transferable_, had been -duly delivered by messengers to the different members whose names they -bore, and the promoters of the affair felt duly satisfied that no one -outside the charmed circle of Newport's fashionable Four Hundred could -by any possibility invade the sacred precincts. - -A whole army of officers were to guard against intruders. There was -to be a banquet in the supper-room at midnight, after the masks of -the merry cyclers had been removed, that would be so startling in its -sumptuousness that the whole country would be talking about it, and -those who had been fortunate enough to attend would never forget it in -their after lives. - -Philip Ravenswood had indeed done his utmost to secure the admittance -of his friend; but even he had failed signally. The officers were -inexorable in their polite but firm refusal to his request. - -Two hours later the grand masquerade cycle carnival was at its height. -The marble walls of the millionaire club never held a more brilliant -gathering of ladies fair, with eyes behind silken masks brighter than -the diamonds they wore, and men braver than the famous knights of old -in their powdered wigs, satin knee-breeches and spangled waistcoats. - -One wheelman, in the costume of handsome Romeo, sprung from his wheel -near one of the fountains, and watched with keen eyes through his mask -the cyclers as they passed him one after another. - -"Aha! I have them at last," he muttered, as he noted three wood-nymphs -hovering close together. "Well, I declare, I thought I should have -little difficulty in distinguishing one from the other," he muttered; -"but to save my life, I can not tell them apart. I shall trust to fate -to choose for me, hoping it will be the beauteous Hildegarde." - -Suddenly two plumed cavaliers sprung from their wheels before the two -foremost wood-nymphs, and asked permission in silent pantomime to ride -as their escorts around the rink, which request was graciously acceded -to, but with the dignity of young princesses. - -"This is my opportunity," thought Romeo. "I must claim the remaining -wood-nymph before some other fellow has the chance to capture her." - -The next instant he was bowing low before her. - -"May I have the great honor of riding as your escort around the rink, -fair wood-nymph?" he whispered in a low, melodious voice. "Ah, pardon -my speaking; it was purely a slip of the tongue. I should have made -known my request in pantomime. But pray forgive, and do not betray -me, fairest of all maidens, to the floor manager, pray, or I shall be -ordered from the floor in deep disgrace." - -"If she answers, I shall know by her voice which one of the three -heiresses she is," he thought. - -"Oh, I shall not betray you, Mr. Ainsley," replied the girl, with a -jolly little laugh, showing the whitest of pearly teeth, "and I accept -your escort to ride with me. I--I am so afraid of tumbling off my -wheel, this gay throng and the flashing lights bewilder me so. I--I was -just wondering if you would be here to-night." - -"Fair maid, you know me?" he whispered, in apparent amazement. "I am -astounded, yet flattered. Pray be kind enough to exchange confidences. -I have been hoping against hope that _you_ are the one whom I longed to -see here. Surely the throbbings of my heart tell me who you are, fair -nymph. Shall I breathe to you the name of her whom I ardently wish it -to be?" he asked, softly. - -"Yes," she answered, eagerly; and there was no mistaking the -characteristic catching of the breath, and the intense, eager gaze in -the velvety eyes behind the silken mask. - -He crushed the furtive hope that had stirred his heart for an instant -that it might be Hildegarde, and answered, boldly: - -"I prayed the fates to lead me to the feet of beauteous Ida May! Oh, -tell me--am I right? Do be kind, and tell me." - -"Then the fates have answered your prayer," she replied. "I suppose I -ought _not_ to tell you until unmasking time, but really I can not help -it. I _am_ Ida May." - -"Thanks, ten thousand thanks for ending my suspense, dear girl," -he murmured, as only Royal Ainsley could utter the words. A few -sweeps around the rink, where handsome Romeo, with his superb fancy -riding, was the cynosure of all eager feminine eyes, midst murmurs -of admiration, then he whispered to his companion: "Come into the -conservatory; the air is too close here. You are riding as though you -were dizzy. Are you?" - -"Yes," she answered. "I _must_ have air. I----" - -The wheel suddenly wobbled recklessly from side to side, as though its -rider had lost control of it entirely. - -Royal Ainsley sprung from his wheel just in time to prevent her from -falling, and in that instant he crushed her closely to his heart, then -as quickly released her. - -The excitement was so great, no one noticed this little by-play, or -saw Romeo lead the fair wood-nymph from amid the glittering lights to -the shadowy depths of the cool conservatory. Standing their wheels -against a marble Flora, he found a rustic bench on which he placed -her, taking a seat beside her, dangerously near, his hand closing over -the fluttering little white one, his handsome head, with its fair, -clustering hair, bent near her own. A half hour they spent amid the -dim, cool shadows, the perfume of the roses enfolding them, the soft, -low, bewildering echo of the delicious music floating out to them. - -Remember, the young girl was only seventeen, dear reader, otherwise the -place, and the scene, and the fair, handsome lover by her side could -not have infatuated her so quickly or so deeply. - -"This is heaven!" he whispered. "How I wish we could linger here -forever, Ida--I your devoted knight, and you my queen, the world -forgetting, by the world forgot! Do _you_ wish it could be so?" - -The low cadence of his voice; the thrilling touch of that strong, white -hand that was stealing around the supple waist, drawing her toward -him; the panting of his breath, which she could feel on her flushed -cheek; the mesmeric, steady gaze of those bright blue, shining eyes, -bewildered her--made her heart flutter as it had never fluttered -before. - -"Do you wish we could be always together, Ida?" he persisted. - -"Yes," answered the girl, with a half sob of affright, trembling under -the strange spell that had slowly but surely been cast over her. - -"Then marry me, Ida!" he cried, "this very night--within the hour, and -no one can ever part us after that! Oh, Ida, do not refuse me!" he -urged. "I love you so that I would die for you. Fate surely intended us -for each other, or we would never have met and loved as we do. Oh, my -darling, you can not deny it! You do love me, Ida May?" - -She strove with all her might to deny it; but, in spite of herself, -he wrung the truth from her lips--that she _did_ love him. A sudden -light that she could not quite understand leaped up into his eyes for a -moment, and a triumphant smile curved his lips. - -"We shall be married to-night, Ida!" he cried. "I will arrange it -somehow;" and as he uttered the words, he told himself that the great -heiress was as good as won. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -The crash of the music, the hum of voices, and the song of the rippling -fountains seemed to dazzle Ida May's senses. - -"Promise me that you will marry me, my darling!" cried the impetuous -lover. "Would it be so very difficult, Ida?" he whispered. - -She clung to him, the terror deepening in her eyes. - -"This is a little romance all our own," he added, clasping her -closely. "Ida, let me kiss you!" He clasped his arms around her and -drew her to his breast. "You are mine in life, mine in death, and mine -through all eternity!" - -He kissed the sweet lips over and over again. - -She was so young that she believed him. - -"Let us be married first, then we can talk over all these things -after!" he exclaimed, impetuously. - -She was dazed by his passionate words. - -He felt quite sure that this sweet, beautiful, dainty young girl could -not hold out against him if he only persisted. - -One more bold stroke, and the heiress would be his. - -There would be a scene, he well knew, when he brought the young girl -back to the old folks. But it would surely end by their forgiving her. -They could not hold out against her very long. - -"You are--sure--it--it--would be right, Mr. Ainsley?" she faltered. - -"You must not call me 'mister' sweet one," he cried. "To you I shall -be 'Royal' from now on to eternity. Let me manage this affair, my -darling," he added. - -All power of resistance seemed swallowed up by his indomitable will. - -"Go to the cloak-room, my love," he whispered, "and change your attire -as quickly as you can. I will meet you at the fountain nearest the -entrance. Not one word to either of your friends, Ida," he said, -warningly. "Promise me that!" - -There was no crossing him. Indeed, the very power to even think for -herself seemed to have left her. - -Like one in a dream, Ida May donned her street clothes, the thought -filling her mind of what Hildegarde and Lily would say when it was -unmasking time and they came to look for her. How startled they would -be! - -Outside all was confusion. There was a great crush of carriages, the -babble of coachmen and footmen, the crunching of wheels, and the -calling of numbers. To the girl whom Royal Ainsley led on to so strange -a fate it seemed like a dream. Some one followed with their wheels. -Royal Ainsley took them from the man, and she saw him toss him several -pieces of silver. - -He did not tell her that he had written a note to an old minister, -living two miles out of the village, asking him to remain at home to -marry them. No name had been signed to the note; but he had argued to -himself that the minister, who probably was sadly in need of making an -extra dollar, would stay at home to perform the ceremony. If his plans -matured well, all well and good; if they miscarried, well, no one would -be the wiser as to who sent the letter. - -He assisted her to mount her wheel, and, as if in a dream, they went -speeding down the boulevard. - -"We must make quicker time, my darling," he said. - -Was it a sob he heard coming from the girl's lips? Ida May seemed to -have suddenly awakened to a sense of what she had done. A brief half -hour since she had been in the midst of a brilliant party, and now, -scarcely knowing how it had come about, she found herself flying with -the handsome lover, whom she had known but a few short weeks, going she -knew not whither. - -The awakening came to her like a terrible shock. - -"Royal!" she cried, "oh, Royal, what have we done? Where are we going? -I did not mean to run away. I must have been mad. Let us go back -again!" - -As she spoke, the great clock from some adjoining tower struck the hour -of twelve. - -"We are too late," he said. "We have burned our bridges behind us. They -are unmasking now, and they have missed you. They will soon institute a -search." - -She clasped his arm. - -"Oh, Royal! I must tell you all!" - -The hot, trembling hand clung to him, the lovely young face was full of -awful grief. - -"My own darling!" he cried, leaning over and rapturously embracing her, -though in doing so he nearly caused her to fall from her wheel. - -Suddenly the heavens overhead seemed to darken, the wind to freshen, -and the booming of the waves, as they dashed heavily against the shore, -sounded dismally in the distance. - -"We must make haste," said Royal Ainsley; "there is a storm coming up. -I think we could save nearly half a mile by cutting across this field." - -He swung open a gate opening out into a broad patch of land, and Ida -rode in. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -"I see a light glimmering in a window a short distance away. I will -take you there, and walk back to the village to get some kind of a -conveyance." - -In a few moments they found themselves knocking for admission at the -little cottage from whence they had observed the light. - -His impatient knock brought a white, terrified face to a window which -was opened above. - -"What do you want?" asked a voice in unmistakable tones of fear. - -"I must have shelter for this young lady for a little while," exclaimed -Ainsley, impatiently; adding: "I will pay you handsomely if you will -allow her to remain here an hour or two, until I can go for a carriage -for her." - -The window was closed quickly down again, and Royal heard some one say -quite distinctly: - -"I tell you it is only a _ruse_. It is an officer of the law." - -Again Royal knocked impatiently. - -"It is commencing to rain," he called. "For Heaven's sake, open the -door quickly!" - -Despite the sobs and protestations of the voice inside, a man opened -the door and stepped out, confronting them. One hand held a lighted -lamp and the other rested upon his hip pocket. - -To Royal Ainsley's intense astonishment, he found that he was at the -summer cottage of Newport's haughty mayor. - -"I beg your pardon," stammered the man, in dire confusion. - -"It is rather late to awaken any one; but you have heard the words, -'any port in a storm'? The truth is, I want to find shelter for this -young lady until I can go for a conveyance to take her to a minister -who is awaiting us to perform the marriage ceremony." - -"Oh, that is it!" exclaimed the mayor, with a look of relief coming -over his face. "An elopement, eh?" - -"All is fair in love, you know," laughed the young man, leading Ida -into the parlor, his host preceding them. - -"Who are you, and who is the young lady?" inquired the man. - -It was Royal's turn to hesitate now. If he found out that the young -girl clinging to his arm was the heiress of the Mays, would he not -refuse to perform the ceremony until they could be communicated with? - -"I am Royal Ainsley," answered the young man, affecting not to hear the -last part of the question; and Ida, thinking she was called upon to -speak, responded, promptly: - -"And I am Ida May, sir." - -The mayor wheeled about quickly. - -"What! Did I hear you say the name May? Are you the young girl stopping -at the Ocean House whom they call the niece of the Mays?" - -The girl was trembling so she could not answer. - -"We might as well put a bold front on the matter," whispered Royal, -clasping quickly the ice-cold hands. - -"She is, sir," he answered, with an air of assurance which he was far -from feeling. - -The effect of his words upon his host was wonderful. An expression that -was almost diabolical flashed over his face. - -"Hold!" he cried. "You need look no further for a minister; I will -perform the ceremony. It is a pity for the young lady to have to go out -in the storm to have a little service like that rendered. Old May's -niece!" he muttered under his breath. "Ah, what a glorious revenge it -is for me to give her to this profligate! Of course, old May don't know -anything about the escapade of this girl!" - -He clinched his hands tightly together as he looked at her. There was -no feature of old John May perceptible in this slender little creature; -but for all that, he hated her--ay, he hated her with a deadly hatred. -_He knew why._ - -"I will help you in this affair," he said, with a peculiar laugh that -might mean much or might mean little. - -The ceremony was not a long one, and almost before Ida could realize -what was taking place, Royal Ainsley was bending over her, and calling -her his dear little wife. But there was something about the kiss that -he laid on her lips that made a strange shiver creep over her. - -Royal Ainsley could hardly conceal his triumph. No matter if the Mays -did find her now, they could not undo what had been done. He had wedded -her and her millions! - -"Is there a train that leaves for New York?" he asked. - -"Yes; one passes here in about twenty minutes from now. By cutting -across over to that side road you could easily catch it." - -Half an hour later, they were steaming toward the city as fast as steam -could carry them. The dark curly head nestled against his shoulder, -while Royal looked out of the window, out into the blackness of the -night, little dreaming that he was on the eve of a terrible tragedy. - -He had been lucky enough to secure the little compartment at the rear -of the drawing-room car, which those who have money enough to pay for -can secure exclusively for themselves. - -"I ought to tell you something that is weighing very heavily upon my -mind, Royal," she said, nestling closer to her fair, handsome, boyish -husband. - -"Not until to-morrow, love," he declared, drawing her toward him, and -kissing her fondly. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -It was early the next morning when the Newport express steamed into the -Grand Central Depot. - -Royal Ainsley cast a furtive glance around him as he stepped upon the -platform. He had quite expected a dozen or more detectives to spring -forward, for, of course, the telegraph wires had been busy during the -night. - -They would no doubt be waiting to arrest him for abducting the heiress. -But when he had blandly informed them that lovely Ida May was his wife, -what could they do but fall back abashed and disconcerted. - -To his great surprise, he seemed to create no sensation whatever. No -one even noticed him as he joined the throng, with Ida May clinging -tightly to his arm. - -"I will give them some little trouble to find us," he thought to -himself. - -He knew of a quiet, aristocratic family hotel facing the park, and -placing Ida in a carriage, he took a seat beside her, and directed the -driver to proceed as quickly as possible to the place indicated. - -Whirling through the streets of gay New York was quite a sensation to -Ida, who had never been outside of her own country village, save for -that fateful trip to Newport. - -With Royal clasping her two little fluttering hands in one of his -strong white ones, his left arm holding her close as the cab rattled -up Broadway, her fear of the noise, the great rush of people hurrying -hither and thither, and the great crush of vehicles that threatened to -demolish them every moment, gradually subsided as they rode along. - -They reached their destination, and a moment more were ushered into the -little white-and-gold parlor. - -"We will have the best breakfast that they can prepare," said Royal, -"and then I shall take you to see the sights of the city." - -He was obliged to take the hotel clerk into his confidence. - -"It's an elopement," he whispered in the clerk's ear. "My bride is the -heiress of the wealthy Mays, of Boston. There may be a deuce of a row -when they trace us to this place, but it will end all right by the -fatted calf being killed for us. But as for the breakfast, how long -will it take to prepare it?" - -"Not more than fifteen minutes," returned the clerk, with an obsequious -bow. "We will send up to the parlor, and let you know when it is -ready," he added. - -He turned away with a royal air. Already he felt as if the May millions -were in his pocket, that he was a man to be envied, that he was of -great importance. - -Royal Ainsley immediately joined Ida in the parlor. He found her -ensconced in one of the large velvet easy-chairs, looking out of the -window, with something very like fright in her great dark eyes. - -"Oh, Royal, are you sure it is quite right?" she sobbed. "Did you want -me to marry you so very much?" - -"What a silly little girl you are!" he cried, impetuously. "Of course, -I want you. I could not live without you. I know you must be very -hungry, as well as tired from loss of sleep. Come over to this sofa and -sit down, and we will talk over our plans." - -"Royal," she whispered, clasping his hands closer, "you would not -listen to me when I tried to tell you something in the conservatory; -but you must listen to me now. I can not be quite happy, dear, until -you know all. I--I have a confession to make." - -He looked at her blankly. - -"What odd words you use, my darling Ida!" he said. "A confession! I do -not like to hear you use such an expression. I hope that there is no -other lover in the background?" - -"It is not a lover!" she cried, clinging to him. "I have never loved -any one else but you!" - -"Then it is all right, my angel!" he cried, brightly, gathering her -closely to him, despite the fact that people were passing in the -corridor outside, and had a full view of all that was taking place -within the room. She struggled out of his arms, blushing like a peony, -even though she was his bride. - -"Sit opposite me, where I can see you, and it will not be so hard to -tell you _all_," sobbed Ida, faintly. - -He complied with her wishes. - -"Cut the story as short as possible, dear," he said, "or you will be -obliged to have it continued in our next, as breakfast will soon be -ready." - -"Oh, how shall I tell you the truth, Royal!" she said, distressedly. -"Perhaps you won't smile so when you know all, and--and--you might even -hate me." - -"No matter what the little story is that you have to tell me, my -darling, I will love you better than ever." - -"Oh, Royal, are you sure of it?" she cried, with that frightened look -which puzzled him so. - -"Yes; I give you my word beforehand, that, no matter what you have to -tell me, I will love you all the more!" - -"I will tell you all, then, and throw myself on your mercy to forgive -me for the past," she sobbed. "Hold my hands, Royal, closely in your -own, while I tell you all of the pitiful past, from beginning to end; -and then, Royal, you shall kiss my tears away, even--oh, Heaven, pity -me!--though I have sinned beyond pardon!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -Little dreaming of the purport of the story Ida had to tell, Royal -Ainsley drew near. For a moment, Ida May's great somber eyes looked -into his as though she would read his very soul. - -"Tell me over again that you will forgive me, no matter what it is that -I have to tell you." - -"I have already given you that promise over and over again," he -declared. "Surely you don't want me to take an oath to that effect?" - -"Not if your solemn promise is strong enough to bind you." - -"You forget that you are wasting time, Ida?" he said, good-humoredly. - -"It will not take me long to tell my sad little story," she answered, -with a half sob; "and oh, what a world of comfort it will be for me to -know that you will care for me, no matter what the world may think. -When you hear my story you will understand the great temptation, and -will not judge me too cruelly. - -"To begin with, my mother and I lived with a very wealthy family in -Dorchester. My mother was housekeeper, and I--well, I had no regular -position there, until, owing to the meager salary they paid my mother, -I was compelled to learn telegraphy, and found a position at the -station. To gain my mother's consent to do this was extremely hard. - -"'They will not be pleased, Ida,' she said, piteously. - -"'What do the Deerings care for you or me?' I answered, bitterly. 'Only -to make you toil year in and year out for a pittance so meager that it -scarcely keeps body and soul together!' - -"'But they allow me to keep you with me, my dear child. That is -everything to a mother who is poor,' she sighed. - -"'I am not a child any longer,' I cried. 'I am quite sixteen. I must be -making money now, if ever, to help you!' - -"'But what can you do?' she asked. - -"When I told her my plans, she looked at me dubiously. - -"'Surely Mrs. Deering would not object,' I declared. - -"But she did object. To my surprise she flew into a terrible rage when -I summoned courage enough to go to the morning-room the next day and -asked to speak to her. - -"I unfolded to the cold, proud woman my plans to make a living. She did -not wait to hear me through, but flew into such a passion of rage that -I drew back in terror. - -"'I have different plans for you entirely, Ida May,' she said. 'Go to -your mother. I told her my plans scarcely half an hour ago. She will -unfold them to you. Mind, they must be carried out by you, or your -mother and you will suffer. Your father owed us a sum of money before -he died, and during the past years your mother has worked to pay us -off. Over one-half yet remains to be paid. Your mother's name is signed -to your father's notes of indebtedness, and she is responsible for -them. If I pressed for payment and she could not pay, she could be -thrown into a debtor's prison.' - -"I sobbed aloud in my terror: 'Oh, Mrs. Deering, if this indeed be -true, there is more need than ever for me to earn money to pay off my -mother's debts.' - -"'There is another way in which you can pay them off,' she answered. - -"'Oh, how?' I cried, falling on my knees and clasping my hands. - -"The answer came like a crash of thunder from a clear sky. - -"'By marrying my nephew,' she said, harshly. - -"I sprung to my feet in terror. Marry any one! I, who was only a child! - -"'My mother would not consent to anything like that, even----' - -"'She will be forced to consent!' was the harsh reply. 'My nephew will -be here in a week.' - -"I found my mother walking her room, wringing her hands and tearing her -hair. Her excitement was so great that for a moment I was terrified. - -"'Has she told you all, Ida?' she asked, in terror. - -"'Yes, mother,' I answered. - -"'And did she tell you what this nephew of hers was like?' - -"'No,' I replied, greatly puzzled by her manner. - -"She shuddered as with a terrible chill. - -"'Listen, Ida,' she said, in a strained, awful voice: 'Her nephew is -such a horrid creature, that to be hated he needs but to be seen. He is -a hunchback--and--an idiot--has a touch of insanity about him. Except -the first few years of his life, he has been confined in an asylum. -This nephew has a bachelor uncle, who has declared his intention -to make the young man his heir if he marries when he is twenty-one. -Otherwise the great fortune goes to another branch of the family. They -would make a victim of you, wreck your beautiful young life for their -own ambitious aims. It will be six months before he is of age. But the -marriage shall never be, my darling. Your young life shall never be -sacrificed by these inhuman Shylocks. When the hour comes, we will die -together.' - -"One day my mother met me with a white, awful face. - -"'Mrs. Deering's nephew has arrived with a valet!' she cried, under her -breath. - -"'But the six months are not up, mother," I cried. 'It wants a -fortnight to that time.' - -"'He has come to stay until you make your decision.' - -"Oh, God! the horror of it! Death a thousand times over would have been -preferable to that. - -"How could I stand at the altar and promise to obey a creature the very -sight of whom filled me with disgust and terror? - -"I fled through the village, not daring to look behind me, and never -stopping until I reached the telegraph office. - -"It was little wonder that I made strange mistakes during the hour that -followed. - -"It was during this time that Mrs. May stepped up to the window and -called for a blank. - -"Although her name was the same as mine, yet we were in no way related -to each other. They were wealthy people from Boston, I had heard, and -were summering in the village. - -"Without waiting to see the message sent, the lady hurried out of the -office. A great sigh broke from my lips as I noted the well-filled -purse that she carried, the magnificent diamonds she wore on her hands, -and which swung sparkling from her ears. Any one of the gems she wore -would have been a fortune to a poor girl like me. - -"As she crossed the railway track in the direction of the post office, -she must have seen the train bearing down upon her from around the -curve of the road. - -"However, she fainted away from fright, and lay directly on the track. -I had seen it all from my window, and I sprung to her rescue and -dragged her by main force from the track just in time to save her from -destruction, as the ponderous locomotive just then thundered by. Mrs. -May's gratitude was great when she recovered consciousness. - -"'How shall I ever reward you, my good girl?' she cried. - -"'I need no reward,' I answered. 'I would have done that for any one!' - -"'You must be rewarded,' she declared. 'My husband is coming from -Boston to-night, and he will insist upon doing handsomely by you.' - -"I was living at home with my poor old mother, and when I went home -that evening and told her the story, she wept like a child. - -"'You did a noble action, Ida,' she said; adding slowly: 'The Mays -are very rich. I should not be surprised if they made you a handsome -present. I once knew a gentleman who gave a lad twenty-five dollars for -saving his son from drowning. Perhaps they may do as well by you.' - -"You see, we were very poor--mother and I--and twenty-five dollars -seemed a great deal to us. - -"'How much good we could do with that sum,' my mother said. 'We could -get a little ahead in our rent, and spare enough out of it to get a new -dress for you.' - -"I clasped my hands. A new dress! Oh, surely it would be madness to -hope for such a thing! - -"That evening Mrs. May sent for me to come to the grand cottage where -she was stopping. Her husband, a very deaf old gentleman, sat at -the window as I entered. They both thanked me in the most eager and -grateful fashion. - -"'We have been thinking the matter over,' said Mrs. May, 'and I have -come to the conclusion that I will do something handsome for you--give -you a pleasure such as you have never experienced in your young life.'" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -"Mrs. May paused and looked smilingly at me for a moment or two. - -"'So great is the treat I have in store for you that you will never -forget it. But Mr. May and I disagree slightly as to what it shall be. -We now lay the proposition before you. Which would you prefer--have -five hundred dollars in cash, or be taken to Newport for a season, have -lovely dresses, and stop at a great hotel, under _my_ protection, and -have as fine a time as any young girl at the sea-shore?' - -"I cried aloud in the exuberance of my joy. I had read of the lives of -other young girls at the sea-shore, and this opportunity seemed like -the opening out of fairy-land to me. You will not blame me, Royal; -I was young and romantic. I had never seen anything of life or its -pleasures. A season at Newport! The very thought of it fairly took away -my breath. - -"'Oh, I will go to Newport!' I cried. 'Then the great dream of my life -will be realized!' - -"'My husband thought you would prefer the money, but I knew that you -would prefer the pleasure.' - -"Half wild with joy, I went home and told my mother the wonderful news. -She shook her head sadly. - -"'We are so poor, you should have chosen the money, Ida,' she sobbed. -'Such a great gift is offered you but once in a life-time!' - -"'But what does Mrs. May want you to do for her, Ida? Are you to be her -maid?' - -"'Oh, no, mother!' I cried, with a hysterical laugh. 'I am to be a -real lady, wear fine clothes, and sit on the porch reading novels, or -promenade on the sea-shore, from the time I get up in the morning till -I retire at night. I shall have pin-money, too, they say, and that I -will send home to you. So everything will go on with you while I am -away as it did while I was here.' - -"We had never been parted from each other, mother and I, and oh! it -wrung her heart to say 'Yes.' - -"But after much pleading on my part she consented to let me go. She -made one proviso, however, and that was--I was not to fall in love with -any one whom I might meet. - -"Oh, I can not tell you of my delight when I saw the wonderful dresses -that Mrs. May purchased for me, saying that they were all my own -forever after. She took me to Newport with her. As my name was the same -as theirs, every one took it for granted that I was a niece of theirs, -instead of their _protégée_ for a few short weeks, a report which the -Mays did not trouble themselves to contradict." - -She had told her story hastily, impetuously, not daring to look into -her lover's face until she had concluded. Then she raised her great -dark eyes slowly. But what she saw in her husband's face made her cry -out in terror. - -"Oh, Royal! Royal! what is the matter?" she cried, in alarm. - -He sat before her as though he were petrified. The glassy, horrified -stare in his eyes cut to her heart like the thrust of a sword. - -"I married you for love. You have helped me to escape Mrs. Deering's -dreaded nephew," she faltered. - -By a wonderful effort he found his voice. - -"Not the heiress of the Mays!" he cried, hoarsely, as though he was -unable to realize the truth. - -"You do not love me the less for what I have done, do you?" she cried, -catching her breath with a sharp sob. - -Before he could find words to answer, breakfast was announced. - -"Go in and eat your breakfast, Ida," he said. "I have some important -matters which I must attend to that will keep me busy for the next hour -to come. Don't wait for me. Lie down and rest until you hear from me. -You will need all your strength to meet that which is before you." And -his brows darkened ominously. - -She was young, and youth has an appetite all its own. She was very -tired with all she had gone through the last few hours, and the -appetizing breakfast spread before her caused her to forget everything -else. - -Like all young, healthy girls, she ate heartily; then she rose from the -table and re-entered the little parlor to wait for the coming of Royal -to ask him to send a telegram to her mother. - -"Shall I show you to your room, miss?" asked the waiter. - -"No," she answered. "I will wait here." - -"Then here is a letter which has just been handed me to give to you." - -She opened it, and found that it was from Royal. - -For one moment Ida May looked with an expression of puzzled wonder at -the letter which the hotel waiter had handed her. - -It was in Royal's handwriting; she saw that at once. - -What could he write to her about, when he had been away from her -scarcely an hour? He probably wished to remind her to be sure to be -ready when he arrived. - -"How he loves me!" she murmured, a pink flush stealing into the dimpled -cheeks. "What a happy girl I ought to be that my lover loves me so -well!" - -The waiter had gone back to attend to his duty. She saw that she was -alone, and with a quick action she raised the envelope to her lips with -her little white hands and kissed it--ay, kissed passionately the sword -which was to slay her the next moment. - -Seating herself in a cozy arm-chair close by the open window, Ida -May opened the letter which was to be her death-warrant, and read as -follows: - - "IDA, I suppose the contents of this note will give you something of - a shock; but it is best to know the truth now than later on. I shall - come to the point at once, that you may not be kept in suspense. - - "The truth is, Ida, that your confession has knocked all our little - plans on the head. To write plainly, when I thoughtlessly married - you, it was under the impression that you were the niece of the - Mays--their future heiress. I have not told you much about myself in - the past, but I am obliged to do so now. - - "I am not at all a rich fellow. I am working along as best I can, - living on what people call wits--and expectations, which make me a - veritable slave to the whims of a capricious old aunt and uncle. - - "They have decided that I must marry a girl who has money. I would - not dare to present a portionless bride to them. In such a case, all - my future prospects would be ruined. I must add that I have a still - greater surprise for you. On leaving you, I purchased this morning's - paper, and the first item that met my eye was the absconding of the - man who performed the ceremony for us last night. It appears that he - was turned out of office some two days before, impeached, as it were, - for embezzling money. - - "All power was taken from him to act in the capacity of mayor. Thus - the ceremony which we thought made us one is not binding. You are free - as air. No one will be any the wiser, and you are none the worse for - our little escapade--romance--call it what you will. - - "A little affair in the life of a telegraph operator will not set the - heart of the great world throbbing with excitement. I am sorry affairs - have turned out this way; for, upon my word, I could have liked you. - There is but one thing to do under the circumstances; that is, to part - company. I advise you to go quietly back and marry the rich lover Mrs. - Deering has selected for you. That will be better than drudging your - life away in a telegraph office. - - "This is all I have to say, and thus I take French leave of you. - Forget me as quickly as you can, little girl. I am nearly dead broke, - but I am generous enough to share what money I have with you. Inclosed - you will find a twenty-dollar bill--quite enough to take you back to - the village which you should never have left. Yours in great haste, - - "'ROYAL.'" - -Once, twice, thrice--ay, a dozen times--the girl read the heartless -letter through until every word was scorched into her brain in letters -of fire, then it fluttered from her hands to the floor. - -She sat quite still, like one petrified by a sudden awful horror; then -creeping to the window, she raised the sash, and, looking up into God's -face through the glinting sunshine, asked the angels in Heaven to -tell her if it was true that the husband she had but just wedded had -deserted her. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -Again the poor child picked up the cruel letter; but she could not read -a line of it, though she sat looking at the written page. - -"Not his wife!" she moaned over and over again, clutching her little -hands over her heart. - -With a sudden frenzy she tore the letter into a thousand shreds, and -flung the pieces from her through the open window. - -Would her poor, sick mother's heart break when she told her all? When -she went home, would they force her to marry the terrible being she -abhorred? - -Home! Ah, God! what a mockery! She had only a shelter. If she refused -to marry the horrible hunchback, her mother and herself would not even -have that. - -How could she face the future? The very thought of it made the blood -chill in her veins. - -"Oh, Royal! Royal! death from your hands would have been easier than -that!" she moaned. - -The next moment there was a heavy fall, and one of the house-maids, -passing the parlor, saw the girl lying in a heap. - -They did all in their power to restore her to consciousness; but it -was quite useless. When they had worked an hour over her, they became -alarmed. - -Where was her husband? Why did he not return? The hotel physician did -all in his power, but without avail. - -"It looks like a case of brain fever," he said, "or perhaps typhoid. -Either is contagious, therefore dangerous. I should advise that she be -sent to the hospital around the corner." - -"That husband of hers has not settled his bill!" exclaimed the -proprietor, his face darkening angrily. - -"It is _my_ opinion," said the doctor, "that it is best not to await -the return of the young gentleman who accompanied her here. In short, -it is my opinion that he has deserted her." - -In less time than it takes to tell it, poor, hapless Ida May, the -victim of such a cruel misfortune, and a sadder fate yet to follow, was -taken to the hospital. The waning summer days drifted slowly by, and -autumn came with its dead, rustling leaves and sobbing winds, before -Ida May opened her eyes to consciousness and turned them full upon the -white-capped nurse bending over her. - -"Where is Royal?" she asked, faintly. - -"You mean the young man who left you at the hotel?" queried the nurse, -who had heard the young girl's sad story; adding: "He never came back -to inquire for you. He has deserted you. He did not care whether or not -the shock would kill you. If there was ever a heartless scoundrel on -the face of the earth, he is that one!" - -The lovely white young face never changed its pallor, the dark eyes -never left the grim countenance of the nurse. - -"I want to leave this place at once," said the girl, attempting to rise -from her cot. - -"No, no; you must not do so!" exclaimed the nurse. "It would be -dangerous in your case." - -"But I want my mother," moaned Ida, piteously. - -When the nurse made her rounds an hour later, to her great -consternation she found that Cot 27 was empty. The girl had flown! The -most diligent search through the city failed to elicit the slightest -trace of her whereabouts. - -An hour later a little dark figure, ensconced in a corner of the car, -was whirling rapidly toward Dorchester. - -She sat staring from the window with eyes that did not see so intent -was she with her own thoughts. - -"I can not marry Mrs. Deering's nephew," she sobbed, under her breath. -"It would be easier for me to die. But what shall I do to raise the -money for which they hold my poor mother a veritable slave!" - -She clasped her hands in piteous entreaty; but the soft, radiant moon -and the golden stars to which she raised her eyes so appealingly could -find no answer for her. - -As the train slowed up at the station, she pulled her veil down -closely. She hurriedly alighted and sped like a storm-driven swallow -up the village street and along the high-road, until, almost out of -breath, she reached the Deerings' mansion. She stood transfixed for a -moment at the gate. - -What was there about the place that caused such a shudder to creep over -her? What did the awful presentiment, as of coming evil, mean that took -possession of her body and soul? - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -How weird the place looked, how gaunt and bare the great oak-trees -looked, looming up darkly against the moonlit sky! The dead leaves -rustled across her path as she crept around to the rear door. - -She looked up at her mother's window, and another great chill crept -over her. All was dark there. It had always been her mother's custom -to place her lamp on the broad window-sill at night. Many a time it -had been her beacon-light in cutting across lots from the station on -evenings when she had been detained by her work. How strange it was -that the light was not in the window to-night! - -"Mother is not expecting me to-night," she said to herself, "that is -the reason it is not there." - -But ah, how she missed it! How her heart had yearned to behold it, with -a yearning so great that it had been the most intense pain. She lifted -the latch and entered tremblingly, hesitatingly. It had been over two -months since her mother had heard from her. How had her patient, -suffering mother lived through it? - -As she crossed the hall she heard the sound of Mrs. Deering's voice in -a sharp, high key. Perhaps the horrible nephew was with her. She paused -in a paroxysm of terror. She was talking to her husband, scolding him, -rather. - -"It isn't _my_ fault that we lost the fortune," he was answering her -meekly. "You brought your nephew out of the asylum too soon. You knew -he would not be here a fortnight before he would do some terrible -deed--burn the house down over our heads, or kill himself when the -attendant was not watching, or some other horrible deed of that kind. -When he did succeed in mutilating himself before any of us was aware -of it, instead of sending him back to the asylum, to be cared for, you -kept him here under lock and key thinking to cure him yourself in a -couple of months or so." - -"Ah!" thought Ida May, leaning faint and dizzy against the wall, "now -I understand why Mrs. Deering consented to let me go away. Anything to -get me out of the house while she was curing the insane nephew whom she -had vowed I must wed." - -The next words, while they shocked her inexpressively, lifted a world -of woe from her heart. - -"Well, despite our watchfulness, he succeeded in killing himself at -last; so there's the end of it. The fortune is lost, and there's no use -in raving over it, and in venting your bitter wrath upon everything and -every one that comes within your range." - -Mrs. Deering's anger was so great that she could not utter a word. She -flung open the door and dashed into the hall. The very first object -that met her gaze was the cowering little figure leaning against the -balustrade. - -"You!" she cried, quite as soon as she could catch her breath. "How -dare you come here, Ida May, you wicked girl! I am amazed that you have -the effrontery to face honest people after what you have done! We read -all about it in the newspapers--how you ran away from Newport with a -gay, dashing fellow who soon after deserted you. Don't attempt to tell -me anything about it. I won't listen to a word. Get out of this house -as quick as you can! Go, before I bid the servants throw you from the -house!" - -"But my mother! Surely you will let me see my mother!" sobbed the -girl, piteously. "The whole wide world may be against me, but she will -believe me guiltless! _Please_ let me see her." - -A laugh that was horrible to hear broke from Mrs. Deering's thin lips. - -"Your mother!" she sneered; "much you cared about her, or how your -doings affected her. That article in the newspapers did the work, as -you might have known it would. I carried the paper to her myself, and -when she read it she fell to the floor with a bitter cry, and she never -spoke again. It was her death-warrant!" - -For one moment the girl looked at the woman with frightened eyes, as -though she could not quite comprehend the full import of what the woman -was saying. - -"It killed your mother!" she repeated pitilessly. "You might have known -it would. She died of a broken heart!" - -A long, low moan came from the girl's lips. The awful despair in the -dark eyes would have touched any other heart, even though it were made -of stone; but in Mrs. Deering's heart there was neither pity nor mercy. - -"Go!" she repeated, threateningly, "and do not dare to ever darken my -door again!" - -"Will you tell me where you have buried my poor mother?" moaned Ida -May, with bitter anguish. - -"In the lot where the poor of the village are put," she answered, -unfeelingly. "We had to have a mark put over her. You can easily find -it. It's to the left-hand corner, the last one on the row. It would be -better for you, you shameless girl, if you were lying beside her rather -than sink to the lowest depths of the road you are traveling. Go--go at -once!" - -With trembling feet she crept down the broad path and out of the gate. -She was drenched to the skin, and the chill October winds pierced -through her thin wet clothes like the sharp cut of a knife. It did not -matter much; nothing mattered for her any more. She was going to find -her mother's grave, kneel down beside it, lay her tired head on the -little green mound, and wait there for death to come to her, for surely -God would grant her prayer and in pity reach out His hand to her and -take her home. There would be a home _there_ where her mother was, even -if all other doors were closed to her. - -She had little difficulty in finding the place--a small inclosure in -the rear of the old church that had fallen into decay and crumbling -ruins many years ago--and by the blinding flashes of lightning, she -found the grave of her mother--her poor, suffering mother, the only -being who had ever loved her in the great, cold, desolate earth. - -"Mother," she sobbed, laying her face on the cold, wet leaves that -covered the mound, "mother, I have come to you to die. The world has -gone all wrong with me. I never meant to go wrong. I do not know how it -happened. Other young girls have married the lovers whom they thought -God had sent to them, and lived happy enough lives. I built such -glorious air-castles of the home I should have, the handsome, strong -young husband to love and to labor for me, and how you should live with -me, mother, never having to work any more. But oh, mother, all my plans -went wrong! I don't know why." - -Ida May crouched there among the sleeping dead, her brain in a whirl; -and the long night wore on. The storm subsided, the wind died away over -the tossing trees and the far-off hills, and the rain ceased. Morning -broke faint and gray in the eastern sky, and the flecks of crimson -along the horizon presaged a bright and gladsome day. - -The station-agent, hurrying along to his duties at that early hour, -was startled to see a dark figure lying among the graves. In a moment -he was bending over the prostrate form. He could not distinguish in -the dim light whose grave it was upon which the poor creature was -lying, but as he lifted the slender figure, and the faint, early light -fell upon the white, beautiful young face, he started back with an -exclamation of horror. - -"Great God! it is little Ida May!" - -For an instant he was incapable of action, his surprise was so intense. - -"Dead!" he muttered, cold drops of perspiration standing out like beads -on his perturbed brow. "Little Ida May dead on her mother's grave! -God, how pitiful! She was so young to die!" - -Then he knelt down beside her in the thick, wet grass, and placed his -hand over her heart in the wild hope that a spark of life might yet be -there. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -With bated breath, Hugh Rowland, the station-agent, knelt down in the -dew-wet grass, and placed his hand over the girl's heart. Although the -sweet white face upturned to the gray morning light was as white as -death, he cried out sharply to himself: "Her heart still beats! God be -praised! There is life in her yet!" - -Gathering her in his arms, as though she were a little child, he -carried her quickly across lots to the station, and placed her upon a -rude bench. Once there, he could control himself no longer. He dropped -upon his knees beside her, burying his face in the folds of her wet -dress, chafing her hands, and sobbing as though his heart would break. - -He had loved the girl lying there so stark and motionless as he had -never loved anything in his life before; but he had never dared to tell -her of it. Though he was station-agent, and she a telegraph operator, -she seemed as far above him as the star is from the earth. - -For a moment Hugh Rowland had almost lost control of himself; then he -remembered how horribly cold she was, and he had the presence of mind -to start a fire in the big stove that always stood in the center of the -waiting-room. - -The grateful heat that rose from it quickly brought the breath of life -to the girl's white lips. The great, dark, somber eyes opened wide, and -she saw the rugged, kindly face of the young station-agent bending over -her. - -"I found you--you had fainted in the graveyard," he said. "Luckily -enough, I was just passing, and I brought you here." - -"Oh, why didn't you let me die?" moaned the girl, so bitterly that he -was shocked. - -"It is very wicked to talk like that," he said, forcing down the great -lump that rose in his throat. - -"No!" she cried, vehemently. "How could it be very wrong to leave a -great, cold, cruel world in which nobody wants you. I have nothing to -live for." - -"But somebody does want you, Ida May!" cried the great rough fellow, -with tears that were no disgrace to his manhood coursing down his -cheek. "I want you with all my heart!" - -"Hush, hush, hush!" she cried; "you must not talk so to me!" she cried. -"Don't say any more! It can never be! You do not know all!" - -"Do not say me nay. Give me the right to protect you, Ida. We can go -away from this village. I can get a job on the road anywhere along the -line. I will work for you, and tend to you so very carefully that you -will forget the past!" - -She only turned away from him, pleading with him for the love of Heaven -to say no more. He stopped short, looking at her gloomily. He had used -all the words that he could command, and they had been of no avail. She -would not even listen. - -"One moment more!" he cried, hoarsely. "Always remember, Ida May, that -you leave behind you a heart that beats only for you--only for you. No -other woman's face shall ever win my love from you. I will wait here, -where you leave me, for long years, until you come back to me--ay, I -will wait from day to day with this one hope in my heart: Some day she -will come back to me; she will find the world too cold and hard, and -will come back to me to comfort her. I will watch for you from darkness -until day dawns again. My form, so straight now, may grow bent with -years, my hair grow white, and lines seam my face, but through it all I -shall watch for your coming until God rewards my vigilance. Good-bye, -and God bless you, Ida May, oh love of my heart!" - -She passed from his sight with those words ringing in her ears, and -when the New York express passed on again after she had boarded it, -the young station-agent fell prone upon his face to the floor, and lay -there like one dead. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Few passengers turned to look at the little figure that entered the car -at the way-side station at so early an hour of the morning, and Ida May -cowered quickly down into the first seat. The clothes under the long, -dark cloak were saturated, but no one could see that, nor notice how -damp and matted were the curling rings of dark hair which the hood of -the cloak but half concealed. The hours crept on as the express whirled -over the rails; but Ida May paid no heed to time. - -But hunger at last began to tell upon her, and she eagerly hailed a -boy who passed through the train with a basket of sandwiches on his arm. - -She looked at the coins she still held loosely in her hand, and found -to her dismay that, with the exception of two pieces of silver, she -held a handful of gold dollars. - -"His pocket-pieces," she sobbed. "Oh, if I had known that, I would have -refused to take them; but--but I will work and earn money, and--and pay -him back double their value. Poor fellow--poor fellow!" and she laid -her face on the window-sill, sobbing as though her heart would break. - -Suddenly she heard a voice in the seat back of her say: - -"You seem very much distressed, poor girl. Is there any way in which I -can serve you?" - -The deep, musical voice was so kind, so humane, so sympathetic, that -Ida May turned around with a start to see who it was who had asked the -question. - -She saw directly back of her a fair, handsome young man who had -evidently just entered the car, and who was depositing his grip-sack -and umbrella in the rack above his head. - -At the first glance a faint shriek broke from her lips. She was just -about to cry out, "Royal Ainsley--great Heaven!--do we meet again?" -when she saw her error in time. Although bearing a certain resemblance -to the lover who had so cruelly betrayed her, a second glance told her -it was not him. - -It was a moment ere she recovered herself sufficiently to answer, then -she faltered, piteously: - -"I _am_ in sorrow, sir, so great that I do not think any young girl -but me could ever pass through it--and live." - -"I do not wish to pry into your private affairs," said the young man, -courteously, "but I wish to repeat, if you will tell me what troubles -you, and I can be of service to you, I shall be only too pleased. -Although a stranger, you will find me worthy of your confidence, my -poor child!" - -There was something about the handsome, kindly, blue-eyed young man -that caused Ida May's heart to go out to him at once. His was a face -that women always trusted, and no one had ever had cause to regret it. - -"I am going to New York in search of work," faltered the girl, clasping -her little hands closely together. - -"That is certainly reason enough to weep," he replied earnestly. "May I -ask if you have friends there to whom you are going until you can find -employment?" - -Ida May shook her head, her breast heaved, her white lips quivered, -while great tears welled up to the great dark eyes, so like purple -velvet pansies drowned in rain. - -"I have no friends--no one. I am all alone in the world, sir," she -sobbed. "My mother is dead--dead. I have just left her grave. She and -I were all in all to each other; now she is gone, and I--Oh, only the -angels know that no sorrow is so bleak, so pitiful, so awful, as to be -all alone in the world." - -"I can understand the situation perfectly," he answered in a low voice, -"and I can pity you. Although not quite alone in the world myself, I am -almost as badly off. But to return to yourself: I may be able to serve -you. What kind of employment were you intending to search for? In some -store, or dress-making or millinery establishment?" he queried. - -She looked blankly up into his fair, handsome, earnest face. - -"I do not know how to do anything of that kind," she answered, simply. -"I thought perhaps I might find employment in some telegraph office." - -"Why, yes, indeed. I wonder that that idea did not occur to me before. -A friend of mine is superintendent of a large branch of the Western -Union, up Broadway. I will give you a note to him, and I have no doubt -he will do all in his power to aid you, providing he has a vacancy." - -"Oh, thank you a thousand times, sir," cried Ida May, thankfully; "I -shall be so grateful--oh, so very grateful!" - -"Mind, it is not a certainty, you know," admonished the stranger -earnestly; "I can only write the letter. But that is not assuring you -of a situation--we can only hope for it." - -He tore out a leaf from his memorandum, and taking a gold pencil from -his vest pocket, hastily jotted down a few lines upon it. - -"I am sorry I am not going through to New York; otherwise I would take -you there myself," he said, courteously, as he folded up the note and -handed it to her. - -At that moment his station was reached. He had barely time to touch his -hat to her, gather up his parcels, and alight, ere the train moved out -again. The young man looked after it and the sweet, tearful young face -pressed against one of the windows until it was out of sight. - -"By all that is wonderful!" he ejaculated in a very troubled voice, "I -am almost positive that I forgot to sign my name to that note, and it -was written so badly on that jolting car, Ernscourt won't be able to -make it out or know whose writing it is. Poor little girl! I hope she -will find a position there. What a terrible thing it is to be young -and desolate in the great wicked city of New York! She is so young, -guileless and innocent, I hope no ill will befall her. I must remember -to look up my friend Ernscourt to learn if he gave her a position or -not. I declare, if it were not that I am betrothed to the sweetest girl -in all the world, I am afraid I should commit the desperate folly of -falling in love with that beautiful, dark-eyed little stranger. Now -that I think of it, it did not occur to me to even ask her name or -where she was from." - -His reverie was somewhat rudely interrupted by a hearty slap on the -shoulder and a hearty voice calling out gayly: - -"Why, Royal, how are you, old fellow? What, in the name of all that's -amazing, brings you to Yonkers?" - -"Why, Hal, is this you?" cried the other, in astonishment and delight. -"This is an additional pleasure, meeting my old college chum fully a -thousand miles from where I would never have imagined finding him. But -a word in your ear, my dear boy: It's two years since you and I parted -at college, old fellow, and a great deal has happened in that time. We -will walk up the street while I inform you." - -"With the greatest of pleasure, Royal," returned his companion. - -"Tut! tut! Don't call me Royal--Royal Ainsley. I'm that no longer, you -know--no, I suppose you don't know; but that's exactly what I want to -talk to you about." - -"I am too astonished for utterance," declared his friend. - -"Why, the explanation is certainly simple enough," declared the other, -with a good-natured, mellow little laugh; adding: "Why, you, my college -chum, knew what many another friend of mine does _not_ know, namely, -that there are two Royal Ainsleys, or, rather, there was up to the -present year. It's a bit of secret family history; but I am obliged to -take you into my confidence, in order that you may fully understand my -most peculiar position. Two brothers, who were almost enemies born, -married about the same time, and to each of the gentlemen--namely, my -uncle and my father, was born a son--my cousin and myself. - -"These gentlemen had an eccentric elder brother who had money to burn, -as the saying is, and what should each of these younger brothers do but -name their sons after the wealthy old Royal Ainsley, if you please, -each hoping that _his_ son would be the old uncle's heir. - -"A pretty mess these two belligerent gentlemen made of the affair, -I assure you. Two Royal Ainsleys, each resembling the other to an -unpleasantly startling degree, of almost the same age, being born -scarcely a week apart. - -"We were constantly getting into all manner of scrapes, a case of being -continually taken for the fellow that looks like me, as the song goes. -Each disputed with the other the right to bear the name, and neither -would put a handle to it or do anything to cause it to differ in any -way from the cognomen of the famous old uncle, who was certainly quite -as bewildered as any one else. - -"As we two lads grew older, I took to books, my cousin to sports -and the pretty faces of girls. When his folks died and he was left -to follow the bent of his own inclination, in spite of my earnest -admonition and my uncle's combined, he jumped the traces of home -restraint altogether, and started out to see life on his own hook. The -last I heard of him he was with some distant relative, clerking in a -New York importing house. - -"Now for _my_ side of the story. From the hour he defied uncle and -shook off his restraint, old Royal Ainsley's hatred of him grew so -bitter we dared not mention my wayward cousin, Royal Ainsley, in -his presence. My uncle actually forced me to change my name through -legislative enactment to make it legal. He insisted upon naming me -Eugene Mallard, declaring that my cousin would be sure to disgrace the -name of Royal Ainsley through the length and breadth of the land before -he stopped in his mad downward career. - -"Well, to make a long story short, my uncle sent me to Europe on -business for him, and his sudden death brought me hurriedly home -this week, to find that he has left me his entire fortune, with the -proviso that not one dollar shall ever go to my cousin, who, in all -probability, does not yet know of his sad plight. - -"Now, last but by no means least, on the steamer coming back from -London I met a beautiful young girl, Miss Hildegarde Cramer. It was a -case of love at first sight between us. You know I'm a very impulsive -fellow. I proposed, and she accepted me on the spot; but mind, she -knows me as Eugene Mallard, and so she shall know me to the end of her -sweet life, bless her. - -"Now you know the whole story. Mind, I'm not Royal Ainsley, but, -instead, Eugene Mallard, at your service. - -"Hildegarde is visiting in Yonkers, so I ran up to see my sweetheart. -Sounds like a romance or a comedy, doesn't it?" - -"I hope there will be no tinge of tragedy in it," laughed his friend, -thoughtlessly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -With a note of introduction to the superintendent clutched tightly -in her hand, Ida May reached New York City. She took barely time to -swallow a cup of coffee ere she hurried to the number indicated. Her -heart sunk within her as she looked up at the immense building; but -with a courage which should have met with a better reward, she took -the elevator, and soon found herself on the eighth floor, where the -superintendent's office was situated. - -"He is not in," an attendant told her. "He left the city two days ago, -and is not expected to return for a fortnight." - -Tears that she could not control sprung into Ida May's dark eyes. - -"Oh, what shall I do?" cried the girl; "I want to see him so much!" - -The attendant was moved to pity by her great distress. - -"If you are looking for a position, or anything of that kind, perhaps I -could suggest something." - -"Oh, yes, that is it, sir," exclaimed Ida May, looking up through her -tears--"that is my errand. I want to secure a position." - -"Then it is the manager, instead of the superintendent, you will have -to apply to. I think he is in his office. Step this way, please." - -He threw open a door to the right, and Ida May followed him into a -large room, in which were dozens of young girls bending over tables. - -The deafening click! click! click! of the telegraph instruments drowned -every sound. - -Some girls never raised their heads, as Ida May, following the -attendant, passed down the long aisle. Others, however, glanced at her, -at first casually, which deepened instantly into a gaze of curiosity -and intense interest, for they had never beheld a creature with such -superb beauty. Their hearts beat with envy. - -"The manager will be sure to engage her," they whispered. "Her pretty -face will be sure to be a passport to favor. There used to be a time -when it was 'How much do you know about the business?' but now it is -'What kind of a face have you? If it's a pretty and dashing one, I'll -engage you.' An old or a homely girl doesn't stand any show whatever -nowadays." - -All unconscious of these remarks, Ida May passed on. The attendant -threw open another door at the end of a large room, and she found -herself in a luxuriously furnished office. A young and exceedingly -handsome man sat at a desk writing. He glanced up angrily at the sound -of footsteps, and was about to make a sharp remark to the man, when he -caught sight of the beautiful young creature he was ushering into his -presence. - -"Ah, sit down," he said, blandly; "I will attend to you in one moment." - -The attendant had scarcely closed the door behind him ere the -manager--for such he proved to be--turned quickly about and faced the -young girl. - -"What can I do for you?" he said in his blandest voice. He had taken -in at first glance the wondrous beauty of the young girl. It was -certainly the most exquisite face he had ever beheld, and a strange -gleam leaped into his eyes. He told himself that, from her appearance, -she had certainly come in search of a position. Ida May looked up into -the dark, handsome face. Instinctively she shrunk from him, but could -not tell why. Very timidly she stated her errand, the color on her -face deepening, as she could not help but notice the ardent glance of -admiration he bent upon her, and there was something in the bold glance -of his eyes that made her feel extremely uncomfortable. - -In a falteringly voice Ida stated her errand, and what experience she -had had in her little village home. To her great delight and surprise, -he answered quickly: - -"I think I will be able to make a place for you. It would be a pity to -send away such a pretty girl as you are." - -Ida May drew back in alarm. She did not like the remark, nor the look -which accompanied it; but she dared not make an indignant reply. - -"Where are you stopping?" he asked in the next breath. - -"I have just reached the city, sir," she responded. "I came in search -of a position even before I found a place to stop." - -"It is well you did so," he responded quickly. "I know of a place that -I think will suit you. The lady has no other boarders. You would be -company for her. I would make this observation here and now: the girls -we have here are a talkative set. Pay no attention to their remarks." - -He wrote an address on a slip of paper, and handed it to the girl. - -"I am very grateful, sir, for the interest you have taken in me, a poor -girl," she said, tremulously. "Shall I report to-day for work, sir?" -she asked. "I should like to commence as soon as possible." - -"To-morrow will do," he answered. - -With a heart full of thanks, she left the office. - -Frank Garrick, the manager, looked after her with a smile that was not -pleasant to see. - -"I have run across many a little beauty in my time," he muttered, -gazing after her, "but surely never such an exquisite little beauty as -this one." - -The girls looked at one another, nodding grimly, when Ida May presented -herself for duty the next day. - -"Didn't I tell you how it would be?" sneered one of the girls. "Our -handsome manager, Mr. Garrick, was captivated by the girl's beauty, as -I knew he would be, and engaged her, although he refused to take on, -only the day before, three girls whom I knew to be actually starving." - -There was one girl who looked at Ida May with darkening eyes. - -She bent over her task; but though the hours passed, the terrible look -never left her face. - -"Nannie is jealous," more than one girl whispered to her neighbor. "You -see, she's head over heels in love with our manager. If he so much as -looks at any other girl that passes along, she sulks for a week. What -fun it would be to make her jealous. Oh, let's try, girls! Let's put up -a job on her. It would be such fun!" - -"Not for the new-comer!" laughed another girl. - -"Nannie would make it pretty hot for her here." - -Little dreaming of the tempest they were stirring up, the girls -thoughtlessly planned their little joke. Their shouts of laughter would -have been turned into tears of pity could they have beheld the harvest -of woe that was to spring from it. - -Nannie Rogers noticed that the beautiful new-comer was assigned to an -instrument at a table almost directly opposite the private office. This -inflamed the jealously of Nannie Rogers. - -She noted how he watched her from the window of his office all the next -day. - -More than one girl called Nannie Rogers' attention to this at noon-hour. - -"You will have to look to your laurels, Nan," more than one declared, -banteringly. "You will find this Ida May a rival, I fear." - -"Any girl had better be dead than attempt to be a rival of mine," she -answered. - -There came a time when the girls remembered that remark all too -forcibly. - -Ida May bent over her task, paying little attention to anything around -her. She was trying to forget her double sorrow, all that she had gone -through, and the death of her poor mother that had followed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -Ida May had found no difficulty whatever in securing board at the place -where Frank Garrick had suggested. - -Mrs. Cole, who owned the cottage, told Ida that she was a widow. - -"I have a little income that keeps me comfortable," she added; "but to -accommodate my friend, Mr. Garrick, I will take you in." - -"He is a friend of yours?" exclaimed the girl. - -"Yes; I used to be in the telegraph office before I married," she -responded. "In fact, my husband and Mr. Garrick were both paying -attention to me at the same time. To be candid, I liked Mr. Garrick -the better; but we had a little misunderstanding, and through pique -I married his rival. I lost sight of him after that until my husband -died. After I became a widow he called upon me several times." - -She gave the impression to Ida that she expected a proposal from her -old lover some time in the near future, but the girl paid little heed -to the blushing widow. Her thoughts were elsewhere. - -One evening, at the end of the second week, as Ida was hurrying -homeward, she was startled by a step behind her. - -"You seem to be in a hurry, Miss May," a voice said; and turning -quickly around, she beheld the handsome manager, Mr. Garrick. - -"I _am_ in a hurry!" she assented. "I am a little late now, and Mrs. -Cole does not like me to keep supper waiting." - -"Never mind what she likes," he returned, impatiently. "Let us take a -little walk, I have something to say to you, pretty one." - -There was something in his eyes, his voice, that somehow startled her. - -"Pardon me, but I do not care to walk," she said, simply, with the -haughty air of a young princess. - -"Don't put on airs," he said, harshly; "you are not very wise to try to -snub a manager who has the power to turn you out of your position at -any moment." - -Ida grew frightfully pale. - -"Come, let us take a little walk," he urged. "You're a very pretty -girl, and I like you." - -Ida May drew back with an exclamation of alarm. - -"I refuse to walk with you!" she said. - -"Don't make an enemy of me, Ida May!" he hissed between his teeth. - -"If such a trifle will make an enemy, I would rather make an enemy than -a friend of you!" she answered. - -"Are you mad, girl, to defy me like this?" he cried, setting his white -teeth together, his eyes fairly blazing. - -"I have no wish to defy you! I can not see why my refusing to walk with -you should offend you!" - -"Come, be reasonable," he urged; "let us have a little quiet talk. I -have called at your boarding-house half a dozen times since you have -been there, but that idiotic fool, who is half in love with me herself, -would not let me see you. I might have known how it would be: I'll look -for another boarding-place at once for you." - -The interest he took in her alarmed her. - -"I am very well satisfied where I am, Mr. Garrick," she answered, with -dignity. "I beg that you will not call upon me, for I do not care to -receive gentlemen callers." - -Again a rage that was terrible to see flashed into his eyes. - -"You _must_ see me!" he hissed. "It is not for you to be chooser. -Don't you see I have taken a fancy to you," he said, throwing off all -reserve. "You must be mine! I never really knew what love meant until I -saw you!" - -"Stop! Stop!" panted Ida May. "I will not listen to another word. You -must not talk to me of love!" - -"Yes, I loved you, Ida May, from the first time I saw you. There was -something about you which thrilled my heart and caused me to wish that -you should be mine, cost what it would!" - -"I will not listen to another word!" said Ida May. - -He laughed an insolent laugh that made the blood fairly boil in her -veins. - -"Come, we will go into this restaurant where we can talk at our -leisure." - -He had caught her by the arm. With a cry of terror the girl wrenched -herself free from his grasp and fairly flew down the street, and she -did not stop until she reached her boarding-house. - -"Why, dear me, Miss May, one would think you were flying from a -cyclone!" declared Mrs. Cole, who was just passing through the hall as -she came in. - -Gasping for breath, and scarcely able to keep from tears, Ida May told -her all, believing that the woman would sympathize with her. - -"Why, you are more of a prude than I thought you were," said Mrs. Cole. - -Ida May drew back with dilated eyes. - -"You, a woman, to tell me this! Why, I tell you he was insulting me!" -cried the girl, vehemently. - -Mrs. Cole laughed cynically. - -"Nonsense!" she declared. "You might do worse than accept his -attentions. He's over head and heels in love with you. I could have -told you that a week ago." - -"He is a bold, bad man!" cried Ida May. "And yet you would counsel me -to encourage him wouldn't you?" - -The elder woman shrugged her shoulders. - -"Any one could easily see that you are a country girl," she said, with -a harsh laugh that grated on the girl who listened with amazement. - -With this parting shot the woman turned on her heel and left Ida May -staring after her. - -To Ida's intense anxiety, her landlady was unusually cool at the -tea-table. She did not come up to Ida May's room that evening to chat, -but announced that she had a headache, needed quiet, and would stay -in her own room. Her presence during the long evenings had done much -toward making the girl forget her sorrow, and she felt her absence -keenly enough on this night when she had so much need of sympathy. - -Feeling too restless to commune with her own thoughts, she concluded to -read a book to fill in the time that hung so heavily on her hands. - -Ida May descended to the sitting-room, where, she remembered, she had -left the book on the table. She went down the carpeted stairs quietly, -passing Mrs. Cole's door with noiseless feet, that she might not -disturb her. - -As she stood before the door of the sitting-room, with her hand on the -knob, she was suddenly attracted by the sound of voices from within, -her own name falling distinctly upon her ears. She stood still with -astonishment, for the voice that uttered her name was that of Frank -Garrick. - -Her first impulse was to turn quickly away; but the words that she -heard him utter held her spell-bound. - -Mr. Garrick was talking to Mrs. Cole in a low, excited voice, and what -the girl heard filled her soul with wildest terror. - -For a moment she stood irresolute; then her decision was made. As soon -as the morning broke, she would leave that house. - -She flew back to her room, her mind in a whirl, her brain dizzy with -conflicting emotions. She sat down in a chair by the open window, -and leaned her hot, flushed face in the palms of her hands. She was -beginning to learn the lessons of the great, wicked world. How long she -sat there she never knew. - -She was planning about what she should do when the morrow came. Though -she starved on the street, she would not go back to the telegraph -office where Frank Garrick was; nor could she remain in the house that -now sheltered her, where the woman who pretended to be her friend and -counselor was deliberately plotting against her. - -She had purchased a dress, cloak, and hat out of the money she had -found in her pocket. This expenditure had reduced the little sum -considerably; but she had been obliged to present a respectable -appearance. - -Where should she look for work in the great big city? While she was -cogitating over the matter, Mrs. Cole appeared in the door-way with a -glass of lemonade in her hand. - -"I have brought you something very refreshing, Ida," she said. "It took -away _my_ headache, and it will make you enjoy a good night's sleep." - -"Thank you, but I do not care for the lemonade," returned the girl, -coldly. - -Her first impulse had been to spring to her feet, and inform her that -she had accidently overheard her conversation with Frank Garrick, and -upbraid her for it in the bitterest of words. Then the thought occurred -to her that discretion was the better part of valor--to say nothing, -and leave the house quietly in the morning. - -"But I insist upon your drinking the lemonade," declared the young -widow. - -Ida looked at her steadily, and something in the reproachful glance of -the girl's eyes made her wince. The hand that held the glass shook in -spite of her efforts at composure. - -"It will induce an excellent night's sleep, my dear," said Mrs. Cole, -smoothly. "Stir it up; you are letting all the sugar settle at the -bottom." - -"I do not care for it," repeated Ida, a trifle more haughtily. - -"But as it is for your good, you _must_ drink it!" repeated her -companion. "I shall not leave the room until you do so." - -At that moment Katie, the little maid of all work, entered the room -with towels. - -Passing near the back of her chair, she managed to whisper in her ear, -unobserved by Mrs. Cole: - -"Promise her to drink the lemonade if she will leave it on the table; -but don't touch a drop of it. I'll tell you why later." - -The remark was accompanied by a warning glance from the girl's eyes. -Laying down the towels, Katie retreated to the door; but the warning -look that she cast back at her aroused Ida May. - -"Set the glass down, and I will drink the lemonade later on," she said, -quietly. - -"Do you promise me that you will?" said Mrs. Cole, with unusual -interest. - -"Yes," said Ida, hesitatingly. "Put it down on the table." - -"I will come back in ten minutes," declared Mrs. Cole, "and if you have -not drunk it by that time--well, I'll make you, that's all," she added, -with a forced laugh, but meaning just what she said. - -Ida May sat down when she found herself alone, wondering in amazement -what Katie could have meant by her strange words. At that moment the -girl glided into the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -"Oh! do not touch it, my dear young lady!" cried Katie, rushing into -the room and seizing the lemonade with hands that were trembling. -"Listen, miss," she cried in an awful whisper. "They put something into -it--the lemonade is drugged!" - -Ida May looked at her with the utmost astonishment. She could scarcely -understand her words. - -"I saw them do it!" repeated the girl. "I heard him say, 'Put in -enough, and it will make her sleep soundly.' It was a white powder he -had brought with him," the maid went on, excitedly. "Oh, he makes such -a dupe of my poor mistress! He has hypnotized her so that she is afraid -to say that her soul is her own. I heard a great deal more that he -said, but I can not tell you now. All I can do is to warn you. Go away -from here as quickly as you can. They are enemies of yours, both of -them." - -The girl's words terrified Ida May. She recalled Frank Garrick's words -as he walked along the street beside her. - -"Take care! beware, girl! You had better not make an enemy of me! If -you do, you will rue the hour! For I can make it very unpleasant for -you. Ay, you will be sorry that you were ever born." - -She _had_ made an enemy of him, and now he was about to take some -terrible revenge upon her. She did not have time to exchange another -word with the maid, for she had fled from the room as quickly as she -had entered it, and she was left alone with her conflicting thoughts. - -The window was open, and she threw the contents of the glass out on the -pavement below. - -She had scarcely set it down, before Mrs. Cole glided into the room. - -"Ah! you have drunk the lemonade. That's right!" she added in a -triumphant tone. "But I won't sit down to talk to you to-night; you -look sleepy. I would advise you to retire at once." - -Ida looked at her steadily, remembering the startling words that Katie -had whispered in her ears. Was this a woman or a fiend incarnate? Ida -wondered. - -Her footsteps had scarcely died away ere Ida took down a long dark -cloak, and hurriedly donning it, together with her hat and veil, she -gathered her effects together, and thrusting them into a hand-bag, -stole silently as a shadow out into the darkened hall. As she passed -the sitting-room door she heard the sound of voices. - -Frank Garrick was still there. - -In the shadow of the vestibule door she saw Katie waiting for her. - -"Good-bye, and God bless you, Ida May!" she said, holding out her -rough, toil-worn little hand. - -"Good-bye, and thank you for the service you have rendered me," she -answered, with deep feeling. "If we ever meet again, perhaps it may be -in my power to repay you," added Ida, the tears standing out on her -long lashes. - -She little dreamed that the hour would come when she would be called -upon to remember that promise. - -Out of the house she stole, out into the darkness of the street. - -At last, when faint and almost falling down from exhaustion, she ran -directly into the arms of a blue coat who was leisurely passing a -corner. - -"Halloo there, my good girl!" he cried. "What are you doing out at this -hour of the night?" - -Trembling piteously, and all unnerved at this unexpected encounter, for -a moment the girl was speechless. - -"I am trying to find shelter until to-morrow morning, sir," she said. -"Then I shall look for work." - -But the officer would not parley with her. He grasped her by the arm, -and was forcing the sobbing girl along, when he was suddenly confronted -by a young man who was passing, and who had witnessed the affair. - -"Officer," he said, sternly, "this is an outrage. Why do you not let -that young girl go her way in peace? Why do you molest her?" - -"It's my duty to run in every girl who walks the street at night, -without a justifiable reason." - -"Let _me_ be responsible for this young woman," said the man. "I -believe what she told you to be true--that she wants to find a place to -stop until day-break, and then she will look for work." - -The officer recognized the young man at once. - -"If _you_ will vouch for her," he said, "why, she can go her way, -certainly." - -"I think I'm a tolerably good judge of character," returned the young -man, "and I see nothing in her face to mistrust. Take her to one of the -missions near at hand. She can certainly stay there till morning." - -The policeman made a low bow, and the young man passed on. - -"You have interested one of the richest young men in New York in your -behalf," said the policeman, after they had passed on. - -Ida did not ask the name of her benefactor, though she felt deeply -grateful for the kind service he had rendered her. - -The matron of the home for friendless girls received the young girl -with the kindliness that characterized her. - -She assigned her a little cot, and, wretched and footsore, Ida May -threw herself upon it and sobbed herself to sleep. - -The matron looked at her as she passed through the long dormitory on -her way to her room. - -"She has a sweet face!" she muttered, as she turned away; "but one on -which a tragedy is written." - -Ida May was sitting in the reception-room when the matron passed -through it the next morning, and she asked her if there was anything -she could do for her. - -"If you could only tell me, please, where I could find something to -do," she answered. "I must find work, or--starve!" - -"When do you wish to look for a situation?" asked the matron, noting -how wan and pale the girl looked. - -"This day, this very hour!" cried Ida May, eagerly. - -The matron hesitated. - -"I must first know what sort of employment you are seeking--what you -are best suited for." - -"I am suited for nothing," Ida answered, despondently. "But that -must not deter me. If one did only the work one was fitted for, -three-quarters of the world would be idle." - -"Would you take a situation as governess if one could be found for you?" - -She shook her head dejectedly. - -"I have not education enough," she replied. "I did not have much -opportunity of going to school when I was a little girl, and I am -suffering for it now." - -After a moment's pause the matron said, thoughtfully: - -"Would you like to try dress-making?" - -"That's another thing that I know nothing about," she said. "I was -never taught to mend or sew. I always got out of it. Mother did it for -me rather than scold me." - -"Perhaps you would take a position as lady's-maid." - -A gasp, a shiver passed over her. Quick as lightning there flashed -before her mind the humiliation of three or four maids who had -accompanied their mistresses to the Ocean Hotel, at Newport, and how -Lily Ryder and Hildegarde Cramer had turned up their noses at them -because they had pretty faces, and had dared to pin in a pretty ribbon -or two in the lace caps they were forced to wear on all occasions. - -"I am afraid I wouldn't be a success at that," she declared. - -"I don't suppose you would like to be a house-maid," suggested the -matron, looking at the small white hands that lay in the girl's -lap--the blue-veined hands that were never designed to scour kettles or -clean floors. "My dear child," said the matron, compassionately, "there -is little else in a great city to do." - -There was a pause--a pause broken presently by Ida May. - -"Don't you think that if I could get into one of those large stores, -I could try on cloaks and hats without requiring any great amount of -knowledge of any kind?" - -The matron looked doubtful. - -"It is not as easy as you may imagine, my dear, to obtain admission -into any of those large stores. They have any amount of girls on their -books who are waiting eagerly for positions--persons with whom they -are acquainted--and they would stand a better chance than a stranger. -Besides, I hardly think a situation in a place of that kind would be -suitable for one so young. We will look over the paper and read the -advertisements." - -She touched a bell, and told the attendant who answered it to bring in -the morning paper. - -"You can look over it, my child," said the matron. "I will return in -half an hour. By that time you will perhaps have found something that -will suit you." - -Left alone, Ida May commenced to look through the "Want" columns. - -All through sixteen columns of the paper the girl's eyes eagerly ran. -She did not find anything that she was competent to do, and tears of -vexation rolled down her cheeks. - -Suddenly her eyes rested upon an advertisement which she must have -missed in her hurried examination of the column. - -"Wanted.--A few more hands in a cotton-mill. No. -- Canal Street. -Applicants must apply between the hours of nine and ten, this A. M." - -Little dreaming of what was to come of it, Ida May concluded that this -was certainly the only position she could dare apply for. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -The matron entered presently, and Ida May showed her the advertisement -that had attracted her attention. - -"It might be as well to try that," said the matron, encouragingly. - -She looked after the girl as she went slowly down the steps, and shook -her head sadly. - -As usual, Ida May's lovely face attracted the envy of all the girls -in the mill. The foreman, as well as the clerks in the office, admired -her, and that was enough to make the girls detest her. - -Ida had secured lodgings in a boarding-house where a score of the girls -stopped. She shared her room with Emily Downs, a very quiet little -thing, who had been a general favorite with the girls up to this time. - -Matters were going from bad to worse in the mill. The girls gathered -together in little groups here and there, and looked darkly at Ida May. -Even those who were wont to say "good-night" or "good-morning" passed -her by without a word. - -The comments of the jealous girls became louder and deeper as another -fortnight dragged its slow lengths by. Whether Ida May heard or heeded -them, they did not care to know. The beautiful face grew whiter still, -and the large dark eyes became more pitiful in their pathetic terror. - -The girls gathered together one noon hour, and held a long and excited -conversation. - -Ida and Emily Downs were eating their luncheon at the further end of -the room, quite apart by themselves. Emily could see that something of -an unusual order was transpiring, by the girl's fierce gesticulations -and the angry glances that were cast upon her companion, who seemed -oblivious to it all. - -At length one of them called Emily to them. There was a whispered -conversation, and looking mechanically across the table at that moment, -Ida May saw Emily start back with a cry of horror. - -"They are talking about me," thought Ida, crushing back a sob. "They -want to turn the only friend I have from me." - -She finished her simple luncheon in silence. It was scarcely concluded -ere she noticed with wonder that the girls had formed a group and were -marching over in her direction in a body. There were fully fifty of -them, and Ida noticed with wonder that the face of every one of them -was white, set, and stern. - -"Ida May," said the ringleader, harshly, "we have something to say to -you!" - -"Yes," she answered, thinking that they had reconsidered the matter, -and were going to ask her to join them. - -For a moment the girl seemed at a loss to know what to say, but the -angry murmurs of her companions in the rear nerved her to her task. - -"After consultation, we have concluded that, as respectable girls, we -can not remain in the mills another day if you are allowed to work -here. You must leave at once, or we shall do so." - -For an instant Ida May was fairly dazed. She scarcely believed that she -had heard aright--surely her senses were playing her false. She sprung -to her feet, and confronted the girls, who stood, with angered faces, -looking at her. - -"Surely you can not mean what you say!" she gasped. "What have I done -that you should say this to me?" - -The ringleader looked at her with withering scorn. - -"We do not consider you a proper companion to mingle among us," -returned the girl, stolidly. "We all work for our living in this -cotton-mill, but if we _are_ poor we are _honest_. Is that plain enough -for you to understand? If not, I will add this"--and stepping up to -the trembling girl's side, she whispered a few sharp words in her -ear--words that made Ida May recoil as though they had been thrusts of -a knife that cut to her heart. - -With a piteous cry she sunk on her knees, covering her death-white face -with her trembling hands. - -"It remains with you to deny or affirm our accusation," went on the -girl, harshly "What have you to say to our charge, Ida May; is it true -or false?" - -There was no answer, save the heartrending sobs of the girl cowering -before them in such abject misery--surely the most pitiful a human -heart ever knew. - -"You see she _can not_ deny it," cried the ringleader, turning -triumphantly to her companions. "I assured you all that I was certain -before I advised this step. We may well look upon her with scorn; she -is not worthy to breathe the same air with us!" - -Ida May rose slowly to her feet. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -Half fainting with grief and pain, Ida May rushed out into the street. - -The sun was shining bright and warm, but it seemed to the girl that the -whole earth was dark and gloomy. - -Where should she go? Which way should she turn? She would not go back -to the little lodging-house for her few belongings; she never wanted to -see it again. Let them do what they would with her few belongings. The -few dollars that were hers, she happened to have in the pocket of her -dress. - -"Royal!" she murmured, "I can not go to you in this hour of my deepest -woe!" - -She drew her veil down over her face, and the passers-by did not see -the tears that rolled like rain down her white, despairing face. It -mattered little to her which way she went. - -Suddenly she heard the sound of a voice just ahead of her--a voice that -sent a thrill to her heart. - -"Heaven pity me!" she gasped; "it is Royal Ainsley!" - -He was bidding good-bye to a companion on the corner. - -The next moment he had boarded a street car. With a smothered cry, Ida -May sprung after him. She must see him, she must speak to him! - -The car was crowded. He was in the front of the car and she was at the -rear. There was no way of speaking to him. She must ride in the car as -far as he did, and when he alighted she must follow him. As she watched -him with strained eyes, she saw him greet a young and lovely girl. - -The sight made the blood turn cold in her veins: Light, airy, gay as of -yore he was, all unconscious of the misery he had brought to a human -heart. He had wrecked her life. How could he stand there smiling into -the face of another girl? - -Ida's heart swelled with bitter anguish. - -She saw the young girl alight from the car at the corner of a -fashionable street, and Royal Ainsley accompanied her. He took her arm -and bent lovingly over her. She was some rich man's daughter. Ida May, -who followed in their footsteps, was sure of that. - -They entered a handsome brown-stone house midway up the street. The -veiled, dark-robed little figure passed on, and stood at the end of the -street until he should reappear. Scores of pedestrians passed as the -hours rolled on. - -Up and down past the house she paced under cover of the darkness. As -she paced slowly to the other end of the street, a coach stopped before -the house she was so intently watching. - -Before she could reach a place where she could get a full view, Royal -Ainsley, with one or two others--she could not tell whether they were -men or women--ran lightly down the steps and entered the vehicle, which -rolled rapidly away. - -"I have missed him!" sobbed Ida May. "God help me!" - -On the morrow, Ida May was so ill that she could not leave the little -room to which she had come for temporary shelter. - -The woman who kept the place took a great interest in her. - -But every night, as soon as dusk had fallen, Ida May took up her lonely -vigil before the house Royal Ainsley had visited. - -In her anxiety she did not notice that she had been observed from -an upper window by the mistress of the mansion. One night she found -herself suddenly confronted by that lady. - -"What are you doing here?" she asked, grasping her by the shoulder. -"Speak at once!" - -For a moment Ida May was so taken aback that she could not utter a -sound. - -"Answer me at once, or I will have you arrested!" repeated the lady. - -Ida May hung down her head. - -"I must and will know!" cried the lady, pitilessly. "Are you watching -for the butler or any of the servants?" - -The young girl lifted her head as proudly as any young queen might have -done. She remembered those weeks at Newport, during which she had been -considered the equal of the wealthiest girl there. - -"No, madame!" she answered, sharply, "I was not waiting for any of your -servants to appear, but for one of your guests." - -The lady gave a little gasp; but in an instant she recovered herself. - -"A guest!" she repeated. "Of whom are you speaking?" - -"Mr. Royal Ainsley," replied Ida May, gasping the words out brokenly, -the tears falling like rain down her face. - -"Come inside," said the lady, drawing her hurriedly into the hall-way, -lest she should create a scene. "Now," she said, standing before the -girl with folded arms, "let me hear all about the matter. You must -speak the truth, or I will certainly force it from you." - -"It would illy become me to speak anything but the truth," responded -Ida May. "Royal Ainsley comes here to see some beautiful young girl who -lives in this house. But this must not be. He is mine--mine--by every -tie that binds man to woman!" - -"Surely he is not your--your--husband?" exclaimed the lady, excitedly. - -"He--he should have been," sobbed Ida May, in a quivering voice. "It -was all a mistake, a terrible mistake," she continued, wringing her -hands. - -The lady, who did not know her story, mistook her. - -When she told her she started back in wonder. - -Quick as thought she had decided upon her course of action. - -"I wish to make an appointment with you," she said, "to talk over this -matter. Can you come here to-morrow?" - -"No," said Ida May. "I shall be too busy. I have some work from one of -the stores, that will keep me engaged." - -"Perhaps I can assist you so that it will not be necessary for you to -work so hard. Still, if to-morrow is inconvenient, come in the evening." - -She was about to add, "I pity you;" but there was something in the -girl's face that forbid her pity. - -The lady watched her curiously until she was out of sight. Then, with -a sigh of relief, she walked slowly up the grand staircase to her -_boudoir_. - -A young and lovely girl was reclining on a couch, turning over the -leaves of a photograph album. - -"Well, did you find out what is the matter with the girl?" she asked. - -"Yes," said the elder woman. "And you would never guess what it was." - -"Pardon me; but I shall not even try," said the young girl, indolently, -"for the simple reason that it would be too much of an effort for me." - -"I will tell you," said the lady, drawing up a chair; "and I want you -to pay the strictest attention, Florence St. John." - -"The subject will not interest me, mamma," returned the young girl, -turning over the leaves. - -"But it _will_ interest you," returned the other, "when I tell you that -it concerns your new handsome lover." - -She was quite right. The album fell to the floor with a crash. - -"It appears," said Mrs. St. John, "that young Ainsley has got into some -kind of an intrigue with a poor but very pretty shop-girl. I think she -must be a shop-girl." - -"I shall write to him at once never to cross this threshold again!" -cried the young girl, indignantly. - -"You will do nothing of the kind," replied her mother. "Sit down and -listen to me. All young men are wild, and you must not take a man to -task for what he has done before he knew you. Shut your eyes to it, and -never bring it up to him. That's always safest. If he thinks you _do_ -know about his past life, he will be reckless, and think he doesn't -need to care." - -"About this girl, mamma--who is she?" she asked. - -"A very pretty young creature," was the reply. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -Faint and heart-sick, Ida May crept down the broad stone steps of the -elegant mansion, and wended her way back to her humble lodgings. Just -as she was about to touch the bell, a man ran hastily up the steps. - -"Well, well, I declare!" he exclaimed, "I am at the wrong house. But in -this confounded tenement row, one house is so like the other that one -can not help making a mistake now and then." - -With a gasp, Ida May reeled backward. At the very first word he had -uttered, Ida May had recognized Royal Ainsley. - -It was Frank Garrick, the manager of the telegraph office. - -The sentence had scarcely left his lips ere he recognized her. - -"Aha!" he cried, a fierce imprecation accompanying the words. "So it's -_you_, Ida May?" he added, catching her fiercely by the cloak. "So I -have found you at last!" - -She was too frightened to reply. - -"So this is where you are stopping, is it? Come, walk as far as the end -of the street with me. I want to talk to you." - -"No!" cried Ida May, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "I have -nothing to say to you, nor will I listen to you!" - -"We shall see about that presently," he cried. "Frank Garrick is not a -man to be balked in this way by a little girl. You _shall_ listen to -me!" - -Ida May reached out her hand quickly to touch the bell, but he -anticipated the movement, and caught her arm roughly. - -She tried to cry out, but no sound issued from her lips. - -She had already gone through more than her overstrained nerves could -bear. Without a cry or a moan, she sunk in a dead faint at his feet. - -Gathering her up in his arms, Frank Garrick sprung quickly down the -steps. For a moment he stood there with his helpless burden in his arms. - -"This is quite an unexpected go," he muttered, standing there undecided -for a moment. "I must leave her here a moment, that is certain, while I -run for a man's voice." - -He placed Ida on the the lower step, in a sitting position, and darted -down the street in the direction of a cab-stand. - -He did not see the open window of an adjoining house, because of the -closed blind which protected it, nor the crouching form of the woman -behind it, who had heard and witnessed all. - -Like a flash she caught up her hat, which was lying on an adjacent -table, and sprung out of the door. - -"I knew he would come to see her at last!" she said, fairly hissing -the words. "They have had a quarrel. That is why he has stayed away so -long. He has gone after a cab to take her elsewhere. But I will block -his little game!" cried Nannie Rogers--for it was she. "I shall take a -terrible revenge upon him by striking him through her." - -Taking a short cut to a nearer cab-stand, she hailed the first vehicle. -The man sprung down from his box. - -"Why, is that you, Nannie?" he cried, in unfeigned surprise. - -"Yes, Joe," she answered, quickly. "I want your cab for a while." - -In a few words she told him of a woman lying on the steps of the house -next to her--a woman whom she wished to befriend. - -"I want you to take her to a certain place. I will tell you about it -when we start. Come quickly and help me to get her into your cab." - -This was accomplished in less time than it takes to tell it. - -"Where to, Nannie?" asked the driver, as he picked up the reins. - -"Why in the world are you taking her there?" he exclaimed in dismay. - -"Make no comments," she replied, angrily: "but drive on as fast as you -can. I wouldn't take her there unless it was all right." - -"Oh, of course," returned the driver. "I am not saying but that you -know what you're doing. But she seems mighty quiet for that kind of a -person." - -They had scarcely turned the first corner ere Frank Garrick drove up in -a cab. - -"By thunder! she has vanished!" he exclaimed, excitedly, looking in -astonishment at the spot where he had left her a short time before. -"She must have fled into the house," he muttered. "Well, cabby, here's -your fee, anyhow. You may as well go back." - -For some moments Frank Garrick stood quite still and looked up at the -house. - -"Of all places in the world, who would have expected to find her -here--next door to Nannie. It's certain that Nannie does not know -of it. She could not keep it if she did. Well, this is a pretty -howdy-do--two rivals living next door to each other. Nannie is -expecting me to call on her this evening. If it were not for that, I -wouldn't show up at all, I'm so upset by that little beauty, Ida May." - -Very slowly he walked up the steps of the adjoining house and pulled -the bell. To his great surprise, he learned that Nannie was out. - -"She will be sure to be back presently," added the girl who answered -the bell. "Won't you come in and wait?" - -"No," he answered, glad of the excuse. "I'll run in some evening during -the week." - -With that he turned on his heel and walked rapidly away. - -Meanwhile, the carriage bearing Nannie Rogers and the still unconscious -Ida May rolled quickly onward, and stopped at length before a red-brick -building on the outskirts of the city. - -Ida May's swoon lasted so long that even Nannie grew frightened. - -"Wait," she said to the driver, "I will have to step in first and see -if they will receive her." - -After fully five minutes had elapsed, the door opened and a tall man -looked out. - -"It is I, doctor," said Nannie Rogers. "May I step inside? I want to -speak to you. I have a patient waiting outside the gate." - -"Dear me! is it really you? You come at rather a late hour. Still, you -know you are a priviliged person here." - -"I ought to be, since I have learned so many secrets about the place -and yourself," she said, "when I was nurse here." - -"Didn't I give you five hundred dollars to insure secrecy when you left -here?" - -"Well, I kept my promise. I never told anything, did I?" - -"Let me understand what you want," he said, abruptly. "Did I understand -you to say that there was a patient outside?" - -The girl nodded. - -"It does not matter who or what she is," she said, tersely. "It is the -desire of her friends that she be kept here for a few months. I suppose -you are anxious to know about the pay?" - -"Of course. That's where my interest comes in," he said. - -"Well, I will be responsible for it," she said. - -"You?" he said, amazedly. - -"Yes; why not?" she returned. - -He looked at her with something like doubt. - -"You dare not refuse to accept her!" she declared. - -"Do you mean that for a threat?" he exclaimed, fiercely. - -She shrugged her shoulders. - -"I can not be held accountable for the way in which you take my -assertion," she declared. - -The frown deepened on the man's face. - -"For convenience's sake, we will say that the girl is an opium-eater, -and that is why you are keeping her under such strict surveillance." - -The man muttered some strange, unintelligible remark. - -"I suppose the cabman will help me in with the girl?" he said, harshly. - -"Of course," replied Nannie Rogers, impatiently. - -The girl's figure was so light that "the doctor," as he termed himself, -found little difficulty in bringing her into the house without aid. - -Nannie Rogers stood in the hall-way, and followed him into the -reception room, where he laid the girl down upon a rude couch. She -watched him as he threw back her long dark veil, and cried out in -wonder at the marvelous beauty of the still white face--the face so -like chiseled marble. - -"How young and how very lovely!" he remarked; and as he spoke, he -unfolded the long dark cloak that enveloped her. - -A sharp exclamation broke from his lips, and he turned around suddenly. - -"Nannie Rogers!" he said. - -But the look of astonishment that he saw on her face was as great as -his own bore. Nannie Rogers' look of astonishment quickly gave way to -one of the most intense hatred; ay, a very demon of rage seemed to have -taken possession of her. - -"I wonder that you brought her here," said the doctor. - -But Nannie Rogers was speechless. She was gazing like one turned to -stone upon the face of the girl whom she believed to be her rival. - -"I have a double reason for hating her now," she said, under her -breath, clinching her hands so tightly that her nails cut deep into her -palms. But she did not even feel the pain. - -"I say, I wonder that you brought her here," repeated the doctor. - -"I knew of no better place," she replied, turning her eyes uneasily -away from him. "You must not refuse to receive her." - -"Who is she?" he asked. - -"I refuse to answer your question," she replied, grimly. "You know only -this about her: She is a confirmed opium-eater. One who is very much -interested in her brought her here to be treated by you. She is to be -kept here, under strict watch, to prevent her getting away. If she -writes any letters they are to be forwarded to me." - -And thus it happened that when Ida May opened her troubled eyes, after -the doctor and an attendant had worked over her for upward of an hour, -she found herself in a strange room, with strange faces bending over -her. She looked blankly up at them. - -"The waves are very high," she moaned. "Come back on the beach, girls," -she murmured. - -"She is out of her head," exclaimed the doctor, turning nervously to -his attendant. "I ought not to have taken this girl in," he continued, -in alarm. "I fear we shall have no end of trouble with her. This looks -like a long and lingering illness." - -"She is so young, and as fair as a flower," murmured the attendant, -bending over her. "I feel very sorry for her. If a fever should happen -to set in, do you think it would prove fatal to her?" she asked, -eagerly. - -"In nine cases out of ten--yes," he replied, brusquely. - -At the very hour that this conversation was taking place, Royal -Ainsley, the scape-grace, was ascending the brown-stone steps of the -St. John mansion. - -"I will take beautiful Florence and her stately mamma to the ball -to-night," he mused, under his breath. "Before we return, I will have -proposed to the haughty beauty. Trust me for that. They think I am -the heir of my uncle, wealthy old Royal Ainsley, who died recently, -and--curse him!--left all his wealth to my gentlemanly cousin, even -making him change his name to that of Eugene Mallard, that the outside -world might not confound it with mine. Yes, I will marry beautiful -Florence St. John, and live a life of luxury!" - -In that moment there rose before his mental vision the sweet sad face -of beautiful Ida May, the fair young girl whom he had wronged so -cruelly and then deserted so heartlessly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -The servant who answered the bell at that moment, put a stop to Royal -Ainsley's musings. - -He had only a few moments to wait in the drawing-room before Miss St. -John appeared. - -She looked so lovely in her beautiful ball-dress that his eyes glowed -and his heart beat. Before he had an opportunity to utter the words -that were on his lips, the young girl's mother entered the drawing-room. - -She was so gay and bright with him, that the mother wondered vaguely if -she had forgotten the story which she had told concerning him. - -The warning glance which she gave her daughter reminded her that she -must act decorously. - -The girl was very much in love, and it was easy enough for her to -forgive him for having had another sweetheart. - -He accompanied mother and daughter to the grand ball. He was so gay and -so brilliant and so witty, that he charmed the beautiful Miss St. John -more than ever, and he knew by her smiles that his efforts were not in -vain. - -Ainsley was the very poetry of motion. It was a dream of delight to -Florence St. John, as they made the round of the magnificent ball-room, -with his arms clasped about her, his handsome face so near her own. - -"Come into the conservatory, Florence," he whispered; "I have something -to tell you." - -How strange it was the scene and the occasion did not cause him to -remember that _other_ scene and that _other_ girl whom he had once -brought into the conservatory to listen to words of burning love! - -"Florence," he whispered, "I have something to tell you. Will you -listen to me?" - -"Yes," she said, her heart beating furiously, for, woman-like, she knew -what was coming. The lovely color on her cheeks deepened, the girl's -blue eyes grew luminous and tender. - -"Florence," he cried, "how shall I tell you what I have to say? Oh, -Florence, let me tell it quickly, lest my courage fail! I love you, -dear--love you as I have never loved any one in my life before!" - -Looking into the dark, handsome face of the young man before her, -Florence St. John saw that she was in the presence of a mighty -passion--a great love. - -In an instant he was kneeling by her side, his whole soul in his eyes -and on his lips. It was the very first time in his life that Royal -Ainsley's heart was ever stirred with love. - -If Florence St. John had even been poor, he would have cared for her. -He started in first by wanting the girl for her money; it ended by his -wanting her for herself. - -He caught the little hand in his that was carrying the beautiful -bouquet of roses he had sent her, and held it tightly. - -"Thank Heaven!" he said, "the time has come at last, my beautiful love, -for which I have waited so long. Surely you know what I have to tell -you, Florence!" he said, drawing back and looking at her. - -"I haven't the least idea," declared the girl, in whom the spirit of -coquetry was strong. "Really, I do not understand." - -"There needs be no understanding, my beautiful love!" he cried. "None! -I have come to tell you in words what I have already told you a hundred -times in a hundred different ways--I love you with all my heart! I love -you! I know no other words. There is none which can tell how dearly or -how much all my heart, my soul, my life goes out in those few words--I -love you!" - -His voice died away in a whisper. - -"I have a true and serious friendship for you, Mr. Ainsley," she -answered, coyly; "but I--I have never thought of such a thing as love -or marriage." - -"Will you think of it _now_?" he answered, eagerly. - -He loved her all the more for this sweet, womanly, modest hesitation. - -She arose from the seat near the fountain where he had placed her. - -"Well, let it rest in that way," she answered. "I'll refer the subject -to mamma; but you are not to say one word of love to me, nor speak to -her about the matter for at least two months." - -"Florence, you are cruel," he cried, "to keep me so long in suspense. -Tell me, at least, that if your mother favors my suit, I may hope that -you are not indifferent to me." - -But she would not answer him. Her heart beat high, the fever of love -throbbed in her veins; but, like all well-bred young girls, she had -been schooled by early training to make no sign of preference for -any man at his first avowal of affection. As he led her from the -conservatory, past the fountain, the fragrant water-lilies, past the -green palms and the flowering orchids, he gave a terrible start. - -In that moment there came to him the memory of Ida May. He was annoyed -by the very thought of her in that hour, and he quickly put it from him. - -When they returned to the ball-room, Florence was as sweet as ever; but -neither by word or by sign did she betray any rememberance of the scene -which had just occurred in the conservatory. - -He left Florence and her mother at the door of their home an hour -later, but he did not have the opportunity of holding the little white -hand in his for one moment, or of holding even a word of conversation -with her. - -"Well," said Mrs. St. John, when she and her daughter found themselves -alone for a moment, "I saw him take you to the conservatory. You were -gone a long time. Did he propose?" - -"Yes!" returned the girl, languidly. - -"Yes!" echoed Mrs. St. John. "Why, how can you take it so calmly, my -Florence? You accepted him, of course?" - -"No," returned the girl, calmly. "I said that I would like to have two -months to consider the matter before the subject was broached to you." - -"You are mad, Florence!" cried her mother. "A wealthy young man like -that is not captured every day." - -"We are not so poor, mamma, that I should make a god of wealth," said -the girl. - -"Oh, certainly not," said her mother; "but I have always been afraid -you would be sought after by some fortune-hunter." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -"I am sorry," said Mrs. St. John, after a moment's pause, "that you -have refused to consider his suit for at least two months. Eligible -young men are not so plentiful nowadays that a young girl can be so -independent." - -"I need not ask _you_ what your opinion of an eligible young man is," -said the young girl, throwing back her head haughtily, "for I know -you would answer--a large bank account. But in _my_ opinion that does -not constitute all, where the happiness of a life-time is at stake. I -would rather marry a man whose reputation was spotless, if he did not -have a second coat to his back. There is something more than money in -this world to make our happiness. I am _glad_ instead of sorry that I -refused to give him an answer for two months. I shall demand to know -who the young girl is who came to our door, and what she is to him." - -"Then you will be doing a very unwise thing," declared her mother, -emphatically. "Let well enough alone. I told the girl to call around -to-morrow night, and when she comes I will have a talk with her." - -"Will you permit me to be present at the interview, mamma?" - -"By no means!" exclaimed Mrs. St. John, with asperity. "The story that -no doubt will be unfolded to me is not for ears such as yours. I will -tell as much to you as I deem necessary for you to know; let that -suffice." - -But the young beauty and heiress was not to be appeased. She made up -her mind to see the girl at all hazards when she should come; but much -to the surprise of both mother and daughter, the girl did not put in an -appearance. - -That day passed, as did also the next and the next. A week went by and -lengthened into a fortnight, and still the girl came not. - -"You see, my dear, her statement was false!" cried Mrs. St. John, -triumphantly. "She feared that we would investigate her story, and -she was no doubt a fraud. If you believe all those strange stories -you hear, you will have enough to do. She was no doubt looking for -hush-money, and when I did not offer to give it to her, you see she did -not return." - -This seemed quite the truth, as Florence saw it. - -How wrong it had been to even suspect him! She made up her mind that if -he should broach the subject before the time she had named, she might -not refuse his pleading. - -She was expecting him that very evening. He came at last, looking so -handsome, so buoyant, that the girl's heart went out to him at once, -as the hearts of so many women had done. - -He brought her some beautiful violets, and he knew he had as good as -won her when he saw her fasten them in the bodice of her dress. - -Florence St. John was sitting in a velvet arm-chair but a short -distance away. Her beautiful face was softened, more so than he had -ever seen it before, the smile on her lips was sweeter--the proud, -half-defiant, flashing loveliness seemed all at once to grow gentle. - -He no longer seemed quite sure of her. It was Florence St. John's -silence that alarmed him, perhaps. - -"I wish," he cried, "that I knew in what words and in what fashion -other men make love." - -"Does not your own heart teach you?" asked the young girl, suddenly. - -His face flushed at the question. - -"Yes," he answered; "but I am not sure that the teachings are of the -right kind. You have not answered me, and it must be _my_ fault, either -because I have not expressed myself properly or that I have not made -myself understood. Florence, I want you--with my whole heart I ask -you--I want you to become my wife." - -"Am I the first person you have ever told this to?" she asked, slowly, -looking him in the face. - -Almost every girl he had ever made love to had asked him the same -question, and he was not abashed by it. - -The ever-ready answer was on his lips instantly. - -"How could you ever believe that I had spoken one word of love to any -one but yourself," he said, reproachfully. "No other face has ever had -the slightest attraction for me. The men of my race have but one love -in a life-time. I have never loved before I met you. I shall love you -until I die. Are you answered?" - -He looked straight into her face as he uttered the falsehood. - -There did sweep across his mind, as he uttered the falsehood, the -memory of Ida May; but he put it from him quickly. - -How strange it was that her memory should always haunt him, try hard as -he would to banish it! - -"You are quite sure that you never loved any girl but me?" she repeated. - -"_Quite_ sure," he responded. "To doubt me causes me great pain, -Florence." - -"Then forget that I asked the question," she said, sweetly, believing -in him implicitly. - -"And you will be mine?" he whispered, holding the little hand closer. - -"Yes," she answered, solemnly. - -He caught her in his arms in a transport of delight. - -"Thank you--thank you for those words, Ida!" he cried. - -"Did I understand you to call me _Ida_?" she asked in wonder. - -"No," he answered, boldly, cursing himself for the slip of the tongue. -"I was about to add: 'I do so thank you,' but you did not give me an -opportunity to finish the sentence." - -The falsehood was so adroitly told that she believed him. - -"I shall have to put a curb on my tongue, or Heaven knows what name I -shall be saying next." - -Should she tell him of the young girl who was at the door waiting to -see him? She remembered her mother's words the next moment, to say -nothing of the matter. - -"Now that you have been so good as to consent to marry me, we are to -consider ourselves engaged. The question is, when will you marry me? It -may as well be _soon_ as late." - -"Oh, I really don't know about that now," she declared. - -"Make me happy by saying that it will be as soon as possible," he urged. - -There was no denying anything he asked in that winsome voice. - -"I promise," she repeated, after another pause. - -He caught her in his arms and strained her to his bosom. - -"You have made me the happiest man in the whole wide world, Florence!" -he cried, rapturously. - -Suddenly his arms fell from her and he reeled backward, staring at the -window with widely dilated eyes. - -"What is the matter, Royal? Are you ill?" cried Florence, in the -greatest terror. - -"Some one passed along the porch just outside the window," he -panted--"a woman hurrying toward the vestibule door. She will ring the -bell in a moment!" he gasped. - -At that instant there was a heavy peal at the front door bell. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -"Florence," repeated Royal Ainsley, his face white as death, his teeth -chattering, "order the servants not to answer the bell!" - -But it was too late; the door had already swung back on its hinges. An -instant later the servant appeared with a card. - -"A gentleman, miss," he said. "I told him you were not at home, as you -requested." - -Florence St. John held the card in her white fingers. - -"You see, it was not a lady," she said, half amused at his agitation. - -He drew a breath of intense relief. - -"Pardon me, Florence," he said. "I--I--thought it was one of your girl -friends who was about to share your attention with me. I gave way to my -annoyance. Be kind, and forget it. Remember the old adage: 'One finds -much to pardon in a man who is in love.'" - -His explanation of the matter satisfied her. Very young girls are -never suspicious. The remembrance of that one evening always stood -out bright and clear in Florence St. John's life. She gave herself -up to happiness, and when Royal urged her to name an early day, she -laughingly consented. - -"All the ladies in our family have been married in April," she declared. - -"That is almost four months from now, my darling," he groaned. "Do not -ask me to wait so long. So much might take place within that time!" - -He was about to add "to part us," but stopped himself just in time. - -"A lady has to have a _trousseau_ prepared," she said, archly. "And -when you put yourself in the hands of these _modistes_, you are at -their mercy; they will not be hurried. Mamma, I am sure, would not -consent to an earlier marriage than that. I hope that I may persuade -her to do so." - -"You will allow me to persuade her differently, if I can?" he asked, -eagerly. - -"Yes, if you can," she answered. - -"I will try to settle it before I leave the house this very night," -he declared. "Ah, here comes your mother now! If you will make some -kind of an excuse to absent yourself from the room, my darling, for a -few moments, I will urge my suit so eloquently that she will find it -difficult to say 'no' to me." - -Mrs. St. John greeted the young man pleasantly as she entered. She was -too thoroughly a woman of the world to greet him effusively, knowing, -had she done so, it would be sure to make him too confident of success. - -Royal Ainsley laid himself out to please the mother as he had never -attempted to please an elderly woman before. - -"You asked me to play over a new piece of music for you when you -came. If you will please excuse me for a moment, I will get it," said -Florence, glancing up shyly at him with laughing eyes, as much as to -say, "I am going to give you a chance for the longed-for interview with -mamma"--a look which Royal Ainsley answered with a nod. Florence had -scarcely reached the upper landing ere Royal Ainsley left his seat, and -walked eagerly over to Mrs. St. John's side. - -"My dear lady," he began, dropping into a seat opposite her, "I want -to tell you a little story and hear your opinion about it." - -Mrs. St. John was wise enough to know what was coming, but she did not -betray more than the usual interest. - -"It is the story of a young man who wished to possess a treasure which -belonged to another. He yearned for it with all his soul. - -"My dear lady, not to beat further round the bush, let me say I am the -young man who wishes to possess the treasure which you hold as sacred. -That treasure is your beautiful daughter Florence, my dear lady. I love -her with all my heart. I want your consent to make her my wife." - -"Dear, dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. St. John, apparently greatly -frustrated. "I hope you have not spoken a word of this to the dear -child." - -"Yes, I have, and we have both determined to abide by your decision, as -to how long we shall have to wait, though we both hope you will set as -early a day as possible." - -"Remember that my Florence is only a school-girl yet," declared the -mother. "I could not think of parting from her yet." - -"Dear, dear lady!" cried Royal Ainsley, "do not doom me to such pitiful -suspense, I beg of you! There are some men who could wait with much -patience, but I am not one of them. I should have to go away and travel -incessantly." - -This was exactly what Mrs. St. John did not wish to happen. The gilded -youth before her was too good a catch in the matrimonial market to lose. - -Every mother is always glad to have her daughter make a good match. She -was no exception to the rule. - -And when she read in the paper, a few months later, of that uncle's -death, and that he had left his vast wealth to his nephew, Royal -Ainsley, she was determined that no effort should be spared to make him -fall in love with her daughter. - -He grew eloquent in his pleading. Ere ten minutes more had elapsed, he -had drawn from Mrs. St. John's lips the promise that the wedding should -take place in four months' time at the very latest. - -He made up his mind to accept this decision for the present, but he -would certainly depend upon his own eloquence and persuasive powers in -the near future to overcome her scruples and influence her to name an -earlier day. - -He left the house that night buoyant of spirits and gay of heart. It -was strange that in that hour he thought of Ida May. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -We must now return to Ida May, dear reader, and the thrilling -experiences the poor girl was passing through in the lonely stone house -on the river-road. - -Owing to the drug which was being constantly administered to her, from -the hour she crossed the threshold Ida knew little or nothing of what -was going on in the outside world. - -The days lengthened into weeks, and the weeks into months. - -Her remittances came regularly; still, the "doctor" of the sanitarium -was heartily sick of his bargain. He dared not refuse Nannie Rogers' -request to keep her there, for reasons which would put him behind the -prison bars had they reached the ears of the authorities. - -When he saw the girl grow whiter and more fragile with each passing -day, his alarm increased. - -In this horrible place Ida May wore out four long and weary months of -her young life. - -They had long since ceased giving her the drug. It was unnecessary now -to waste any more of it upon her. - -When Ida May's mind slowly cleared, and a realization of what was going -on about her came to her, she looked in the greatest astonishment at -the strange apartment and the grim-faced woman who was bringing food -to her. - -"Where am I, and who are you?" she asked. "Oh, I remember! I swooned on -the steps of the boarding-house. Did _he_ have me brought here?" - -"Yes," retorted the doctor's sister, thinking that the better way of -stopping all questioning. - -A bitter cry of horror rose to Ida May's lips. - -"Then I must go away from here at once!" she declared, attempting to -gain her feet. - -But she was so weak that she staggered and would have fallen had not -the woman sprung forward and saved her. - -"Don't go on in that way," said the woman, brusquely. "You are to -remain here until you are--well. It won't be over a fortnight longer. -You've been here some time." - -"But I _will not_ remain here!" exclaimed Ida May, excitedly. "I shall -leave at once!" - -The woman turned the key in the lock, coolly removed it, and slipping -it into her pocket, remarked: - -"This is a sanitarium. It is not for patients to say when they shall -leave here. _That_ is the doctor's business." - -"But tell me, why does any one wish to keep me here?" cried Ida May, -piteously. "No one in the whole world has any interest in me." - -"I am surprised to hear you say that," declared the woman, grimly, with -something very much like a sneer in her harsh voice. - -The words, the tone in which they were uttered, and the look which -accompanied them, cut the poor girl to the heart. - -"Let me tell you about the man who brought me here," cried Ida, -trembling like a leaf, believing it must certainly be her sworn enemy, -Frank Garrick, who had taken cruelly taken advantage of her to abduct -her when she swooned on the boarding-house stoop. - -"I have no time to listen to you," exclaimed the woman. "We are -strictly forbidden to talk to the patients or listen to their tales of -woe, which are always woven out of whole cloth." - -"You are a woman like myself," cried Ida May, sobbing bitterly. "Surely -you can not find it in your heart to turn a deaf ear to me, for pity's -sake, if for nothing else." - -But the woman was inexorable, and said: - -"I tell you, I don't want to hear what you have got to say--and I -_won't_, that's all about it. If you make any fuss, you will be put on -a diet of bread and water." - -"But answer me this one question," said Ida May, in terror. "What -reason has any one in keeping me here against my will?" - -The woman shrugged her shoulders. - -"There may be plenty of reasons," she retorted, sharply. "Perhaps you -are a wife that some man wants to be rid of. Then, again, perhaps you -are no wife--a better reason still for some young man wishing to get -you safely out of his path just now. A father or a brother may have -brought you here to save the family honor. I could go on with any -amount of practical reasons." - -"Have I not told you that I am all alone in the world?" panted the poor -girl, clinging to her with death-cold hands. - -"Yes; but I have good reason to think otherwise," replied the woman, -bluntly. "There's no use in your making a fuss," continued the woman, -harshly. "You may have to put in a long time beneath this roof." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -Long hours after the woman left the room, Ida May sat by the window -looking out into the darkness, and trying to fathom what seemed to her -the greatest kind of a mystery. - -Why should Frank Garrick take interest enough in her to have her -brought here and to pay money for having her retained here? What -interest could he have in her? - -He had vowed a terrible vengeance upon her when she repulsed his offer -of love. But why should his vengeance have taken this form? What -benefit could it be to him to shut her in from the world? - -As Ida sat there in the waning light, her eyes fell upon a piece of -newspaper in the open fire-place. - -"I will wrap up my few belongings in that," she muttered, "and then set -about making my way out of this place." - -As she smoothed out the half sheet, a few lines midway down one of the -columns held her spell-bound as they caught her eye. - -For a moment she stared at the words. They seemed to fairly turn the -heart in her bosom to stone, for they read as follows: - - "The engagement is announced of Miss Florence St. John, of No. --, - Fifth Avenue, daughter of Mrs. J. St. John, to Mr. Royal Ainsley, of - New York. The wedding will take place at Peekskill, on the Hudson, a - month from date." - -As she read it, the room seemed to whirl around her. With a cry so -piteous that it seemed it must reach God's ear, the poor girl sunk on -her knees. - -Her husband about to marry another! - -No matter what the world might say, she had married him in good faith. -He was hers; he belonged to her before Heaven and all the world. - -She wrung her hands wildly. - -"The marriage must not take place! I must save the man I love from -himself and the anger of the watching angels!" she cried. - -She prayed wildly that she might not be too late. - -Her hat and cloak were hanging on a peg near the door. She took them -down, and her hands trembled so that she could hardly put them on. Her -knees trembled, and she felt faint. But she summoned all her strength, -and reached the door and turned the knob. But it was locked on the -outside. - -Her weak hands were powerless to force the door. She crept back to the -window and threw open the sash. All that she could behold was a dense -mass of trees. - -A sturdy oak grew close to the window, its great branches spread out -invitingly before her. It was a desperate chance to take in order to -reach the ground, which was fully thirty feet below. - -Would her strength give way? Dare she take the terrible risk? - -"I must! I must!" she cried. "Heaven will protect me!" - -Without stopping to debate the matter further, lest she should lose -courage, the poor girl climbed with difficulty out on the broad sill -and grasped one of the boughs. - -Would it bear her weight? - -The great bough creaked with its unaccustomed weight, slight as it was, -then shot downward. - -In the old days at home Ida May had been accustomed to climb trees and -to swing about in their branches. She realized that when the bough bent -its entire length earthward she must let go her hold, or it would carry -her quickly up again. She let go her hold when she felt that the bough -of the tree had bent to its utmost. Quickly she fell downward, and Ida -May, stunned and helpless for a moment, found herself lying in the long -green grass. - -She had scarcely fallen three feet, yet the shock had stunned her. - -She knew that she must be on some country road. Afar in the distance -she could distinctly see rows of glimmering lights. Those she knew must -be the lights of the city. She must reach it and find the house on -Fifth Avenue before she dared give herself a moment's rest. - -She reached the outskirts of the city at last, and crept on toward its -great throbbing heart. - -Like one in a dream, Ida May saw a tall, thin woman and a young girl, -who appeared to be her maid, step from a carriage. - -She tried to get out of their way, but if her very life had depended -upon it, she could not have done so. The tall woman and Ida May jostled -against each other. - -With a sharp exclamation of anger, the lady turned upon her. But at -that moment Ida reeled, and, with a piteous moan, fell senseless at her -feet. - -"Well, well! here's a pretty howdy-do!" exclaimed the tall, angular -woman. "Here, John!" she called to the footman, who was just shutting -the door of the vehicle, "pick up this poor creature, and carry her -into the house. It appears I have knocked her down. I hope no bones are -broken." - -The house into which Ida May was carried was a very small cottage, -occupied by a poor laborer and his wife, who were the parents of a -little one who was ill but was slowly convalescing. - -The wealthy spinster and her maid often called to bring some fruit or -medicine to the child. - -Miss Fernly was not fair to look upon, but she had a heart of gold. She -was quite eccentric; but her purse was always open to the wants of the -needy. - -"Leave the room instantly," she said to her maid. "Run out and tell the -coachman to go for the nearest doctor, and to fetch him back with him -at once!" - -It seemed an age until the doctor arrived. Everything in human power -was done to render the sufferer comfortable. - -It was early morn when the doctor departed--and there had come into -this great world of sorrow a dark-eyed little stranger--a tiny little -one, with a lovely face like its mother's. - -"Will it live?" cried the young mother, as she listened breathlessly to -its faint little wails. - -"I am afraid not," replied the doctor pityingly. "We can only hope." - -"Oh, if it would only die--only die!" sobbed the girl's mother. "The -world is so cold and so dark!" - -Miss Fernly drew back, shocked and pained. - -"You must not wish for anything like that to happen," she said, "for -God might take you at your word." - -For ten long and weary days the hapless young mother lay with her face -to the wall, crying out to Heaven to take her and her baby from this -cruel world. - -In great fear, the doctor had taken charge of the little one, and -conveyed it to a near-by foundling asylum. Its presence seemed to -irritate the hapless young mother, who was already in a high fever. - -Miss Fernly called every day at the cottage, to see how her latest -charge was progressing. - -She had taken a strange interest in the girl whose identity seemed -shrouded in such profound mystery. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -The beautiful girl lying so ill under Miss Fernly's care grew steadily -worse. Her constant cry for the little one was most pitiful to hear. - -"How are we to let her know that it is slowly fading away?" said the -woman to the doctor. - -"We will not let her know until the last moment; it would do her no -good, and be only a setback for her," he responded. - -Miss Fernly pitied the young mother from the very depths of her heart. -It made this spinster more than ever enraged at men. She had tried to -gain the girl's confidence. But it had all been in vain. Ida would lie -for hours, looking out of the window at the fleecy clouds, muttering -piteously: - -"It must have taken place by this time! Oh! I am too late, too late!" - -At last Miss Fernly's curiosity got the better of her. - -"Will you tell me what you mean by those words, my dear?" she asked, -one day. "Perhaps I can help you in some way." - -"No," returned Ida May, wearily. "It would be useless, useless." - -Miss Fernly took the little white hand in her own and pressed it gently. - -"Do not say that, my dear, and in that tone; it is not right. Heaven is -always kind enough to send a friend to those who are in need of help." - -"You are right," said the girl, quickly. "In my life I have been used -to cruelty and unkindness. I--I--" - -She stopped for a moment, and something like a flush crossed her pale -cheeks; then she burst into tears. - -"I will tell you my story, my good lady," she sobbed; "for the weight -of it is eating my soul away." - -With her throbbing little hands still held tightly in Miss Fernly's, -she sobbed wretchedly: - -"Surely it is the cruelest story that ever a young girl had to tell. I -might have led a happy life if I had not been foolish enough to want -to be a fine lady. I had often read of such things happening, and oh! -I believed it. Cinderella was changed from a kitchen-maid to a fairy -princess, and oh! how happy she was, if but for a brief hour. - -"It seemed to me that an opportunity always came for those who watched -for it. One came to me. A wealthy family took me with them to Newport -for the summer, and there I met a young man fair of face, handsome -as a dream. I had never before seen any one like him. You will not -wonder that my heart went out to him. I had known him but a few short -weeks ere he asked me to marry him, counseling a secret marriage, and -I--I consented. It was not a regular minister who married us, but -a--a--mayor, or somebody like that. - -"My husband brought me to the city. We had barely reached here, after -an all-night's journey, when I learned to my horror that he believed me -to be the heiress of the wealthy people with whom I had been stopping. -When I told him I was not, what a change there came over him! With a -face as white as it would ever be in death, he drew back and looked at -me. - -"'Not an heiress?' he cried. 'Great heavens! what an eternal fool I -have made of myself!' - -"He left my presence quickly, telling me that it was all a -mistake--that the man who had married us had not the power to do so; -that it was just as well, perhaps, for he never could wed a poor girl. - -"He advised me to go home and forget him, adding insult to injury by -concluding with the cruel words; 'Such a little incident in the life of -a working-girl will not amount to anything.'" - -"The scoundrel of a man!" cried Miss Fernly, in intense indignation. "I -wonder that a righteous God lets such men live!" - -She found herself intensely interested in the story of this beautiful -young girl, whose innocent face she could not help but trust from the -first moment that she beheld it. - -At first it had occurred to Miss Fernly to ask the name of the rascal, -her husband; then she told herself that in all probability it was a -false one, and that he could not be traced by it. - -"I will think the matter over," said Miss Fernly, "and conclude what -action you should take. For your child's sake, you can not allow this -man to go free. You would be committing a crime against society at -large." - -Just at that moment the doctor entered the room. He motioned Miss -Fernly to one side. By some strange intuition, Ida May guessed the -import of his visit. - -"My--my little one!" she cried, inquiringly--"tell me of her! How is -she?" - -For a moment the doctor was silent. - -"I may as well tell the truth now as tell it at some future time," he -thought, pityingly. - -"Tell me what news do you bring of my little child?" cried Ida. - -He crossed over to where the hapless young girl sat, and bent over her -pityingly. - -"The little one is dead!" he said in a low, hushed voice. - -It was dying when he left the foundling asylum. As he gazed upon it, -he said to himself that it would be but a question of a few short -hours. He turned away from it, leaving it in the care of the good -nurses, that he might go and gently break the sad news to the young -mother. - -While Miss Fernly and the hapless young mother were discussing the -flowers they would plant over baby's grave, the nurses, with bated -breath, were standing around the little cot. Another physician sat by -the cot, holding the waxen wrist. - -"Quick! hand me the cordial!" he cried. "I may be able to save this -little life!" - -A small vial was hurriedly handed to him. He poured a few drops between -the white lips, and sat down again, patiently awaiting the result. - -"If the infant lives five minutes, it will be able to pull through," he -observed, quietly. - -They watched the great clock on the opposite wall, whose pendulum swung -noiselessly to and fro. One minute, two; there was no change. A third; -the doctor bent his ear to listen for the feeble breathing, holding a -mirror close to the child's lips. There was moisture upon it as he drew -it away. Another moment, the crucial moment, was reached. - -"See! it is dying!" whispered one of the nurses, touching the doctor's -arm. - -A half minute more, and then another half minute passed by. - -"The baby will live!" exclaimed the doctor, rising to his feet. "Yes, -the baby will live," repeated the doctor. "It has had a hard time of -it, I see, but it has conquered death. - -"It is so strange," he mused, "whom nobody wants or seems to care for -clings to life most tenaciously, as though it were worth having. - -"A few hours since I was at the home of one of the wealthiest families -in the city. That young mother's babe died, though I did everything -in human power to save it. The father caught me by the arm when I was -first called there, and said: - -"'Doctor, save that little child upstairs, and it will be the making of -your fortune. You shall name your own price. Stay right here, by night -and by day, until it is out of danger, and anything you may ask for -shall be yours.' - -"He led me through the marble hall and past gilded drawing-rooms and -spacious parlors to the chamber above where mother and child lay. It -was a plump little mite, with everything to live for. I thought my task -would be an easy one; but you have heard the old saying: 'Man proposes, -but God disposes.' - -"Well it was so in this case. It had only the measles--a disease which -every little one has at some time during infancy. No wonder I felt no -alarm. - -"Although I did my best, it began to fail. I summoned all the experts -in the city, bringing together men who were older and wiser than -myself, to discover what could possibly be the reason why my skill had -failed me in this instance. - -"There was nothing which science could suggest that we did not do. But -it seemed that fate was against us. The child literally faded before -our very eyes, and passed away. - -"This one had no such chance of life as the other had, yet it has -passed through an illness so dangerous that not one in a thousand ever -live through. I predict that it will have an uncommon future," he -added, thoughtfully. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -For long hours after the doctor had left Ida May, she wept so bitterly -over the fate of her little child that Miss Fernly grew alarmed. - -"Crying will not bring the baby back," she said. "The Almighty knew -best whether He wanted it to live or die. You must not rail against the -judgment of God!" - -She felt that she must draw her mind into another channel. - -"Say that you will be more composed when I see you again," she replied, -earnestly, "though it may not be for some days." - -"I will try," murmured Ida May, with a sigh. "Will it be long before I -see you?" she added, wistfully. - -"I am going to my niece's wedding," answered Miss Fernly. "I may remain -a few days after at the house." - -Ida May drew a long, deep sob. - -"How strange the word 'marriage' sounds to me now," she moaned. "When I -hear of a young girl's marriage nowadays, I earnestly pray Heaven that -her husband may not deceive her!" - -"I am sure that there need be nothing to fear in _this_ instance," said -Miss Fernly. "My niece sent me her _fiancé's_ picture this morning. He -seems to be a noble young fellow. By the way, I will show it to you," -she added, still believing that the one thing needful was to divert the -girl's mind. - -Thoughtless as to what would accrue from her action, Miss Fernly drew a -small case from her pocket and touched the spring. - -The lid flew back, disclosing a magnificent affair in ivory--the -portrait of a young and handsome man. - -"He has an honest look in his eyes, and a fair, open countenance," said -Miss Fernly. "It was painted three years ago." - -As she uttered the words, she handed the portrait to Ida May. - -One glance, then a cry of the wildest horror broke from the girl's -white, terrified lips. - -"God have mercy!" she gasped, "it is he!" - -Miss Fernly sprung to her feet, quite as white and terrified as Ida. - -"You--you do not mean to say that this is the man who wrought all your -woe?" she cried, in horror too great for words. - -"Yes!" cried Ida May, springing to her feet, and crying out: "I swear -to you that this is Royal Ainsley, the man whom I wedded, and who -deserted me! This is the father of my little dead babe!" - -The expression upon Miss Fernly's face was horrible to see. - -She rose in awful wrath and struck her hands sharply together as she -turned and faced the girl. - -"It was fate that sent you across my path," she exclaimed, hoarsely. -"But for this timely intervention my innocent niece would have wedded -that villain on the morrow. But I thank Heaven that I am now able to -prevent it, and to avenge you as well, my poor child. Ah!" she cried, -as a sudden thought flashed through her mind, "an idea has come to -me, by which I can not only wreak my vengeance upon him, but mete out -justice to you as well." - -"Oh, no, no; do not do anything to harm him!" cried Ida May, in terror. -"Cruel as he has been to me, I love him still, and I shall always love -him!" - -"What I intend to do will not harm him. I repeat that it will right -your wrong," she added, grimly. "There shall be a wedding to-morrow, -my poor, unfortunate girl. But listen to me well, and heed what I -say--_you_ shall be this man's bride to-morrow, instead of my niece. -Leave everything to me." - -She gathered up her wrap and gloves and put them on. - -"I shall have a great deal to do between now and nightfall. But this I -say to you, Ida May: Be ready to go with me when I shall come for you. -It may be to-night, perhaps to-morrow night. Ask me no questions now, -but trust in me implicitly. Since the hour I came across you in your -misfortune, you have found me a good friend to you, Ida May, have you -not?" - -"Yes," sobbed Ida May, wretchedly. "I--I--would have perished in the -street but for you, noble lady. I respect and have all confidence in -you." - -"Then by that confidence do as I bid you," repeated Miss Fernly. "I -will send some clothing for you to wear. Wrap about you the long, dark -cloak you wore in coming here, and be in readiness." - -With these words, Miss Fernly fairly flew from the cottage. - -Ida May sunk back in her chair, pale and excited. - -"Why should the announcement that he is to be married to-morrow have -shocked me?" she moaned. "I had every reason to expect that would occur -any day after I read it myself in the paper." - -She did not sob or cry out. It seemed to Ida that the very heart within -her was crushed. She had borne so much that it appeared there was -nothing more left for her to endure. - -Miss Fernly was thankful beyond words that she had not brought her maid -with her on her last visit. - -In all possible haste she hurried to the magnificent home of her sister -on Riverside Drive. - -Although living in the same city, the married sister saw very little of -Miss Fernly, the latter devoted so much of her time to charity. She had -not been to the house but once since Mrs. Cramer had written to her of -her daughter Hildegarde, and that she was soon to be married. - -Hildegarde was delighted when she looked out and saw her aunt drive up. - -"What a surprise, dear aunt!" she cried, throwing her white arms about -her. "Mamma and I were just speaking of you. I was almost afraid that -you had forgotten the date set for the wedding. And just to think you -have never met my intended, and he so anxious to see the darling aunt -I have always been talking of! I want you to see him, he is so lovely. -But what did you think of the picture?" rattled on Hildegarde, in her -gay, girlish fashion, without giving the other a chance to answer. - -"You are very, very much in love with him?" asked Miss Fernly, -anxiously. - -"Why shouldn't I be?" cried the girl, blushing as red as a rose, and -hiding her peachy face against her aunt's broad shoulder. "No girl -ever had a more devoted lover." - -"Yes, it is plainly to be seen that you do love him," said Miss Fernly, -sternly. - -"I do not know what to tell you about him, auntie, except that he is -the dearest fellow in all the world, and just adores me; at least, that -is what he tells me," said Hildegarde. - -"Humph!" ejaculated Miss Fernly. - -"I would rather you would see him for yourself, then you could form -your own opinion. He will be here this evening. I am sure you will like -him." - -"At what time do you expect him!" asked Miss Fernly, with unusual -interest. - -"Let me answer you in the words of the song," said Hildegarde, laughing -lightly. - - "'Somebody's coming when the dew-drops fall.'" - -"Do not be silly, Hildegarde," said her aunt, sharply. - -"I asked you what time this young man is to call here this evening." - -"It is generally half past seven when he arrives," said Miss Cramer, -smiling mischievously. - -"Very well," said Miss Fernly. "When he calls, I will go down into the -parlor and interview him." - -"I'm sure he would be most delighted," returned the young girl, -demurely. - -"That's neither here nor there," returned Miss Fernly. "I do not care -whether he likes me or not." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -Miss Fernly had made her resolution. She would interview this man when -he came. She would foil him, this fiend in human form, who would wed -one young and lovely girl after bringing sorrow to another. - -When Miss Fernly made up her mind to a course, nothing could change it. - -"What I am about to do is for Hildegarde's good," she told herself -grimly. "There will be a few tears at first, but the time will come -when she will thank me with all her heart for saving her from such a -consummate rascal. The woman of our race have never forgiven men who -have deceived other women. Hildegarde should not be an exception to the -rule. She is young now, but when she comes to know more about life she -will thank me for saving her." - -"Now," said her aunt, aloud, depositing herself in the nearest chair, -and deliberately removing her hat and mantle, "tell me about this -sweetheart of yours." - -Hildegarde came over to the hassock and flung herself down upon it and -looked up with laughing eyes into her aunt's face. - -"I sent you his picture," she said, "because you did not seem inclined -to come here to meet him, auntie, so that you could see for yourself -just how he looks. But it does not do him justice," went on Hildegarde, -clasping her hands. "That portrait does not tell you how good and noble -he is, and how much he thinks of me!" - -An expression that was almost divine came over the face of Hildegarde -Cramer as she uttered the words in a low, sweet voice. - -"Tell me about him," again urged her aunt, anxious to fathom just how -deep was the love the girl bore him. - -Should she confide in Hildegarde the story of Ida May, Miss Fernly knew -that the present state of affairs must end. - -There were girls who would turn in horror from a man who had done -as cruel a deed as that which was laid at the door of the man whom -Hildegarde was about to marry. But might not Hildegarde cling to him -despite all? - -"He is all that is noble," continued Hildegarde, dreamily. - -"What if he should cease to love you?" said her aunt. - -Hildegarde started; a quiver of pain passed over the lovely face. - -"Cease to love me!" she repeated. "Ah! do you know what would happen to -me, auntie, if that were to occur? I should die, that is all. When all -was gone that made life worth living, how could I live?" - -"It is not easy to die," said Miss Fernly, huskily. - -"It would be easy for me," declared Hildegarde. - -"One can not live without a heart, and I have given mine to my love." - -She continued to talk of her lover in a sweet, girlish fashion; but -Miss Fernly scarcely heard a word she said, she was so engrossed in her -own thoughts and plans. - -"You would be so glad if you knew just how perfectly happy I am, -auntie," she went on, in a half-dreamy fashion. "Why, it doesn't seem -the same world to me. He came into my life as the sun breaks upon the -flowers, suddenly, swiftly, and all at once my life became complete. I -met him on board the steamer. I shall never forget how it came about. -I had just come upon deck, and was about to walk to the railing, when -the ship suddenly gave a lurch and I fell forward. I would have fallen -to the deck had not a young man who was standing near-by sprung quickly -forward and caught me. That was the beginning of our acquaintance. My -mother, who had followed me on deck, thanked him warmly. Love came to -me swiftly. At the first glance, when our eyes met, I knew that I had -met the only one in the world that I could ever love. I loved him then -with all my heart." - -"Such a sudden love could not be a happy one; it could not end happily." - -The girl smiled. - -"In most instances that is the case," replied Hildegarde. "But in -mine--mine--ah, Heaven is to be thanked--mine is to be a happy love, -and will have a happy ending!" - -Ah, if she had but known, if she had but guessed the thoughts that -filled Miss Fernly's heart, she might have died then and there. - -The sun set, and the dusk crept into the room; but it was a subject -that Hildegarde loved, and she could have talked on forever about her -lover. - -"Mamma is quite late in returning," she said, at length. "She may not -even come home to dinner." - -This proved to be the case. Hildegarde and her aunt dined alone. She -could not help but notice how her niece watched the clock with the -brightest of eyes, the color deepening on her cheeks. - -"I shall want to talk with this lover of yours alone," said Miss -Fernly, a trifle hoarsely. - -"Will you want to talk to him long, auntie?" asked her niece, wistfully. - -"Yes, an hour, or perhaps two. I ordered my carriage at seven; it will -be here as soon as he arrives. He will drive home with me, and can talk -with me in the carriage." - -Hildegarde was a little surprised at this announcement, but it did not -occur to her to offer any objection. - -"Ah, here he comes _now_!" cried Hildegarde, blushing furiously, all in -a flutter of delight. - -In a moment it seemed to her that her aunt had donned her hat and -mantle. She was at the door as soon as the servant, dragging Hildegarde -by the arm. - -Eugene Mallard was surprised to see Hildegarde coming to the door to -meet him. Then his eyes fell upon the tall, austere woman in the rear. - -He felt intuitively that this must be the aunt of whom Hildegarde -was always speaking. Even before he heard the hurried words of -introduction, the young man held out his hand with a cordial smile. - -"I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Fernly," he said. "I have heard -Hildegarde speak of you so much that I feel as if I really knew and -loved you already." - -Was it only his fancy, or was the greeting of Hildegarde's aunt a -trifle chilly? - -"You are to accompany my aunt to her home," said his _fiancée_; adding, -with a little twinkle in her eye: "Auntie has something to say to you." - -For a moment he looked crestfallen; then he added, gallantly: - -"I shall be most pleased. Pray command me, Miss Fernly." - -Another moment, and they were seated in the carriage. He began to talk -brightly to his companion; but to his great surprise, she answered him -only in monosyllables. - -"I am very much afraid she does not like me," he thought, with some -consternation, and he redoubled his efforts to be agreeable. Any one -who was related in any way to his darling Hildegarde was dear to him. -He was always liked by women; he hoped from the depths of his heart -that this lady would not form an aversion to him. But somehow he felt a -cold, uncomfortable chill creeping over his heart. Was it a premonition -of the evil that was so soon to come? - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - -Although Eugene Mallard tried his best to entertain Hildegarde's aunt -as they rode along, it seemed to him an almost impossible undertaking. -She stared at him too intently that he wondered what she was thinking -of. He thought it might be as to whether he would make Hildegarde a -good husband, and he wished with all his heart to set her doubts at -rest on this point, so he began to talk of Hildegarde, and tell her how -much he thought of her. - -The more he spoke of her niece, the sterner Miss Fernly's face seemed -to grow. - -He was wondering to himself how long she would detain him, he longed so -for to return to Hildegarde, who he knew was waiting for him with the -utmost impatience. - -Suddenly Miss Fernly turned to him. - -"You say you would do anything for Hildegarde's good--for her future -happiness?" she asked, slowly. - -"Yes--certainly," he answered. "I would lay down my life for her. No -sacrifice would be too great for me to make." - -"You are sure of that?" she asked, quickly. - -"There is no question of it," Hildegarde's lover answered, promptly. -"To save her from a moment's pain, I would lay down twenty lives if I -had them." - -"Very well; I will soon put you to the test," thought Miss Fernly. - -Suddenly the carriage came to a stop. To the young man's great -surprise, he found, as he assisted Miss Fernly to alight, that they -were in front of a small and unpretentious church. - -"Step this way," she said, leading him round to the door of the -parsonage. - -He had heard that Miss Fernly was very religious; but her action now -rather puzzled him. Still without a thought of what the outcome might -be, he followed where she led. - -She spoke hurriedly to the coachman, and with a bow, he drove quickly -away. - -"The minister has been called suddenly away to a sick person," said the -girl who admitted them to the parsonage. "He has begged me to say that -he would return within the hour." - -The young man wondered what business she had with the parson; but he -made no comment, but followed her into the parsonage. The reception -room into which they were shown was dimly lighted. Miss Fernly seemed -to be well acquainted there. - -Mr. Mallard took the seat Miss Fernly indicated. - -"I have something to say to you," she began, in a hard, set voice. "I -shall break right into the subject at once. Your wedding with my niece -is fixed for to-morrow night, is it not?" - -"Yes," he said, wonderingly. - -"Why should not your marriage take place to-night--_here_ and _now_?" -she asked, looking intently at him. - -For an instant he almost believed that the good lady had taken leave -of her senses. He stared at her in the most complete bewilderment. - -In a slow and emphatic voice she repeated her words. - -"My dear madame," he said, "I do not see how that could possibly -be. You know it is not to be a _quiet_ affair. Over five hundred -invitations have been issued." - -"You will be married to-night, and let to-morrow night take care of -itself," said Miss Fernly, sternly. - -Had Hildegarde sent her aunt to make this arrangement? He could hardly -believe his own senses. But surely it must be so. - -He remembered the twinkle in her eyes as she had said. - -"You are to ride with auntie, she has something to say to you." - -"I am so dumfounded, I do not know how to answer you," he declared. - -"You will not refuse me?" she asked. - -"Refuse you! How could I refuse a request in which my happiness is so -much bound up?" he answered, eagerly. - -"It is well!" said Miss Fernly. "Your bride is on the way here by this -time." - -"Is this idea one of _your_ planning?" asked Hildegarde's lover, -curiously. - -"Yes," she answered, very quickly. - -It seemed a very strange proceeding to him, but he then did not pretend -to understand the ways of women. He was only too anxious to carry out -Hildegarde's slightest wish. He was so deeply in love with her that he -did not question the strangeness of her aunt's action. - -Before he had time to think over the matter, two carriages drove up to -the door from different directions. Out of one stepped the minister, -and from the other a slender figure, robed in snowy white, and almost -enveloped in a white tulle veil. - -He would have sprung to meet her, but Miss Fernly held him back. - -"Not yet," she said. "She will meet us at the altar; the minister will -bring her in." - -Miss Fernly seemed to be running this novel affair, and he did not -suppose that it would be worth while to try to dissuade her, since she -must have talked it over with Hildegarde. - -He followed her into the dimly lighted church, and down the long aisle -to the altar-rail. Only one light was lighted, which left all the -corners of the great edifice in darkness and gloom. - -He had naturally a great deal of nerve; but to save his life he could -not help a feeling of awe coming over him. - -Before he had time to say anything, he saw the minister in his clerical -robes coming from an opposite direction with the bride-elect on his -arm. His heart throbbed, every pulse quickened; a moment more, and they -had advanced. - -"My darling!" he cried, as he sprang forward and clasped the trembling -girl in his arms. - -She tried to speak, but the words died away in her throat. It seemed to -Eugene Mallard that he was in a dream. Even the girl who stood by his -side seemed scarcely real. The folds of the filmy veil almost concealed -her. - -"Are you ready?" asked the minister, opening the book. - -"Yes," answered Eugene Mallard, promptly. - -"Yes," said Miss Fernly, speaking for the bride-elect. - -The marriage ceremony was begun. Then came the question solemnly, -warningly, from the minister's lips: "If any one knows aught why this -man or woman should not be united in holy wedlock, let him now speak, -or forever hold his peace!" - -There was an ominous silence. Miss Fernly trembled. She was doing a -noble action in righting a terrible wrong, she told herself, and there -was no response to the clergyman's appeal. - -In a voice which seemed still more solemn, he pronounced the two before -him man and wife. - -The bridegroom caught the bride in his arms, and he laughed gayly to -see how she trembled in his embrace. - -"My wife!" he cried, straining her to his heart. "Sweet," he murmured -in a voice just audible to his bride, "to be the lover of the girl you -love, is bliss; but to be the husband of the girl you love, is heaven! -Tell me, Hildegarde, are you not as happy as I am?" - -A low cry broke from the white lips of the girl he held in his arms. -The minister had stepped into the parsonage in response to a summons -from one of the servants, and invited the newly wedded couple and Miss -Fernly to follow him. - -He was not surprised that they held back a moment. It seemed to be the -custom with all new-married couples to loiter for a moment in the dim -shadows of the old church. The critical moment of Miss Fernly's triumph -had come. She had done a noble action, she told herself. But somehow -she trembled at the thought of what Eugene Mallard would do when he -discovered that the girl whom he had wedded was not the beautiful -Hildegarde but the cruelly wronged Ida May. - -The young husband had drawn his bride beneath the chandelier of the -church, and all unmindful of Miss Fernly's presence, he declared, -rapturously: - -"I must have a kiss from the lips of my wife." - -As he spoke he drew aside her veil. One glance at the face it had -hidden--oh, so piteous to behold in its awful pallor! and a cry, surely -the most bitter that ever broke from human lips, issued from Eugene -Mallard's. His arms fell from the supple figure, and he drew back, -crying hoarsely: - -"You are _not_ Hildegarde! Great God! what does this mean? Who are you?" - -Miss Fernly stepped forward. - -"I wonder that you ask such a question!" she cried, shrilly. "Look upon -her, and behold for yourself the young girl you _duped_ and deserted! -Now, thank Heaven, she is your wedded wife!" she added, triumphantly. -"I have helped her to right her wrongs!" - -"But I never saw this young woman before!" cried Eugene Mallard, -striking his forehead with his clinched hand. "There is some terrible -mistake! Speak out!" he cried to the girl at his side, who was -trembling like an aspen-leaf. "Who are you who has done this terrible -deed?" - -Like one dying, the hapless bride fell on her knees at Miss Fernly's -feet. - -"There is some terrible mistake!" she cried, wildly. "I--I did not -discover it until he drew back my veil. He--is--not--the man!" - -"Not the man?" repeated Miss Fernly, aghast, hardly believing that she -had heard aright, her eyes almost starting from their sockets. "I--I do -not understand!" she cried, recoiling from the girl. "Do you mean that -the man you have just wedded, and the one to whom you told me was the -cause of wrecking your life, is not one and the same?" - -The girl shook her head, while Eugene Mallard looked from one to the -other like one in a dream from which he was expecting to soon awake. - -Miss Fernly caught her by the shoulder. - -"What does it mean?" she cried, hoarsely. "You assured me that this man -was the cause of all your trouble, and now you dare to tell me that -he is not the one! And I--brought about this, making you his wife! It -was a trick of yours, you shameless creature, to secure a husband for -yourself. Quick! Be gone from this sacred edifice ere I strike you down -at my feet, you most shameless outcast, you horrible creature!" - -Ida May drew back in terror from the upraised hand. - -"Hold!" cried Eugene Mallard, stepping between them. "No matter what -this poor creature has done, she is, in the eyes of God and man, my -wife!" - -By a dexterous movement he had raised the poor girl from her knees, and -had swung her out of the reach of the blow that had been meant for her. -Despite his anguish, it aroused all the pity and chivalry in his nature -to see how the poor thing clung to him in her terror. - -"Save me from her wrath," she murmured, clinging to him with -death-cold hands, and adding vehemently: "Believe me, it was all a -horrible mistake! I saw your picture, and--and I mistook you for -another. The church was so dimly lighted, I--I could not see, and I did -not know the terrible mistake until--until it was too late! Oh, tell -me, tell me, what can I do to undo the great wrong that I have done -you?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -Eugene Mallard had sunk into the nearest seat, covering his face -with his hands. The horror of the situation had just come to him. By -the cruel working of fate he had been wedded to one woman through a -horrible mistake, while his heart and soul were another's. - -It seemed to him like some horrible dream from which he must soon -awake. He had parted from Hildegarde full of hope and love, scarcely -an hour before, saying to himself, as he turned and looked back at -her, that ere the sun would rise and set again, she would be his own, -that they would never be parted from each other after that. And now -a barrier had suddenly risen between them which parted them just as -surely as though one of them lay in the grave. - -His whole soul was bound up in Hildegarde; yet he was wedded to -another. It seemed to him that the anguish of it was more than he could -bear. - -Then came to him the thought that he must protect the woman he had -wedded--this poor young creature who still clung to him, imploring him -to save her from Miss Fernly's wrath, repeating to him, over and over -again, that it was a mistake. - -Eugene Mallard roused himself from the stupor which was stealing over -him. He must face the terrible consequences of that rash marriage. -Although this girl had wrecked his life, ruined his future, yet he -could not find it in his heart to curse her. - -He could not help but believe her--that it was some terrible mistake; -he could not judge her before he knew more about what had prompted her -to do this deed. He could not rest until he knew the reason that lay -behind it. - -"Tell me all about it," he said, hoarsely, turning to the girl, "that I -may judge for myself of this action of yours." - -"Yes, tell him," cried Miss Fernly, "that I may be cleared of my part -in this transaction. You deceived me as well." - -In a faltering voice that sounded as though she were dying, Ida May -told her story, the man she had married listening intently. - -He did not speak until she had concluded, but Miss Fernly saw that the -girl's story was greatly affecting him. - -"No wonder you mistook me for Royal Ainsley, when you saw that -picture," he exclaimed, "for we are cousins. The resemblance between us -was most marked when that picture was taken." - -"I--I--thought the name Miss Fernly told me was an assumed name, or -else you had given me a false one." - -Miss Fernly's self-control seemed to leave her entirely as she listened. - -"I am responsible for it!" she groaned, wringing her hands. "Oh, what -will Hildegarde and my sister say!" - -Eugene Mallard and Miss Fernly looked into each other's faces, and -their lips were mute. - -"Let me go to her and tell her my story," sobbed the hapless bride, -"then I will go away, and you shall never look upon my face again!" - -"That would not mend matters," replied Eugene Mallard. "I have married -you, and nothing can undo that." - -"Oh, do not say so!" cried Ida May. "I will free you from the bond -whose links have just been forged. You shall have a divorce. I will set -you free!" - -Eugene Mallard shook his head. - -"You would do so if you could," he answered; "but, alas! you can not. -Those whom God hath joined together no one has the right to put -asunder." - -With a sigh that nearly rent his heart, he rose to his feet. The -carriage still stood in waiting at the door. - -"Where are you going?" asked Miss Fernly. - -"We will all three go to Hildegarde, and break it as gently as we can -to her--tell her what has happened--break the sad story to her as -gently as we can," Eugene repeated. - -As one whose feet refused to do her bidding, Miss Fernly tottered up -the aisle behind them. What would Hildegarde say--what would she do? -Perhaps she would fall dead at their feet, for she loved, with all the -passionate love of her heart, the man whom she had promised to wed on -the morrow. - -"Oh, if I had not been so hasty!" cried Miss Fernly. "I meant to do a -noble action, but instead I have wrecked two lives!" - -They entered the carriage in silence--a silence which was not broken -until they reached the door of the beautiful Cramer mansion. They saw -Hildegarde standing at the lace-draped window, peering out into the -darkness, eagerly watching for them. - -The hapless young lover groaned aloud. Miss Fernly hid her face in her -hands. Hildegarde was at the door to greet them almost as soon as the -servant. - -"You have been gone very long, Eugene!" she cried. "Dear me! how -surprised I was to see Aunt Fernly returning with you!" - -Then her eyes fell upon the girl in bridal robes her lover was holding -by the hand. She did not recognise Ida May because of the veil which -she had drawn down over her face, nor did she hear the cry of surprise -Ida May uttered when she recognized her. - -Miss Fernly had always spoken of the bride to be as her niece, but had -never once mentioned her name. - -For one moment Ida May stood irresolute. She now realized what she had -done, and wondered how Hildegarde would take the terrible mistake. - -For a moment the three stood silent. Who would be the one to break the -terrible news to Hildegarde? - -"What is the matter, and who is this beautiful young girl, clad in -bridal robes, whom you hold by the hand, Eugene?" - -He tried to speak, but he could not utter a word if his life had -depended upon it. Even Miss Fernly seemed to have been stricken dumb. -Ida May knew that it devolved upon her to utter the words which would -stab Hildegarde Cramer to the very soul. She saw the lover try to -speak, and fail, and also saw Miss Fernly's lips twitch convulsively. - -Nerving herself for the ordeal through which she must pass, she stepped -forward. - -"Let _me_ answer for them," she said, in a voice that sounded to -Hildegarde's ears like the strain of some half-forgotten melody. And as -she uttered the words she threw back her veil. - -"Ida May!" cried Hildegarde, aghast. - -"Yes, I am that hapless creature whom you knew as Ida May." - -For an instant there was silence, broken only by the sound of the -labored breathing of Miss Fernly, Hildegarde, and Eugene Mallard. - -In an instant the haughty heiress had recovered herself. She recoiled -from the girl who advanced pleadingly before her. - -"Hildegarde! Hildegarde!" Ida cried, much to the astonishment of Miss -Fernly and her companion, "I did not know that it was you whom I was to -confront in this awful hour!" - -But Hildegarde shrunk still further from her. How dared this creature, -who had passed those weeks at Newport a living lie, to claim -acquaintance with her! - -She flushed crimson, and retreated from her in abhorrence, wondering -how this creature had come here, accompanied by her aunt and lover. - -"Hildegarde!" cried Ida May, "listen, for the love of Heaven, and do -not judge me too harshly until you have heard all!" - -Sobbing wildly, Ida caught at the hem of Hildegarde's dress. - -"Auntie!" cried Hildegarde, turning to her relative, "I do not care -to listen to anything this--this person has to say. The very air she -breathes stifles me. Eugene!" she cried, springing to her lover's side, -"take me in to the drawing-room. I--I can not talk to this young girl." - -He did not clasp her in his arms, though he made a movement to do so. -His arms fell to his sides, and his head drooped to his breast. - -He was enduring torture so acute that many a man would have fainted -under the strain of it. - -Hildegarde looked up into his face in wonder. - -"Eugene, my darling!" she cried "are you ill? Tell me! Something -terrible must be the matter! Why do you not speak?" - -In that instant she seemed to forget the presence of everybody, save -the lover who had parted from her a few hours since, and who was now -standing before her so greatly changed. - -She looked from one to the other in consternation. - -"Something has happened," she said. "Why do you keep me in suspense?" - -"I am trying to tell you," sobbed Ida May, "but you will not listen." - -"Must I listen to her, auntie?" cried Hildegarde, turning to her aunt. - -"Yes," said Miss Fernly, "you must listen, my poor child, while I pray -to Heaven to give you strength to bear it." - -"Eugene!" cried the girl, "why are you silent?" - -He could not answer her. He only looked at her with a world of woe in -his gaze, his whole frame trembling with anguish. - -Ida May never knew in what words she told her strange story. Hildegarde -listened like one turned to stone. Ida May told her of the awful -mistake that had blasted two lives and parted two who fondly loved each -other. - -Those who saw the look of pity in the face of Hildegarde would never -forget it. - -Her face became as pale as marble; the blood receded from the ripe-red -lips. - -She passed through a life-time of woe in those few minutes. She did not -look at Ida May or her lover when the former ceased speaking, but she -turned her white, set, tragic face to her aunt. - -"_You_ have done this dreadful thing!" she cried. "I wonder that Heaven -does not strike you dead for it!" - -"Hildegarde! Hildegarde!" cried Miss Fernly, "I would only be too glad -to give my life to atone for my part in this dreadful affair." - -The girl looked at her with eyes like jets of flame. - -"If you had but told me," she said, in a voice that was more sorrowful -than any tears could have been. "You took the reins into your own -hands; you meddled with the affairs of another, and see the mischief -you have wrought!" - -A sort of frenzy seemed to possess her. - -"Go!" she cried, turning to Ida May, and pointing toward the door. "Get -out of this house, out of my sight, before I call the servants to fling -you into the street!" - -Ida May crept toward the door. To Hildegarde's intense surprise, Eugene -Mallard turned to follow her. - -"I will go with you," he said, huskily, "for you--you are my--my wife!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - -"Yes; where she goes, I must follow," repeated Eugene Mallard, in a -voice husky with emotion, "for she is my wife!" - -The words fell upon Hildegarde's ears with a dreadful shock. It was not -until then that she realized her lover was separated from her. - -She saw him take Ida May's hand and lead her slowly out of the house. - -In the years that followed she wondered that the sight did not kill her. - -When the door closed after them, Hildegarde stood for a moment stunned, -with a white, awful pallor on her face. - -Miss Fernly watched her in silence. - -Was Hildegarde going mad? If she would only cry out, utter some word. -But no; only that awful silence. "Hildegarde," said Miss Fernly, -approaching her tremblingly, "what can I say, what can I do, to repair -the terrible wrong I have done you?" - -"The only thing you can do is to kill me," answered the girl, in a -hoarse, unnatural voice. - -"Oh, my niece! my precious niece, do not say that!" replied Miss -Fernly, beside herself with grief. "You will break my heart!" - -"Yours is not the only one that will be broken," returned Hildegarde. - -Miss Fernly attempted to approach her, but Hildegarde drew back in -loathing. - -"Do not come near me!" she cried, with flashing eyes, "lest I forget -who you are, and strike you dead at my feet!" - -With a quick motion, Hildegarde turned, and without another word, flew -up the staircase and up to her own _boudoir_, and closed the door -securely after her. - -"Let me realize it," she murmured. "A few hours ago I was the happiest -girl the world held; now I cry out to Heaven to end my life." - -She crept up to the mirror, and she stood before it, tall, slender, and -erect in the dignity of her own despair, her face white, her dark eyes -dark with sorrow. - -"Can that be me?" she murmured, crossing her hands over her breast. But -the figure reflected gave back no answer. - -"He has gone out of my life. What am I to do?" she murmured. "One can -never be sure of anything in this world. He left me only a few hours -ago, and there was nothing between us but love. I can not believe it! -It is some awful dream from which I shall presently awake!" - -She wrung her hands wildly; she tore her beautiful dark hair; she was -as one mad with anguish. Then she thought of Ida May, and she clinched -her hands. - -Some one knocked at the door - -"Let me in, Hildegarde!" cried her mother, anxiously. - -"No!" answered the girl. "I can not--do not ask me. Only leave me here -alone. The sight of human faces, the sound of human voices, would drive -me mad!" - -All in vain the mother pleaded. Suddenly she heard a fall, and when one -of the servants whom Mrs. Cramer had summoned burst open the door, she -found Hildegarde lying face downward on the velvet carpet. - -Miss Fernly had told her sister all, made a clean breast of the whole -affair. But Hildegarde's mother did not curse her, as she feared she -might do. She only looked at her sister with horror-stricken eyes. - -For a fortnight Hildegarde lay on the bed where they had placed her. - -The doctor had worked over her for hours. - -"She is young," he said to the heart-broken mother, "and while there is -life there is hope." - -When she arose from her bed, every one was startled at the change in -her. She made no complaint, even to Miss Fernly, who hovered around her -in an agony more pitiful than words can describe. - -Hildegarde was like one on whom the shadow of death had fallen. She -grew thin and white; the light was gone from her beautiful eyes, the -color from her beautiful face. - -No smile, no sound of laughter, came to the pale lips. If her mother, -whose heart ached over her beloved child, tried to cheer her, she had -but one answer for her, and it was: - -"I shall die soon, my heart is slowly bleeding to death." - -Then came the announcement that Hildegarde was going abroad. But the -paper did not state how long she would remain. - -This looked very serious indeed to the friends who had hoped against -all hope. - -Mrs. Cramer was anxious that none of her companions should behold her, -she was so terribly altered. She could not bear the criticisms which -she knew her appearance would be sure to occasion. But Hildegarde had -stoutly declared she would not go abroad. - -"I want to die in my native land," pleaded the girl, piteously. - -She sought her couch early, because her mother was anxious about her; -but her mother did not know that she paced the floor until the gray -dawn. - -Now her mother hastened the preparations for the trip abroad. - -"She is young, and a change of air and scene will surely bring about -forgetfulness," thought Mrs. Cramer. - -It was well for her that she could not foresee what was to happen in -the near future. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -We must return to Ida May, dear reader, and picture to you the awful -woe she experienced as she turned from Hildegarde, saying. "Let me go -away out of your lives; if my life could atone for what I have done, I -would give it." - -She scarcely heard Eugene Mallard's words, "Where you go, I must -follow, for you are my wife." - -She was unaware of his presence, until fleeing down the graveled walk, -she heard a step behind her, and a firm hand caught her arm. Turning, -she saw the man whom she had just wedded. - -She drew back in fear and trembling. He noticed her action, and despite -his bitter woe he could not but feel sorry for her. - -"We can not undo what has been done, my poor girl," he said. "It was a -terrible mistake, but we must face it bravely." - -She looked up into his face with wistful eyes. - -"If you would only kill me here and now, I would be so grateful to you. -No one would ever know. My life is of so little account that not one -in the whole world would miss me or grieve for me, and then you could -marry Hildegarde!" - -He drew back shocked. - -"You must not speak in that way," he said. "The life of every human -being is sacred. You are entitled to your life, no matter what has -happened, until God calls you. I do not blame you, my poor girl, for -what has happened. I only say we must try to face the future, and to -see what can be done." - -Before he could realize what she was about to do, she had flung herself -on her knees at his feet, and covered his hands with kisses. Her heart -was full of the deepest gratitude to him. He was the only being who had -ever spoken kindly to her of late. - -He raised her gently. - -"You should not kneel to me," he said, "it is not right." - -"Yes, I will!" she cried, impulsively. "You are good--you are noble. -You do not curse me for what I could not help. I want to show you how -bitterly I deplore what has been done! But how are you to realize it?" - -While they were speaking, a few drops of rain fell from the heavens, -and Ida May, looking up, said to herself that even the angels above -were weeping for her. - -"Come!" he said, taking her by the hand and leading her along as though -she were a little child, "you can not stand out in the rain. Come with -me!" - -He hailed a passing cab and placed her in it. - -"Where are we going?" she asked, timidly, looking up into his troubled -face. - -"I do not know until I have had time to think," he answered. "I have -told the driver to drive about for an hour. By that time I shall have -arrived at some conclusion." - -The girl's dark head drooped. Great as her own sorrow was, her heart -bled for the trouble which she had unintentionally caused this young -man. - -On and on rolled the cab. So busy was Eugene Mallard with his own -troubled thoughts that he almost forgot the girl shrinking away in her -corner, who was regarding him so piteously and anxiously. - -Suddenly he turned to her. - -"There is but one course left open to us," he said, huskily, "and that -we must follow. You are my wife, and I must take you to the home that -has been prepared to receive my bride." - -She uttered a low cry; but before she could speak, he hastened to add: - -"No advantage shall be taken of the position in which you are so -strangely placed. You shall be my wife in the eyes of the world, but -to me you shall be just as sacred as a sister. We will live our lives -through in this way." - -She bowed her head. Whatever he suggested must be wisest and best, she -thought. - -"Indeed, I can see no other way out of it at the present outlook," he -went on, his voice trembling a little. "I will take you to a hotel near -where I am stopping. To-morrow, at this time, I will come for you to -take the train with me!" - -A little later Ida found herself alone in the comfortable room which he -had secured for her at the hotel. - -It was then and not until then that the poor girl gave vent to her -grief, suffering almost as deeply as did Hildegarde, as the long hours -of the night passed away. - -The sun was shining bright and warm when she opened her eyes the next -morning. For a moment she was dazed and bewildered; then a rush of -memory came to her, and she remembered all that had taken place. She -sprung from her couch with a bitter sob on her lips. Some one tapped at -the door. It was the chamber-maid. - -"Your breakfast is to be served to you here, ma'am," she said. "The -waiter is bringing it. I will take it from him. Here are also some -large packages which arrived for you." - -"Thank you!" murmured the girl. "Just put them on the table. But stay," -she added in the next breath; "you may as well open them. I do not -think they are for me." - -With deft fingers the girl unwrapped the bundle, and held up to her -astonished gaze a beautiful brown traveling suit of the finest cloth, -with hat, shoes, gloves, and _lingerie_ to match. Gazing upon the -outfit with wide-opened eyes, she forgot her sorrow for the moment. - -This was another proof of the thoughtfulness and kindness of the man -whose life she had wrecked. - -"What a superb traveling-dress!" cried the maid, with delight. "I have -never seen anything like it. And the hat; why, it is a veritable dream, -madame. It is so exquisitely dainty! There is something in the pocket -of the dress!" exclaimed the maid. "Does madame wish me to see what it -is?" - -"Yes," said Ida. - -The next moment the girl had produced a tiny box. On a bed of violet -velvet reposed a band of plain gold. Within were the engraved words: -"My wife!" - -The poor girl caught her breath with a sob as the maid handed it to -her. The color came and went on her face; her eyes grew dim with tears. -It was with the greatest difficulty that she succeeded in hiding her -emotion from the maid, whose eyes were intently fixed on her. - -"I thought she was a single young girl," she thought, "but she seems to -be married." - -Ida May turned away; she could not bear to have any one see her emotion. - -"I can not accept it, nor any of his gifts, because I can not make use -of them," she thought. "I am going away from here, going out of his -life. I could not go with him to his Southern home; I have no right -there!" - -When the maid came to her, and asked her if she wished all her meals -served in her room, she mechanically answered, "Yes." Tempting dishes -were brought, but they went back untasted. - -"The lady in Room 27 seems very ill," said the chamber-maid, when she -went down to the servant's hall below. "She is _very_ mysterious. Her -eyes are so big, so black, and so mournful, you are sure she is going -to burst into tears at every word she utters. She looks like a creature -who has passed through some great sorrow. With the exception of _one_ -lady, I never saw any-one else look like that. And oh, mercy! she had -the same room too--No. 27. - -"This woman left word that I was to come to her in the morning. To my -great surprise, I found the door open as I turned the knob. As I went -forward to awaken her, I saw the still form lying on the bed. As I -approached, I saw, to my great amazement, that her eyes were wide open -and staring at me. - -"'I beg your pardon for not coming sooner, ma'am,' I said. 'I did not -think you would be awake so early. There--' - -"The rest of the sentence was never finished. I saw that the eyes -staring up into mine were glazed in death. The scream I uttered brought -half the people in the hotel to the scene, a physician being among them. - -"He said that the young lady had been dead some hours. She had taken -poison. The mystery surrounding her--who she was, and whence she came, -has never been solved from that day to this. There is much the same -look in this lady's face as there was in that other one's. I think she -will bear watching. - -"You know, too, that nine out of ten of the people who think of -committing suicide choose a hotel in which to commit the deed. This -young lady in No. 27 seems to be dazed. She scarcely knows what one is -speaking to her about." - -Having told her story, the chamber-maid left the room, shaking her -head as she went. The clerk of the hotel, who was passing through the -corridor, and who had heard the story was a little annoyed over it. He -knew the habit of the maids to gossip; still, there might be some truth -in the story. - -It would certainly not be amiss to look into the matter a little. He -remembered a tall and handsome gentleman had made arrangements for the -lady, paying her bills in advance. - -He thought he would wait a day and then speak to the proprietor -concerning the matter. - -The sunshine of the afternoon faded; the gloaming crept up, deepening -into the soft beauty of the starry night. - -As the hours rolled by, the girl made a resolve to end it all. - -She arose quietly and donned the dark cloak which Miss Fernly had -wrapped about her as they stepped from the rector's cottage. She was -glad to have it now, for it would cover the bridal robes which she had -donned. Her bridegroom was to be death! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - -With trembling hands, this hapless girl, who had taken such a terrible -resolve, opened the door of her room, and glided softly down the long -corridor and out of the hotel. - -Ida May had scarcely gained the street before a carriage drove up, and -Eugene Mallard sprung from it. He was surprised at seeing Ida advancing -to meet him. She drew back with a cry. - -"Are you ready?" he asked; but before she could answer, he went on: -"You do not wear your traveling-dress. Was there anything amiss with -it?" - -She tried to keep back the sobs from her lips; but almost before she -was aware of it, she had confessed to him that she was about to flee -from him. - -Standing there, very gently and patiently, he went over the ground -with her, insisting upon her following out their original plan; -and the upshot of it all was, she returned to her room, donned her -traveling-dress, joined him again, and took a seat beside him in the -carriage. - -A little later the railway station was reached, and they were soon -whirling away toward the mysteries of the future. - -"We will reach our destination a little before midnight," Eugene said, -seating himself opposite her. "There will be a number of old friends -at the station to give my bride a welcome home," he added in a voice -that was husky, despite his efforts at self-control; and Ida knew that -he was thinking of that _other_ bride whom he had intended to bring to -them, and she felt most wretched at the effort he was making to look -the present difficulty in the face and bear up under it. - -How he must loathe her! Her very presence must be hateful to him! The -thought of that made her shrink still further from Eugene Mallard. - -She felt like opening the car window and springing from it out into the -blackness of the night. Then he would be free to marry Hildegarde. On -and on through the darkness rushed the express. - -"The next station will be ours," he said at length. Ida looked up in -apprehension. There would be a party of friends awaiting Eugene's -home-coming; but, ah! what would they say when they saw that it was not -Hildegarde whom he had wedded? Had he a mother--had he sisters? - -Perhaps he divined her thoughts, for quite as soon as they had flashed -through her brain he turned to her, and said, abruptly: - -"I have told you nothing of my home life. It was an oversight on -my part, possibly because the idea did not occur to me. I have no -relatives upon the face of the earth, except the scape grace cousin -you know of. From my uncle I inherited the Virginia home to which -I am taking you. It is presided over by Mrs. Rice, an old lady who -has served in the capacity of housekeeper for twenty years. All the -servants have been in the household quite as long a time. They are -good and faithful to me. They will receive you warmly. Your word shall -be their law. No one outside the household will know of our strained -relationship. The secret will be kept faithfully from the world by the -members of my household." - -"I do not deserve so much consideration at your hands," murmured the -girl. - -Before he had time to reply, their station was reached. There were few -people at the station owing to the lateness of the hour. - -An old-fashioned carry-all was waiting at the rear. Peering out from it -was the face of old Black Joe. - -"Welcome, marse! welcome!" he cried. "An' a thousand welcomes to the -lovely young missus, your bride! There's a great company at the house, -sir, awaiting you both." - -Eugene Mallard thanked the old colored servant for his kind wishes for -himself and bride, as he helped Ida into the vehicle. - -There was a long ride over a rough mountain road, during which time, -much to old Black Joe's surprise, scarcely a word was exchanged between -the bride and groom, and it puzzled the good old man. - -Was the lady ill? So great was his concern over it, that he was tempted -to ask his master the question a dozen times. But prudence restrained -him. - -At length, in turning an abrupt curve in the road, a gray stone -mansion, fairly ablaze with lights from cellar to dome, loomed in -sight--lights that twinkled like glow-worms in the distance. They could -hear the strains of music, and as they approached they could even hear -the sound of voices. - -Still no word was uttered by either of them. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -In less time than it takes to tell it, the strained relationship -between Eugene Mallard and his bride was whispered through the -household. They had laughed at old Black Joe when he had whispered the -story of their silence from the railroad station, declaring he was -romancing. Later events certainly gave color to the story, however. She -was all that was sweet and fair. What could be the trouble? - -"If there was ever a bride most wretchedly unhappy, she is that one," -said Mrs. Rice, shaking her head. - -"Why did he marry her if he did not love her? I can not understand it, -I am sure." - -Mrs. Rice went to the bride's room the next morning to awaken her. -She found her already up and sitting by the window, and there was -no indication that she had removed her dress. This was reduced to a -certainty when she went into the adjoining apartment and found the -couch just as it had been the previous evening. - -She went back to where young Mrs. Mallard was sitting, and laid her -hand gently upon the girl's arm. - -"I hope you will be happy with us here, my dear," she said in her -sweet, gentle old voice, "for we will do everything to serve you. I -have been here for many years and have witnessed the home-coming of -many of the brides of the Mallards. There was never one that I took to -more than I did to you, my dear child. I felt like taking you in my -arms and pressing you to my heart. But you seem lonely. Tell me, is -there anything I can do for you?" - -Ida lifted her face. - -"You are very, very kind," she said, gratefully, "and I thank you with -all my heart." - -She looked as if she were about to add something, but quickly checked -herself. - -"Perhaps you would like to see the grounds, my dear," said Mrs. Rice. -"Will you come out into the garden?" - -The young woman acquiesced readily enough. - -"Your trunks have not come yet, my dear," said Mrs. Rice, as they -walked along. "The railway service in this part of the country is -abominable. It looks strange to have you come down to breakfast in your -traveling-dress, but--" - -"I have no trunks coming. This is the only dress I have to wear at -present," returned the girl, quietly. - -It was as much as the old housekeeper could do to restrain herself from -an exclamation of astonishment at this announcement. - -What could it mean? Why had Eugene Mallard's bride no _trousseau_, -as he had been preparing for this event for months, as eager in his -anticipation of it as a school-boy for a holiday! She could not -understand it; she felt mystified. But with the quick wit habitual to -her, Mrs. Rice replied almost instantly: - -"A wardrobe can be easily supplied by our Virginia _modistes_. Indeed, -they are world-famous, I may add. They make dresses for many of the -ladies of Washington on the shortest notice. Mr. Mallard pressed a roll -of bills into my hand when he arrived, and said: 'See that my wife has -everything needful, Mrs. Rice.' I could not think what he meant at the -time. Now I see it was your wardrobe he referred to. You and I will set -about getting the things at once. Or if it will fatigue you too much -after your journey, you leave it to me, and I will see that you have a -complete wardrobe in a short time. You must not say no, my dear; for -remember, it is your husband's wish, and you surely wish to please him." - -The girl looked at her with the strangest expression in her dark eyes. - -"Nothing that I could do would please him," she said, hopelessly. - -Mrs. Rice did not tell that remark to the servants, or there would have -been no end of gossip among them. - -"There is some great mystery between Eugene Mallard and his bride," she -said to herself. "I will not attempt to probe into the mystery, but I -will endeavor to bring them together, if it lies within human power." - -The fortnight that followed, the old mansion was fairly alive with -guests coming and going. - -Eugene Mallard could not help but admire Ida for bearing up so bravely -under the terrible ordeal. During that fortnight a strange thing -happened--the cruelest blow that Heaven could have dealt Ida. The -lovely girl had learned to love Eugene Mallard with all the strength of -her nature. She was in love with him, and he was cold and indifferent. - -Another fortnight passed, and yet another. Everything at the great -mansion passed pleasantly enough to the outside world. But the young -girls for miles around who envied the young bride never dreamed of the -skeleton that existed in that magnificent mansion. - -Eugene Mallard was all that was kind and considerate. It seemed a -necessity to him to have the house full of company. He was never alone -with Ida. How gayly he talked to his guests! Looking at him, Ida said -to herself: - -"If he would but smile so when he speaks to me! His eyes are always -cold; no warmth or brightness ever comes into them for me." - -Although Eugene Mallard appeared so bright and gay before his guests; -yet, unknown to any one, his heart was filled with the bitterness of -death. It did not seem possible for him to live through the hours day -after day. He felt thankful to Heaven that no one guessed that he had -brought home a different bride from what he had intended. He dashed -recklessly from one gayety to another, his object being to try to -forget Hildegarde, his love. He never voluntarily looked at the girl he -had married. - -At the end of six weeks most of the guests returned to their homes, and -Eugene Mallard suddenly found himself alone with his young wife and the -servants. - -"I must not let this happen again," he said. "To live here alone -requires more strength than I am possessed of." - -They breakfasted alone in the great oak dining-room, and each felt the -restraint which they could illy conceal. - -As she took her place at the table she was perfectly calm and -self-possessed, but the mask of smiles she had worn before his guests -fell from her face. She did not attempt any conversation with him, but -with a quick, flashing smile she answered when she was spoken to. - -"It seems to take the servants exceptionally long to serve breakfast," -he said, impatiently; adding: "Will you permit me to glance over the -morning paper? I am interested in this column on stocks." - -She bowed her head gracefully, and watched him, as he read in silence. -There came over her face an air of sadness painful to see in one so -young. - -To Ida the departure of the company was a great relief. Indeed, she -longed for solitude, and thought that if they did not go soon she could -not keep up much longer. - -She had wanted to go away long ago; but she had remained there, and now -the attraction was so great that she would not break away even if she -could. Her love for her husband was like a magnet, strong as her very -life-blood, a part of every heart-beat. - -For long hours she would muse over her strange position. - -It was an uncommon fate--young, with life all before her, she longed -for its blessings. It was pitiful for her to know that the man she had -learned to love cared for another, that she was no more to her husband -than she would be to a brother. - -How sad it was that she should long for the love of her husband as -she had never longed for anything else in life! It seemed so strange -to live in that magnificent home, to have everything that her heart -desired, to be wealthy, honored, and envied, yet to have no husband's -love. - -Did he still sigh for Hildegarde? Was he thinking of her when that -dreamy look came into his eyes? She would give the world to know. She -felt a terrible jealousy in her heart. - -"Will he never change?" she asked herself, in despair. "Living under -the same roof with me, seeing me day after day, will his heart never -warm ever so little toward me?" - -Once more the old resolve, to steal away from the house, came to her. -Should she go to him, kneel at his feet, and sob out: - -"I can not remain in this house any longer, because I--I--have learned -to love you." - -She could picture the surprise on his face. Perhaps there would be -anger, scorn. The eagle dared to look at the sun, the worm dared to -creep into the tender heart of the rose. Was it strange that she had -dared to love him? - -Hers was a dreary fate, and she tried to bear it bravely. If she had -only some one to confide in, some one to talk to! Was his heart dead -because of his bitter disappointment? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -One morning Eugene Mallard informed his young wife at the -breakfast-table that he had invited a party of friends from the -adjoining city, and had just received word that they would be with them -that day. This was sorrowful news to Ida, for she realized that she -would see less of her husband when they came. But he seemed to await -their arrival in a fever of impatience. - -While she was wondering how many there would be in the party, her -husband said, as if in answer to the unexpressed thought: - -"There will be six in the party--Mrs. Staples and her two daughters, -Dora and Louisa, Captain Drury, Arthur Hollis, and--and Vivian Deane." - -Ida looked up quickly as her husband pronounced the last name. Was it -only her fancy, or did he turn away abruptly? - -Somehow she could not rid herself of the fancy. - -Then suddenly it occurred to her that she had heard the name, Vivian -Deane, before. She remembered the conversation well. - -While their former guests were there, she had been sitting in the -rose-embowered veranda one day, while two of them passed on the lawn, -and the fragments of their conversation floated up to her. - -"I am surprised to find that Vivian Deane is not here," said one. - -"Indeed! I would have been more surprised if she had been here," said -the other. - -They were idle words, almost meaningless, as far as she was concerned, -but the name, Vivian Deane, clung to her for many days afterward. This -was the last morning she would have with her husband. It was generally -his custom to smoke in the grounds after breakfast. If she walked over -the lawn she might be able to have a little chat with him. - -She made a tour of the grounds, but to her surprise she did not see -Eugene Mallard. Perhaps he was detained in the library writing letters. -A little brook ran through a far corner of the grounds, and on either -side of it tall laurel bushes grew. - -Would life ever be any different for her? Would fate be always as -unkind as now? Bitter tears, which she could not restrain, sprung to -her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. - -She tried to stop their flow, but she could not, though she realized -that they would be a sorry object before her husband's guests. At that -moment she heard the sound of footsteps. - -Looking through the bushes she saw two of the servants walking -leisurely along, one carrying a basket of newly gathered fruit, and -the other a basket of freshly cut roses. - -Was it fate that caused one of them to say: - -"Let us not return to the house just yet. The morning is warm and fine, -why not sit down here under the shade of this tree and tie the roses -into bunches? I can do it as well here as in the house." - -Whereupon they leisurely proceeded to seat themselves. - -"It isn't the same house since master brought home his bride," said the -other. "It's nothing but company, company, all the time. Now we are to -have another new lot of guests." - -"And guess who is invited _this_ time," said her companion. - -"Mr. Mallard seems to know everybody in the country, so it would be a -pretty hard guess," laughed the girl. - -"Well," returned the other, "as you are not so good at guessing, I may -as well tell you--it is Miss Vivian Deane." - -"Pray, who is _she_?" asked the girl who was tying the roses. - -"Oh, I forgot you were not here long enough to know about her. Well, -I will tell you. She is a young girl who lives a few miles away in -a magnificent house called Deane Castle. She is as beautiful as a -dream, and as heartless as she is beautiful. She has a doll-like -pink-and-white face, big blue eyes, and a wealth of flaxen curls. -Though she looks like an angel, a bigger devil in woman's form never -lived. - -"She was a great favorite with old Eugene Mallard, the uncle, and his -fond wish was that his favorite nephew should fall in love with and -marry the pretty girl. But, bless you, the young man had ideas of his -own." - -"Who else is coming?" was the next question. - -"A lady and her two daughters. They used to be dead in love with Mr. -Mallard, until they found it was useless. They were more sensible, -however, than Vivian Deane. They turned their attention elsewhere, and -they are still looking for eligible husbands." - -Ida May's heart throbbed wildly. Now she knew why her husband's face -had flushed as he mentioned the name of Vivian Deane. And this was the -young girl whom she was so soon to meet! - -Ida felt nervous at the very thought of the ordeal before her. She knew -she must be in the drawing-room to welcome his guests. Her husband -would expect that of her. - -Drying her tears, though her heart was heavy indeed, the young wife -stole back quietly to the house, and up to her own room. When she had -removed the traces of tears, she looked with pitiful wistfulness at the -face which the mirror reflected. - -How long would it take this Vivian Deane, who loved her husband so -madly, to discover that he was most unhappy in his marriage? - -There was a light tap on the door, and in answer to her "Come in" one -of the maids entered the room. - -"If you please, Mrs. Mallard, your husband would like to have you come -down into the drawing-room. He says the guests are likely to arrive at -any moment." - -"Say that I will be down directly," she replied, and her voice sounded -so hoarse and unnatural that she feared the girl would notice her -emotion. - -"Would you like me to help you arrange your toilet, ma'am?" she asked, -still holding the door knob in her hand. - -Her toilet! she had not thought of it, so deeply had she been engrossed -in her thoughts. Yes, she must make every effort to look well, because -the eyes of her rival would be upon her. - -"Yes, you may help me if you will," she said, wistfully. And when she -was dressed and standing before her mirror, she was so nervous she -could hardly stand. The maid noticed her trembling. - -"You are ill, my lady," she cried, in alarm; "your face has grown very -pale. Do let me bring you a glass of wine!" - -"No," replied her young mistress; "it is only a momentary pain. I will -be better presently." - -As the maid watched, Ida's face grew from deathly pale to a flushed -appearance, and her hands were burning hot. - -"I think I must go and see the housekeeper. I am sure Mrs. Mallard is -not fit to receive guests. She is very ill," she said to herself. - -"If you only felt as well as you looked, my lady," said the girl, aloud -and admiringly. - -"Do you think I look well, Marie?" she asked, with a pitiful eagerness -in her voice. - -"Oh, ma'am, if I dared speak the truth without being accused of -flattery, I would say I never saw any-one so beautiful in all my life!" - -"Do I look more beautiful than Vivian Deane?" was the question that -rose to her lips. But she checked the words just in time. At that -moment another maid tapped at the door, and inquired if her mistress -would soon be down. - -"Yes," returned Ida. "I am coming directly." - -As she uttered the words, she heard the sound of carriage wheels. By a -great effort, she nerved herself for the ordeal. - -"Why, how foolish I am!" she said, with a nervous little laugh. But -somehow a premonition of coming evil crept over her which she could not -shake off. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -Eugene Mallard did not look up as his young wife entered the room. He -was gazing so steadily out of the window that he did not even hear her -light footsteps. She went up to him timidly. Whatever she was about to -say died away on her lips, for the expression on his face startled -her. She had never seen him look so cross before. - -At that moment the servant announced: "Mrs. and the Misses Staples!" - -Eugene Mallard stepped forward quickly to receive them. How his face -lighted up! Was it only her fancy, or did he hold the hand of the -prettiest girl a moment longer than was necessary? Then he turned and -introduced them to his young wife. Louisa and Dora Staples looked at -her eagerly; she could see great surprise in their faces. - -Were they disappointed in her? That was the first thought that crossed -Ida's mind. How was she to know their thoughts? Dora Staples came -forward, holding out her hands and blushing like a school-girl. Louisa -stood back, gazing in puzzled wonder at the bride. - -"We were very sorry that we could not be here to witness your -home-coming and to participate in the grand wedding reception that -every one is talking about even yet. But we were miles and miles away." - -Then the conversation drifted into other channels. - -A few moments later two gentlemen arrived--Captain Drury and Arthur -Hollis. Ida remembered them well; they had been to the reception. The -two girls were delighted at this acquisition to the party, and in a -few moments Dora Staples had captured the dashing captain for a chat, -leaving Arthur Hollis for her sister Louisa. - -But Mr. Hollis was not in a mood to enjoy the senseless chatter of Miss -Louisa Staples, for whom he inwardly felt a cordial dislike. - -On the pretense of wishing to smoke a cigar, especially as her mother -and Mrs. Mallard had joined the group, he begged her to excuse him for -a little while. He saw his host on the terrace, and stepped out of the -long French window, and went at once to where he stood. - -"I congratulate you upon the rare beauty of your wife," he said, -touching him familiarly upon the arm. "I thought her exceedingly -pretty the first time I saw her; she has grown more beautiful since." - -"I really ought to be obliged to you for the compliment," returned -Eugene Mallard, laughingly. - -"You ought to love her very much, for she is worth loving," said Arthur -Hollis, bluntly, as he knocked the ashes from his cigar. - -"Has any one told you that I do not?" asked Mallard, quickly. - -"No, certainly not; but she does not look happy," returned Hollis, -thoughtfully. "As a friend of many years' standing, I feel myself -privileged to speak without reserve to you, my old comrade. Forgive -me for saying that though your bride's eyes ought to be filled with -sunshine, they are noticeably sad and dreary. Hers is not a happy face, -Eugene." - -Mr. Mallard frowned. He had heard quite enough of this topic. His -wife's face did not interest him. Arthur Hollis had been his friend for -long years; they had been chums from childhood. Suddenly Eugene turned -and laid his hand on Arthur Hollis's shoulder. - -"I have a strange explanation to make to you," he said in a voice husky -with emotion. "Your keen eyes have discovered, Hollis, what I would -fain have kept from you. A full confession is good for the soul, they -say, and I will tell you this much, Arthur: the girl whom I told you -so much about, is not the one whom I have married. At the altar, in a -dimly lighted church, this girl took the place of the one whom I was -to wed, and I did not find it out until we had been pronounced man and -wife." - -Hollis could not have been more completely astounded if a volcano had -opened at his feet. - -Eugene Mallard had to repeat his words before Hollis could grasp the -whole meaning of what he had heard. - -"You must not think that I wronged her in any way, that she had any -claim upon me," went on Eugene Mallard, huskily. "Do not judge me too -hastily. It all came about through a mistake. She--she--mistook me for -Royal Ainsley, my cousin, and hearing that I was to be married, came -there, and--and, by the aid of a woman, succeeded in becoming my bride. -And now, because of it, three lives are ruined. I am trying to make -the best of it, but it seems, at times, as though I will not be able -to bear up under it--my whole heart belonging to one woman, while I am -wedded to another." - -"Great heavens!" exclaimed Hollis. "I did not dream of such a state of -affairs!" - -"She is my wife in name only," added Eugene Mallard, bitterly. "I do -not know what the future will bring forth. I can only say that I am -trying to live it out as best I can. My life is full of wretchedness, -and I can not see what will be the end of it all." - -Now Arthur Hollis could readily understand the brooding look in Ida's -eyes. Why she was graver, more thoughtful, more abstracted than when he -had seen her last. - -While they were talking, another carriage drove up. - -They saw a beautiful face at the window. - -"It is Vivian Deane," said Mr. Mallard. - -Hollis looked surprised. - -"I hope, my dear boy," he said in a tone of jest, beneath which was -certainly a vein of earnestness, "that Miss Deane has got over her mad -infatuation for you, now that she knows you are married!" - -Mr. Mallard looked thoughtful. - -"I suppose you are wondering why I invited her here," he said, slowly, -"and I may as well tell you the truth, that you will not for a moment -imagine I sent for her to indulge in a flirtation. Miss Deane wrote me -that she was coming to pay my wife a fortnight's visit, so what could I -do. Without waiting to receive a reply from me, here she is. You will -come with me, and welcome her?" - -"Certainly," said Hollis, understanding Eugene's position. - -Miss Deane looked exceedingly annoyed as the two men approached. - -She had calculated upon meeting Eugene alone. She meant to tell him -in a few words that her life was ruined because of his marriage. Now -she could only exchange the merest formal greeting. Biting her red lips -fiercely, and forcing a smile to them, she held out her hand. - -"I am so delighted at seeing you again, Mr. Mallard," she declared, -giving Hollis a stiff, haughty bow. - -Eugene assisted her from the carriage and avoided looking at her as -much as possible--a fact which annoyed her exceedingly. - -"And I am so anxious to see your bride," she continued. - -Eugene could readily understand that, and so could Hollis. - -Hollis followed his friend to the drawing-room. He stood by the young -bride's side when Vivian Deane was presented to her. - -He had expected to see an expression of bitter dislike on the doll-like -pink-and-white face. He was surprised and relieved to see Vivian hold -out her little hands and murmur in her cooing voice: - -"I am so delighted to see you, Mrs. Mallard, I am sure we shall be -friends." - -Ida gazed anxiously, wistfully, into the pink-and-white face. Vivian's -sea-blue eyes met her gaze unflinchingly; her red lips, which suggested -more of art than nature, wore a mask of the sweetest smiles. - -The young bride drew a deep breath of relief. She had been -unnecessarily frightened, she told herself. Now that Vivian knew -Eugene was married, she had in all probability resigned herself to the -inevitable. - -"Probably she has another lover by this time, and thinks no more of -Eugene," thought Ida. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -Alone in her room, Vivian Deane stood before her mirror and critically -viewed the face reflected in it. - -"I am more beautiful than Eugene Mallard's wife," she cried, nodding -approvingly to the dimpled, smiling face, "and I will make that beauty -tell. He does not look happy," she mused. "I, who know him so well, can -see it. He has married her, but he is dissatisfied. There is something -amiss between them. Ere I have been in this house a week, I will -discover what it is." She nodded to the reflection in the mirror. "I -had hoped that, seeing him married, I could steel my heart against him, -but I find I can not." - -"There is something connected with the manner in which Eugene Mallard -first met his wife that I must find out," was Vivian's mental comment. - -It was not long before Vivian discovered that her beautiful young -hostess knew almost nothing of music. - -"I think I have discovered her secret," she said to herself. "She must -have been a poor girl, perhaps a working-girl." - -Instead of seeing the wisdom of God in such an alliance, whereby the -wealthy might share with the poor the gifts God had showered upon them, -she was angrier than ever. - -From the hour in which she had asked Ida the question concerning her -meeting with Eugene Mallard, the young wife avoided being alone with -her guest. - -Vivian could not help but notice it, and she smiled to herself. She -seemed to have no wish to capture handsome Captain Drury or Arthur -Hollis. She preferred to talk to her hostess on each and every occasion. - -"Yon have not told me," she said one day, "whether you lived in New -York, San Francisco or Boston." - -"Most of my life was spent in a little village outside of the great -metropolis," said Ida, inwardly hoping the inquisitive girl would not -think of asking the name of the village. - -Vivian did think of it, but concluded that it would be wisest not to -pursue her inquiries too ardently. - -"All this ought to have been mine," muttered Vivian, clinching her -hands tightly--"all mine! I loved him first, and I loved him best. She -had no right to take him from me!" - -These thoughts often ran through Vivian's mind while Ida was talking to -her, believing she was entertaining the best and truest friend she had -in the great cruel world. - -If the young wife had known her as she really was, she would have -turned in utter loathing from the beautiful pink-and-white face; she -would have prayed Heaven to save her from this, her greatest foe. - -As it was, she saw only Vivian Deane's beauty and grace. She heard only -kindness in her voice, and she thought to herself that she was very -fortunate indeed in securing such a friend. - -She talked and laughed so happily that the poor young wife almost -forgot her sorrow while listening to her. - -Vivian wondered if by any chance the young bride had found out how -desperately she had been in love with her husband in other days. - -The young wife became more and more unhappy day by day. Once, in -following the windings of a brook, Ida was startled at finding herself -several miles from home. Glancing up with a start, she found that the -sun had almost reached its height. She had been gone longer than she -had intended. - -Perhaps there was some way by which she could take a shorter cut to -the house. She saw a woman slowly advancing along the path, carrying a -little baby in her arms. She stopped short as the woman approached. She -recognized her as the wife of one of the village merchants. - -Ida had often seen her driving on the road with her husband, holding -the little child in her lap, and she had said to herself, as she -turned away to hide the tears that would spring to her eyes: "That -woman has everything in the world to make her life happy. I would -exchange places with her gladly if I could." - -The woman smiled as she saw Eugene Mallard's young wife, and appeared -annoyed upon observing that she was about to stop and speak to her. She -answered her question readily enough, and pointed out the way, a short -cut over the meadows, that would bring her near her home. Still Ida -lingered, looking wistfully at the young mother. - -"I have often seen you, from my window, rambling by the brook-side. You -must be very fond of out-door life," said Ida. - -"I do love the sunshine," replied the young woman; "but I do not come -out for it only for myself, but for baby's sake also." - -A great, sudden thrill that made her soul grow faint and dizzy filled -Ida's whole being as her gaze rested on the babe she carried. She -thought of that other one, in a nameless grave, sleeping under the -daisies. It would have been just about the age of this little one had -it lived. - -"How happy you must be!" sighed Ida. - -"We are not always what we seem," replied the woman, with a sigh. "I -love this little thing very dearly, but it is not my own child. I had a -little one whom I loved better than my life," went on the woman, sadly. -"When it died, I refused to be comforted. I took on so that my husband -grew frightened. - -"'Don't fret, Margaret,' he said; 'I will find a way to comfort you.' - -"He sent to some foundling asylum in the great city, and this little -one was brought to me to fill the aching void in my heart. I love it -very dearly, but oh! it can never take the place of the one I lost." - -Eugene Mallard's wife was looking at it with her soul in her eyes. - -"Poor little waif!" she sighed; "it was very fortunate in securing a -home with you." - -"Thank you, Mrs. Mallard," said the woman. "We are poor and plain -people, but we will do what we can for the poor little thing." - -She was about to pass on, thinking she had taken up too much of the -lady's time with her story. - -Suddenly Ida turned, her beautiful dark eyes heavy with tears. - -"Would you mind letting me hold the baby for just one minute?" she -asked, wistfully. - -"No, certainly not," replied the woman, with a pleasant smile. - -Again that thrill which she could hardly define shot through her as she -received the babe from the woman's arms. She bent her face over the -little rose-leaf one that lay upon her breast. Her lips moved, but no -sound came from them. - -It seemed to rend her very heart-strings to relinquish her hold of the -infant--to hand it back to the woman who waited to receive it. The -moments seemed to fly by on golden wings. - -It seemed to Ida that she could stand there for long hours looking -down into that lovely little face and those two great starry eyes -that looked up wonderingly into her own. It cost her a great pang to -hand the child back to the woman. But time was fleeting. She could -not remain there longer, for the distant bells of the village were -already ringing, proclaiming the noonday hour, and she must go home, or -luncheon would be kept waiting. - -"You come here often?" she asked, turning again to the woman. - -"Almost every day," was the reply. - -The hapless young wife made up her mind that she would see them often. -Acting upon a sudden impulse, she took out her purse and handed the -woman a golden coin. - -"Take that for the little one," she said. "What is its name?" - -"We haven't decided upon its name yet," returned the woman; "we have -only had the child a few weeks." - -"Would you think over it if I suggested a name?" asked Ida, wistfully. - -"Yes, indeed," replied the woman. "You may be sure I would." - -"Why not call her 'Ida May'?" murmured the young wife, with her whole -heart and soul in her eyes. - -"That is a beautiful name," cried the woman--"Ida May Lester. That is -what it shall be!" - -Somehow the naming of the poor waif gave to the hapless young wife a -great relief. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -Ida wended her way over the flower-strewn meadow, with her heart -beating more wildly than it had ever beaten before. She could not -forget the flower-like little infant that had looked up into her face, -and which had so strangely affected her. - -Even the guests noted her heightened color; and Vivian Deane, watching -her narrowly from across the table, wondered what brought the -brightness to her eyes. - -She looked at Eugene Mallard with intense interest. Surely there was -no corresponding gladness in his eyes. Indeed, he looked unusually -careworn. - -"I will soon find out what has happened," said Vivian, with a pang of -bitter jealousy. - -A little later Vivian sought Ida in her _boudoir_. - -"It has commenced to rain," she said, "and I am at a loss to know -what to do with myself. The Staples girls have gone to their rooms to -rest, and their mother wearies me talking about Christian charity. The -gentlemen have repaired to the smoking-room, and so I have sought you." - -"You are very welcome," said Ida. "I will do my best to amuse you." - -As she looked at Vivian, she said to herself: - -"How foolish I have been to imagine that this brilliant, beautiful girl -should care for a man who belonged to another girl." - -Vivian had a very fascinating way when among women, and now she exerted -herself to please Eugene Mallard's young wife as she had never exerted -herself to please any one before. - -"What a very cozy _boudoir_ you have, Ida!" she said. "It is like a -casket for some precious jewel. How considerate your husband was to -have it furnished to suit your rich dark beauty. I used to think that -nothing was pretty except white and gold or blue and white." - -"That is only natural," returned Ida. "You are a pronounced blonde, you -know." - -"Then you do not agree with me that there is a possibility of blondes -liking rich dark surroundings?" - -"No; I should not fancy so," returned Ida, "except that blondes usually -fall in love with dark men." - -Vivian flushed a vivid scarlet, which Ida did not see, for at that -moment Vivian's face was turned from her. - -"Yes, that is very true," returned Vivian, making an effort to control -her emotion. - -In her case, Vivian knew that the old saying was at fault. The strong, -passionate love of her heart had gone out to Eugene Mallard, and he was -fair. He was her ideal of manly beauty. The faces of other men appeared -quite insignificant when compared to his. She was anxious to turn the -conversation into another channel. - -"I have often thought, amid all this gayety, how lonely you must be at -times without some girl friend to talk matters over with you," said -Vivian. - -"You are quite right," said Ida, eagerly. "I _do_ need a girl friend, -some one of my own age, to whom I could open my heart." - -Vivian glided up to her and threw her arms about her neck. - -"Let me be that friend," she whispered, eagerly. - -The young wife looked at her wistfully; her cheeks flushed. - -"I shall be only too glad, Vivian," Ida said. - -"If she had heard that I was in love with her husband, I must first -throw her off the track," thought Vivian. - -"I am going to tell you a secret," she murmured, aloud; "but you must -not reveal it to any one, I have had a strange love affair, Ida." - -She felt the young wife start, her figure tremble; she saw the lovely -face grow pale. But not appearing to notice her agitation, she went on: - -"My hero is as dark as a Spanish knight. I met him recently. It was a -case of love at first sight. He proposed to me within a fortnight. But -my relatives do not like him, wealthy, handsome, courteous though he -is. They have forbidden him the house, yet I think in time they will -overcome their objections." - -She could plainly see how her fictitious story relieved the young -wife. The color came back to Ida's cheeks, the light to her eyes. She -threw her arms impulsively about Vivian, and kissed her fair, lovely, -treacherous face. - -"You are indeed to be envied, Vivian," she said, earnestly. "To love -and be loved is the greatest happiness God can give any one. I hope, -for _your_ sake, that your lover may win his way to the hearts of your -relatives. But you know that the course of true love never did run -smoothly." - -"My lover is a great friend of your husband's, and perhaps he has told -you about it?" - -"No," said Ida. "I assure you that Mr. Mallard has not spoken to me on -the subject," and she looked very discomforted. - -"I am sure your husband must have received a letter from my lover and -hidden it away somewhere. Won't you be so kind as to look thoroughly -through his desk, and see?" asked Vivian. - -Ida drew back in alarm. - -"Oh, I could do not do what you ask. Mr. Mallard's rooms are in another -part of the house," Ida answered, thoughtlessly. - -Ida now realized the importance of the admission she had thoughtlessly -made. But she could not recall her words--it was too late. - -Vivian looked astounded. This was a state of affairs of which she had -never dreamed. Her idea had been to find some pretext to look through -Eugene Mallard's desk, and to abstract all the notes she had written to -him. - -She remembered one or two which she had written in which she had poured -out her love for him in a mad fashion, and she would not like any one -to come across them. - -But here she had unearthed a startling surprise. Eugene Mallard's rooms -were in another part of the house. Then they were indeed estranged. She -must find out the secret that lay between them. - -"I am so sorry to have unearthed so sad a secret," cried the false -friend, winding her arms more tightly about Ida, and turning her face -away, that the young wife might not observe the look of triumph in it. -"But every life has its sorrow, and perhaps it was meant that I should -comfort you. If you are wearing out your heart longing for the sympathy -of a true friend, oh, dear Ida, please do confide in me, and let me -help you!" - -The words had such a ring of sympathy in them that it was no wonder the -young wife believed her. She was young and unversed in the ways of the -world, or this beautiful false friend could not have deceived her so. - -"Oh, Vivian, I _am_ unhappy," she sobbed, "surely the most unhappy girl -the sun ever shone on! I must make a confidant of some one--tell some -one my troubles, or I shall die. My--my husband does not love me!" - -"Does not love you!" repeated Vivian. "Then why on earth did he marry -you?" - -The hapless young wife could find no answer to that question; her head -drooped, and her lips were dumb. - -"I am so glad you told me this," said Vivian; and it was strange that -Ida did not notice the ring of triumph in the voice of her false friend -as she said: "I will do my best to bring you two together. I do not ask -which one is at fault. Both can not be entirely blameless." - -"There is a shadow between us which never can be lifted," sobbed the -young wife, putting her head on Vivian's shoulder. "There is love on -only one side," went on Ida, despairingly. "He is indifferent to me, -and--and he will grow to hate me." - -"Forgive me, please, if I have been so engrossed in my own love affair -that I did not notice anything was amiss between my old friend Eugene -and his fair young bride." - -"I almost dread to think of the future," moaned the young wife. "There -are times when I give myself up to wondering over the strange problems -of life, and I ask myself why I, who should be happy, find the world so -dark and dreary." - -"You must be very patient," said Vivian, "and above all things, -let me warn you against being the first to make overtures for a -reconciliation." - -"Oh, I am so very, very glad that I have had this talk with you," -sobbed Ida, "for during the past week I had come to the conclusion that -the very first time I found my husband in the library, I would go up -to him, and say; 'This kind of life is killing me. It would be better -far for you to plunge a knife in my breast and kill me. Either take -me to your heart, either make me your wife in fact as well as name, -or send me out into the coldness and bitterness of the world. I can -endure this no longer. Your friends crowd about me, thinking I am the -happiest person in the world, while I am the most miserable. I must go -from here, because I have learned to love you, my husband, with all -my heart and soul. You may be surprised to hear this from me, but it -is the truth. I love you as no one else ever will. You may live for -years, flattered and happy, but no love like mine will ever come to you -again. Although you married me, yet you do not love me, and never will. -Always remember that the wife who is leaving you loves you with all her -heart. I would not tell you this now, but that I know in this world we -may never meet again.'" - -Her voice died away in a whisper as she uttered the last word, and the -false friend who had determined to part husband and wife said she had -learned just in time what was necessary to prevent a reconciliation -between Ida and her husband. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - -After Vivian Deane had learned of the estrangement of Eugene and Ida, -she made up her mind that she would part them forever. - -But how? She thought over the matter long and earnestly. She was -standing in the magnificent drawing-room one morning, when Arthur -Hollis entered. - -"How does it happen that you are not out for a canter on horseback with -our host and Captain Drury?" she asked. "This is such a delightful -morning." - -"Ah, Miss Deane," he replied, laughingly, showing a handsome set of -white teeth, "I was just bemoaning that fact. But I had some important -letters to write, and I was obliged to remain in my room and finish -them." - -At that moment they saw their young hostess crossing the lawn. Vivian -saw Arthur Hollis look after her with a long, steady, earnest gaze, -until she was quite out of their sight. - -"Are you admiring our young hostess?" she asked, suddenly, with -something like a frown on her face. - -"Yes," he answered, frankly. "I was just thinking that Mrs. Mallard has -the sweetest face and most charming manner of any woman I ever met." - -"Then you admire her style of beauty?" said Vivian, a little piqued. - -"Yes, very much," said Arthur Hollis. "If I had met her before she -married our friend Eugene, I think I should have fallen in love with -her myself." - -The words were innocent enough; but Arthur Hollis never for a moment -dreamed of the terrible mischief they were to do in the after years. - -Those words so simply uttered sent a thrill through the heart of the -girl who listened. - -"Ah, I have it!" she said to herself. "A way is opened to me at last -to part Eugene Mallard and his wife. I will encourage Arthur Hollis's -admiration for the beautiful Ida. Men are easily flattered. There is no -knowing what the end will be." - -It was a plot worthy of a fiend incarnate; but this girl, who loved -Eugene Mallard, would stop at nothing to gain her end. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - -During the fortnight that followed, Arthur Hollis sunned himself each -day more and more in Ida's presence. - -No one noticed it save Vivian Deane. He saw no danger, nor did she, in -their companionship. In the meantime, the shadow darkened and deepened. -It was simply the old story in another form. - -They were both young. She was gifted with the sweetest grace that ever -a woman possessed; he was brave, courteous, and noble, with the first -throb of a mighty passion in his heart. - -What usually happens in such cases? He fell desperately in love with -Ida. - -At first Arthur told himself it was pity for her loneliness that -actuated him to be always at her side, to make time pass pleasantly for -her. He realized, when it was too late, that pity had deepened into a -mighty love. And he told himself, in his despair, as the truth forced -itself upon him, that he loved her. - -The truth came to him like a great shock. He went to Eugene Mallard, -and told him he must go away at once. It would have been better if he -had told him why; but he did not. - -"I will not listen to such a thing!" cried Eugene. "You have promised -to stay until the shooting season, and I will hold you to your word." - -In vain he pleaded. But Eugene was obdurate. - -"There is no good reason for your hurrying away," said Eugene. - -"Then you want me to stay, no matter what happens?" replied his friend, -quickly. - -"Yes," replied Eugene Mallard; and he thought of Arthur's words for -many a day afterward. - -Arthur Hollis tried to reason with himself, saying that it was better -to go. But he was like the moth, who felt insensibly attracted toward -the flame, drawing nearer and nearer, until, like the moth, he would -perish in it. - -After his conversation with Eugene, he proceeded to shut his eyes to -the danger. - -He was a free-lance. No woman's face had ever touched his heart before, -and he was frightened at the intensity of the love that thrilled his -heart for beautiful Ida Mallard. - -He would sun himself in her presence for one brief fortnight longer, -and then go away. Surely it was not much in a life-time. He would not -deprive himself of the one glimpse of sunshine that had drifted into -his life. - -Every day found them together. - -Although Ida did not realize what was in his heart, yet she felt -intuitively that there was a great change in Arthur Hollis since he had -been beneath that roof. - -Although he lingered with his feet on the edge of a precipice, yet -he stood face to face with the truth--he loved at last with all the -passionate strength of his heart and nature. - -He said to himself that if marriages were made in heaven, she was the -one woman intended for him; she was the only woman in this world that -he could ever love. - -If she had only been free, he would have given her his life, his -love--all that he had on earth to give. - -To make the situation all the more pitiful, he knew that she was a -wife in name only to the man whose name she bore; that she was as far -removed from him as though she dwelt in an opposite part of the world -from him. - -She was so young, so unhappy, he pitied her with all his heart. He was -perplexed, agitated. - -How he enjoyed the rambles, the rides with her! The sweetest moment of -his life was when he could steal upon her unawares. - -He saw no danger, and in the meantime the shadow darkened and deepened. -Vivian Deane watched them with exultant eyes. - -"It will end in an elopement," she told herself, triumphantly. "Their -hearts are drifting nearer and nearer together, and the end is not far -off." - -Every day seemed to make Ida more cold and careless, and to leave an -added sternness upon the face of Eugene Mallard, and a harshness in his -voice. - -His marriage had been a bitter regret. It was an effort now to even -keep up appearances. He had sealed his misery. There were times when he -wished fiercely, miserably, that he could sever that most unhappy bond -and set her free. - -Not all the wealth and luxury and the army of obsequious servants -could make the grand old mansion a home in its true sense. - -The young wife plunged into a ceaseless round of frivolity with a -reckless _abandon_ quite foreign to her nature. - -She accepted every invitation that came to her, and gave in return a -series of entertainments of so extravagant and magnificent a character -that the people around opened their eyes in astonishment, and whispered -it was well that Eugene Mallard's pocket was a deep one. - -But before long they found something else to comment upon. Wherever -Ida went, whether she went abroad or entertained at home, at dinner, -ball, assembly, there, always closely in her train, might be seen the -handsome Arthur Hollis. - -Gossip began to circulate, slight and vague at first, but it soon -became plainly hinted that Eugene Mallard's beautiful young wife -was flirting with Arthur Hollis--flirting defiantly, desperately, -recklessly. People wondered in indignant astonishment if her husband -was blind or mad. - -Almost everybody was discussing the piquant scandal. Even those who had -been her guests found something to say, declaring that they had noticed -it from the first, adding this or that detail as the occasion prompted. - -They wondered why some one did not drop a hint to the husband. -Unsuspicious by nature, and disregarding the formal calls of society -whenever he could possibly do so, he very seldom accompanied his wife -on the rounds of gayety on which she had embarked. For weeks neither -significant words nor glances came to him. - -But he did hear of it at last, and then the blow struck him with -terrible effect. It was only a few sentences spoken by a couple of -ladies, and pointed with a venom which only a woman's tongue can give, -coupling the name of his wife with that of Arthur Hollis. - -But the import of their words was unmistakable, and the shock seemed -momentarily to stop the young man's breath. The two scandal-mongers -lingered over their gossip with keen delight, not knowing that they -were overheard. It was at a garden-party given by Ida. Eugene Mallard -had gone into the grounds to enjoy a cigar in a favorite little retreat -which few of the guests had as yet discovered. He did not care for the -dancing on the lawn, and could not be induced to join the dancers. - -Hidden by a group of laurel-bushes, Eugene's quick ear caught the words -of two young girls walking slowly down the path. - -"Have you seen our hostess, young Mrs. Mallard?" asked one of the -other. "I have been searching for her everywhere." - -"Look for handsome Arthur Hollis," returned her companion. "You will -surely find her with him." - -The rest of the sentence was uttered in a whisper, but Eugene Mallard -heard every word of it. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - -Eugene Mallard flung down the cigar which he had just lighted as soon -as the girls passed, and made his way from the place. - -He resisted the impulse to turn fiercely upon them and demand how they -dared to speak of his young wife in that manner. It required all his -strength of will to keep down his anger. - -He passed the two girls on the path a moment later, and though they -gave a start, they believed that he had not heard their remarks, for he -did not betray his anger in his face. - -Eugene looked about for his wife. His eyes wandered sharply around as -he threaded his way among the dancers. But Ida was not visible. - -Crossing the lawn, he encountered Vivian Deane and Captain Drury. She -was looking her sweetest in pale-blue summer silk half veiled by white -lace and pink rosebuds. - -He would have passed them by, with a few forced words of pleasantry, -but Vivian would not have it so. - -"You have not danced once this afternoon, Eugene," she said; "and a -host who does his duty should figure in some of the waltzes at least. -Are you looking for a partner now? Shall I find you one?" - -"No; thanks, Vivian," he answered. "I am looking for my--my wife. Do -you know where she is?" - -"Yes," returned Vivian. "I saw her a moment ago. Let me see where it -was. Oh, yes; I remember--down by the clump of oaks. She and Mr. Hollis -had danced four consecutive dances together, and were resting. By the -way," she added, with a gay little laugh, and something like a pout on -her pretty red lips, "you must tell her not to monopolize Mr. Hollis, -Eugene. It is too bad of her. It does not give a _single_ girl a fair -chance, you know." - -Vivian moved away with the captain after giving him that parting shot, -and Eugene was not rendered much easier by her last words, although -they were apparently gayly and carelessly spoken. - -He walked hurriedly to the further end of the grounds, and there, under -a huge oak-tree, he caught a glimpse of a filmy white dress. - -Advancing, he saw his wife sitting there, with Arthur Hollis beside her. - -Neither saw him. Ida's eyes were fixed upon a crimson rose she was -recklessly plucking to pieces. She seemed to be hardly heeding her -companion's words. - -Arthur was leaning back against the oak-tree, looking down at the dark, -curly head, and he was speaking earnestly in a tone hardly above a -whisper. - -A handsome couple they looked, and surely like nothing so much as -lovers. - -Eugene realized this, and a feeling of wrath took possession of him. He -did not love her; in fact, there were times when he told himself that -he hated her with the bitterest kind of hatred; but she bore his name, -and she must not be allowed to set the tongues of gossipers wagging. - -Eugene knew that she did not mean anything by receiving the attentions -of handsome Arthur Hollis, his friend. She was but a young girl, after -all, and she thoughtlessly allowed herself to drift into this most -wretched flirtation. - -His thoughts went no deeper, no further than that; but that was far -enough, and for the sake of her good name, this thoughtless, reckless -nonsense must be stopped. He trusted her implicitly, yet he felt a mad, -unreasonable rage against the two sitting there. - -It was well his will was so strong and his temper so well under -control, or he could not have advanced as calmly as he did. - -Ida was dressed in white. It struck him that she looked very beautiful. -But just then her beauty seemed to exasperate and harden her husband -toward her. - -Ida glanced up, and seeing him, started. - -Arthur Hollis appeared a little uncomfortable, but after the first -sharp glance, Eugene Mallard did not look at him, feeling that he could -not trust himself to do so. He addressed his wife, looking at her with -a dark frown on his face. - -"Vivian told me you were here," he began. "Are you going to dance the -next set?" - -Her face flushed, her hands trembled. Was _he_, her husband, coming to -ask her to dance with him? His next words showed her how mad she had -been to cherish such a hope. - -"I was going to ask Vivian to dance," he said. "I see there are three -couples standing over there ready to dance. It will require one more -couple to fill up the set." - -With something like haughty pride, she raised her dark head. - -"I shall not dance," said Ida, in a cold, bitter voice. "I am tired." - -Arthur Hollis had the grace to laughingly excuse himself. He had been -enjoying his _tête-à-tête_, and the sudden appearance of her husband -on the scene was not welcome. Besides, he had noticed that there was -something in Eugene Mallard's face which he did not like. - -Arthur Hollis did not speak, and Eugene Mallard waited until he was -well out of hearing. The silence lasted so long that Ida broke it by -petulantly saying: - -"As I shall not dance this set, would it not be as well for you to find -some one else? The music is just starting." - -He did not appear to listen to the remark. His eyes were riveted on the -little satin programme, suspended by a little silver cord at her belt, -and he saw the initials of Arthur Hollis written opposite six or eight -dances. - -His face grew hard, stern, and rigid. Had he been blind not to have -noticed what was going on, when it was so plainly apparent to every one -else? - -"I should like to ask something of you," he said, pointing to the card. -"I want you to promise me that you will not dance any more with Arthur -Hollis." - -With a feeling of mingled rage and pain he saw that Ida turned first -pale then scarlet. She drew herself up to her full height and looked at -him with a _hauteur_ which she never knew she possessed. - -"May I ask why you make such a request?" she asked, sharply. - -"For to-day let it be enough that I make the request. Will you promise -me?" - -All the spirit that Ida possessed was up in arms. - -"Certainly not," Ida responded. "I would not dream of breaking an -engagement for no reason whatever." - -There was a pause, filled only by the strains of distant music. - -Paler than usual and with a stern look overspreading his face, Eugene -Mallard waited for his wife to continue, as she seemed to have -something more to say. - -"If you objected to your friend dancing with me, you--you should have -made the request before the engagements were made." - -He looked at her angrily, his fair, handsome face flushing. - -"A half dozen engagements should not have been made," he returned. -"People will certainly comment upon it. They are already whispering of -my friend's attention to you." - -A strange look which he could not analyze crossed the beautiful face. - -"You must stop this gossip," he went on, "or I will take measures to do -so. I have made a request of you, and shown you why I made it. Will you -grant it--for your own sake?" - -"I refuse!" she repeated. "I am sorry that you do not think me capable -of protecting my own name--and yours." - -With something like a muttered imprecation on his lips, he turned on -his heel, and strode rapidly from her side. - -"Fool that I was!" he muttered, clinching his hands together. "To save -her honor I married her. But what does she care for my honor?" - -The breech between them grew wider than ever now. - -Ida danced with Arthur Hollis, and the tongues of the gossips wagged. -If Eugene Mallard heard, he paid no heed. Strange thoughts were passing -through his mind. - -All unmindful of what Eugene Mallard had to say to his wife, Arthur -Hollis danced with her, and hovered more closely than ever by her side. - -He was growing desperate. His stay was drawing to a close. He meant -to make the most of the few hours of sunshine and happiness before he -turned his back on all that made life worth the living. - -At the finish of one of the dances a messenger-boy was seen approaching -with a telegram. - -"For Mr. Arthur Hollis," he called. - -Mechanically Arthur held out his hand. It was a dispatch requiring his -immediate presence in Baltimore to attend to some urgent business. - -"Have you bad news?" asked Ida, turning to him; for she saw his face -had grown very pale. - -"Yes--no," he answered, incoherently, a troubled look coming into his -eyes. "I must go away." He did not look at her as he uttered the words. -"I must go within the hour," he said, huskily. "Come down by the brook -where we have passed so many happy hours. I should like to say good-bye -to you there." - -For a moment she hesitated; then seeing the sorrowful look on his face, -she quietly allowed him to lead her down the path toward the brook. - -In silence they walked through the sunshine, heedless that there were -two pairs of eyes following them--Vivian Deane's from one part of the -grounds, and Eugene Mallard's from another. - -Vivian turned and followed them. That was the beginning of the tragedy -that darkened three lives. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - - -Slowly Ida and Arthur Hollis walked together over the beautiful green -lawn, Vivian Deane creeping like the shadow of fate after them. - -Arthur seated Ida in her favorite nook on the mossy stone. For a moment -neither of them spoke; then he suddenly caught her little hand in his. -Ida did not know why she trembled, why her hand grew cold in his clasp. - -There was not a cloud in the blue sky overhead. The cool, sweet breeze -shook the rose leaves and scattered them on the grass; the leaves of -the oak-trees stirred on the great boughs. A calm, sweet and solemn in -its beauty, stole over them. - -"Ida," he whispered, hoarsely, "did ever a great pity fill your heart -for any one? If so, let pity fill it now for me, for I am in need of -it." - -"Why?" she asked, looking wonderingly up at him. - -"How I shall look back to this hour when I am gone!" he said, brokenly. - -"When I am gone!" The words had a sad murmur in them, like the fall of -autumn leaves. They pierced the very heart of the girl who heard them. - -"When you are gone?" she repeated. "What do you mean?" - -"I am going away within the hour," he said. "The telegram I received -calls me back to Baltimore by the first train," he added. - -Involuntarily Ida drew closer to him, her face paling. Suddenly the -light went out of the sun, the glory faded from the blue sky; the music -of the birds was hushed, the bitterness of death seemed to have fallen -over her heart. - -"Going away?" She repeated the words over and over again, but she could -not realize their meaning. - -"I--I have been so happy, I forgot you would have to go away," she -said, slowly. - -"I am going down to Central America. I may die of fever and never come -back," he answered, with passionate pain in his voice. "If I am spared -to return, it may not be for years. I will have passed out of your -thoughts by that time. You will have forgotten the pleasant hours we -spent together, forgotten our rambles through the sunny hours. You will -have grown into a woman of the world by that time. You have not begun -life yet." - -"I feel as though I had finished with it," she murmured. - -She did not try to check the words that came throbbing to her lips. - -"I wish you had not come into my life only to go out of it," she added, -with passionate pain. - -He looked at her, and strong man though he was, his lips trembled. She -had raised her face to his, and she looked so beautiful, so unhappy, -that he turned away with a groan which came from the very depths of his -heart. - -Vivian Deane had crept near enough to hear the first words that had -passed between them. She knew that he had received a telegram calling -him away. He had either taken Ida Mallard down to the brook-side to say -good-bye, or to urge her to elope with him. Most likely the latter. - -She would go and fetch Eugene. He should be a silent witness to the -scene; then her vengeance would be complete. - -She knew his pride, his temper. She knew he would not raise his voice -to utter one word to stay her steps. He would spurn her, he would force -her to go. - -Vivian hurried back to the dancers on the lawn. Eugene Mallard was -standing apart from his guests. She glided up to him and laid a little -white hand upon his arm. - -"Eugene," she said, in a voice which trembled with excitement, "I have -always been your true friend. If I saw you in danger, my first impulse -would be to save you. If I saw an enemy pointing a deadly arrow at your -heart, I would try to turn it aside. If I saw a dark cloud hanging over -you, my first impulse would be to warn you." - -"I anticipate what you are going to say, Vivian," he broke in, with -an expression of annoyance on his face. "You are going to repeat some -gossip to me, and I will say, before you begin, that I do not care to -hear it." - -"If you will not heed the words of warning of one who wishes you well, -you must submit to the jeers of the whole country. I advise you to go -to the brook-side, where your wife is saying farewell to Arthur Hollis; -or perhaps she is going with him." - -She saw the look that passed over his face as she turned swiftly and -hurried away. He could not have answered her if his life had depended -upon it. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw that he had strolled -off in the direction which she had indicated. - -"He will catch them making love to each other, and then--Ah, well, we -shall see!" - -Ida and Arthur had walked in silence by the brook, and they stood -beside it for some moments without speaking; then suddenly Arthur -Hollis turned toward her. - -"Say that you will miss me when I am gone," he murmured, with emotion. - -"You know that I will," she answered. "But for you, my life here would -have been very lonely." - -"Do you really mean that?" he asked, quickly. - -"Yes," she returned, with something very like a sob on her lips. - -Impetuously he caught the little white hand that hung by her side. - -"Those words will linger in my memory until the day I die!" he cried, -huskily. "Ida, I am going away. You will never see me in this world -again. I shall never come back." - -She looked at him with her great dark eyes. - -"It breaks my heart to say farewell," he continued, huskily, "for when -I leave you, Ida, I go out into the darkness of death." - -"Oh, do not say that!" she cried. - -"Yes, the hour has come when I must tell you," he answered. "It will -ease my heart. Only forgive and forget me. Oh, how am I to say good-bye -to you?" he asked, sharply, looking, with desperation in his eyes, -at the lovely pale face. "I have lived under the same roof with you. -I have been thrown into your society day by day, yet I have kept my -secret in my own heart. Now I am going away, and I will tell you the -truth--I love you, Ida--I love you!" - -He caught her hands in his, and she was too bewildered and dazed to -withdraw them. - -"You must forgive me!" he cried. "Have pity on me, if my words do not -please you!" - -She was carried away by his reckless impetuosity, and was too much -surprised to interrupt him. She had not even recovered herself -sufficiently to withdraw her hands from his. All she knew, in her -bewilderment, was, that he was kneeling upon the grass at her feet, -with his head bent, and that hot, passionate tears were falling from -his eyes. - -"I have brought you here because I could not bear the pain any longer. -I must speak to you or die. I love you! Ah, Heaven knows how I love -you!" - -She had no power to stop the torrent of words that fell from his lips. - -"You will no doubt wonder how I dare say this to you," he went on, -brokenly, "but my answer is--love dares anything. It must express -itself in action or words. No mortal can keep it back." - -She tried to check him, but it was impossible. - -"Hush--hush!" was all she could say. - -"I know the gulf that lies between us," he went on: "I realize that it -can never be bridged over. If I had met you first, I feel all would -have ended differently. You would have loved me as I love you. I feel -it--I know it." - -At that moment Eugene Mallard, who had hurried down the path at the -suggestion of Vivian Deane, arrived upon the scene. - -Only the tall lilac bushes sheltered him from the two who stood by the -brook-side. For a moment he was horrified at what he saw and heard. He -stood fairly rooted to the spot. His first impulse was to dash in upon -them, fling Arthur Hollis to the earth, and beat his very life out. - -His next impulse was to rush to the house for his revolver, return with -it, and shoot his false friend before his guilty wife's eyes. - -He acted upon the latter impulse, turned on his heel, and a moment -later, white as death, he dashed into the house and ran up a rear -stair-way to his room. - -He did not love the girl who bore his name, but she should learn, even -if it were at the cost of a life, what it meant to drag his name, his -honor, through the mire. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - - -Although scarcely five minutes had elapsed since Eugene Mallard dashed -into the house in search of his revolver, when he returned to the -brook-side neither his wife nor Arthur Hollis was to be seen. - -His rage was so great that he could scarcely contain himself. In his -present state of mind he did not dare return to his guests, lest his -emotion should betray him. - -He thought they were planning an elopement; but he would nip that in -the bud. - -The woman to whom he had given his name should not disgrace him. He -determined upon that as he hurried up a rear stair-way to his wife's -apartments to verify his suspicions. - -To his utter surprise, as he flung open the door, he saw her sitting -by the window. She sprung to her feet, looking at him with widely -distended eyes. - -It was the first time that her husband had ever crossed the threshold -of her apartments. - -He entered the room, closed the door behind him, and stood with folded -arms before her. - -Husband and wife looked at each other. - -It was he who broke the awful silence. He strode up to her, and seized -her wrist in a vise-like grasp. - -"There is little use in making a preliminary speech," he cried, -hoarsely. "I will come to the point at once!" - -His face was ghastly, his lips trembled with uncontrollable rage. - -Ida, pale, terrified, wondering, gazed at him with undisguised terror -in her eyes. - -"What is it?" she gasped. - -"You guilty woman!" cried Eugene Mallard--"you cruel, guilty woman, I -have interrupted you in your preparation for flight, it seems!" - -His stern face, the anger that shone in his eyes, and the harsh voice -frightened her. She shrunk back as though he had struck her. Her lips -parted as though she would speak; but all sound died away on them. - -"It is time," said Eugene Mallard, "that we came to a clear -understanding. In every way you have deceived me! I have been fatally -betrayed! Your shameless flirtation has tarnished my name and lowered -my position! I am ashamed to look men in the face! Where is he?" he -demanded, looking about him, as though he expected to see Arthur Hollis -in the room. - -"Down by the brook," she faltered. - -Eugene laughed a harsh, satirical laugh. - -"He must have seen me coming while he waited there for you, and fled -from my wrath." He turned on his heel. "I repeat, if you stir from this -room until I give you leave, it will end in a tragedy!" - -In his anger, he did not see that he was trampling under foot a noble -heart. If she had been able to calmly explain to him just what had -occurred, she might have been saved. She attempted to speak, but he -held up his hand. - -"Not one word!" he cried. "I will not listen!" - -He turned suddenly, hurried from the room, closed the door after him, -and went quickly to his library, where he could be alone. - -Ida, left alone, reeled into the nearest chair. She shook as if in an -ague; she was cold, and her head reeled. Her keen pain and agony kept -her from fainting. - -She tried to imagine her future life. What was Eugene Mallard about to -do? Her future was now ruined, sacrificed. Eugene Mallard had been cold -and indifferent to her before, now he hated her. - -He said she was to remain in that room until he should return. She -flung herself face downward upon the floor. He had called her guilty -and cruel; he had vented his rage upon her. Her brain was dizzy with -the unusual excitement. - -When Vivian Deane glided into Ida's room to find out what was going on, -to see whether Ida had really eloped, she found her in a deep swoon. -She did not call the servants, but set about reviving her herself. - -Ida lay white and still as one dead. Above her bent Vivian Deane, -half terrified at the result of her work. Very soon her labors were -rewarded, and Ida opened her large, dark eyes. - -"Vivian--Vivian!" she murmured, catching at the arms of her false -friend, her teeth chattering. - -The blinding tears that now fell from Ida's eyes was a mercy sent -directly from Heaven, for they saved the hapless young wife from going -mad. - -"Something has gone wrong with you, my dear," said Vivian, in her -sweetest, most cooing voice. "Tell me what it is, Ida, dear. Let me -console and comfort you." - -Another fit of sobbing more violent than the first, and Ida threw -herself into the arms of her treacherous friend, sobbing out: - -"Oh! Vivian, I must tell some one." - -In a voice that shook with emotion, she proceeded to confide to her -enemy what had happened down by the brook-side, adding that her husband -had discovered it in some way, and accused her of encouraging Arthur -Hollis. - -"Even if you had given him encouragement, no one could have blamed -you," Vivian said in a soft, purring voice, "for your husband's neglect -has been noticeable by every one!" - -"But I did not encourage him!" cried Ida, in agony. "He was pleasant -company, but I thought no more of him, even though I spent so much of -my time in his society, than I did of Captain Drury, or any of the -other guests beneath this roof. Oh! I do wish I were dead--I do--I do!" - -In this exaggerated feeling of one ill in body and in mind, in a state -of nervous tension, a true friend would have shown the unhappy Ida that -her position was not so desperate and hopeless as she imagined. Matters -could not, however, be carried to an extremity without an explanation. - -"He bid me to remain here until he should return," sobbed Ida. "What do -you suppose he means to do?" - -"Do you really want my honest opinion?" asked Vivian, with a steely -glitter in her blue eyes. - -"Yes!" said the young wife, anxiously, fairly holding her breath in -suspense. - -"Well, then, my dear, if you must have it, here it is: I, who know the -fierce temper of the Mallards, say to you that I think he intends to -call all the guests here, to openly denounce you before them, and then -turn you away from his house!" - -The face of the girl-wife who listened grew ghastly. - -"I would never stay beneath this roof to face his anger," said Vivian, -her eyes glistening. "I would gather up what money and jewels I could -lay my hands on, and run away--go as far away as possible." - -"Would you?" cried Ida, in a hushed, awful voice. - -"Yes," advised Vivian, firmly. "And every moment of delay brings you -nearer and nearer to face the terrible ordeal that I am sure he intends -to mete out to you!" - -Ida rose suddenly to her feet - -"I will do as you advise, Vivian," she whispered, her dark eyes filled -with terror. "I will fly at once!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - - -Vivian Deane looked down at the cowering girl at her feet. It seemed to -her then that her triumph was complete. She could scarcely keep back -the cry of exultation that rose to her lips. - -"How shall I leave the house without being seen?" whispered Ida, -piteously. - -"Leave that to me," murmured Vivian. "I am very sorry for you, Ida, and -I will do all I can to aid you in this, your hour of greatest sorrow." - -"You are, indeed, a true friend to me," sobbed Ida. "I shall never, -never forget your kindness." - -Vivian looked a trifle uncomfortable at these words of unmerited -praise. She dared not remain longer with Ida, for she knew that two or -three partners would be looking for her. - -"Stay here for at least fifteen minutes," she said, eagerly, "and by -that time I will join you, and tell you what plans I have made for you." - -Ida could not think for herself, her brain was so benumbed. She could -only nod in silence. - -Scarcely five minutes had elapsed since Vivian had quitted the -_boudoir_, until Eugene Mallard again knocked for admittance at the -door. - -There was no answer. He turned the knob, entered, and found his young -wife lying senseless upon the carpet. For the second time, Ida had -given away to the awful agony that consumed her. Among those at the -_fête_ was a young doctor. Eugene summoned him hastily. - -"Dear me, this is quite serious!" exclaimed the doctor, as he bent over -the prostrate form which Eugene had borne to a couch. "Your wife has -brain fever. It is a serious case, I fear." - -The garden-party broke up quite suddenly. The news that Mrs. Mallard -had been taken ill was rumored among the revelers, and silently but -quickly the guests took their departure, all save Vivian Deane. - -She went up to Eugene, and laid a hand on his arm. - -"Let me remain and nurse my dear friend Ida," she pleaded. "Do not -refuse, I beg of you!" - -"Let it be as the doctor says," answered Eugene. - -But the physician shook his head decisively. - -"This is a case requiring the most competent nurses. I am sorry to -refuse you, Miss Deane, but in this instance I must do so." - -Vivian controlled the anger that leaped into her heart. - -"You certainly mean well," added the doctor, "but in such a case as -this even her nearest relatives are not to be allowed in the sick-room." - -Vivian was obliged to swallow her chagrin as best she could. If she -had been allowed her way, the young wife who had come between her love -and herself would never rise from her bed. - -"When she is convalescing I will visit her," she said to herself. - -As she had no excuse to remain longer in the house, she was obliged to -take her departure along with the other guests. - -When Eugene Mallard had hurried to his room, after bidding Ida to -remain there until his return, it was his intention to go to his room -for writing materials, and returning to Ida, force from her a written -confession of her love for his friend, and her intention to elope with -him. - -Under the circumstances, he could not very well carry his plan into -execution. His rage against his hapless young wife turned to pity when -he saw her lying there so helplessly before him. - -During the fortnight that followed, the servants, who knew of their -master's estrangement from his young wife, and how little he cared -for her, were greatly surprised to find themselves banished from the -sick-room, while Eugene Mallard took possession of it. - -The fact was, he was puzzled at her raving. Sometimes, when taking -the place of the trained nurse for an hour, he was troubled beyond -expression to hear her go over again and again the scene that had taken -place by the brook. - -In her delirium, Ida vehemently repulsed Arthur Hollis, demanding of -him how it was that he dared speak a word of love to her, the wife of -another. - -Then the scene would change, and she would fancy herself once more in -her own room, falling on her knees and crying out to Heaven that she -could not bear her husband's coldness. - -Often would Eugene listen intently while Ida clasped her hands and -moaned: - -"Oh, Eugene! Eugene! will I ever be more to you than I am now? I love -you! Yes, I love you, but you will never know it! If you only knew it, -you would be surprised. A wife never loved a husband more dearly, more -devotedly than I love you. I would have devoted my whole life to you. -I would have died for you! Every beat of my heart, every thought of my -mind, every action of my life is for you! I love you as no one else -ever will, as no one has loved you! You may live many years, happy, -flattered by the women of the world, but no love like mine will ever -come to you. The wife who is to you as the dirt beneath your feet is -the truest friend you have!" - -Eugene Mallard looked terribly distressed as he listened. - -"Ida, my dear wife, listen to me," he would say. "I--I--shall try very -hard to be kinder to you than I have been. Do you hear me, do you -understand?" - -There was no gleam of love in the pale face; no light such as he had -thought his words would bring there; no gleam of joy. She did not seem -to understand him. He said to himself that he must be cautious; that he -must not distress her by speaking words that would give her hope. - -The news of the illness of Eugene Mallard's young wife had traversed -far beyond the small Virginia town. He was well known in New York, and -the papers of the metropolis copied the bit of news; but in doing so, -they made a great mistake. The items read that the young wife of Eugene -Mallard had died from the effects of brain fever. - -Miss Fernly read the article, and without delay she wrote to Eugene -Mallard. - -In one part of her letter she said: - - "I should never have written you the following if the wife whom you - had wedded through _my_ mistake had lived. But now that she is gone, - I will tell you the truth--that hapless deed came very near costing - your poor Hildegarde her life. From the time of your marriage to the - present, she has never been the same. She loved you then, she still - loves you. - - "This is what I would advise you to do: wait a reasonable length of - time, and then come and claim Hildegarde, and this time nothing shall - happen to prevent the marriage of you two whom Heaven had intended for - each other. I know Hildegarde is breaking her heart day by day, hour - by hour, for love of you. - - "I urge you to come to her just as soon as you think it prudent, as I - think it is my duty to warn you that Hildegarde is fading away before - our very eyes, and your presence is the only thing that can save her - life. - - "I here inclose you a small portrait of her I had taken only a little - while ago. Her face is as sweet as a flower, but, ah, me! one can not - help but read the sadness in every line of it." - -It was just at the time when Eugene Mallard was feeling kinder toward -his wife than ever that he received Miss Fernly's letter inclosing -Hildegarde's picture. He had done his best to try to crush out his -hopeless love for one from whom Heaven had so strangely parted him. - -Great drops of perspiration stood out on his brow as he folded the -letter and turned the picture face downward on his desk. - -It seemed to Eugene that the bitter waves of death were sweeping over -him. It was the reopening of the old wound in his heart that he prayed -Heaven to heal. He loved Hildegarde with all the strength of his -manhood. He wished that he were dead. The pain seemed greater than he -could bear. He found that he still loved sweet Hildegarde; but he was -bound to another in honor and conscience. He would try to do his duty -toward the one who bore his name. - -He took the letter to the open fire-place, where a log fire burned -lazily, and knelt down before it, holding it to the flame. Red tongues -of fire caught at it gleefully, and the next instant it was a heap of -ashes in one corner of the grate. - -Then he held out the picture to the flames, but involuntarily he drew -it back. He could not allow it to burn. It seemed to him that his own -heart would burn first. - -"Heaven give me strength to destroy it!" he cried. "I dare not trust -myself to keep it. It will drive me mad!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - - -The flames touched the portrait, and with a cry Eugene Mallard hastily -drew it back. - -"No, no--a thousand times no!" It would be as easy to burn the living, -beating heart in his bosom. - -While he had the strength, he hurried to his writing-desk, placed it in -a pigeon-hole, shut down the lid, and turned the key. Then he buried -his face in his hands. - -He ruminated upon the strangeness of the position he was placed in. -Both of these young girls loved him, while he loved but one of them, -and the one whom he loved so deeply could never be anything in this -world to him. He wondered in what way he had offended Heaven that such -a fate should be meted out to him. - -At that moment quite a thrilling scene was transpiring at the railway -station of the little Virginia town. - -The New York Express, which had just steamed in, stood before it, and -from one of the drawing-room cars there stepped a handsome man dressed -in the height of fashion. - -He sauntered into the waiting-room, looking about him as though in -search of the ticket-agent. - -A woman entered the depot at that moment carrying a little child in her -arms. She recognized the man at a single glance. - -"Why, Mr. Royal Ainsley!" she cried, "is this indeed you returning to -your old home?" - -Turning hastily around at the mention of his name, he beheld Mrs. -Lester standing before him. - -"Yes; I have returned like a bad penny, Mrs. Lester," he said, with a -light, flippant laugh. "But, judging from the expression on your face, -you are not glad to see me." - -"I have not said so," she answered. - -"Sit down, Mrs. Lester," he said, flinging himself down on one of the -benches. "I should like to inquire of you about the women-folk of the -village." - -The woman sat down beside him, in obedience to his request. - -"There is very little to tell," she answered; "everything in our -village moves on about the same, year in and year out. Nothing of -importance has taken place, except the marriage of your cousin, Eugene -Mallard." - -"Ha! ha! ha! So my fastidious cousin has changed his name from Royal -Ainsley to that of Eugene Mallard to please his uncle, has he? Well, -I read of it in one of the New York papers, but I scarcely credited -it. Between you and me, Mrs. Lester, that was a mighty mean piece of -work--the old fool leaving his entire fortune to him, and cutting me -off without a cent." - -"Every one knows that you were warned of what was to come unless you -mended your ways," answered the woman. - -"Bah! I never thought for a moment that the old fool would keep his -word," retorted the other. "But you say that my cousin is wedded. That -is indeed news to me. Whom did he wed--Vivian Deane?" - -"Oh, no," she answered, "not Miss Deane. Every one in the village -prophesied that he wouldn't wed her, although she was so infatuated -with him." - -"I suppose she is an heiress," said Ainsley, savagely knocking the -ashes off his cigar. "It's easy enough to marry another fortune if you -have one already." - -"I don't know if she is an heiress," returned Mrs. Lester; "but she's -a real lady. Any one can see that. But I fear that he is in great -danger of losing her. She is now very low with brain fever, and it is -doubtful whether she will live." - -"Humph!" he muttered. "My visit here is most inopportune then. I -wanted to see my cousin, and strike him for the loan of a few thousand -dollars. He won't be in very good humor now to accede to my request. I -think I'll keep shady and wait a fortnight before seeing him. But who -is _this_?" he cried, looking at the child she carried in her arms. "I -understood that your baby died." - -"So it did," replied Mrs. Lester. "This is the little foundling whom -we are about to adopt. My husband brought it to me from a foundling -asylum." - -"Well, I do declare!" said Ainsley. "That's quite a risky operation, -taking a little waif into your home, when you don't know its parents." - -"But I _do_ know its mother," she answered. "I wrote and found out -all about its mother. She was a young girl who was taken ill in the -streets. A poor family permitted her to be brought into their house, -and there her babe was born. The young mother was so ill that the babe -was taken to the foundling asylum by the doctor who attended her, where -it could have constant attention, for its little life was despaired -of. By a strange mistake, word was sent to the mother that the little -one had died. But the baby rallied and recovered. Almost heart-broken -over the news of its death, the young mother disappeared. There was -no one so interested as to make search for her, and tell her that her -little one had been spared. In her flight she left behind her a package -which contained some articles that may lead to her identity, if the -child should ever want to find her hapless mother when she grows to -womanhood. I have them with me now. Do let me show them to you, Mr. -Ainsley." - -At that moment the little one, who had been sleeping, slowly opened its -great, dark, solemn eyes, looked up into the face of Royal Ainsley, and -uttered a plaintive little sob. - -It was not often that he noticed little children--indeed, he had an -aversion to them--but he could not understand the impulse that made -him bend forward and look with interest into the flower-like little -face. - -Where had he seen just such a face? The great, dark, solemn eyes, so -like purple pansies, held him spell-bound. - -An impulse which he could not control or define caused him to reach out -his trembling hand and touch the waxen little fingers, and the contact -made the blood rush through his veins like fire. He tried to speak, but -his tongue seemed too thick and heavy to perform its functions. - -The woman did not notice his agitation. She was busily engaged in -unwrapping a small parcel which she had tied up in oil silk. - -Then, to his astonished gaze, Mrs. Lester held up before him a -beautiful bracelet made of tiny pink sea-shells, with a heavy gold -clasp, upon which was engraved, "From R. to I." - -If Mrs. Lester had but looked at him, she would have seen that his face -had grown ghastly. - -At a glance he recognized the bracelet as one which he had designed -and presented to Ida May, at Newport, when he believed her to be the -heiress of the wealthy Mays. - -"That is not all," said Mrs. Lester, holding up a man's pocket-book, -which he recognized as his own---the identical one he had sent up to -Ida May by the porter, with a little change in it, on the morning he -deserted her. - -Again he opened his mouth to speak; but no sound issued from his -lips. The pocket-book contained only a part of a sleeve-link that had -belonged to himself, the other part of the link was in his pocket at -that moment. - -In a flash, the truth came to him--this little one was Ida May's child. - -He now recalled the appealing letters she had written to him at the -hotel after he had deserted her. He had never answered them, for by -that time he was trying to win the beautiful heiress, Florence St. -John. He had told Ida May that his marriage to her was not legal, while -in truth it was as binding as Church and State could make it. - -He had cast all upon the throw of a dice, and it would never do for the -poor young girl whom he had married to come between him and the young -girl whom he was about to win. - -He had resolved upon a desperate scheme to gain a fortune, by deluding -the young girl whom he had made his wife into believing that she was -not such, and going through the ceremony with the heiress, Florence St. -John. - -But Fate had snatched the beautiful Florence St. John from his grasp -just as he was about to wed her. Her brother came on the scene, and -Royal Ainsley beat a hasty retreat, as he had commenced to inquire into -his antecedents. - -All these thoughts flashed through his brain in an instant. Then he -realized that Mrs. Lester was speaking to him. - -"A pretty baby, is she not?" said the woman, holding the infant toward -him. "But we have decided not to keep her, after all. I am going to -take the first train to New York, and return the baby to the foundling -asylum, though Heaven knows I shall miss her sorely. We are too poor to -keep her." - -Royal Ainsley turned toward her with strange eagerness. - -"What do you say if I take your charge off your hands?" he asked, -huskily. - -"You, Mr. Ainsley?" exclaimed the woman, amazed. "Why, what in the -world could _you_, a young bachelor, do with a baby?" - -"I will give you one hundred dollars to give me the child. Is it a -bargain, Mrs. Lester? Speak quickly, before I change my mind!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - - -Royal Ainsley leaned forward, and caught Mrs. Lester's arm, saying -hastily: - -"I repeat, that you shall have one hundred dollars if you will but give -the child into my custody." - -"Again I ask, what could you, a bachelor, do with it, Mr. Ainsley?" -said Mrs. Lester. - -He had an answer ready for her. - -"I know a family who lost a little one, and would be only too delighted -to take the infant and give it a good home." - -Mrs. Lester breathed a sigh of relief. - -"I am very poor, as you know very well, Mr. Ainsley," she answered, -"and I can not refuse your kind offer. Take the little one with -welcome. Only be sure that it is a good home you consign it to." - -He counted out the money and handed it to her, and she resigned the -infant to his arms. At that moment they heard the shriek of the -incoming express. - -"That is the train I was going to take," she said, "and now I am out -the price of my ticket, which I bought in advance." - -"If you will give it to me, I will use it," he said. - -She handed him the ticket, and in another moment Mrs. Lester saw him -board the train with the child. - -"I wonder if I have done right or wrong," she thought, a scared look -coming into her face. "It was all done so quickly that I had not the -time to consider the matter. But this much I do know; I have the -hundred dollars in my pocket, and that is a God-send to me. We need the -money badly just now." - -She turned and walked slowly away; but somehow she did not seem quite -easy regarding the fate of the little child. - -"I ought to have asked him the name of the family to whom he was going -to take the baby," she mused; "then I could have written to them to be -very careful, and to bring her up to be a good and true woman. I shall -certainly ask him all about it the very next time I see him--that is, -if I ever _do_ see him." - -Meanwhile the train thundered on, carrying Royal Ainsley and the child -away. It was hard to keep back the expression of mingled hatred and -rage with which Royal Ainsley regarded the infant he held in his arms. -He knew full well that the child was his own, but he had no love for -it. If it had died then and there, that fact would have afforded him -much satisfaction. - -But one course presented itself. He would take it to New York, and once -there, he would have no further trouble with it--he would manage to -lose it. Many waifs were found on the doorsteps, and no one ever could -trace their parentage, or whose hand had placed them there. - -In all probability he would never run across Ida May again. She -believed her child dead. - -While these thoughts were flitting through his brain, the little one -commenced to cry. Its piteous wails attracted the attention of more -than one person in the car. - -"Mother," said a buxom young woman sitting opposite, "I am sure that -young man is a widower, left with the little child, and he is taking it -to his folks. You see he is in deep mourning. - -"I'll bet that baby's hungry, mother, and I'll bet, too, that he hasn't -a nursing-bottle to feed it from." - -"You can depend upon it that he has one," remarked her mother. "Every -father knows that much about babies." - -"Of course he has it in his pocket; he never came away without one; but -he is so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts that he does not hear the -baby. Don't you think you ought to give him a little reminder of it?" -said her daughter, thoughtfully. "You're an elderly woman, and can do -it." - -"He might tell me to mind my own business," said the elder woman. "Some -strangers don't take kindly to other people meddling in their affairs." - -As the plaintive wails of the infant increased instead of diminished, -the elder woman got up and made her way up the aisle. - -Royal Ainsley started violently as he felt the heavy hand on his -shoulder. - -"Why don't you feed your baby, sir?" she said, brusquely. - -He looked at her angrily, his brows bent together in a decided frown. - -"What do you mean by interrupting my thoughts, woman?" he cried, -harshly. - -His angry retort roused all the antagonism in the woman's nature. - -"I mean just what I say--your baby's hungry, mister," she replied. "If -you had the feelings of a loving father, you'd know enough to feed it." - -He looked at her in consternation. - -"Feed it?" he echoed, blankly. "I--I was not prepared for anything like -this. Such a thing did not occur to me." - -"And you didn't bring a nursing-bottle along with you?" echoed the -woman. - -"No," he responded, curtly, but also somewhat blankly. - -"Good Lord! that's just like a man, to forget important things like -that." - -"What am I to do?" he asked, appealingly. "What would you suggest, -madame. I am at sea." - -She looked at him perplexedly; then her motherly face brightened as she -glanced about the car. - -"I will soon see what can be done," she answered, making her way as -quickly as the moving train would allow to the end of the car, where -two women sat with tiny infants on their laps. - -Very soon she returned with the article she had gone in search of. - -"Let me take the poor little thing," she said, "and feed it. Men, and -more especially young men, don't know anything about such things." - -Royal Ainsley gladly delivered his charge into her keeping. Very soon -the woman had stilled its cries, and it was sleeping peacefully in her -arms. An idea then came to Royal Ainsley. His pale-blue eyes glittered -with a fiendish light. - -He almost laughed aloud at the thought that flashed through his mind. - -"Do you think the baby will sleep a little while?" he asked, drawing -his hat down over his face. - -"It is likely to," she answered; "still, one can not always tell. -Samantha, my daughter here, never slept ten minutes on a stretch when -she was a baby. She was a lot of trouble to me then; but I don't mind -it now, for she's a heap of comfort to me, sir. I wouldn't know how to -get along without Samantha. She----" - -Royal Ainsley interrupted her impatiently. - -"I was going to say that if you would be kind enough to hold the little -one for awhile I would like to go into the smoking-car and smoke a -cigar." - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - - -Royal Ainsley thought the woman did not hear his question, for she did -not answer, and he repeated, in his suave, winning way: - -"Could I trouble you to hold the little one a few moments, while I -enjoy a smoke in the car ahead?" - -Widow Jones answered readily enough: - -"To be sure I will take care of the little one, sir. Go right along and -enjoy your cigar. I know just how a man feels when he is deprived of a -smoke. My husband had to have his pipe every night after his supper, -just as sure as the sun went down. If he missed it, he was fairly -beside himself--like a fish out of water." - -It suddenly occurred to Royal Ainsley that it wouldn't be a bad idea to -know more about this woman. - -"Do you live near here?" he asked. - -"Just three stations above--near Larchmont village. We won't reach -there for nearly three-quarters of an hour, so that need not trouble -you, sir. I take it that you are a widower, sir," she went on, before -he could rise from his seat. - -"Yes," he answered, shortly, and with considerable impatience. - -"It's too bad!" chimed in Samantha--"and to be left with such a young -baby, too. It's too bad that you didn't get a nurse for her, unless you -are taking her to some of your folks." - -"I have no relatives," he answered. "I am going to New York for the -express purpose of finding some one to take care of the child." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Widow Jones. "How strange that you should -come across me! Why, do you know, I used to take little ones in -occasionally, and keep them for their fathers until they were old -enough to get about. Before you look further, sir--although I don't -like to recommend myself--I'd like to have you stop off at Larchmont -and inquire all about me. There isn't a man, woman, or child for miles -around but can tell you about me." - -"Why, it is indeed a piece of good luck that I should have come across -you, madame!" declared Royal Ainsley. "We may be able to come to terms -here and now." - -"Don't ask too much, ma," whispered Samantha, under her breath. - -"You can set your own price," said Royal Ainsley, in an off-hand manner. - -"Oh, I will leave that entirely to you, sir," said the widow. "I'll -take the baby and care for her, and you can come and see her whenever -you like. I'll leave the pay entirely to you. That's fair enough, sir, -isn't it?" - -"You are entirely too magnanimous," he declared. "By the way, here's a -ten-dollar note to start with. That's the only bill I have, save those -of very large denomination. In the course of a few weeks I will make -permanent arrangements with you." - -"But surely you are going to stop off at Larchmont, sir, and see where -I live. I don't expect that you will trust a dear little baby like this -to a stranger. You will most likely want a recommendation." - -"Your face is certainly recommendation enough, my good woman," he -declared. "Nevertheless, I shall, of course, stop off with you." - -He rose with a bow. - -"Remember, sir," chimed in Samantha, "that part of the train switches -off just a few miles below there. If you don't look out, you'll be -taken on to New York." - -"I must look out for that," he said. "I had certainly intended to take -a little nap after my smoke. I haven't closed my eyes for two nights; -the baby was not feeling well. Your warning will put me on my guard, at -all events." - -Again he bowed, and in an instant he had disappeared. - -"I wonder what his name is," said Samantha. "You forgot to ask him, ma." - -"So I did, to be sure. But it's easy finding that out." - -Further conversation was stopped by the sudden waking up of the pretty -dark-eyed babe; but a little milk from the bottle and a few soothing -words soon succeeded in quieting her. - -"We are almost at the switch," said Samantha. "Ought not somebody go -into the smoking-car and inform the gentleman of it?" - -"Why, certainly not. It's likely he knows of it. He was told of it, -and it's likely some one will inform him. You had better look after -your boxes and bundles. Be sure to pick up the bag of candy, the -ginger-snaps, the bunch of bachelor buttons, the rosemary, my shawl, -and your new pair of shoes." - -"If I have to hold this baby and pick up my dress, it will be as much -as I can do. But I'm quite sure the gentleman will come and take care -of the baby himself," added Samantha, wistfully. - -The conductor called out the station. It was the busiest junction in -the northern part of Virginia. Two trains met and passed each other -here, while still another was side-tracked, waiting for the right of -way. There was always a rush of people at the station, and consequently -confusion and noise. Widow Jones and Samantha stepped from the car to -the platform. - -"We ought to have waited," declared the girl. "See, we have missed him, -as I told you we would. I had better run back and see if he's there. -He's probably going on to New York. But he will be sure to see us, no -matter what car he is in." - -A moment more, and the two trains moved on. Even Widow Jones was now -thoroughly alarmed. What her daughter had feared had taken place. The -young man had certainly missed them. - -"Overcome with fatigue, he probably fell asleep in the smoking-car, in -spite of himself," said Samantha. - -"Well, anyhow he knows your name and address, mother. He will be sure -to telegraph back to us at Larchmont." - -Still, Widow Jones, who held the baby close in her arms, looked -troubled. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - - -"He has certainly been carried on to New York," said Widow Jones. -"There is nothing left but to get home and await results." - -"I guess you're about right," said Samantha. - -They left word at the railroad station to at once bring up any telegram -that might come for them. - -An hour after they arrived at Larchmont, every one had heard of Mrs. -Jones and the baby, and her experience with the handsome stranger. - -When a fortnight passed, and the weeks lengthened into months, Mrs. -Jones began to be a little skeptical. - -"We will keep the baby until he _does_ come for it, Samantha," she said. - -Somehow the little waif with the great dark eyes and the little -rose-bud mouth had crept into their hearts, and they could not turn it -away. - -Samantha did her share in looking after the baby; but it was a little -hard, for she had a great deal to do waiting upon customers in the -village bakery. - -The mother and daughter made no further mention of the handsome -stranger. - -"If we had but asked him his name. I wanted you to, ma," declared -Samantha. "But there's no use in crying now. We have the satisfaction -of having a baby, anyhow," declared the girl, spiritedly. - -"Yes," assented her mother, dubiously; "but it's quite a task to bring -up other people's children." - -Meanwhile, freed from the care of the child, Royal Ainsley walked -through the train. It was just approaching the station, when, all -unobserved, he swung from the back platform just as the express was -moving out again. - -A chuckle of delight broke from his lips. - -"That was most cleverly managed. My compliments to Mrs. Jones, of -Larchmont. She has been exceedingly useful to me." - -He did not trouble himself as to what disposition they might make of -the child. - -The question that occurred to him was--"how am I to destroy the proofs -I have concerning the child?" - -But no answer came to him regarding this dilemma. He thrust them back -into his pocket. He would have plenty of time to plan when he reached -New York. - -Suddenly the thought came to him, that he would be foolish to turn back -from the course he had marked out for himself. Instead of returning, he -would go back and see Eugene. - -There was a friend of his living in the vicinity. He would find him, -and pass a week or two with him, then he would carry out his original -scheme. He acted upon this thought. - -It was the fishing season, and Royal Ainsley made a valuable addition -to a party of young men already gathered at his friend's quarters. Five -weeks elapsed before the party broke up. - -"By this time Eugene's wife must have recovered from her illness," he -said, grimly. "If I don't go and see him now, they will probably be -getting ready to go off somewhere, and I will miss them." - -Suiting the action to the word, Royal Ainsley took the train the next -day and arrived at his native village at dusk. - -He had taken the precaution to provide himself with a long top-coat and -a slouch hat. - -He avoided the depot and its waiting-room, lest he should meet some one -who might recognize him. - -He struck into a side-path, and a sharp walk of some fifteen minutes -brought him in sight of the old mansion. - -How dark and gloomy the night was! There was no moon, and not a star -shone in the heavens. - -A short cut across the fields brought him to a little brook. He looked -down upon it in silence as it gurgled on sullenly over its rocky bed. - -He looked back at the grand old mansion looming up in the distance. And -as he looked, he clinched his hands, and the bitterness in his heart -became more intense. - -"But for Eugene, all that would be mine," he muttered. "He stepped -between me and the fortune. When we were boys together, I realized that -he would do it, and I hated him--hated him for his suave, winning ways -and the love which every one showered on him. He was always lucky." - -He turned and looked again at the great stone mansion, whose turrets -were dimly outlined against the sky. And as he looked he saw a door on -the rear porch open and a figure clad in a white, fleecy dress glide -out upon the porch and walk slowly into the grounds. - -"That is probably the bride," he muttered, with a harsh little laugh. - -To his surprise, she crossed the lawn and made directly for the spot -where he stood. - -"I shall not be likely to get a good look at her unless the moon comes -out," he thought. - -He drew back into the shadow of the alders that skirted the brook. His -bitter, vengeful thoughts were turned aside for a moment while watching -the advancing figure. - -"Why should my cousin have wealth, love, happiness, while I have to -knock about here and there, getting my living as best I can, being -always in hard luck and a mark for the arrows of relentless fate?" he -soliloquized. - -Nearer and nearer drew the slender, graceful figure. - -Royal Ainsley was right. It was his cousin's wife. - -She went on slowly over the greensward in the sweet night air, little -dreaming what lay at the end of her path. - -By the merest chance the hapless young wife had come across the letter -that Miss Fernly had written to Eugene Mallard. It had fallen from his -pocket when he was looking over some papers on the porch one day. - -Passing by soon after, Ida saw the paper lying there, picked it up, and -opened it. There, while the sun shone and the birds sung, she read it -through, and the wonder was that she did not die then and there. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - - -From the moment that Ida had learned through Miss Fernly's letter how -Hildegarde Cramer had mourned for her lover, the young wife's life had -become very unhappy. - -She knew well that she stood between Hildegarde Cramer and her -happiness. She had done her best to die, but Heaven had not so willed -it. - -The pity of it was that her love for Eugene Mallard had increased a -hundred fold. It was driving her to madness. - -"Oh, if it were all ended!" she cried aloud. "Better anything than this -awful despair!" - -No one heard her. There was no one near to hear what she moaned out to -the brook that kept so many secrets. - -She heard a crash in the branches near by--a slight crash, but she -started. It was only a bird that had fallen from its nest in the tree -overhead, she told herself. - -But even after she had said it she felt a sense of uncontrollable -terror that she could not account for; felt the weight of some strange -presence. - -That voice! - -When Ida cried aloud in her despair, the words fell like an electric -shock upon the ears of a man who listened behind the alder branches. - -"By all that is wonderful!" he cried, under his breath. "Either my ears -have deceived me, or that is the voice of Ida May! Well, well! Will -surprises never cease?" - -He stepped quickly forward, and the next moment he was by her side. How -strange it was that at that instant the moon came out from behind a -cloud and rendered every object as bright as if in the noonday sun. - -At the sound of the step, Ida started back in affright. - -One glance into the face looking down into her own and she started back -with a cry that was scarcely human. - -"You!" she gasped. - -Then her lips grew cold and stiff. She could not utter another word. - -"The surprise is mutual!" he answered. "What in the name of all that is -wonderful are you doing in this house? Come, my dear, let us sit down -on this log while you explain matters." - -Ida drew back in loathing. - -"Stand back!" she cried. "Do not attempt to touch me, or I shall cry -out for help!" - -A fierce imprecation broke from the man's lips. - -"What do you mean by all this high and mighty nonsense?" he cried. -"Speak at once. You are my wife! Why shouldn't I lay hands on you?" - -"No!" she cried. "Though you have so cruelly deceived me, I thank God -that I am not your wife." - -He threw back his fair, handsome head, and a laugh that was not -pleasant to hear fell from his lips. - -"Don't make any mistake about that!" he cried. "I remember what I -wrote you--that there was some illegality in the ceremony which made -our marriage invalid. But I learned afterward, when I met the chap -who performed the ceremony, that it was entirely legal. If you doubt -that what I say is true, I can easily convince you of the truth of my -assertion." - -Ida drew back with a cry so awful that he looked at her. - -"Well, well, who can understand the ways of women?" he remarked, -ironically. "I thought that you would rejoice over the fact that our -marriage was legal, but I find that you are sorry." - -Still she was looking at him with wide-open eyes. - -"I can not, I will not believe anything so horrible!" she gasped. "It -would drive me mad!" - -"I assure you it is true," he declared. "Like yourself, I believed that -the marriage was not binding. But I found it was, and that saved me -from wedding another girl." - -A cry that seemed to rend her heart in twain broke from her white lips. - -"But tell me, what are you doing here?" he asked, wonderingly. - -Then it was that something like an inkling of the truth came to him. - -"Great God!" he cried, "it can not be possible that you are in any -way connected with my cousin--that you are the bride he brought home? -Speak! Why are you trembling so? Has my guess come anywhere near the -mark?" - -Ida looked up at him with wild, frightened eyes like those of a hunted -deer. - -"Speak!" he cried again, fiercely grasping her arm, "or I will wring -the truth from you!" - -"I--I am Eugene Mallard's wife," she whispered in a voice that would -have touched any other man's heart than the one who was bending over -her with rage depicted on his face. - -He laughed aloud, and that laugh was horrible to hear. - -She did not spare herself. She told him all the bitter truth--how, -being thrown in contact with Eugene Mallard day after day, she had -learned to love him with all the strength of her nature; how, seeing -how good, kind and true he was--a king among men--she fell face -downward in the dew-wet grass and cried out to Heaven that her life -would cease the moment she went out of Eugene Mallard's life. - -"This is, indeed, a fine state of affairs!" he cried out. - -"What would you have me do?" cried the unhappy young girl in the voice -of one dying. - -He did not answer her at once; but, taking a cigar from his pocket, he -coolly lighted it. - -"When you are through with your hysterics, we will talk the matter -over," he assented, frowningly. - -She struggled to her feet. - -"Sit down!" he commanded, pointing to the trunk of a tree. - -Feeling more dead than alive, she sat down in the place which he had -indicated. She expected that her life would end at any moment, the -tension on her nerves was so great. - -He did not speak; but the short, harsh laugh that broke from his lips, -as he puffed away at his cigar, was more cruel than the harshest words. - -"This is what one might call a melodrama in real life," he said, at -length. "It savors of comedy, too, and illustrates fully the old -saying: 'Truth is often stranger than fiction!' But, to get down to -business. Turn around and face me, while I tell you the injunction I -lay upon you, and which you dare not refuse to obey!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - - -The hapless young wife looked into the hard, set face above her, her -eyes dilating with fear. - -Her brain reeled; it seemed to her that she was dying. - -"Listen to what I have to say," exclaimed Royal Ainsley, his hand -tightening on her shoulder. "You have a fine home here--much finer -than I could possibly offer you--and I propose that you shall keep -it. There is no use in wasting sentiment between us. We do not care -for each other, and you _do_ care for Eugene Mallard. It will be some -satisfaction for you to live beneath this roof, and I won't mind it -at all, providing you make it worth my while. I will make my meaning -clearer to you. I must have some money, and you are the one who must -help me to it. Get a thousand dollars, and I will go away and never -again molest you. Come, now, what do you say?" - -Ida drew back and looked at him. - -"You know that I could not get it for you," she said, with calmness. - -"You know the alternative," he said, harshly. - -"No matter what the alternative is, I--I could not help you," she -answered, huskily. - -"If you refuse," he went on, "I can have Eugene Mallard and yourself -arrested for bigamy. I can send you both to prison, and, so help me -Heaven, I'll do it! You say that you love Eugene Mallard. We will see -if you love him well enough to save him." - -"You monster!" she gasped, wildly, "you would not do such a thing, I -say. You dare not outrage Heaven like that." - -"The shoe is on the other foot. It is _you_ who have outraged Heaven -in violating the law. I must have that money, and you know I am a -desperate man." - -He would not tell her just now that her child was alive. He would save -that piece of news for some other time. - -Before she could reply, they saw some of the servants crossing the lawn. - -"I must go!" she cried, wrenching herself free from his grasp. "They -have come in search of me!" - -"I shall be here to-morrow night at this very spot awaiting your -answer," he said, harshly. - -Why had Heaven let Royal Ainsley find her? Had he not already brought -misery enough into her life? - -She turned the matter over in her mind. Every word he had said, every -threat he had made, occurred to her. - -Would he make good his threat, and take vengeance upon the man she -loved if she refused to raise one thousand dollars for him? - -She knew he was what he had said--a desperate man. - -Oh, if she had but dared creep into the library, throw herself at -Eugene Mallard's feet, and tell him all, what woe would have been -spared her. But, alas! she dared not. - -Heaven help her! How could she leave Eugene Mallard, whom she loved -better than life. - -She crept up to her room, and during the long hours of the night she -fought the fiercest battle that woman ever fought with herself. If she -gave Royal Ainsley the money he had asked for, he would certainly go -away and never cross her path again. - -Her heart leaped at the thought. The thought that she was still bound -to Royal Ainsley brought with it the most poignant grief--a feeling of -horror. - -She did realize what it meant to live there beneath that roof, even -after she had found out the truth--that she was not Eugene Mallard's -wife. - -What harm was there in living in the home of the man she loved, seeing -that they were so far apart in heart as well as in purpose? - -"No, I can not tear myself away from the only one I have ever loved!" -she cried. "If I were living here with Eugene Mallard as his wife, then -my duty would be plain--I would have to leave here at once." - -No, no! Come what might, she could not tear herself away from Eugene -Mallard. - -In the drawer of her writing-desk lay a roll of bills which Eugene had -handed her the day before, to purchase new furniture for her suite of -rooms. - -"Select it the first day you go to the city," he had said. - -She had intended purchasing it the following week. - -Now she went hurriedly to her desk, took out the roll of bills, and -counted them. - -There was just a thousand dollars. She drew a great sigh of relief. -That would buy Royal Ainsley's eternal silence. Before handing it to -him, she would swear him to secrecy forever. - -She never knew how she lived through the next day. - -There was not a moment that Royal Ainsley's handsome, cruel, sneering -face did not appear before her. - -How she loathed him! She hated, with fierce, intense hatred, the very -sound of his name. - -Night came at last. - -The few guests that were stopping at the house were assembled in the -drawing-room, and it was not an easy matter to find some convenient -excuse to get away from them. - -But when the hands of the clock on the mantel pointed to the hour of -eight, she felt that she must get away. - -Some one suggested playing a piece of music which she had taken to her -room the day before to study. - -"I will go and search for it," she said; and with that remark she -glided from the room. - -How dark the night was! She almost shivered as she touched the graveled -walk and hurried down to the brook-side. - -When this night had passed away, a life-time of happiness would lay -before her. The wind moaned fitfully among the trees, and the branches -of the tall oaks swayed to and fro. She heard the murmur of the brook -before she reached it, and as she drew near and became accustomed to -the dim light, she saw a tall man pacing up and down. - -He did not hear the light step on the grass. He was muttering -imprecations that made the girl's heart turn cold with dread as she -listened. Then he saw her. - -"Ah! you have come!" he eagerly called out. "It is well for you that -you did," he continued, "for I had just made up my mind to go to the -house and ask for you." - -In the dim light he saw her recoil. Although she made no answer, he -fancied he could almost hear the wild throbbing of her heart. - -"Did you bring the money?" he asked. - -"Yes," she answered hoarsely; "but before I give it to you, I shall -exact a solemn promise that you will never come near me again!" - -"Certainly you shall have the promise--a dozen of them if you like," -he cried, forcing back an insolent laugh. - -"You must solemnly promise that you will never come near me again if I -give this money to you," she said. - -"No," he answered; "I will never come near you. I will go abroad. Does -that satisfy you?" - -"Yes," she answered. "Only go so far away that I shall never see your -face again." - -He closed his hand eagerly over the money, saying to himself that it -was a veritable gold mine that he had found. - -"Let me go!" she panted, as he put out his hand to touch her. - -With the swiftness of a startled deer, she fled past him into the -darkness of the grounds. - -Royal Ainsley laughed harshly. - -"This money will last me for a few weeks, my lady," he muttered, "and -then--Ah! we shall see!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - - -When Ida re-entered the house, the guests were still assembled in the -drawing-room. - -Eugene Mallard was standing a little apart from the rest, looking -thoughtfully into vacancy. - -As she entered the room, he started, and, to her surprise, he crossed -over to her. - -"Ida," he said, "will you come out on the porch with me for a few -moments? I wish to speak with you." - -She looked at him in terror. Had he learned of the return of Royal -Ainsley? - -A great darkness seemed to suddenly envelop her, and it was by the -greatest effort that she kept herself from swooning. But the fresh air -revived her. - -Eugene placed a chair for her, and as she was trembling violently, -she was glad to sink into it. There was a seat near. Eugene did not -take it, but, instead, stood leaning against one of the fluted columns -of the porch. For a few moments he was silent, and those few moments -seemed like long years to Ida. - -"I have brought you out here to have an earnest talk with you," he -said, huskily. "The time has now come when we should try to understand -each other. Don't you think so?" - -She looked up at him in affright. Was he going to send her away? Was he -growing tired of the position in which they stood to each other? - -"Yes," she answered; and it caused her a desperate effort to utter the -word. - -"I am going to take you into my confidence, Ida," he said. "Come under -this swinging lamp. I want to read you this letter." - -She followed him with faltering steps. - -To her great surprise she saw him take from his breast-pocket the very -letter which Miss Fernly had sent, and which she had slipped into -his desk. But she dared not tell him that she knew what the letter -contained. - -"I will preface my remarks by saying that the news of your illness has -spread far and wide, and that the report was repeated in different -forms. Instead of saying that you were ill, some of the papers had it -that my young wife had died. Miss Fernly, whom you have good reason to -remember, thereupon wrote me this letter." - -She listened, her face white as death. He handed her the letter. Every -word made a new wound in her heart. How well she remembered each and -every sentence! Slowly she read the letter through. Then she folded and -handed it back to him. - -"Ida," he said, "I have been trying to forget the past as no man has -ever tried before. All my time has been given up to it. I have drawn -a curtain over my past, and shut out its brightness, its hopes, from -my life. I have pulled the roots of a beautiful budding plant from my -soul, and bid it grow there no more. I have tried to do my duty by you, -and now I have come to this conclusion--you must help me bury the past. -I have brought you out here to ask you to be my wife in fact as well as -in name." - -He did not tell her that during her illness he had discovered the -secret of her life--that she loved him with all the passionate love of -her nature, and that his indifference was eating out her life. - -Ever since he had been turning the matter over in his mind, and asking -himself what he should do, and at last he was brought face to face with -the truth--he had no right to marry her unless he intended living with -her. - -So clearly had his duty become defined to him that the path of -the future was now plain before him. He must forget his love for -Hildegarde, and the only way to do that was to ask the wife he had -wedded to help him. - -"I ask you this after much calm deliberation," he said, slowly. "Be -my wife in reality as well as in name, and we may yet make good and -useful lives out of what is left of them!" - -He heard a cry escape from her lips, but he could not tell whether it -was one of pleasure or pain. - -"I do not ask you to give my answer at once, unless you choose to do -so," he said, gently. - -He bent over her and took her hand. He was startled at its icy -coldness. He could feel that she trembled at his touch. - -"I have startled you," he said, gently. "I would advise you to go to -your room, instead of mingling with the guests to-night. There you can -reflect upon what you wish to do. I will leave you here," he said. But -before he turned away, he involuntarily stooped down, and kissed the -white face raised so appealingly to his. - -It was the first caress he had ever offered her, and that kiss burned -her face for long hours afterward. It filled her to the very depth of -her soul, to the very center of her heart. - -Like one stricken suddenly blind, Ida groped her way to her room. - -"Ah! if I could only die with the memory of that kiss burning my lips!" -she cried. - -She was like one stunned. What she had longed for, yearned for with all -the intensity of her soul, was laid at her feet at last. But it was too -late. - -His love was offered her now, when she dared not claim it, dared not -accept it. - -Ida rose the next morning with a heavy heart. She had slept the sleep -of exhaustion. - -Eugene was surprised when she came down to the table, she looked so -changed. There were heavy circles under her eyes, as though she had -been weeping. - -He could not understand her. He was quite sure she would meet him with -a happy, blushing face and downcast eyes. Ida would be glad when she -could escape his wondering eyes. An hour later she was standing at the -window of the morning-room, which opened out on the terrace, her mind -in a tumult, when she heard Eugene's voice at the other end of the -room. She knew instinctively that he was looking for her. Only two days -ago she would have waited there for him--would have eagerly sought the -opportunity of a few words with him; but now she hastily unfastened the -long French window, and fled out into the grounds. - -Eugene saw the flutter of the white figure hurrying down the terrace. - -"She wishes to escape an encounter with me," he thought; and he was -puzzled. - -Ida went to the further end of the garden, where the tall rose-bushes -hid her from human eyes. She sat down upon a little rustic bench and -tried to think. But her brain grew confused. - -Only a short time ago she had cried out to Heaven to give her the love -of Eugene Mallard. Now that it was laid at her feet, what should she do? - -"Heaven direct me," she cried out; "I am so sorely tempted! I used to -wonder what people meant when they talked of the agony of death. Now I -know." - -She was frightened at the vehemence of her emotion; the memory of that -caress made her tremble. She dreaded the moment when she should see -Eugene alone again, but, woman-like, hoped that it would be soon. Her -heart was awakened at last. The sun of love shone in its glory upon her. - -It had come to her, this woman's heritage, this dower of passion and -sorrow, called love, changing the world into a golden gleam. - -How was she ever to calm the fever that burned in her veins? Yes, she -loved him. She who had never, until she met Eugene Mallard, known what -love meant; she, so young, beautiful, made so essentially for love, and -yet whose life had been so joyless and hopeless, loved at last. - -Eugene Mallard noticed her avoidance of him during the week that -followed. She was trying to think out the problem in her own mind. Dare -she drink of the cup of joy that he had pressed to her lips? In her -simplicity, Ida thought that she had done much in denying herself a -look at him. - -If she had been the most accomplished of coquettes, she could not -have chosen a method more calculating to awaken his interest than by -avoiding him. - -"She does not care for me as much as I thought," he told himself; and, -man-like, he felt a trifle piqued. - -He had fancied that all he would have to do would be to ask her, and -she would come straight to his arms. - -This was, indeed, a new phase of her character. Yet he could not help -but admire her maidenly modesty. - -He would give her her own time to think over the proposition that he -had laid before her. He would not seek her, would not intrude upon her. -He looked at her more during that day than he had during all the time -she had been under his roof. - -He had not known before that she was so beautiful, so sweet, so -womanly. How careless he had been in letting her go about by herself, a -prey for such rascals as Arthur Hollis! - -Once he surprised her in the grounds. He had come up to her very -quietly. - -"Ida," he said, "have you forgotten that you have not so far answered -the question I asked of you two weeks ago on the porch? Tell me, when -am I to claim my wife?" - -His wife! Great Heaven! Had she been mad, dreaming? What had she been -doing? What had she done? - -His wife! She was Royal Ainsley's wife, and she could not belong to any -other man. She looked at him with the pallor of despair in her face, -the shadow of death in her eyes. - -What had she been doing to think of love in connection with Eugene -Mallard, when she was bound by the heaviest of chains? The shock was -terrible to her in those few minutes, and the wonder is that it did not -kill her. - -"I must have your answer here and now," Eugene said, a trifle -impatiently. - - - - -CHAPTER L. - - -Eugene Mallard, looking down at the lovely, terrified face, wondered -what there could be to frighten her so. - -He was intending to do a kind action. That she should take the matter -in this fashion rather surprised him. He told himself that he could not -understand women and their ways. - -"My reason for coming to this conclusion," he said, "is that I am -intending to take a trip through the country, and desire that you shall -accompany me, Ida. We could not go as we are now, and lead the same -life as we are living under this roof," he added, as she did not appear -to understand him. "You understand what I mean?" he asked. - -She answered "Yes," though he doubted very much if she really did -comprehend his words. - -"That will be a fortnight from now. It will give you plenty of time to -think the matter over." - -With these words he turned and left her. - -She sank down into a garden-seat near by, her heart in a tumult. The -sheltered spot in which she sat was free from observation. The tall, -flowering branches screened her. - -During the days that followed, Eugene Mallard watched Ida sharply. If -the girl loved him as well as she said she did, how strange it was that -she was unwilling to come to him. - -One day, while they were at the breakfast-table, the servant brought in -the morning's mail. - -"Here is a letter for you, Ida," said Eugene, handing her a square -white envelope. - -One glance at it, and her soul seemed to turn sick within her. It was -from Royal Ainsley! - -What had he to say to her? When he left her he promised that she should -never see his face again, that he would never cross her path. - -What did this communication mean? - -Breakfast was over at last, and she hastened to the morning-room, where -she could read her letter without being observed. - - "MY LITTLE WIFE.--I am running in hard luck after all. I invested all - the money you were so generous as to give me, and lost every cent - of it. An open confession is good for the soul. Having told you the - truth, I feel better. I will need just the same amount of money to - float me, and you must raise it for me somehow. I use the word _must_ - to duly impress it upon you. I will be at the same place where I met - you last, on the evening of the fourteenth. That will be just ten days - from the time you receive this letter. Do not fail me, Ida, or I might - be tempted to wreak vengeance upon my amiable cousin, fascinating - Eugene. - - "Yours in haste, and with much love, - - "ROYAL." - -She flung the letter from her as though it were a scorpion. A look of -terror came over her face, her head throbbed, and her brain whirled. -Oh, Heaven! the torture of it! - -What if he kept this up? It would not be long before she would be -driven to madness. - -"My little wife!" How the words galled her; they almost seemed to take -her life away. - -"He will torture me to madness," she thought, with the agony of despair. - -How was she to raise the money to appease the man who was her -relentless foe? - -Then she thought of her diamonds. Among the gifts which she had -received from Eugene was a diamond necklace. This he had inherited from -his uncle. - -"The setting is very old," he had said, "because the necklace has been -worn by the ladies of our family for generations. The stones, however, -are remarkably white and brilliant. They are among the finest in this -country, and worth a fortune in themselves." - -She had often looked at them as they lay in their rich purple-velvet -case. - -"I--I could raise the money on them," she thought, with a little sob. - -But she did not know it was to end in a tragedy. - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - - -Ida no sooner found herself alone than she took from her wardrobe a -black dress, a long cloak, a bonnet and black veil. She quickly donned -them, then stole into the corridor, locking the door after her, and -putting the key in her pocket. - -If she could get out of the house and into the grounds unobserved, all -would be well. Fortune favored her; no one was in sight. - -She made her way to the railway station, and bought a ticket for -Washington. On the train was quite a number of people whom she had met -before. But they did not recognize her with the veil pulled so closely -over her face. - -The world seemed to stand still; but her heart seemed to beat wildly, -as she thought of it all. - -At last Washington was reached, and for a minute she stood irresolute -as she stepped upon the platform of the depot. Then she timidly crossed -over to where a policeman stood. - -"I--I would like to be directed to a pawn-broker's store, if--if you -know where there is one," she said. - -The guardian of the peace looked at her suspiciously. - -It was a part of his business to believe all strangers dishonest until -he found them otherwise. - -"Are you so much in need of money as to have to resort to that?" he -asked, taking in the stylish make and fine texture of the clothes she -wore. - -"Yes," she answered, timidly. - -The policeman pointed to a store a couple of blocks further up, and Ida -started for the place indicated, after stopping to inquire when the -train returned to where she had come from. - -He gave her the information, and watched her curiously until she was -out of sight. - -"It is evident that she has come to Washington simply for the purpose -of pawning something. As soon as I reach the other end of my beat I -will make it my business to step into Uncle Samuel's and ask what she -has disposed of. It is just as well for me to know." - -Meanwhile, Ida hurried quickly on her errand. - -The pawn-broker's clerk glanced up impatiently as the door opened and -the dark-clad figure glided in. - -"I--I should like to see the proprietor, to ask if he will advance me a -sum of money on some diamonds." - -"Have you got them with you?" asked the man, carelessly. - -"Yes," said Ida, faintly; "but can't I see the proprietor?" - -"You can deal with me just as well," he answered. - -After a moment's hesitation, Ida produced the package from her pocket, -and unwrapping it, disclosed the magnificent diamonds. - -A cry of surprise broke from the clerk's lips. In all the years of his -life he had never seen anything so grand as the diamond necklace. But, -like all shrewd men in his calling, he carefully suppressed the cry of -astonishment. - -"How much do you want to realize on this?" he asked, indifferently. - -"One thousand dollars," said Ida, faintly. - -"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed. "That's pretty good, when you know full well -that you couldn't realize one-half that sum on them." - -"But I shall have to!" cried Ida. - -The man closed his hand down over the lid. - -"How did you come by these?" he asked. - -He saw the slender figure shiver. - -"You have no right to ask me anything like that," she replied. - -"Probably not," returned the man; "still, when we don't ask, we -generally do a great deal of guessing. But to end the matter, I will -advance you a couple of hundred on them." - -"I must have a thousand dollars," repeated Ida. "If it were not -absolutely necessary for me to raise the money on them, I should not -have brought them here." - -"Two hundred is a nice little sum," said the man. "If you refuse to -take that, I might take it into my head to hold you on suspicion, and -call in a policeman. Bear in mind, I will give you that amount of money -without asking you where they came from. A policeman would want to -know the whys and wherefores of the whole thing." - -"I--I _must_ raise a thousand dollars on them," she reiterated, -grasping the jewel-case. - -The man's bluff had not worked. - -"That's all _I'll_ give; but father might accommodate you with a little -more," he added, touching a little bell. - -The summons was instantly answered by a short, stout little man who -looked as if he had overheard the conversation. - -A quick glance passed between them. - -"Here is something for you to decide," went on the young man. "This -lady tells me that she wants a certain amount for these diamonds." - -"I must have a thousand dollars," interposed Ida, "and if you can -not advance me that amount, do not detain me, please; I must look -elsewhere." - -Again the lid was thrown back, and the casket exposed to the elder -man's gaze. He fairly caught his breath as the blazing jewels met his -eye. A wolfish expression leaped into his face. - -"I think I can accommodate the lady," he said, blandly. "My motto is to -please the ladies even if I have to strain a point to do so." - -He placed his hand in his pocket and brought forth a roll of bills. - -"How will you have the money--in tens or twenties?" he asked. - -"It does not matter much," said Ida. - -He handed her a roll of bills. - -"You can count it, and see if the amount you wish is there," he said. - -She counted it over with trembling hands. Yes, there was just a -thousand dollars there. - -"You will take great care of the diamonds?" she asked, eagerly. - -"Certainly--certainly. They are as safe in my hands as though they were -in your own keeping, lady." - -She put the money in her pocket, and hurried from the place. - -"Abraham! Abraham!" cried the old man, excitedly, as soon as the street -door had closed upon her, "our fortune is made! This necklace is worth -at least a cool seventy-five thousand if it's worth a penny, and we -have got it in our possession for a paltry thousand dollars!" - -"I knew the diamonds were very fine, and worth a fortune," replied the -young man; "but I did not know they were worth as much as that. What do -you intend to do with them, father? You will have to give them up to -her if she claims them." - -"Do you think I'm a fool!" exclaimed the elder man, angrily. "She'll -never lay eyes on those stones. Depend on that!" - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - - -Ida hurried back to the depot, purchased her ticket, and boarded the -train for home. - -She had scarcely stepped from the ticket-agent's window, ere the -policeman who had directed her to the pawn-shop accosted the agent. - -"Where did that veiled woman buy her ticket for? What is her -destination?" he whispered. - -He told him, and the officer jotted down the name of the station in his -note-book. - -With the money securely in her possession, Ida reached home. Dusk had -crept up; the stars were out in the sky. - -She succeeded in gaining her own room unobserved. She was tired and -hungry; indeed, she had not thought of food since she had left the -house early in the day. - -She threw off the long black cloak, the bonnet, thick veil, and black -dress she had worn on her visit to Washington. After bathing her face -in fragrant water and donning a silken house-robe, Ida rang the bell -for her maid. - -"Nora," she said, "you may bring me a cup of tea and a biscuit." - -"I am very glad that you are awake at last," said Nora. "I wanted very -much to tell you something; but as you bid me not to disturb you on any -account, I dared not come and knock on the door, ma'am." - -"You are quite right," said Ida, wearily, "not to disturb me. I needed -rest--rest," said Ida, brokenly. - -"I wanted to tell you about the man who was skulking in the grounds. -I was hurrying along here a few moments ago, when some one sprung out -from behind the rose-bushes and grasped me by the arm. - -"I certainly would have cried out with terror, but he put his hand over -my mouth. - -"'Keep still, and I won't hurt you,' he said, with an oath. - -"Trembling with terror, I stood still. I saw that he was a gentleman; -but I noticed also that he was very much under the influence of wine. - -"'Tell me, are you one of the maids from the house?' he asked. - -"'Yes,' I answered. - -"'Do you know me?' he questioned. - -"'No,' I replied. 'I am a stranger in the village. I have only been in -my lady's employ a little more than a fortnight.' - -"'I want you to give your mistress _this_,' he said, producing an -envelope from his pocket." - -She did not add that the stranger had given her a bill to insure the -safe delivery of his message, and to keep her from saying anything -about it. - -As the girl spoke, she produced an envelope. - -Even before the hapless Ida saw it, she knew full well from whom it -came. - -Poor, hapless Ida! She sunk down into the nearest seat, white as she -would ever be in death. She did not dare open it until after the girl -had gone for the tea. - -She drank it eagerly. - -"Please bring me another cup, Nora," she said, "stronger than the -first." - -"I am afraid that you have a fever, my lady," said the girl, anxiously. - -"I am only thirsty. You may as well take the biscuit back; I am afraid -it would choke me," said Ida. - -"But you must be hungry," persisted the maid. "I am sure you have eaten -nothing since breakfast time." - -When the girl had gone, Ida tore open the envelope, and read: - - "My clever little wife, I am here a day earlier than I anticipated. - Meet me at once in the same place. Of course you have the money by - this time. Bring it with you." - -She crushed the note in her hand. No one heard the gasping, the bitter -sob, the despairing cry she uttered. The iron had entered her soul. -There was nothing but to obey his commands. - -The girl had said that he was under the influence of wine. - -Ida had seen him in that condition once before, and that was on his -bridal-eve, and the memory of it had never left her. - -He was terrible enough when sober, but under the influence of liquor he -might be a fiend. - -The girl brought a second cup of tea, which Ida drank eagerly. - -"Now, leave me, Nora," she said, "and do not come again until I ring -for you." - -With trembling hands, Ida placed the money in her bosom, drew the black -cloak over her shoulders, and hurried into the grounds. - -Trembling with a vague apprehension, she sped by a path that was seldom -used down to the brook-side. - -"True to your tryst!" said a well-known voice. "Fairest, cleverest of -women, how can I thank you enough for your promptness?" - -She stood still, cold as marble, her face ghastly white in the -flickering light of the stars. - -"Have you no word for me?" he cried, with a harsh, derisive laugh. -"Have you no smile, no kiss, no kind word? Have you nothing to say to -me? You have no love, no light of welcome in your eyes, and yet you -loved me so dearly once, my sweet Ida? Do you remember? And now----" - -"You mocking demon!" she panted, "how dare you utter such words to me? -I wonder you are not afraid that Heaven will strike you dead where you -stand!" - -"Heaven strike me dead?" he repeated. "What a horrible idea! Afraid? -Oh, no, my dear. You are the first charming creature I ever saw who -flew into such a rage because her husband was pleased to be sentimental -to her." - -He heard her draw her breath hard. She stood before him white and -trembling, her eyes filled with burning fire. - -"Say, Ida, couldn't you manage somehow to get the rest of the -money--the five thousand?" - -"No!" she answered, pitifully. - -"That's only a bluff," he cried. "But it won't work with me!" - -"You have sworn eternal silence _now_!" she cried; "you have given your -oath, and you dare not break it. I can not raise any more money!" - -"Perhaps you will pay that amount for a little secret which I possess, -my lady," he said, mockingly. - -"There is nothing more you could tell me that would interest me." - -"We shall see," he replied, sneeringly. - -He pulled from under his coat a dark-lantern, shot back the slide, and -a flood of light illumined the scene. He drew a package from his pocket -and unwrapped it. Ida watched him like one in a dream. - -Suddenly an awful cry broke from her lips. One by one he took from the -package the articles of clothing that had been worn by the little child -he had secured from the village merchant's wife. - -A cry awful to hear broke from her lips. - -"I suppose, Ida, it isn't the proper thing to keep a person in -suspense," he cried. "You deserted your little child--never once sought -to discover whether it were dead or alive. By the merest chance, I ran -across it lately. I took possession of it, and I have it now." - -"I can not, I will not believe you," she answered, quickly. - -"Perhaps this will convince you," he said, reading aloud a letter from -the superintendent of the foundling asylum where the child had been -placed. - -It gave a full account of all that could be ascertained of the hapless -mother of the child. As he read by the light of the dark-lantern, she -knew that it was all true. - -Her child alive! - -The rapture of the thought was drowned in the horror that it was in -this man's possession. - -She fell on her face in the long grass, mad with misery and despair. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. - - -For a moment it seemed as though the darkness of death had come over -Ida. - -"My revelation surprises you," Royal Ainsley said, with a most horrible -laugh. - -The laugh and the words recalled her to her senses. She sprung to her -feet and faced him. - -"Where is my child?" she cried, wildly. "Speak, for the love of Heaven, -I pray you." - -"It will cost you just another thousand dollars to find that out. Bring -me that amount here to-morrow night at the same hour, and I will give -you full information. Isn't that fair enough?" - -Pleadings and prayers were alike unavailing. - -"Do you suppose I am going to tell you for nothing, when I can make you -pay handsomely?" - -"But I haven't the money," she sobbed, "and--and you know it!" - -"How did you get this thousand?" he asked. - -Then Ida told him all. - -"You were a fool to get rid of the diamonds before you had asked Eugene -Mallard for the money and been refused. Go to him and ask him for the -money now. He does not know how to refuse a woman, and he will give it -to you." - -"And if I refuse?" she asked, desperately. - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Then you and the man you love will be thrown into prison," Royal -declared, "to serve a term of fifteen or twenty years. After that you -can not complain as to how I brought up your daughter, if she follows -in the footsteps of her mother!" - -He could not have used a more conclusive argument. - -"Have you no heart, man--no mercy?" cried Ida. - -"Come, come, I say, do not be theatrical; the role does not become you! -Better be sensible, and consider the proposition I make you." - -"I will leave you now," he said; "but I will be here, at this same -hour, to-morrow night." - -"No, no!" she cried. "Give me a week to think it over, and--and to see -what I can do about raising the money." - -"Well, then, a week, if you must have it," he replied; "but no longer. -Here, you can take these proofs of my story regarding your child and -look them over at your leisure," he said, thrusting the package into -her hand. - -The next moment he was gone. She did not faint; she knew that if she -did she would be found there with the package in her hand. She was so -dazed, so bewildered, she never remembered how she reached the house -and her own room. Again she rang the bell for Nora. - -"You may bring me another cup of tea," she said, faintly, "as strong as -the last one." - -The girl, noticing how pale and ill her mistress looked, thought it -would be best to bring her a glass of wine as well. - -"Unless I am very much mistaken, she has a sick spell coming on. Her -face is pale, but every now and then it flushes burning red." - -Ida did not seek her couch that night until she had eagerly scanned -every article of clothing the parcel contained. - -Her excitement knew no bounds as she read the letter from the -superintendent of the foundling asylum, concerning all that he knew -of the baby's parentage, in which he stated that the doctor who had -attended the young mother had brought the child to the institution in a -dying condition, as he supposed, and was hastily called abroad, and had -barely time to make the outgoing steamer. He had told them that they -could tell the hapless young mother when she was able to bear the sad -news. - -Ida wept as she had never wept before as she read those written words, -and her excitement increased as she saw that the letter was directed -to the village merchant's wife, Mrs. Lester, who had taken the child. - -It was, then, her own child that she had clasped in her arms, the eyes -of her own babe into which she had gazed with such agony and yet with -such rapture. - -Then another fear seized her. She had not seen the little one for weeks. - -Was it ill? Had anything happened to it? She could not visit Mrs. -Lester's home until the day broke. - -How came her little child in the possession of Royal Ainsley? - -The suspense which she endured almost drove her insane. The next -morning she was up as early as the servants were. - -"Joe," she said to the old coachman, "I want you to harness up the -swiftest horses you have in the stable, and take me to the village. I -want to go to the store kept by the Lesters." - -"You will not find it open so early in the mornin', ma'am," declared -Joe. "Dem village folk am pow'ful lazy." - -"We will go to their garden, and perhaps be fortunate enough to find -them there," said Ida, eagerly. "Harness the horses at once, Joe." - -The hapless young mother scarcely breathed during that ride. - -After what seemed to her almost an endless ride, they drew up before -the village store kept by the Lesters. - -As Joe had predicted, the door was closed, and the blinds drawn. - -"There they are in the garden yonder; at least, there am Mrs. Lester -in the strawberry-patch, and there am her husband, off further in the -fields." - -"I will go to her," said Ida, stepping quickly from the carriage. - -So busy was Mrs. Lester with her task of gathering the ripe fruit, that -she did not know of the presence of her visitor until she stood beside -her. - -"Mrs. Lester," said a quick, eager, husky voice, "I do hope I have not -surprised you this morning." - -"Well, well, you have surprised me, for a fact. I suppose you want to -get something from the store." - -"Yes, I do, but not just now," returned Ida, with feverish impatience. -"Let me sit down here a few moments and talk with you." - -"Certainly," said the woman; "but I haven't anything out here to invite -you to sit upon, save that little garden-seat which I always take -around with me, so that I can rest myself when I get tired." - -"It will do very well, thank you," said Ida, feeling so weak and faint -that she could hardly stand. - -"I have not seen you nor your little child lately," began Ida. - -Then she stopped short, lest her quivering voice should betray her -terrible anxiety. - -"No," returned Mrs. Lester. "I no longer have the little one, bless its -poor, dear little heart!" - -"Has anything happened to it?" asked Ida, the agony of death in her -voice. "Oh, tell me, where is it? Is the little baby dead?" - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. - - -It seemed to Ida that it took ages for the woman to reply. She leaned -forward breathlessly, fairly devouring her with her dark, dilated eyes. - -"Oh, no! the baby did not die," said Mrs. Lester, "although it was a -weak, puny little thing. - -"I'll just tell you all about it, for I feel just like talking it over -with some one. - -"The child required so much care that my husband decided we could not -keep it, and I was on my way to take it back to the foundling asylum in -New York, when the strangest thing happened. - -"In the depot I met a young man who used to live in the village. His -name is Royal Ainsley." - -"Yes! yes!" interposed Ida, faintly, feeling almost more dead than -alive. - -"I was telling him all about the baby, showing him the letters that -came with it, and the proofs I had of its identity, when he suddenly -exclaimed: - -"'I will tell you in a few words what I'll do. I'll take this little -one back to New York, and save you the trip!' - -"He offered me one hundred dollars to give him the child then and -there. We are very poor, Mrs. Mallard, and a hundred dollars seemed a -fortune to me. - -"It's over a fortnight since that occurred, but I have not ceased to -worry about it, I assure you." - -Young Mrs. Mallard suddenly staggered to her feet and turned away. - -"I think I will not wait any longer," said Ida, in a strangely altered -voice. "Good-morning, Mrs. Lester!" - -The next moment she hurried down the garden-path, and entered her -carriage. - -Like one wild with terror, Ida hurried back to the carriage and -re-entered it. - -"Home!" she said; and old Joe was surprised at the sound of her voice, -it was so unnatural. - -"What Royal Ainsley told me is indeed too true!" she said to herself, -with an inward moan. "He has possession of my little child. Only Heaven -knows how he will use his power to crush me, and the fair, sweet, -innocent babe as well!" - -It seemed to her as though the very thought of it would drive her mad. -She knew she was in his power, and that he would certainly use that -power to extort every dollar from her that he possibly could. And then, -when there was no more money to be gained, what would he do? - -She avoided Eugene Mallard during the next few days, lest he should -repeat the question he had asked when he last talked with her. - -He watched her in wonder. Her apparent coyness amused as well as -surprised him. - -"There is no way of understanding women," he said to himself. "To-day -they are eager for something; to-morrow they will not have it!" - -He was surprised when he received a message from her one day, asking -him if she could see him alone in the library. - -He sent back a reply in the affirmative, and awaited her coming with -some curiosity, no doubt entering his mind as to what she wished to say. - -It was some time before she put in an appearance. He was not aware of -her presence, he was gazing so intently out of the window, until she -stood by his side. - -"Mr. Mallard," she began, hesitatingly, "please pardon me for intruding -upon you; but I could not wait." - -He looked down wonderingly at the lovely young face so strangely pale. - -"Would it not be as well for my wife to address me as Eugene?" he -asked, with a grave smile. - -She looked up at him and tried to utter the word; but somehow it seemed -as though she could not. - -My wife! - -How those words cut her! If they had been the sharp thrust of a sword, -they could not have cut her deeper. - -His wife! - -She would have given everything in this world if indeed it were true -that she was Eugene Mallard's wife. - -Another face rose before her vision--a fair, handsome, sneering -face--and she drew back with a shudder. - -He noticed it, and the kindly words he was about to utter were hushed -on his lips. - -After placing a chair for her, and taking one near it, he waited for -her to proceed. - -"I--I have come to ask your indulgence in a little matter," she said, -faintly. - -"Yes?" he said, kindly. - -For a moment there was silence between them--a deep, painful, awkward -silence, which was broken at length by Ida. - -"I have been looking over some furniture," she said, tremulously, -"and--and I could use just double the amount of money you gave me. -Would you be very, very angry if I asked you for a thousand dollars -more?" - -He threw back his head and laughed outright. - -"One would think, by the manner in which you express yourself, that -you were suing for some great favor, the granting of which you doubted." - -She looked at him with dilated eyes, the color coming and going in her -face. - -She could not understand, by his remark, whether or not he intended -giving it to her. - -He turned at once to his desk, saying: - -"I will write out a check for the amount you wish." - -"No; not a check, please," she answered, piteously. "I would so much -rather have the money." - -He looked surprised. - -"I haven't the amount you wish," he said. "I have not half that amount -probably. I always use checks in preference to carrying money about -with me." - -He was quite mystified at the look of terror that crept into her eyes. - -"I must have it in cash," she said, imploringly. "Could you not get it -for me somehow?" - -"Yes--certainly," he replied. "When will you want it?" - -"To-night," she answered, piteously. - -"You shall have it," he answered. - -But there flashed through his mind a suspicion he would have given -anything to have removed. - - - - -CHAPTER LV. - - -Eugene Mallard thought long and earnestly after Ida had left him: "What -can Ida want with the cash, and in so short a time?" - -He put on his hat, went round to the stables, and ordered his horse. A -canter over the hills would drive away these gloomy, unhappy thoughts. - -The sun had crept to its zenith, and was now sinking toward the west as -he reined his horse before the little village inn at Hampton Corners. - -Every one knew Eugene Mallard. The proprietor of the hotel on the old -Virginia turnpike road warmly welcomed him. He had concluded to rest a -little and refresh his horse. - -As he lighted his cigar and sat down on the porch, the first person he -saw was Dora Staples. - -"I am really so delighted to see you, Mr. Mallard," she said in her -pretty lisping accent. - -"I had not expected to see you before the fourteenth. We have not had -an acknowledgment of the invitation to our ball which we sent you and -your wife a week ago; but I feel sure you won't disappoint us. We count -upon you two as our most particular guests." - -Eugene flushed hotly. - -"Oh, certainly," he said. "I hope you will pardon my not answering your -kind favor at once. I will see that my wife writes you and accepts the -invitation." - -"By the way," went on Dora. "I saw Mr. Hollis only yesterday. We went -to Richmond to do some shopping, and the first person I met was Mr. -Hollis. I am sure he tried to avoid me, though he says he didn't. I -told him about the ball, as I did not know where to send the invitation -to him. I told him that you and Mrs. Mallard would be there, and that -all we now needed to make the affair as pleasant as the one at your -house was his presence. - -"'I will come if I can,' he said; 'but don't feel hard toward me if -I should fail to be there. I have a matter of considerable importance -on hand for that date, and I do not know just how I will be able to -arrange it.'" - -Eugene Mallard drove slowly homeward. Although he tried to banish -Dora's words from his mind, yet they still haunted him. - -What was Arthur Hollis doing in Richmond? He was more puzzled over it -than he cared to own. - -As he rode up to the door, he saw Ida on the veranda, talking to a -group of friends. It then struck him as it had never struck him before -that his young wife was very handsome; and he was beginning to wonder -how it was that he had been so blind as to not see that which was -attracting the attention of every one else. - -She wore a tight-fitting dress of pale-blue silk, with a crimson rose -in its bodice. She held a bunch of roses in her white hand. There were -several other ladies present, but not one of them could compare with -her. - -For the first time since his marriage a feeling of exultation stole -into his heart at the thought that this peerless creature belonged -solely to him. - -They were speaking of the grand ball the Staples's were to give, and -commenting on what they were going to wear. - -"How about _you_, Mrs. Mallard? What are _you_ going to wear? Don't -keep what you are going to wear a secret, and then spring some -wonderful creation upon our wondering gaze." - -"I assure you," said Ida, "that I have no intention of doing anything -of the kind. Indeed," she declared, earnestly, "in sending out the -invitations, I am _sure_ they have forgotten us!" - -At this juncture, Eugene stepped forward, saying: - -"Is there any excuse a man can offer for forgetting so great a favor -as an invitation to a grand ball? That is exactly what has occurred. -I received the invitation for the Staples's ball one day last -week. I should have taken it direct to my wife, but you know that -'procrastination is the thief of time.' It has proved so in this case. -I laid it down, and in the press of other matters, I forgot it. My -papers must have covered it, and the matter entirely escaped my mind -until to-day." - -"Of course you will go?" remarked the ladies in chorus. - -"Oh, yes; we are sure to do so," he responded. - -A little later he found Ida alone in the drawing-room. - -"I do hope you will look your best at this particular ball," he said. -"The governor of the State; in fact, any number of my old friends will -be there. I want you to wear your most becoming dress, and all the -family diamonds." - -Ida had been looking down calmly at the roses she held. But as mention -of the diamonds fell from her husband's lips, a change that was -alarming came over her face. - -She grew white as death; her eyes lost their light. The roses which she -held fell to her feet. - -"Why, Ida, you look as if it were an occasion for sorrow instead of one -of joy," Eugene remarked. - -"What is the date of the ball?" she asked. - -"The fourteenth," he responded. - -Again that ashen pallor spread over her face, leaving it white to the -lips. - -That was the date upon which Royal Ainsley was to bring her child to -her. - -What was the great ball to her compared with this event? - -While in the village Eugene had got the money she had asked of him. He -had handed it to her inclosed in an envelope. - -Oh, how kind and good he was to her! How very despicable it was to -deceive him! But what could she do? Fate was against her. - -Eugene could not help but notice the intense excitement under which she -labored during the time that elapsed to the coming of the ball. She -longed, yet dreaded to have the day arrive. - -The day came at last, bright and clear. There was no cloud in the blue -sky; the sun shone brightly in the heavens. She was glad that there -were several guests at the house, as her husband would not have much -opportunity of observing her. - -How that day passed she never knew. One moment she was as white as -death, the next she flushed as red as a rose. - -"Heaven help me to live over the excitement of to-day!" she murmured, -clasping her hands tightly. - -She prayed for the noonday to linger. But time, which stays at no man's -bidding, rolled on. The sun went down in a sweep of crimson glory; dusk -gathered and deepened into the darkness of night. - -Seven o'clock sounded from the pearl-and-gold clock on the mantel. -Seven o'clock resounded from the great brass-throated clock in the main -hall. - -"Nora," said Ida to her maid, "go down to the library and tell Mr. -Mallard that I am indisposed and can not go with him to the ball, but -that I earnestly pray he will go without me, and enjoy himself. Say -that I wish particularly that he should go; and notice what he says, -Nora, and come back and tell me." - -It seemed to Ida that Nora would never deliver the message. - -Why did she linger? At last the girl returned. - -"What did he say, Nora?" she asked, breathlessly, fixing her startled -eyes eagerly on the girl's face. - -"He made no reply, ma'am," returned Nora; "but I am sure he will go, -since you so earnestly requested it." - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. - - -It was with the greatest surprise that Eugene Mallard received the -message that Nora delivered--that Ida was too ill to attend the grand -ball with him. - -"She did not seem to be ill this afternoon," he said to himself. - -Obeying a sudden impulse, he hurried from the room, intent upon going -to Ida's _boudoir_ and offering her his sympathy; but, on second -thought, he concluded that in all probability she would not care to be -disturbed. - -He felt grievously disappointed. He knew that many of his friends would -be present; and besides, what could he say to Mrs. Staples and her -daughters? - -Some of her friends had left Ida apparently in the best of health -and spirits at noon. How could he account to them for her sudden -indisposition? - -During the forenoon he saw that there was something on Ida's mind; that -she was greatly troubled. - -Perhaps the words he had said to her only a short time before had much -to do with her indisposition. He felt that he ought to have a talk with -Ida. If he were to reassure her that she could have everything her own -way, she might feel much relieved. - -A second time he started for her _boudoir_; but again he drew back. He -could not tell what prompted him to do so. - -"Such strange, contradictory emotions seem to possess me," he said. "I -will go out into the grounds and smoke a cigar. That will quiet me a -little, and afterward I will have a talk with Ida." - -Eugene Mallard wandered about the grounds for half an hour or more. He -heard a clock strike the hour of eight. - -How dark and gloomy it was! There was no moon, but the stars shed a -faint, glimmering light. - -He had smoked a cigar; but still he paced aimlessly up and down the -grounds, lost in thought. - -He came to one of the garden benches. It looked so inviting that he -threw himself down upon it. - -How long he sat there he never knew. Presently he was disturbed by the -sound of slow, cautious footsteps. It could not be one of the servants -stealing through the grounds in that manner. It must be some poacher. - -He drew back into the shadow of the trees, and watched with no little -curiosity. He had been so kind to the villagers that he felt surprised -at this apparent ingratitude. - -Presently a figure came down the path. The more he watched the figure -the more certain he became that he had seen it before. Its every move -seemed familiar to him. - -Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind that made him hold his breath. - -"Great Heavens! can it be Arthur Hollis?" he ejaculated. - -His face paled; great flashes of fire seemed to come from his eyes. The -very blood in his veins seemed to stagnate. Faint and dizzy, he leaned -back against the trunk of a tree. - -Great God! what could it mean? His wife supposed him to be by this time -on his way to the ball. During his absence would she meet, dared she -meet Arthur Hollis? - -The tall, familiar-looking figure paced impatiently by the brook-side -under the dim light of the stars. Yes, the man was there waiting for -some one. - -From where he stood he could plainly see a faint light in the window -of his wife's room, and as his eyes were fixed upon it, the light was -extinguished. - -If a sword had been plunged into Eugene Mallard's heart, it could not -have given him a greater shock. - -Many a night he had paced up and down the grounds, watching the light -in that window. Then it had never been put out before ten. Why should -it be extinguished so early to-night? - -The thought troubled Eugene Mallard, as he turned his head and saw the -figure still pacing restlessly up and down by the brook. - -He dared not utter a word. He would await developments. He scarcely -breathed, in his suspense. It seemed to him that the blood in his veins -was turned to ice. - -He took up a position where there was no possible danger of being -observed, and there he watched and waited. - -Up in her _boudoir_ Ida was donning with trembling hands, the long -cloak that was to disguise her. - -She had sent Nora from her room. But it seemed to her that the girl -looked back suspiciously as she went out and closed the door after her. - -"Heaven help me to get through with this exciting scene!" Ida muttered. - -Her heart was throbbing so, her limbs were so weak, that she was -obliged to sit down for a minute. - -"Oh, Heaven help me! How thankful I am that Eugene did not send for me -before he left for the ball. He has reached there by this time!" she -muttered. - -She looked at the clock, and said to herself that time was flying, and -she must hasten to keep her appointment. - -Again she counted over the money which Eugene had given her--the money -that was to restore her little child to her--the money that was to -purchase her freedom and end forever Royal Ainsley's persecutions. - -"What would Eugene say if he knew all?" she asked herself, in great -trepidation. - -She trembled even at the thought of it. - -Was she doing right in concealing the truth from Eugene Mallard? - -She sprung from her chair and paced hurriedly up and down the room. - -If Eugene knew all, he would certainly tell her that her path lay with -Royal Ainsley, that his roof would shelter her no more. And now she -could not part from him. Every fiber of her heart was woven about him. - -She tried to look into the future; but, think what she would, the -pictures presented frightened her. - -Presently she paused before the window. Was it only her fancy, or did -she hear the patter of rain-drops? - -She turned out the light and threw open the window. She felt relieved -to find that it was only the leaves that were tapping against the -window-pane. She closed the window, with a sigh, and opened the door -softly. - -The corridor was empty; the gas-jets of the great chandelier were -turned low. Like a thief in the night, she stole noiselessly down the -winding passageway. - -The sound of laughter from the servants' hall below floated up to her -through the awful stillness. - -What if one of the doors on either side should open, and some one step -out and confront her? - -She drew her long cloak closely about her, and pulled the hood down -over her head. - -There was a side door opening on to a porch, and leading directly into -the grounds. - -Ida hurried toward this door and opened it cautiously. For a moment -she stood on the threshold, and in that moment a gust of wind blew the -cloak from about her shoulders, and it fell at her feet. - -The light from the hall lamp clearly revealed her form to Eugene -Mallard, who stood leaning against an oak-tree scarcely one hundred -feet distant. - -"It is Ida!" he muttered, hoarsely. - -She turned her steps down toward the brook, as he had feared she would -do. - -"She stayed away from the ball to meet that scoundrel!" he muttered -under his breath. - -With hesitating steps, little dreaming of what the end of her adventure -would be, Ida hurried on to her doom. - -The wind sighed a mournful requiem in the trees, the songs of the birds -were hushed, and the sweet murmur of the brook seemed to end in a sob -as it rushed onward to the sea. - -The night was warm, but a great shiver crept over Ida as she turned out -of the path and hurried along through the garden by a short cut to the -place where she knew Royal Ainsley was impatiently waiting for her. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. - - -Royal Ainsley was not a man to be trusted when under the influence of -drink. As the minutes went by, and Ida did not come, he was beside -himself with rage. - -"What does she mean by keeping me waiting in this manner?" he roared. -"By the Lord Harry, I'll make her pay for this!" - -Then, like Eugene Mallard, who was watching but a few feet from him, he -saw the light go out in Ida's room. - -"That must be _her_ room. She is coming at last," he murmured. - -He braced himself against the trunk of a tree, for by this time his -limbs were none too steady under him. - -When the door opened, and he saw Ida approach, an exclamation of -satisfaction broke from his lips. - -He sat down upon the mossy rock and watched the slim figure as it moved -slowly over the greensward. - -"She is certainly in no hurry to see me," he muttered, with a grim -smile. "But I'll change all that." - -Meanwhile, Ida had stopped short, and was standing motionless in the -path. - -Putting her hand into the pocket of her dress, the girl found, to her -great amazement, that she had come away without the roll of bills she -had intended to bring with her. In her excitement she had left the -money on the table. - -What should she do? There was no course to pursue but go back for it. - -Then a superstitious terror for which she could not account seemed to -seize her. - -"It will surely be a bad omen to return to the house." she told -herself; "and yet I dare not meet Royal Ainsley without the money. He -will say that my story about forgetting the money is only an excuse." - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII. - - -As Ida paused for a moment, wondering what course would be best to -pursue, she concluded that her only course would be to return to the -house for the money. - -She had scarcely turned, before a piercing cry sounded through the -grounds, coming from the direction of the brook. - -Ida, terrified, stood for a moment rooted to the spot. She tried to -fly, but if her life had depended upon it, she could not have stirred -hand or foot. - -She distinctly heard the sound of voices. Still, all power to fly -seemed to have left her. - -What could it be? Had some of the servants discovered Royal Ainsley's -presence? - -She tried to think, but she was powerless. Every sound seemed confusing. - -Guided by the light, Nora had dashed quickly down toward the brook. -But ere she could reach the figure pacing up and down so impatiently, -she was seized from behind by a pair of strong arms, a white angry -face bent over her, and a voice, which she instantly recognized as her -master's, cried harshly: - -"Let me understand what this means!" - -The girl was too frightened to speak. - -"This is why you would not come to the ball, is it?" he cried, -excitedly, dragging her toward the spot where her lover stood. "Come, -you and I will confront the lover whom you stayed away from the ball to -meet here!" - -Royal Ainsley took in the situation at once. He recognized Eugene's -voice. - -"He has discovered Ida Mallard's appointment with me in some way," he -thought. And the knowledge terrified him, coward as he was. - -He turned and beat a hasty retreat, dodging directly into the arms of -old Joe. - -"Ha! I've caught you _this_ time!" cried the old servitor. - -With an oath, Royal Ainsley flung Joe from him. - -"Out of my way!" he cried, fiercely, "or I'll kill you!" - -The voice, as well as the words, startled old Joe, and threw him -entirely off his guard for an instant. In that instant a heavy blow was -dealt him which caused him to loosen his hold on the intruder. - -Then Royal Ainsley sped like a deer through the grounds, every foot of -which he knew well, and was quickly lost to sight in the darkness. - -After that first sharp cry, Nora regained something of her natural -bravado. - -In less time than it takes to tell it, her master had dragged her -toward the house and under the full light of the swinging lamp. - -"Oh, master!" she cried, gaining her breath at last "It's I, Nora, the -maid!" - -Eugene Mallard's tightly clinched hands fell from her; he stared aghast -at the girl. - -"You, Nora!" he cried, in the greatest amazement, with a world of -relief and thankfulness blended in his voice. - -"Pray for--forgive me, Mr. Mallard," sobbed the girl. "I--I did not do -any intentional wrong. I was only going down to the old south gate to -meet my lover, sir. I--I did not think for a moment that any one would -mind. My lady did not need me for an hour or more. Oh, please forgive -me if my action has displeased you!" - -"It was your lover that you were going to meet?" repeated Eugene -Mallard, as if to satisfy himself that he had heard aright. - -He drew back and looked at Nora with fixed intentness, the color that -had left his face surging back to it again. - -Eugene Mallard now walked to his library, and flung himself down to -think over the situation. - -He felt grateful beyond words that matters were no worse. He was -ashamed of the thought that for a moment had found lodgment in his -brain against the wife whom he had wedded. - -Then it came to him--his love for Ida, whom he knew now that he -worshipped with all the passionate love of his heart. How different it -was from the love he had borne Hildegarde Cramer! - -He wondered that he had been so blind as not to have noticed his love -for her sooner. He could scarcely wait until the day dawned, that -he might go to her and tell her of the great love for her that was -consuming his soul. - -He said to himself that it was only her innate modesty that caused her -to hold aloof from him of late, and to make her hesitate about giving -him her answer. - -He looked shudderingly backward over the past for the last time. Yes, -he would urge her to give him his answer on the morrow. It never once -occurred to him but that her answer would be "Yes." - - - - -CHAPTER LIX. - - -When Royal Ainsley shook himself free from old Joe's detaining grasp, -his first impulse was to get as far away from the place as possible. - -With second thoughts, however, came another decision. No; he must learn -all that was taking place. - -Quickly circling the grounds, he soon gained a vantage-place behind a -group of bushes not far from the house. There he could easily see and -hear all that transpired without being seen himself. - -He saw Eugene Mallard as he drew the girl beneath the swinging lamp in -the hall, and heard the conversation that passed between them. - -"So!" he muttered, grinding his white teeth savagely, "the girl is my -lady's maid, eh? I dare say, she sent her with some message to me when -she was intercepted by Eugene Mallard. But Ida will find that this will -not work with me. See her I shall, if I have to stay in these grounds -till broad daylight." - -He watched and waited until he saw even old Joe relax his vigilance and -go into the house. - -Royal Ainsley waited there until the old mansion was wrapped in gloom -and darkness, then he slipped from his hiding-place, passed noiselessly -over the graveled walk, and stood beneath Ida's window. - -Stooping, he caught up a handful of pebbles. One by one he flung them -up against the window-pane. Just as he had expected, he saw a white, -terrified face appear at the window, and two white hands threw up the -sash. - -He saw at once that it was Ida. He moved out from the shadow of the -trees. She saw him at once, and recognized him. - -"Is it _you_?" she cried, in the greatest alarm. "What in Heaven's name -are you doing there, pray?" - -"Your common sense ought to tell you _that_;" he retorted, harshly. -"Come down here at once, I tell you, and be sure to bring that money -with you!" - -"Oh, no! no! I can not!" she answered him, piteously. - -"Why?" he demanded, with something very much like an imprecation upon -his lips. - -"I dropped the money in the dining-room as I was passing through it to -get out into the grounds. The room is locked; I can not get it until -to-morrow morning. Old Joe always carries the key with him." - -"It is a lie!" he cried, fiercely. - -"No! no! On my life, it is true!" she answered, with a piteous quiver -in her voice; adding: "I was hurrying through the room, and there I -must have dropped it. I searched for it in every other place." - -"Then hear what I say," he retorted, with an oath, "in these very -grounds I shall stay until you come to me. I know well that old Joe is -astir at dawn. You must be up then, find the money which you say you -dropped, and bring it out to me. I will be waiting for you at the same -place." - -Before she could utter a word of protest, he had turned and disappeared -in the darkness. - -All night long Ida Mallard paced the floor of her room, scarcely -heeding the hours that dragged their slow lengths by. Dawn came before -she realized it. She was startled from her reverie by hearing old Joe -throwing open the shutters about the house. That recalled her to a -realization of passing events. - -Joe had unlocked the door of the dining-room at last, but his sight was -so poor that he could not espy a small roll of bills lying on the floor. - -Ida, gliding into the room as soon as his footsteps echoed down the -corridor, found the package. - -She stole to the door as soon as it was unlocked. - -Ah! how sweet and fragrant was the early morning. How cool and green -the grass looked, wet with the morning dew! Little she dreamed that ere -the day waned that same grass would be dyed with a human being's blood. - -She shivered as she stepped forth into the grounds. With hurried steps -she crossed the lawn, and went into the rose-garden beyond. There she -saw Royal Ainsley. He was pacing the little path by the brook, his face -white, his eyes angry-looking, downcast and sullen. - -"So you have come at last, eh?" he exclaimed, angrily. - -"I am here," she responded, tremulously. - -"I was just about to go and wake up the household," he cried, his rage -increasing. - -"Now, that I am here, you will not have to do that," she answered, -wearily. - -"Where is the money?" he asked, abruptly. - -She held it in her hand, but clutched it more tightly. - -"I have it with me," she responded; "but it is not yours until you -carry out your promises!" - -He looked at her with a cunning gleam in his eyes. - -"To be sure I will carry out my agreement," he said. - -"But I must have proof that you will do so before I part with so much -money," she said. "You must give me your written word that you will -never trouble me again. You must also tell me where I can find my -child, for I see that you have not kept your word about bringing her -with you!" - -He laughed aloud--a harsh, mocking laugh. - -"I am not surprised at hearing a remark like that from your lips. A -woman who could abandon her child as easily as _you_ did, without so -much as knowing its fate, and who is content to live here as Eugene -Mallard's wife, whenever he is ready to take you to his heart, is -capable of doing anything. I do not wonder that you supposed the little -one was here in the grounds all night long awaiting your fancy to -appear!" - -She recoiled at the words as though he had struck her a blow. - -"Let me tell you where your child is," he said, hoarsely. "You shall -know its fate!" - -As he spoke, he seized the hand that held the money, and tore the bills -from her grasp. - - - - -CHAPTER LX. - - -Ida sunk on her knees before him. - -"Come," he said; "you must go quietly with me." - -"Inhuman monster!" moaned Ida. - -"Come. This is no time to exchange compliments," he said. "We have -parleyed here too long already." - -His grasp tightened on the slender wrist, but she did not seem to heed -the pain of it. - -"I can not, I will not go with you!" she panted. - -A taunting laugh answered her. He was dragging her by main force down -the path, when the figure of a man suddenly sprung before him. - -"You!" cried Royal Ainsley, furiously. - -"Yes, it is I!" returned Eugene Mallard, sternly. "I am just in time, -it appears, to save my--this lady from you." - -At the sight of Eugene, Ida flung up her hands with a wild cry, and -sunk at his feet unconscious. Royal Ainsley sprung forward to catch her -in his arms, but Eugene dashed up to him. - -"Lay one hand on her at your peril!" he commanded. - -"And who shall prevent me, when she is my wife?" sneered Royal Ainsley. - -"She is _not_ your wife!" cried Eugene Mallard, his face darkening; -"and here and now, I propose to avenge the wrongs you have done her. -There will be a duel to the death between us! I have two pistols in my -pocket, you shall take one and defend yourself, I will use the other." - -Royal Ainsley sprung forward. Quick as a flash he drew something from -his vest-pocket. It was a sharp steel dagger which he always carried. - -He made a lunge forward, but his foot slipped, and he fell to the earth -in mortal pain. The dagger he had intended to plunge into the body of -his cousin had been the cause of his own death. - -In an instant Eugene was bending over him. - -"It is too late!" gasped the miserable man--"it is all over with me -now. I am about to pass in my checks. Don't you think so?" - -"Yes," said Eugene; "you are mortally wounded, I can see that. Heaven -forgive you for the sins you have committed!" - -Eugene carried Ida to her own room, thanking Heaven that he had met no -one. No one would know of her presence in the grounds. - -Then he quickly summoned the servants. - -Royal Ainsley, lying there with his face upturned to the sunlight and -his hand clutching the fatal dagger, told its own story. - -As soon as Ida was able to see him Eugene sent for her to come to the -library. - -When she received the summons, the poor soul, white as death, fell upon -her knees. - -"He is going to denounce me for my sin, and for not telling him when I -found it out," she said. - -Could she face him, now that he knew all? - -As she knelt there she caught a glimpse of herself in the great mirror -opposite. - -Again the girl knocked at the door. - -"Tell your master that I will see him to-morrow," she whispered in a -strained, strange voice; and the girl went away. - -Strange fancies seemed to throng through her brain. - -Royal Ainsley was dead, she had heard them say; and she fancied that -her child was dead, too. - -And now the man she loved had sent for her to turn her from the house, -and she would never see him again. - -Then she thought of the brook, so deep, so wide, that struggled on to -meet the sea. - -Yes, she would go there where some of the happiest, ay, and some of -the most sorrowful moments of her life had been spent. The deep waters -would carry her away on their bosom. - -At intervals the girl came to the door to inquire if she wanted -anything. The answer was always the same--"No." - -She never knew how the long hours passed; she was like one in a dream. - -At last night came. She waited until the house was dark and still. -There was silence in the hall. All the lights were out, every one was -asleep, and the troubles of the day were blotted out. - -She raised the long French window that opened out onto the lawn and -stepped out into the garden. - -As she passed the room in which Eugene Mallard was quietly sleeping, -she knelt and laid her cold white lips on the threshold his feet would -press. - -How cruelly Heaven had punished her, because in those other days she -had longed to be a lady, like the heroines she had read of in the great -world of beauty and fashion. - -She reached the brook and knelt down beside it. The moon threw a -silvery light upon it, and in its song she seemed to hear Eugene's -voice mingled with that of the little child she had lost. - -"I am coming to you, little baby!" she muttered below her breath. Then -aloud, she said: "Good-bye, Eugene--good-bye forever!" - -Suddenly a pair of strong arms clasped her, and Eugene's voice -whispered: - -"Not good-bye, my darling!" - -Only the stars and the moonlight and the rippling waters of the brook -heard what he said--how he pleaded with her to live only for him and -her little child. - -Ida could not believe the great happiness that had suddenly fallen upon -her like a mantle from God's hands. - -They talked by the brook-side for long hours. The next day the master -and mistress of the great mansion went away. - -When they reached New York, another ceremony was performed, which made -Ida Eugene Mallard's wife until death should part them. - -Then they quietly went and obtained the little child, whom both -idolized, and went abroad, where they remained for years. - -No one learned the strange romance of the fair young girl whom Eugene -Mallard worshipped so fondly. - -When they returned to their home, years after, with a lovely, dark-eyed -little girl and a sturdy, blue-eyed boy, no one guessed but that they -were Eugene Mallard's children. - -While they had been abroad they read of the marriage of Hildegarde -Cramer to Philip Ravenswood, the noble young man who had loved her ever -since they had first met on the Newport sands. - -The same paper also brought the intelligence of the engagement of -Arthur Hollis and pretty Dora Staples, and the sad ending, in a -railroad accident, of beautiful, hapless Vivian Deane and her maid Nora. - -Eugene passed the paper to his wife, and Ida read it, making no -comments. But after awhile, as though the subject weighed heavily on -her mind, she went up to Eugene, and laid her soft white arms round his -neck, and whispered: - -"Does the knowledge of Hildegarde's marriage bring you any regrets, -Eugene?" - -"No, my darling!" he cried, clasping her in his strong arms. "For all -the love of my heart is yours now, and--and--our children's." - -"I have often wanted to ask you, Eugene," she murmured, with her face -hidden on his breast, "if the story of my past were known, how would -people judge me? Would the world say, 'Ida May had sinned'?" - -Let us hope all our readers will join heartily in his answer--"No." - - -THE END. - - - - - THE A. and L. 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