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diff --git a/old/60451-0.txt b/old/60451-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8f4e38e..0000000 --- a/old/60451-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8297 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mystery of Suicide Place, by -Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller - -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: The Mystery of Suicide Place - -Author: Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller - -Release Date: October 7, 2019 [EBook #60451] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERY OF SUICIDE PLACE *** - - - - -Produced by Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images -courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University -(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/)) - - - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - -Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. - - * * * * * - - - - -THE MYSTERY _of_ SUICIDE PLACE - - - _By - Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller_ - - HART SERIES No. 40 - - (Printed in the United States of America) - - PUBLISHED BY - THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY - CLEVELAND, U. S. A. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE. - - CHAPTER I. “If Only----” 5 - - CHAPTER II. “Heiress of Fate” 8 - - CHAPTER III. A Dastardly Plot 13 - - CHAPTER IV. Why Did She Do It? 16 - - CHAPTER V. The Reason Why 23 - - CHAPTER VI. A Dream of Roses 29 - - CHAPTER VII. At the Dread Hour of Midnight 34 - - CHAPTER VIII. “From That Spot by Horror Haunted” 40 - - CHAPTER IX. “Oh! Those Happy Moments Spent Together!” 44 - - CHAPTER X. “Sleeping, I Dreamed, Love!” 49 - - CHAPTER XI. Plighted 52 - - CHAPTER XII. “When I Am Married!” Cried Floy 55 - - CHAPTER XIII. In the Meshes of Her Hungry Fate 57 - - CHAPTER XIV. Thrown on the World 63 - - CHAPTER XV. “As Proud and as Pretty as a Princess” 66 - - CHAPTER XVI. A Cruel Persecution 71 - - CHAPTER XVII. The Fair Dead Face He Had Loved So Well 75 - - CHAPTER XVIII. “Cupid” 79 - - CHAPTER XIX. The Beresford Pride 82 - - CHAPTER XX. Alva’s Disappointment 88 - - CHAPTER XXI. “Where is She Now?” 92 - - CHAPTER XXII. “Oh, My Son, My Son!” 95 - - CHAPTER XXIII. “You Wicked, Wicked Girl!” Cried the - Midnight Visitor 102 - - CHAPTER XXIV. “A Royal Road to Fortune” 106 - - CHAPTER XXV. How Those Tender Letters to Another - Must Have Stabbed Maybelle’s Heart! 110 - - CHAPTER XXVI. “I Will Sell My Life and Honor - Dearly!” Cried the Maddened Girl 116 - - CHAPTER XXVII. At Bay 119 - - CHAPTER XXVIII. Another Intruder 122 - - CHAPTER XXIX. “Oh, How Blest I Am!” Cried Floy 125 - - CHAPTER XXX. “’Tis Home Where’er the Heart Is” 128 - - CHAPTER XXXI. Near to Death 134 - - CHAPTER XXXII. “The Silence of a Broken Heart” 137 - - CHAPTER XXXIII. Pride Brought Low 140 - - CHAPTER XXXIV. Too Late! 142 - - CHAPTER XXXV. “He is Fickle and False--My Lover - Whom I Trusted So Fondly!--How Can - I Bear This Pain and Live?” 146 - - CHAPTER XXXVI. “Not Till Love Comes” 152 - - CHAPTER XXXVII. Searching in Vain 155 - - CHAPTER XXXVIII. A Bower of Roses 158 - - CHAPTER XXXIX. A Little Hand 161 - - CHAPTER XL. A Startling Revelation 163 - - CHAPTER XLI. Joy and Sorrow 166 - - CHAPTER XLII. A Young Girl’s Pride 170 - - CHAPTER XLIII. Maybelle Writes a Letter 173 - - CHAPTER XLIV. But One Chance in a Hundred 180 - - CHAPTER XLV. “Hope Deferred Maketh the Heart Sick” 184 - - CHAPTER XLVI. “The House is Haunted” 188 - - CHAPTER XLVII. “Life Is So Sad!” Cried Floy 192 - - CHAPTER XLVIII. A Strange Romance 198 - - CHAPTER XLIX. “Something Terrible!” 203 - - CHAPTER L. The Last Victim 209 - - CHAPTER LI. “Just One Kiss!” 212 - - CHAPTER LII. All That Floy Had Longed for in Other - Days Was Hers Now--Lucky Little Mortal! 217 - - * * * * * - -THE MYSTERY _of_ SUICIDE PLACE - - - - -CHAPTER I. “IF ONLY----” - - -When the beautiful Miss Maybelle Maury, of Mount Vernon, New York, was -returning in October, 1894, from her tour of Europe with her chaperon, -Mrs. Vere de Vere, a New York society leader, she was introduced by the -latter to our hero, handsome young St. George Beresford, the only son -of a New York millionaire. - -Life on shipboard offers many temptations to flirtation, and the -fascinating youth did not show himself indifferent to the challenge -that Maybelle’s dark, languishing eyes immediately flashed into his -face. He attached himself to her party, and made lazy, languid love to -the beauty all the way over. - -The chaperon was delighted, and plumed herself not a little on the -probable grand match she had brought about for her favorite Maybelle. -She knew that the girl’s mother, her own distant relative, would be -overjoyed at this lucky turn of Fortune’s wheel. Maybelle was nineteen, -and it was time she was making her matrimonial market, because she had -two younger sisters at school who must come out in a year or two more, -and it would be so expensive having three girls in society at once, for -the father, though a prosperous New York merchant, could not be rated -among the millionaires. - -Our space, however, will not permit us to follow the progress of -Maybelle’s flirtation through those bright October days upon the sea. - -But when the twain parted in New York, St. George Beresford was invited -to visit the beauty at her home in Mount Vernon, close to the great -metropolis, and carelessly promised to go “some day.” - -It was a shame that the handsome rogue forgot all about it afterward, -so that they did not meet again until the winter, when Maybelle was -spending a month in the height of the season with her New York friend, -Mrs. Vere de Vere. - -Her dark eyes flashed with pleasure as they clasped hands again after -those months of separation, and she cried reproachfully: - -“You forgot your promise!” - -The laughing brown eyes grew soft with repentance as he returned, -coaxingly: - -“Indeed, I meant to come to Mount Vernon, but--I went South the first -of November with my folks, and didn’t return until--well, _recently_. -So now--will you forgive me?” - -Would she not forgive the deceitful wretch anything, charming Maybelle, -who secretly adored him? She knew that he had only remained South five -weeks, but she flashed him a melting glance, and murmured, sweetly: - -“I’ll forgive you, sir, on only one condition--that you come in the -early spring.” - -“Only too glad to promise--so good of you to permit me,” cooed the -_jeunesse dorée_; and so the flirtation was resumed, although not very -spiritedly on his part. He was five-and-twenty, and several years in -the social swim had made him shy of pretty anglers for rich catches. - -They met at balls, operas, and receptions--they drove together a few -times, he made several short calls, and sent her flowers and books, but -his frank nonchalance through it all was not encouraging. It was froth -on a light wave, and even the keen attention of Mrs. Vere de Vere could -detect no latent earnestness. - -“He does not seem to mean anything in particular,” she confided -candidly to the girl on the last day of her stay; and Maybelle laughed -and answered that she did not care--she had only been flirting with him. - -But that night her pillow was wet with tears because of his careless -farewell when he heard she was going. - -But she could not banish his image from her warm heart. Her love, as -well as her pride, was enlisted, and a little spark of hope kept alive -in her heart the longing that he would keep his promise to come in the -spring. - -But it is more than probable that he would have audaciously forgotten -again, only her brother Otho sought his acquaintance and attached -himself to him, with the result that he “bagged the game”--that is, he -brought St. George Beresford to Mount Vernon in May, when the handsome -home on Prospect Avenue, Chester Hill, was looking its best among its -trees and flowers. - -Oh, how shyly happy Maybelle was at his coming! The love in her -heart made her dusky beauty more dazzling than ever before. Joy lent -a deeper, fuller cadence to her musical voice. Hope shone again like -a brilliant star in her languishing dark eyes, with their heavy, -black-fringed lashes. - -St. George Beresford suddenly found her winning on him in a subtle -fashion and told himself that really she was growing more charming with -each day and hour. This tenderness and admiration might have ripened -into passion for Maybelle, if only---- - -Ah! those words, _if only_--so short, so simple, yet so fraught with -meaning! - -Maybelle might have won Beresford’s heart and become his bride, _if -only_ he had not seen, as he lounged at the gate with Otho Maury, one -May morning, that vision of a blue-eyed, golden-haired, cherry-lipped, -dimpled-faced girl in dark blue flashing past the gate on a shining -wheel, leaving in his heart a memory of the sweetest, sauciest, most -adorable young face in the world. - -“Who is she?” he asked, hoarsely, of Otho; who replied, carelessly: - -“Miss Florence Fane, the carpenter’s daughter, nicknamed Fly-away Floy, -by reason of her hoidenish ways and never did a girl deserve the title -more.” - -It was that lovely face, dear reader, that brought the elements of -tragedy into my story. - - - - -CHAPTER II. “HEIRESS OF FATE.” - - -Otho Maury’s tone was light and contemptuous, but at heart he was -furious. He had a _penchant_ for Florence Fane himself, and dreaded a -rival in this man whose face had paled at the sight of her, and whose -voice had trembled as he asked her name--ay, whose very heart shone in -his splendid eyes as he leaned over the gate watching the flying wheel -and its graceful rider like one in a dream--a dream of love, for his -pulse beat fast, his heart leaped wildly, his very soul was stirred -within him in strange, delirious ecstasy. - -Maybelle came down the graveled walk to them, beautiful in a dainty -white gown with purple lilacs at her slender waist. - -But St. George Beresford did not turn to meet her gaze, and Otho said, -sneeringly: - -“Beresford has been struck dumb by the sight of a beauty on a bicycle.” - -“A beauty?” frowningly. - -“Yes. Little Fly-away Floy.” - -“Nonsense, _she_ is no beauty, only a mischievous little hoiden! Don’t -let her turn your head, Mr. Beresford; she isn’t in _our_ set at all. -Her father is a mechanic, and her mother a seamstress.” - -“Ah!” he exclaimed, carelessly, turning around and flashing her a -bright, quizzical glance, in which he seemed to dismiss the thought of -Florence Fane. - -He was very proud, and did not wish her to know that he had been -fascinated by one so far below him in social position. - -But Maybelle had equivocated, and she hoped ardently that he would not -find it out. - -A flavor of romance and mystery hung around Florence Fane’s origin. - -John Banks, the kind-hearted carpenter, had taken the sobbing child -nine years ago from the side of her dead mother and carried her home to -his childless wife, who, because Floy seemed to have no kith or kin, -had taken her into her heart and called her daughter, and both lavished -a world of tenderness on the seven-year-old child. But save in nobility -of nature and a tender heart, she was no more like the homely pair than -a restless humming-bird is like a toiling honey-bee. She was rarely, -exquisitely beautiful, lovable after an imperious fashion, but willful -and untamable in disposition, the result of spoiling by a too fond and -overindulgent mother, who at the last had deserted her by fleeing from -life’s pains and penalties by the forbidden path of suicide. - -Floy was heiress by her birth to a small estate and to a terrible taint -of blood--the mania for suicide. - -She was a descendant of the Nellest family, that for forty years had -numbered in each decade a suicide among its members. - -The scene of these tragedies was at an old farm-house on a lonely road -two miles from Mount Vernon. - -The house, a substantial and somewhat pretentious structure of rough -dark stone, overgrown picturesquely in many places with creeping ivy, -stood back from the road in a magnificent grove of old oak-trees, and -twenty-five acres of rich farming land stretched away in the rear. - -But so grewsome was the reputation of the place, that for nine years it -had had no tenants, and its name had changed, by tacit consent of the -neighborhood, from Nellest Farm to Suicide Place. - -The Nellest family had owned and tilled this farm almost a hundred -years, but in the middle of the century the head of the family had -committed suicide by cutting his throat, and just ten years later, his -only son was found hanging from a tree near the spot where his father -died. - -The widow of the son, with her only daughter, continued to reside at -the farm, employing a competent man to manage it. But when another -decade rolled around, the neighborhood was horrified to learn that the -manager had shot himself in the head, adding the third to the list of -deaths by suicidal mania. - -Horrified and unnerved by all these tragedies, Widow Nellest fled from -the place with her beautiful young daughter, leaving the property in -the hands of a lawyer for rent or sale. - -But neither buyer nor tenant could be found, and successive crops of -weeds ripened and died on the untilled acres. The poorest beggar would -have refused to live there rent-free. - -At almost the end of the next decade the daughter of Widow Nellest -returned to the place in widow’s weeds, and with a child seven years -old. Her mother had died of a broken heart, she said, and she herself -had been married and widowed. - -In spite of the horror of the neighborhood, she took up her abode -at Suicide Place, declaring herself poor and unable to make a home -elsewhere. Here she lived alone with her child, as neither man-servant -nor maid-servant would have gone inside the gates for love or money. - -And here, after a few months’ solitude, Mrs. Fane, overcome by the -terrible, mysterious spirit of the old place, succumbed to the mania of -her family and poisoned herself. - -John Banks, who had been employed by the woman to mend her gates, heard -the frightened shrieks of little Floy one morning when he came to his -work, and most reluctantly entered the house. - -He found Mrs. Fane dead, with a bottle of poison clutched in her -stiffened hand. She had been dead for hours. - -The carpenter took the orphan child to his own home, and into his big, -generous heart. Then he reported the case, after which there was a -coroner’s inquest and a verdict of suicide by poison. - -Enough money was found in the house to bury her decently, and then the -old place was left to its grim solitude again. - -This was Florence Fane’s inheritance--the old farm that none would -rent or buy, and the terrible taint of blood that made her an object -of a romantic interest and pity to the many who knew what must be her -probable fate. - -But, strange to say, the child herself knew and laughed at these -whisperings. She had no superstition in her make-up; and, although -forbidden by her adopted parents to enter even the gates, she was in -the habit of going secretly to the old house and rambling through it at -will. She even declared that she would go and live there, if any one -would bear her company; but no one accepted her defiant challenge to -fate. - -Meanwhile, the time was approaching when the grim, unappeasable Moloch -of the place would demand, in all probability, its fifth victim. It was -shunned like the plague, for all remembered that not only the family, -but one of no kith or kin, had met self-sought death there. None but -Floy ventured near the place--willful Floy, who laughed to scorn their -predictions that she would be the next sacrifice. When they tried to -reason with her, she would not listen to their warnings, darting away -like a gay, elusive little humming-bird. - -When St. George Beresford turned away from the gate where he had -watched Fly-away Floy out of sight, he knew that his heart had gone -with her forever, and that he never had, and never could love Maybelle -Maury as she wished to have him do--for he had long since fathomed the -tender secret of her heart. The knowledge made him feel very pitiful -toward the poor girl, and rendered him so abstracted that she guessed -the change in him directly, and became furiously jealous of her -unconscious rival, merry little Floy. - -He tried to smile and chat as usual with Maybelle and Otho, but his -thoughts wandered from them in spite of himself. - -Oh, how strange it was--how strange! Only a careless glance from a pair -of blue eyes, as the girl had smiled and nodded at Otho Maury, and all -the world had changed for St. George Beresford. He wondered vaguely if -_his glance_ had made any impression on the girl’s heart. - - - - -CHAPTER III. A DASTARDLY PLOT. - - -The first moment that Maybelle was alone with Otho she clung to his -arm, whispering, sorrowfully: - -“Otho, I am wretched! Did you mean what you said this morning--that St. -George admired that girl?” - -“Yes, I meant it, every word, Maybelle, for it is true, curse the luck! -and unless we carry things with a high hand, he is lost to you forever. -In fact, I never saw a fellow so hard hit in all my life. He actually -turned white to the lips with emotion, and his voice was hoarse and -strange as he demanded her name; and, of course, you noticed how -_distrait_ and half-hearted he has been all day?” - -“Yes, I saw it too plainly; but, oh, I can not give him up! Oh, surely, -he would not stoop to _her_--so far beneath him socially! Besides, she -isn’t so pretty, either--only with a babyish kind of beauty.” - -“Not so pretty, Maybelle! Why, now you make a fatal mistake, -underrating the girl’s charms. Half the fellows are raving over her -style; and she could have a dozen proposals to-morrow, only she laughs -them to scorn, the saucy little darling!” - -“You are very enthusiastic, Otho!” she cried, suspiciously. “Perhaps -you are in love with her yourself. I wish you would marry her -to-morrow, and make it impossible for her to become my rival.” - -He flushed, then laughed, answering, coolly: - -“Thank you; but the plan isn’t feasible. I shouldn’t mind making love -to the pretty little thing, for she’s sweet enough to turn any man’s -head; but I intend, like yourself, to marry money when I sacrifice -myself on Hymen’s altar.” - -“Oh, brother, I am wretched, wretched! It isn’t alone for the money I -want him. I have had other offers--rich ones, too; but I love _him_, -love him, love him! I must win him or die! All in a minute I feel -desperately wicked, and willing to do anything to win him for my own. I -hate that girl already, and wish her dead! Why does she not go and kill -herself like her mother?” - -“Probably she will in the end; but she isn’t unhappy enough yet.” - -“Then let us do something to drive her mad with despair at once!” -cried Maybelle, feverishly, recklessly, her dark eyes flashing with a -tigerish light not good to see. - -Otho’s eyes flashed back the same spirit, for his heart was burning -with a cruel passion for bonny Floy. Stooping close to her ear, he -whispered, hoarsely: - -“Suppose I could drive her mad with love for me?” - -“Try it, Otho, try it! Begin at once, please!” she responded, eagerly, -hopefully. - -“I will, for I fancy she admires me immensely already by her blushes -when I speak to her, and I’ll follow up the good impression at once, -storm the castle of her fancy, as it were, with ardent love-making, -persuade her to elope with me, perhaps--oh, a mock marriage, of course! -She is poor, and so she could not be taken _au serieux_.” - -She listened without a protest to his diabolical scheme for wrecking -the life of a pure and lovely girl. Oh, a jealous woman can be so hard -and pitiless! - -He continued: - -“Of course you know she will be at the picnic we attend to-morrow?” - -“No! Who dared invite the creature?” imperiously. - -“Pshaw! Maybelle, that scorn was well acted before Beresford to-day; -but in private we know that the girl really has some rights and a sort -of footing in our set, so that we’re apt to meet her at less exclusive -functions, such as this picnic will be. We can not keep from meeting -her to-morrow, but we can forestall Beresford’s suit by plotting -beforehand.” - -“Tell me how, Otho, and be sure I will act my part.” - -“I am sure you will; but I must first think it over, and in the morning -I will confide my plans to you before we start for the picnic. And -I’ll call at the carpenter’s cottage this evening. She is always on -the porch with her guitar. I’ll get in her good graces so that I can -monopolize her company to-morrow, and make him think he has no show -with her at all. I’ll throw in some little fibs, too, that he’s -engaged to you, etc., so that she will shun him.” - -“Yes, Otho, I see. That is a splendid idea, and easy to carry out. Oh, -how I thank you for your clever help all through!” she cried, in a -transport of joy and gratitude. - -Otho accepted the praise complacently, but he knew he was working more -for himself than for her. - -It would be a most delightful part to play, the making love to Floy, -and as for the rest, he was heart and soul in the scheme to win a -millionaire for his brother-in-law. He was selfish and extravagant, -and always in hot water with his father about money, so when Maybelle -secured her prize he would make her pay a heavy price for his help. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. WHY DID SHE DO IT? - - -The next morning dawned gloriously, and in due time the carriages -reached the picnic-grounds--just a mile past Suicide Place--a -picturesque grove on the banks of a river. There was a pavilion and -music for dancing, with every device for pleasure. - -And Floy was there with the rest, charming in a white duck suit and big -hat, self-possessed as a young princess, and not one whit abashed when -Otho led her to his party, and said, graciously: - -“You know my sister Maybelle, don’t you? She has been away a great deal -lately, but she remembers little Fly-away Floy, and this is my friend, -Mr. St. George Beresford.” - -They all bowed graciously, and then the quartet sat down together on -the river-bank, for all this condescension was the plot that wicked -Otho had unfolded to his sister that morning. Other couples joined -them, while some danced in the pavilion, and still others swung in the -hammocks under the shady trees. - -They talked lightly and desultory on frothy subjects, as people at -picnics usually do, and barely any one but Beresford remembered -afterward that it was Otho Maury who started the subject of bravery -and courage, and contrasted the difference in man and woman on these -qualities of mind and strength. He exclaimed, finally: - -“I adore courage and bravery in man or woman. Indeed, I would not marry -a girl who was a coward--who ran shrieking from a mouse, or trembled -at the thought of a burglar--but I could worship a fearless girl; such -a one, for instance, as would dare to spend a night alone in a haunted -house.” - -The pretty girls who heard him all shrieked and shuddered with -dismay--all except Floy, who shrugged her pretty shoulders, and said, -vivaciously: - -“Pshaw! that is not any great thing to do. I shouldn’t be afraid to -stay in a haunted house all night.” - -“Aren’t you afraid of ghosts, like most young girls?” asked Otho, -incredulously. - -“No, I’m not afraid, for I don’t believe in spirits.” - -Maybelle laughed tauntingly. - -“You are joking, Floy. You wouldn’t dare stay alone all night in -Suicide House--now, would you?” - -The girls all applauded Maybelle, sneering at Floy’s pretense -of bravery, until the impulsive girl saw that they were overtly -challenging her to a proof of her courage. - -Flushing with anger, her blue eyes blazing with defiance, she cried, -stormily: - -“I am not a coward, Maybelle Maury, and I am not afraid of anything, -ghost or human; and I will prove it to you all by staying alone at -Suicide House to-night!” - -“No, no; you must not!” cried a few voices, frightened at the thought -of what she had been goaded to do. - -But Floy’s high spirit was up in arms, and she would not be dissuaded -from her purpose. - -“I shall surely do it, and no one shall prevent me!” she cried; adding: -“When we go home to-night, you may leave me at Suicide Place, and I -will lock myself in, for I have the keys with me now, and you can go -by and tell auntie I stayed all night with one of the girls. In the -morning you may send a committee to escort me home in triumph. Why do -you all look so pale and frightened? There is no danger, I tell you; -I’ve been over the house a hundred times alone, and the only ghosts are -rats. It will be rare fun staying there all night!” - -No one could dissuade her, so they gave up trying. Everybody was -sorry for it, but Otho and his sister, who exchanged furtive looks of -satisfaction. - -St. George Beresford had not spoken a word during the whole -conversation, though his eager, admiring eyes had scarcely left Floy’s -lovely flower-like face. He was silent, abstracted, bitterly piqued at -Floy’s pronounced indifference to himself. - -She had not seemed to see him since the first glance in which she had -acknowledged their introduction by Otho Maury, and of course he could -not know that it was because Otho had said to her at the cottage gate -last night: - -“My sister Maybelle will be at the picnic to-morrow with her handsome -betrothed--the rich New Yorker she is to marry this fall. She is as -jealous of him as a little Turk, and it makes her angry for any other -girl to even look at him.” - -He had counted rightly on Floy’s high sense of honor. - -She was a mischievous little madcap, but she respected Maybelle’s -rights, and feigned indifference to Beresford, although she could not -avoid noticing the ardent glance he threw in her direction, and she -thought, indignantly: - -“No wonder Maybelle is jealous, for I can see already that he’s a -wretched flirt. I won’t even look at him, though he is awfully, awfully -handsome!” - -So with a sigh, whose subtle meaning she could not understand, she -turned her back on the wretched Beresford, and entered readily into an -animated conversation with Otho, maddening her silent admirer with such -keen jealousy that he could bear it no longer. - -“Let us go and dance,” he said to Maybelle, hoarsely. - -“Oh, I’m too lazy to move. Go and find another partner,” she laughed. - -“But I’m not acquainted with any of the girls here.” - -“Otho, go along and introduce him to some girls, and I’ll stay with -Floy and tell her about my lovely trip to Europe last year.” - -Beresford, disappointed in a faint hope that she might have proffered -Floy to him as a partner, went away with Otho, and Maybelle made -herself agreeable to her companion. - -At last she observed, patronizingly: - -“You’ve never been _anywhere_, have you, Floy?” - -“Not since mamma brought me a little girl back to the farm,” Floy -answered, flushing sensitively, for she felt the sting in Maybelle’s -patronizing tone. - -But the latter continued, gently and purringly: - -“It’s too bad your having to stay with those poor, hard-working -people, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you like to support yourself, Floy?” - -“I should not know how to earn a penny,” murmured Floy, who was like -the naughty Brier-Rose of the poem: - - “Whene’er a thrifty matron this idle maid espied, - She shook her head in warning and scarce her wrath could hide; - For girls were made for housewives, for spinning-wheel and loom, - And not to drink the sunshine and the flowers’ sweet perfume. - - “But out she skipped the meadows o’er and gazed into the sky, - Her heart o’erbrimmed with gladness, she scarce herself knew why; - And to a merry tune she hummed: ‘Oh, Heaven only knows - Whatever will become of the naughty Brier-Rose?’” - -“Suppose I tell you what papa was saying about you last night?” -continued Maybelle. - -“Yes,” Floy answered, helplessly. - -“He was saying that he needed two new salesgirls in his big dry-goods -store in New York, and he wondered if any girls in Mount Vernon would -like to go. He said he had thought of you, and that maybe old John -Banks would be glad to have you find a situation and help earn your own -living.” - -Floy reddened, paled, then gasped: - -“I don’t believe Uncle John would like it at all. He loves me--he and -auntie--and he doesn’t mind taking care of me.” - -“But you’ll tell him of this offer, won’t you, dear, and you’ll think -of it yourself? Papa says he’ll keep the place open a week for you,” -said Maybelle, who had suggested the plan to Mr. Maury herself. - -“I’ll tell Uncle John,” promised Floy; but she seemed tongue-tied after -that, and went moodily away from Maybelle’s vicinity to join some other -girls, keeping so resolutely away that they did not meet again until -that afternoon, when most of the dancers were resting after dinner on -the banks of the beautiful river. - -At heart Floy was cruelly wounded by Maybelle’s patronizing, but she -was too proud to show her pain. Once St. George Beresford ventured to -seek her for a partner in the dance, but she refused so curtly that he -turned away indignantly, wondering why she was so cold to him while so -kind to others. - -“She has plenty of smiles for that shallow Otho. I’d like to wring his -little black neck!” he thought, angrily. - -Otho was a cur, indeed, but he was slight and dark and elegant--one -of those types that very young girls rave over. Beresford saw that he -stood high in Floy’s good graces, and began to hate him accordingly. - -When the couples paired off on the river-bank beneath the shady trees, -there was Maybelle and Beresford, and next to them Floy and Otho. - -Floy was bright and restless, feeling Beresford’s gaze ever seeking -hers, and wondering why it thrilled her so when she knew it was not -right for him to look at any other than Maybelle, his beautiful, -dark-eyed betrothed. - -She turned her back on him rather rudely, and exclaimed to Otho: - -“People are very foolish and superstitious. They are always going on -about Suicide Place, and saying that it must claim another victim soon; -and they are even hinting that I will be the doomed one.” - -“That is nonsense. I am sure you are too strong-minded to yield to such -a temptation,” Otho replied, reassuringly. - -St. George could not help listening to the sound of the musical voice -and watching the beautiful profile when it turned toward him in her -animated talk. - -Heavens, how lovely she was! What eyes, what lips, what dimples, what -a mesh of curly, golden hair in which to entangle a man’s throbbing -heart! And yet it was not simply her beauty that inthralled him, and he -knew it. She had that psychical charm we call personal magnetism, that -is like the perfume to the flower and seems to endow it with a soul. - -He heard her continue, almost defiantly, as if annoyed: - -“I wish they would not talk about it, for it makes me angry. Why should -I kill myself? I’m young and gay, and, in a way, happy! And yet,” -musingly, “I suppose, after all, that the terrible taint of that mania -is in my blood. I am not superstitious, but perhaps it may conquer me -after all, who knows? Do you suppose I shall ever kill myself?” - -“I hope not. You would break a dozen hearts if you did, mine among the -rest,” Otho replied, banteringly, with a killing glance. - -She continued, meditatively: - -“They will go on expecting me to commit suicide, of course, and -always selecting the old farm as the scene of the fifth tragedy. Why -should I not choose some other scene for the final act? This river, -say,” pointing to it as it rippled below the bank, dark and deep and -dangerous in its beauty. - -Laughing, she rose to her feet, and he said: - -“It seems that fate always demands the sacrifice within the gates of -the grim old place.” - -“Do you think so? Well, I shall defy the fate to which I was born, -and break the charm of Suicide Place. If, following the taint in my -blood, I must indeed kill myself, I shall disappoint everybody in the -location. It shall not be at the old farm, but--_here_!” - -Then all at once the startling tragedy happened. - -Floy stepped to the edge of the bank with a strange, mocking laugh on -her red lips, and, as if the terrible mania had seized on her suddenly, -red-handed and implacable as fate itself, she threw up her arms above -her beautiful head, and leaped into the river that divided hungrily to -receive the girlish form, then closed again greedily over its prey. - - - - -CHAPTER V. THE REASON WHY. - - -Pretty Floy’s startling, unexpected, and terrible action produced the -effect of a thunder-clap on the gay and thoughtless crowd of young -people who witnessed it. - -A moment of blank, awed silence ensued, then every one seemed to join -in a cry of alarm and dismay as they pressed forward to the banks and -watched the eddying circles of water over the deep and dangerous spot -where that lovely form had disappeared from view. - -They watched eagerly for the golden head to reappear. - -Meanwhile, Otho Maury sat motionless gazing at the water, his face -marble-white, but in his eyes, beneath their lowered lids, a strange -and devilish gleam of joy, as he thought to himself: - -“How deuced clever in the little girl to hasten the _dénouement_ of her -life like this! It saves Maybelle and me a world of trouble.” - -As for Maybelle, when Floy sprung into the water, she uttered one loud, -hysterical shriek, and clutched her companion with both hands, hiding -her dark eyes against his shoulder as though she could not bear the -sight of the river. - -But in an instant Beresford recovered from his trance of horror, and -struggled to release himself and rise. - -But Maybelle clung to him so wildly that he could not loosen her grasp -without hurting the clinging white hands. - -“Do not leave me--do not leave me, St. George! I am so frightened!” she -wailed, beseechingly. - -“Otho! Otho!” called Beresford, sternly; and as Maury looked around -with a dazed expression, he added: “Come to your sister--I must save -that girl!” - -Otho did not stir from his position, pretending not to understand, and -Maybelle tightened her frantic clutch until he saw that he must use -gentle force to release himself. - -“I beg your pardon, but in common humanity I must go,” he said, -resolutely, and wrenched himself free, rushing forward, throwing off -his coat and hat as he went. Then, amid ringing cheers, the big, -handsome fellow plunged into the river. - -Out of that crowd of perhaps fifty young men he was the only one that -had volunteered to save the drowning girl, although half a score of -them had pretended to adore her. - -As Beresford sprung into the water, Floy’s little head suddenly -appeared above it some distance away from where she had sunk. He struck -out in that direction, shouting to her to be brave, that he would save -her life. - -But at the sound of his voice, the girl’s head suddenly sunk beneath -the water again, as though she were determined to accomplish her -purpose of suicide. - -Our hero, swimming with strong and gallant strokes toward the spot, -made a bold dive down to the depths, but rose again without Floy. - -Directly her head bobbed up again some distance off, but swimming -quickly toward her, Beresford grasped her where she lay easily floating -on the water, not having realized in his excitement that she had been -swimming furtively under the water, leading him a race for the fun of -the thing, for she was not in the least danger. - -Grasping her tightly, he said in hoarse tones, broken with joyful -emotion: - -“Thank Heaven, I reached you before you sunk again! It was a terrible -thing you attempted, but I shall save you in spite of yourself.” - -Floy laughed softly, and answered in a meek little voice: - -“Oh, I’m sorry now that I did it. I don’t believe I want to die after -all!” - -“That is right,” he cried, heartily. “Now, be calm, and I will take -you safely to the shore. Put your hands on my shoulder easily, like -this,” placing them. “Be cool, and don’t get frightened and clutch at -me--above all, don’t clasp my neck, for the current is very deep and -strong, and you must not impede my motions. Do you understand?” - -“Oh, yes; and I’ll do as you say. I--I should have liked to hold you -around the neck, but if you object to it so seriously, I won’t.” - -Was there a tone of exquisite raillery in the girl’s voice? He looked -suspiciously into her face, and saw veiled mischief in the clear blue -eyes. She was not frightened--not in the least. - -“Thank you,” he returned, coolly, but with a fast-beating heart. “I am -sure the experience would be delightful; and if you like to try it -after we are safe on land, I shall be most happy.” - -“I hate you!” pouted Floy, and letting her hands slip, sunk again below -the surface. - -Terribly alarmed, he dived and brought her safely to the surface once -more, saying, sternly: - -“Do not be so careless again, or you may lose your life.” - -To his amazement, she laughed mockingly. - -“Swim on and I’ll keep by your side. Don’t be alarmed over me, for I’ve -been doing all this for a purpose. I can swim like a fish.” - -And, to his wonder and chagrin, for he felt himself grow hot even in -the cold water with the thought that he had suddenly been turned from -a conquering hero into an object of ridicule, Fly-away Floy, the merry -little madcap, swam along by his side as easily and gracefully as a -beautiful mermaid, until they reached the bank, when he gave her his -hand to assist her, and they came again upon _terra firma_, greeted by -admiring cheers from the onlookers. - -While they were in the water, Otho had hurried to Maybelle, and -whispered, hoarsely: - -“Why didn’t you hold him tighter, you little fool? If you could have -kept him from going to her assistance a short time, she would have been -drowned and out of your way.” - -“I knew it, and I tried to keep him back, but he shook me off in a -rage, and I--I’m sure he even swore at me under his breath,” whimpered -Maybelle, despairingly. - -“Very likely,” grumbled Otho; and then he turned from her to watch -Beresford’s progress, and saw to his amazement the man and girl -clambering up the bank. - -In the silence that followed the rousing cheer of joy at their return, -Floy turned to her dripping cavalier, saying demurely: - -“I thank you from my heart, Mr. Beresford, for your noble attempt to -save my life. I was not in any danger, it is true, for I can swim like -a duck, but of course you did not know that, and you are just as truly -a real hero as if your brave attempts had indeed saved me from a watery -grave.” - -There was a swelling murmur of surprise from all around her, and one -little girl, bolder than the rest, came up and said: - -“Why, Floy, didn’t you intend to drown yourself after all?” - -Floy tossed back her wet curly mass of short ringlets, and returned -merrily: - -“Of course not, little goosie; why should I be so silly as to kill -myself, I that am so young and happy? I only jumped in to frighten you -all--yes, and to test the courage of a gentleman who told us only this -morning how much he adored physical courage.” - -Her accusing blue eyes turned on Otho Maury, and she said, with light, -laughing scorn: - -“I thought as you pretended to be so very, very fond of me, that you -would risk your life to save mine, but you proved yourself a coward -after all!” - -He was livid with secret, sullen rage, but putting a bold face on the -matter, he answered, carelessly: - -“Oh, I knew it was only a trick, and that you could swim as well as -anybody; so I didn’t choose to humor your fancy to have me jump in the -water and ruin my new fifty-dollar suit, like my friend Beresford here, -who, it’s plain to be seen, is as mad as a March hare at the way he -was fooled. Come, _mon ami_, shall I drive you into town for some dry -clothes?” - -“If you please,” returned Beresford, who was indeed bitterly chagrined -at being made the butt of such a joke, and angrily conscious of cutting -such a poor figure among them all in his drenched clothing. He picked -up his hat and coat and went away with Otho, who returned alone within -the hour, saying that Beresford was in the sulks and wouldn’t come back. - -“And as for you, little mischief,” he said, banteringly, to Floy, who -had been over to a house close by and borrowed a pretty suit, in which -she reappeared as fresh as a rose--“as for you, the lordly Beresford -will never forgive you for making him appear ridiculous by jumping into -the river to rescue a girl who could swim as well as he could. He said -he should have liked to shake you for a naughty, saucy little vixen.” - -“Who cares?” returned Floy, gayly, not the least abashed by Mr. -Beresford’s resentment. - -When the picnic was over, Maybelle slyly reminded her of her promise -about Suicide Place. - -“Oh, yes, I’m going to spend the night there, certainly,” she replied; -and left the carriage at the gates of the grim old house, in spite of -the remonstrances of many of the party, who were really uneasy at the -thought of such a daring adventure. - -Floy would not listen to any of them; she answered them with careless, -merry banter; and as the carriages rolled away, they saw her standing -inside the gates, waving her little hand in farewell, her slender, -white-robed figure clearly defined in the gloom of the falling -twilight. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. A DREAM OF ROSES. - - -Merry little Floy went dancing like a sunbeam through the dark oak -grove, and sat down to rest on the porch before she entered the house -for her night’s vigil. - -She rested there while the full moon rose over the tree-tops, silvering -the scene with an unearthly light, and throwing fantastic leaf-shadows -on the short green grass. It was like an enchanted palace, so calm, -so quiet, undisturbed by any sound save the plaintive call of a -whip-poor-will away off in the dim, silent woods. - -She mused a little soberly on the events of the day. - -“That big coward, Otho Maury, I was beginning to fancy myself in love -with him, but--I despise him now!” curving a red, disdainful lip. “And -how I fooled them all! They really thought I was attempting suicide! -Ha, ha! But how splendid Maybelle’s _fiancé_ was; how brave, how cool, -and if only--he wasn’t engaged, I believe I should have lost my heart -to him--so there!” - -Perhaps she _had_ lost her heart to him anyway, in spite of Maybelle, -for she could not get the thought of the big, handsome, brown-eyed -fellow out of her little curly head, and she recalled with a sudden -warm wave of color rushing to her face the audacious frankness of the -words he had said to her in the water, answering her saucy jest: - -“I’m sure the experience would be delightful, and if you like to try it -when we are safe on land, I shall be most happy.” - -Floy had thrilled with sweet ecstasy at his daring words, and now she -said, audaciously: - -“Yes, I--I _should_ like to try it! I should throw my arms around -his big neck and hug him tight, and kiss his sweet, brave lips, the -beautiful hero, only----” and the words trailed off into a deep sigh at -the sudden thought of Maybelle, who stood between them. - -And like a dash of cold water came the memory of Otho’s words. - -Beresford was angry with her for the joke she had played, and would -like to shake her for a naughty, saucy little vixen. - -“Let him try it--that’s all!” she exclaimed, shaking her bright head -defiantly, then leaning it half despondently on her arm. - -Wearied by the pleasures of the long, bright day, she sunk into slumber. - -Sweet dreams came to her there in the fragrant gloom of the warm spring -night. - -To her fancy she was walking with St. George Beresford in a beautiful -rose garden. - -Overhead there leaned a sky all darkly, beautifully blue, while little -fleecy clouds tempered the golden brightness of noon. - -From afar there came to her the soft murmur of the sea blended with -low, soft music divinely sweet and tender--the music of love. - -All around her were the rarest roses filling the summer air with -fragrance--roses intwining shady bowers of lattice-work, roses -wreathing triumphal arches, roses bordering long winding walks, -delicious thickets of roses so dense that the sun’s rays had not yet -dried the dew from their velvet petals. - -On her head was a wreath of pink roses, at the waist of her beautiful -fleecy white gown, were white and pink ones blended in exquisite -contrast. - -By her side, with his arm about her slender, supple waist, walked -handsome St. George Beresford. - -They were lovers. - -And in this beautiful rose garden they seemed to be as much alone as -Adam and Eve were in Eden. - -No faintest sound of the great surging, wicked world intruded on the -delicious solitude--nothing came to their hearing save the low murmur -of the distant sea, that soft music breathing the soul of love, and -the song of birds mating and nesting in the rose-trees that shook down -their bloomy petals in rosy clouds over every path. - -They did not miss nor want the world in this Eden. They were all in all -to each other, this beautiful pair of lovers. - -They roamed here and there with their arms about each other, speaking -but little, only now and then Beresford would pause to draw her into -his arms and caress her, murmuring between ardent kisses: - -“My only love, my bride!” - -Beautiful, dark-eyed, jealous Maybelle Maury was forgotten just as -entirely as though she had never existed. They were blissfully happy -in this dream that Floy was dreaming there that May night in the grim -shadow of Suicide Place. - -But suddenly a dark, portentous cloud overspread the sky, and a low -rumble of thunder shook the earth. - -The soft voice of the sea changed to a hollow roar, as though a storm -were lashing its waves into fury, and the tender music wailed itself -into silence like the cry of a broken heart. The winds rose and lashed -the rose-trees in a furious gale, till the air was full of their flying -petals and spicy perfumes. The song-birds fled affrighted, and their -little nests were dashed upon the ground. - -“Oh, I am so frightened! Save me!” sobbed pretty Floy, clinging to her -fond lover, who clasped and kissed her again, whispering that there was -no danger for her while he was by his little darling’s side. - -But at that very moment a flash of lightning irradiated the gloom, and -Floy saw a woman dashing toward her in insane fury. - -She had the dark, beautiful, jealous face of Maybelle Maury, and she -rushed between them and thrust Floy away. - -“Go, girl, go! He is mine, mine, mine!” she was crying, madly, when all -at once Floy awoke, as we do in dreams at some moment of unbearable -grief and woe. - -Her dream had been only half a dream, after all. - -The moonlight was darkened by clouds, there was low, rumbling thunder, -followed by flashes of lightning, and a fitful rain was driven into the -porch by the wayward wind, wetting Floy’s face and hands and dress. It -was this that had woven itself in with her dream and awakened her to -unpleasant reality. - -Dazed and wondering, she sprung to her feet, and it was several minutes -before she could realize her position. - -Then it came to her that Maybelle had dared her to spend a night alone -at Suicide Place, and she had vowed she would do it. - -She had come and fallen asleep on the porch and dreamed that exquisite -dream that was so lovely until--Maybelle came. - -“How strange that I should dream of Maybelle’s lover--and dream that he -was _mine_!” she murmured, wonderingly, as she hurried into the house -out of the muttering storm. - -Fortunately she had brought some matches, and she knew that there was -a lamp in the parlor, so letting herself in, she hurriedly lighted the -lamp, throwing its feeble glare on the dark oak furniture of the long -apartment. - -“Whew! what a musty old place!” she ejaculated, throwing open a -window, heedless of the fine mist of rain that came blowing in, mixed -with delicious fresh air and gusts of delicate perfume from great -lilac-trees outside loaded with white and purple blooms. - -Then she uttered a cry of dismay and looked back half fearfully over -her shoulder at a piano in a dark corner. - -The lid was closed, but from the keys were coming low, discordant -sounds, as of music played by childish hands all ignorant of time or -tune. It was terrible, that sound, and Floy, who had never known fear -before, felt as if ice-cold water were trickling down her spine. - -Then a quick suspicion came to her, and running straight to the -instrument, she threw back the lid. - -Several mice that, alarmed by her entrance, had been running up and -down the keys, producing discordant notes, jumped out upon the floor -and ran away into the dark corners with little frightened squeaks. - -Floy laughed aloud merrily: - -“Just as I suspected, after my first moment of terror at that sudden -sound. But a cowardly person would have sworn it was a ghost playing -the piano. I wonder if that discord was the sweet music I heard in my -dream?” - -She threw herself into a large easy-chair cushioned in leather, and -closed her eyes. - -“I am not the least bit afraid--not the least,” she declared aloud. -“But I wish I could go to sleep again and dream the first half of that -lovely dream.” - -But slumber refused to visit her eyes again. She felt preternaturally -wide awake. - -Rising, she paced up and down the room, listening to the muttering of -the storm outside, and the wild rain driving against the creaking old -windows. - -Several old family portraits hung against the walls, and the eyes of -those buried ancestors seemed to follow her up and down with grim -curiosity as she moved to and fro. - -Such a thing will seriously annoy one sometimes. The eyes of a portrait -may take on a living look, and render one horribly nervous when alone -at midnight. - -Those following eyes, so persistent in their stare, annoyed Floy, and -gave her the same creepy chill down her back that she had felt when the -mice scurried over the piano keys. - -She could not resist a sudden longing to escape from the room, and from -the grim scrutiny of her pictured ancestors. - -Taking the lamp in her hand, she started out to explore the house. - -Hurrying along the draughty hall, and in and out of the musty old rooms -familiar to her childhood, the girl tried to dispel the shadow that -began to fall on her spirits like an ominous cloud. - -Presently, over the roar of the storm outside, her voice rang out in a -loud, wild, terrified shriek thrice repeated--then awful silence. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. AT THE DREAD HOUR OF MIDNIGHT. - - -Half an hour passed by slowly. - -The storm was over. - -The lightning, thunder, and rain had ceased, and the moon was coming -out from the black wrack of clouds where she had hidden her glory. - -Her silver light shone again upon the sleeping world, and flashed into -the parlor window that Floy had opened before she left the room half an -hour ago. - -In the sheen of the moonlight, the staring eyes of the portraits on the -wall seemed to be watching eagerly for their descendant to reappear. - -The hall door opened softly, and Floy staggered across the threshold, -bearing the lamp unsteadily in her small hand. - -What a change had come over the sparkling _riante_ face! - -She was pale to the lips--pale as a ghost, as the saying goes--and -there was a strange expression in her blue eyes, as if they had looked -upon something uncanny. - -With an unsteady step, as though she trembled in every limb, the lamp -flaring dismally in her grasp, she dragged herself across the room to -a long swinging mirror between the windows, and held the light up over -her golden head, looking at herself carefully, as she whispered: - -“I wonder if my hair has turned white?” - -The words, coupled with her appalling shrieks of half an hour ago, -proved two facts. First, that Floy had sustained a severe shock of some -kind, since only sudden fright or grief is supposed to whiten the hair -in a single hour; and secondly, that she was recovering from her alarm, -as manifested by her anxiety over her personal appearance. - -The long mirror gave her back faithfully the beautiful form with the -graceful swelling curves of dawning womanhood, and the lovely face -lighted by clear blue eyes, and crowned by waves of crinkly gold above -the frank white brow. - -No, her hair had not turned white, despite the untold horror that had -shaken her soul to the center. Not even one silver thread shone among -the gold. - -Floy heaved a long, bursting sigh of intense relief, set down the lamp, -and dropped wearily into a chair near the window. - -The moon’s rays shone in her white face, so pale and horror-struck, and -she saw that the storm was over and the sky clear again. - -“Oh, how much longer must I stay here?--how long before the dawn?” she -muttered, fearfully, gazing straight before her into the night, as -if afraid to look back into the grewsome room with its dark, shadowy -corners. - -And this was Fly-away Floy, the fearless, with her nerves of steel, and -her contemptuous disbelief in the supernatural--this pale, startled -creature who had just looked into the mirror to see if the golden locks -of youth had changed to the frosty ones of age. - -What had changed and shaken the careless girl like this? Would she ever -reveal the secret? Or would her indomitable pride seal her lips? - -She leaned out of the window, reaching down and breaking off great -clusters of wet, fragrant lilacs, in which she buried her stricken -face, while low, bursting sobs convulsed her form--sobs of abject -misery. - -Hark! what was that sound? Only the low wind of the summer night -soughing through the trees. - -“No,” she cried, dismissing the fancy and springing to her feet, “it is -a step in the hall!” - -She clung to the window-sill, looking over her shoulder with terrified -blue eyes, her heart beating wildly against her side. - -She was half tempted to spring from the window and seek refuge in -flight. - -But it was at least ten feet from the ground, and she did not fancy the -idea of making a cripple of herself. - -The door was suddenly flung open, and a laughing voice exclaimed, -eagerly: - -“Where are you, Floy?” - -The very sound of a human voice was bliss to her after the long and -fearful night. - -She sprung up, sobbing with joy and relief, as Otho Maury entered the -room with a lantern. - -“So you have come for me! I--I didn’t guess it was near daylight yet,” -she faltered. - -“It isn’t, Floy--only a little past midnight.” - -He came up to her with a jubilant air, and his eager, dark eyes burned -on her face as he continued: - -“But I couldn’t rest for thinking of you, Floy, all alone in this -terrible place, exposed to Heaven knows what dangers! I--I--my heart -ached for your loneliness, dear little one, and so I came to share your -vigil.” - -At the first moment her face had brightened with relief, but when he -came up close she drew back shrinkingly, and at his words she took -swift alarm. - -“You have been frightened. I knew you would be, though you pretended -to be so brave. I see the tears on your lashes. Now, aren’t you glad I -came?” triumphantly. - -“Yes, I’m glad, for I did wrong to come. I’ve grown nervous waiting -here alone, and you may take me home at once,” she answered, -gratefully, throwing on her hat and turning toward the door. - -“Wait a little, Floy, for there’s a storm coming up. I did not think -you would want to go until daylight, when the committee called for you -with a carriage.” - -She recoiled, looking at him with startled eyes. - -“Do you mean to say that they did not come with you--that you came here -alone?” she demanded. - -“Why, yes, that was what I told you, Floy. I feared the storm would -frighten you, so I came to remain with you till morning.” - -The wet lilacs at the window shook and rustled as in a rising gale, but -neither heeded it in their excitement. - -He pressed closer, and tried to take her hand, but she drew herself to -her full height, the color rushing to her pale cheeks, her eyes like -blue fire. - -“Go! leave me at once!” she commanded, imperiously. - -“Leave you, Floy--I can not! Did you not confess just now that you had -grown nervous waiting here alone? And there were tears on your lovely -cheeks when I found you drooping here. No, darling, I shall stay and -cheer your solitude.” - -“Is the man mad, or does he think me an ignorant child with no -knowledge of the world and its ways? Listen, Otho Maury: you can not -remain here through the night with me, for what would people say -to-morrow?” - -She seemed to grow taller with each word so bravely spoken, as she -stood before him like an imperious little queen, her finger still -pointing to the door. - -But the man made no motion to obey, and his manner was full of a jaunty -_insouciance_ that filled her with indefinable dismay. - -“Nonsense!” he answered, airily; and his voice sunk to a tender cadence -as he continued: “Darling little Floy, no one need know of my being -here to-night. No one knew of my coming, and I can slip away just -before daylight, don’t you see? Then when the committee comes you will -be found alone bright and happy, and they will believe your proud boast -that you were not the least afraid to stay alone in Suicide Place.” - -“I command you to go at once!” she said, angrily. - -“I refuse to obey,” he returned, jauntily; and there was a streaming -fire of elation in his eyes that almost drove her wild. - -“Then I shall go and leave you here!” she said, scornfully, turning -to the door; but he barred her way. “I can spring from the window!” -she cried, moving to it, and not noticing the rustling of the lilac -branches. - -“And kill yourself,” he sneered. “No, Floy, you will not be so rash. -You will stay here with me, for I love you madly, beautiful one! and -I came here to be alone with you where none could interfere, that I -might clasp your lovely form to my heart and kiss your scornful lips -till they yielded to my caresses, till your heart thrilled to mine with -responsive love!” - -“Why, I hate you! hate you! hate you! you cowardly villain, you -infamous cur!” raged Floy, tempestuously, as she tried to rush past him -and gain the door. - -But Otho was too quick for her, agile as she was. Rushing forward, he -caught her in his arms, pressing her tightly to his breast, heedless of -her wild shrieks of fear and prayers for mercy. - -Struggling fiercely to bend back her fair head and kiss her crimson -lips, the villain did not catch the rustling sound of the branches at -the window, as a man who had been hiding and listening there came at a -bound over the sill and into the room. - -But the next moment Otho’s arms were caught in a grasp of steel, and a -hoarse voice thundered: - -“Release the lady, you vile hound, and take your punishment!” - -It was St. George Beresford, raging like a lion in his fury, and as -Maury’s grasp on Floy relaxed, he caught up the slim, wriggling coward -in his athletic grasp, shook him contemptuously, and flew over to the -window. - -Floy, raising up her eyes to her noble deliverer, saw him, pale with -revengeful fury, as, with superb strength, he lifted Maury up to the -window and hurled him through it over the tops of the lilacs far out -into the grove. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. “FROM THAT SPOT BY HORROR HAUNTED.” - - -Floy watched the punishment of Otho Maury with that boundless -admiration a woman always feels for manly strength and power. - -She thought that St. George Beresford was the grandest, bravest, most -beautiful hero in the world, and her heart swelled with gratitude to -him for his manly defense of a helpless girl. - -But she was frightened, too, when she saw her persecutor’s body flying -through the air, and she cried out, shudderingly: - -“Oh, you have killed the wretch!” - -But her preserver answered, coolly: - -“No, indeed; more’s the pity! It’s only a few feet from the window to -the ground. Besides, didn’t you hear the thud of his body on the soft -wet grass? No bones will be broken, I assure you, though it ought to be -his neck. But, anyway, this will teach him a much-needed lesson!” - -And he laughed softly to himself at the ease with which he had sent -Maury spinning through the window. - -“Oh, I thank you so much--so much! I was so frightened!” faltered Floy, -clasping her white hands in the intensity of her joy, and lifting to -him her beautiful, clear blue eyes. - -He smiled at her kindly, thinking to himself that it was the loveliest -face in the round world, and answered: - -“It was rather fortunate I came when I did, for I suspected the fellow -had been drinking. That was why I followed him here when I found out he -was coming.” - -“Oh, how good you were--how good, I can never thank you enough!” cried -Floy, putting out her hand to him in the exuberance of her gratitude. - -Beresford clasped the little hand ardently, and longed to kiss it, but -would not frighten her by such a demonstration. - -“Poor little soul, she has been alarmed enough already,” he thought, -generously; the pale cheeks and tear-wet lashes appealing to all the -manliness within him. - -“And now you will take me home, will you not?” added Floy, appealingly. - -“Yes; for I came here with that purpose, and my carriage is waiting -at the gate. Come,” he said, putting out the lamp and taking up the -flaring lantern left by Otho Maury, as he moved toward the door. - -Floy paused to shut down the window, and followed him, oh, so gladly, -out of that horror-haunted house in the sweet moist air of the spring -night, breathing a sigh of relief when she found herself going down the -graveled walk, through the grove, by Beresford’s side. - -“Oughtn’t we to see--if _he_ is hurt or killed?” she murmured, timidly. - -Beresford answered, carelessly: - -“Oh, he is all right. I hear him coming behind us now.” - -And, sure enough, a voice called, humbly: - -“Beresford--Miss Fane! Will you please wait a moment?” - -They paused, and saw Otho Maury limping dejectedly toward them, looking -very meek in the bright moonlight that streamed through interstices of -the trees. - -Floy’s tender little heart gave a leap of joy that he was not killed, -although she knew that he well deserved it. - -He dropped with difficulty on one knee before Floy, muttering: - -“I crave your pardon, Miss Fane, for my rudeness just now. I swear I -meant no harm except to kiss you. But I had been drinking--and I will -own it--I was mad with love for you. But I never should have frightened -you so only that I had drunk too much wine and I lost my head. I’m -glad Beresford threw me out of the window, for my madness deserved -it, though I’m a mass of bruises, and my ankle is either sprained or -broken. But that does not matter so that you forgive me. Will you?” -contritely. - -Floy had the tenderest heart in the world, and Otho’s repentance was so -frank and engaging that she hesitated. - -“Do you think I ought to forgive him?” she whispered to Beresford, with -a ravishing little air of reliance on his judgment! - -He shrugged his shoulders, and replied, carelessly: - -“Perhaps so--since he asks it.” - -“Very well,” said Floy; and looking coldly at the offender, she said, -proudly: “I forgive you, as you say you are sorry; but don’t you ever -dare speak to me again!” - -She was turning away, with her head held high in scorn, but he caught -at her sleeve. - -“One moment, please. I have another favor to ask of you -and--Beresford,” the last word with a gulp, as if swallowing his pride -with difficulty. - -They both stopped to listen, and he muttered: - -“Will you both keep the story of this affair a secret? It will ruin -me if it becomes known. My father--he has threatened to disinherit me -if I do not quit drinking. I had promised him, but I--I broke my word -to-night. Then, too, the ridicule of my set--_you_ know how it could -sting. Beresford, for God’s sake, be merciful, as you are strong and -brave!” - -He drooped before them--craven, abject, appealing, a cur to despise--in -the moonlight. - -Beresford knew that what he advanced was true; the story of to-night’s -offense and its punishment would make Maury the laughing stock of all -who heard it--would follow him with its blight through life. - -He was disposed to pity the abject suppliant, the depths of whose -meanness his own noble nature could not fathom. - -So he answered, after a moment’s reflection: - -“It shall be as the young lady says, of course, though I must say you -do not merit her leniency.” - -“I know too well that I do not, but she is an angel, and will grant my -prayer,” muttered the wretched delinquent. - -“No, I’m not an angel, and I hate and despise you, Otho Maury!” flashed -the lovely girl, stamping her tiny foot on the wet gravel. “But I’ll -keep your disgraceful secret as long as you never open your lips to me -again. Do you hear?” angrily. - -“I hear, and I’ll stick to the condition, though it’s a hard one. I -had as soon be dead as banished from your presence,” sighing. Then he -looked at Beresford. “And you?” he said, anxiously. - -“I’ll never betray you unless you seek to harm Miss Fane again in any -way, even by speaking her name lightly, as you may in malice be tempted -to do. You understand?” sternly. - -“Yes, and I’ll not forget that you have constituted yourself her -protector.” - -There was a furtive sneer under the pretended humility of the answer, -but Beresford did not heed it, he merely said, warningly: “See that you -keep your promise,” and turned away, going down the path with Floy at -his side and out at the gate with her to the waiting carriage. - -The craven wretch they had left behind followed more slowly, for he was -indeed sore and bruised from his fall, and his ankle was twisted from -his efforts to alight on his feet. - -But as he had come afoot on his secret nefarious mission of evil, he -was compelled to return the same way, cursing and groaning at every -step with blended pain and chagrin, for his heart was filled with rage -against Beresford. - -“Curse him! He foiled my clever plan entirely!” he raved to himself. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. “OH! THOSE HAPPY MOMENTS SPENT TOGETHER!” - - -Beresford led his trembling young companion out to the carriage that -waited impatiently at the gates, the horses fretting and the driver -swearing under his breath. - -In fact, the young man had been charged a heavy sum for this service, -the driver sharing to the full the common terror of Suicide Place. - -So it was with a sigh of relief that he received from Floy the -directions where to drive, after which she was handed into the carriage -by her escort. - -“With your permission I will see you safely home,” he said, -courteously, springing in after her and closing the door. - -They had something more than three miles to drive to Bird’s Nest -Cottage, and each heart thrilled with the consciousness of happy -moments to be spent together. - -As he seated himself by her side, Floy thought of her exquisite dream -of the rose garden, where she had walked by his side, with his arm -about her waist and his low voice whispering love into her willing and -enraptured ears. - -Her heart began to throb wildly, the blood leaped warmly through -her veins, she felt her cheeks flush and her eyelids quiver in the -semi-darkness. She was so overcome with sweet and painful emotion that -she could not utter a word, and Beresford, thrilling with the same -sweet pain, also remained silent. - -He was so madly in love with the little blue-eyed beauty by his side -that it was with difficulty he restrained himself from clasping the -dainty form in his arms and whispering to her all that was in his -heart--the admiration, the tenderness, the passion, the yearning to woo -and win her for his worshiped bride. - -But the faint remnant of reason remaining to him whispered, warningly: - -“Wait till she knows you better. Such impetuous violence would frighten -and disgust the little darling!” - -So each remained silent for a brief time, thrilled and dominated by the -presence of the other, then Floy, coming back to herself by a great -effort of will, murmured, softly: - -“You said you came to take me home. Did any one send you?” - -“No; I came of my own free will,” he returned, gently. - -“Why--why, that was strange!” she faltered, wonderingly. - -“Do you think so?” he asked; and there was a tender meaning in his -voice that made her cheeks burn warmly, and her heart throb again so -wildly that she could not speak. She, who had always been so saucy and -ready-witted, flouting with scorn the flatteries of her admirers, could -not think of any retort, could not unclose her lips for a coquettish -reply. - -Finding that she did not reply, her handsome companion continued: - -“I wonder if you would be offended if I should tell you about a strange -dream that warned me to come to your assistance!” - -Floy started and thrilled, remembering her own beautiful dream, and she -found courage to return: - -“I--I thought you were too much offended with me to--to dream of me! -Mr. Maury said you were so angry with me, you would not come back to -the picnic.” - -“That was not true. I was a little vexed with you, I own, but I was -going back with Otho; only just as we stepped outside the gate, -a telegram was handed me that necessitated my return to New York -to-morrow, and my sailing for Europe the next day. The matter so -worried me that I told Otho to go back without me, as I must remain to -see to my packing. I did not bring my valet here with me, and he went -alone and made capital of my absence to tell you that falsehood, the -villain!” - -“Oh, how I hate the false, cowardly wretch, and how glad I am that you -came when you did. I believe I should have died with disgust if he had -succeeded in kissing me!” cried Floy. - -Beresford wondered if she would be willing to kiss him; but he did not -dare to offer the caress that was burning on his lips. His strong, true -love made him timid and respectful. - -He said, soothingly: - -“I do not think he will ever dare to annoy you again.” - -“I should think not, or I will tell Uncle John, and he will punish -him,” Floy replied; then added, timidly: “But the dream that sent you -to me?--I am quite curious over it.” - -“I should like you to hear it, only--promise me you will not be angry,” -tenderly. - -“Of course not. One can not stop dreams. And this one must have been a -good one.” - -“It was charming!” he cried, vivaciously. - -“Then tell me all about it.” And it seemed to him that all -unconsciously to herself she nestled confidingly closer to his side. - -He also leaned nearer, so that their heads were very, very close, so -close that his warm breath ruffled the strands of her curly hair and -swept her cheek, as he began: - -“In the first place, I was seriously annoyed yesterday when I heard you -answer Miss Maury’s challenge, by declaring that you would spend the -night alone in the haunted house--I believe it is said to be haunted, -is it not? Although I was almost a stranger to you, and you seemed -to avoid me somehow, I determined to seek an opportunity to dissuade -you from your purpose, and to tell you frankly how imprudent such an -adventure would be. I even determined that if you refused to listen to -me I would seek out your parents and acquaint them with your girlish -folly.” - -“But I have no parents--only adopted ones, you know.” - -“Yes; I heard the story of your life to-day from a young man who seemed -to admire you very much,” returned Beresford; adding: “But of course -that made no difference, as your adopted parents would exercise the -same authority over you as your own.” - -Floy remained demurely silent, smiling to herself at the thought of how -those dear adopted parents always humored her every madcap whim. - - “Said Brier-Rose’s mother to the naughty Brier-Rose: - ‘Whatever will become of you the Lord Almighty knows! - You will not scrub the kettles, and you will not touch the broom, - You never sit a minute still at spinning-wheel or loom!’ - - “And oft the maiden cried when Brier-Rose went by: - ‘You can not knit a stocking, you can not make a pie!’ - But Brier-Rose, as was her wont, she cocked a curly head, - ‘But I can sing a pretty song,’ full merrily she said.” - -“But,” continued the speaker, “after that came your sensational plunge -into the water, frightening every one out of their wits. When the funny -farce of saving you was over, and I went back for dry clothes, that -telegram drove everything else out of my mind for awhile--even _you_,” -tenderly. - -Floy did not answer a word; she listened attentively, thinking how -sweet and musical his voice sounded, and how sorry she was that this -charming drive would soon be over. She could have gone on, and on, and -on with him forever. - -But the cross driver, not sharing her predilections, swore at his -horses and whipped them up impatiently, while Beresford added: - -“The telegram drove everything else out of my mind until I retired, -when I fell asleep and dreamed of you.” - - - - -CHAPTER X. “SLEEPING, I DREAMED, LOVE!” - - -“I dreamed of you,” repeated Beresford, bending lower over the girl -until her fragrant breath floated up to him, and the magnetism of -her nearness enveloped him in an atmosphere of passionate bliss. “I -dreamed, little Floy, that you and I were alone together, walking in -the most beautiful rose garden in the world.” - -“Oh!” cried Floy, with a delicious start, throwing up her little hands. - -Beresford caught one of them in his and held it tenderly, as if it had -been a little trembling white bird, as he went on softly: - -“Words are too weak to describe the beauties of that spot.” - -“I can imagine it,” thought Floy, recalling her own dream of roses. - -“It must have been in Italy, the sky was so deeply blue, and the roses -so grand,” resumed Beresford. “There were thickets of roses so dense -that the sun’s rays had not dried the morning dew sparkling on their -petals. There were winding walks bordered with rose-trees; there were -shady bowers wreathed with climbing roses; there were roses on the -ground, roses in your hair--white ones--and at the waist of your white -gown were pink and white ones blended.” - -“Oh-h-h!” breathed Floy, lost in wonder at the similarity of their -dreams, and she listened breathlessly as he went on telling her how the -far-off sound of the sea had come to his ears, mixed with the music -that breathed of love--the same music she had heard in her own dream. - -“Oh, how strange, how passing strange!” she sighed and he answered, -tenderly: - -“Yes, strange, but sweet, for now I come to the best part of it. And -you must not be offended, Floy--remember, you said you would not--for -in my dream we were lovers--you and I--and as I walked, my arm was -around your slender waist, you raised your face to mine, I kissed it, -and called you my love, my bride.” - -One moment of thrilling silence, in which they could almost hear each -other’s wild hearts leap with joy; then Floy cried, eagerly: - -“Oh, let me finish the dream for you! Did not a terrific storm arise -and frighten me so that I cried out to you to save me? Did not a dark, -beautiful woman rush in and thrust us apart?” - -“Yes, oh, yes! that was how it ended. How strange that you should guess -at so much of my dream, Floy! But that was the way of it. You clung to -me, begging me to save you, and I assured you that I would; and just -then a beautiful woman--she had the very face of Maybelle Maury--rushed -in and thrust us apart with wild, jealous threats. At that moment I -awoke in a cold perspiration, trembling with alarm, and the memory of -you rushed over me, and I thought of you alone in that old house so -horror-haunted, and your voice seemed calling for me to save you, -until I sprung up, threw on my clothes, and darted from the room, -intending to ask Maury to accompany me and take you away from that -dreadful place.” - -“Yes?” breathed Floy, eagerly, as he paused. - -“Well, I met Maury’s man-servant in the hall, and on asking for Otho, -was told he had gone out. The man begged me to follow and bring him -back, as he had been drinking again against his father’s commands, and -if it came to the old man’s ears there would be a terrible row. He -added that Otho had boasted he was going out to keep an engagement with -a lady; but he suspected he might be found at some gambling hell, as he -often frequented such resorts. - -“‘I will bring him back,’ I assured the man; and rushed from the house, -goaded by a frantic suspicion, hurried to a livery stable through the -raging storm, secured the carriage after a long argument, and reached -Suicide Place soon after the cessation of the storm. You know all that -followed. I followed the light in the window, and secreted myself in -the shrubbery just in time to witness the entrance of Maury. I heard -all that passed between you, clambered over the sill, and collared the -wretch just in the nick of time.” - -“Just in the nick of time!” echoed Floy; and she added, in a murmur, to -herself: “Oh, that blessed dream that sent him to save me!” - -He caught the whisper, and repeated, joyously: - -“Yes, that blessed dream, for Heaven must have sent it to my pillow, -forewarning me in dreams of your peril, that I might hasten to save -you. But, Floy--forgive me for calling you that so boldly, but it seems -_so_ natural---how strange it seems that you could follow my dream in -thoughts as you did. You must possess the gift of mind-reading.” - -“No,” she answered, hesitatingly, then burst out, solemnly: “Oh, it’s -so strange I can hardly tell you, and perhaps you will not believe me, -but--I knew all your dream as soon as you began to relate it. For--this -is the truth, sir, and not a girlish jest--to-night I fell asleep on -the porch of Suicide Place before I came into the house, and dreamed -the self-same dream just as you have told it, word for word.” - -She paused, awed and trembling, overcome by the strange coincidence of -her dream. - -She heard St. George Beresford laugh low and joyously to himself; she -felt him crush the hand he held against his throbbing heart, then he -whispered, tenderly: - -“Oh, happy, happy dream that brought us together! Let me interpret it, -darling little Floy. It means that we indeed are lovers, that Heaven -made us for each other. Do you not believe it?” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. PLIGHTED. - - -What Floy would have answered to her lover’s ardent question was lost -in the rumble and noise of the carriage wheels as the driver reined up -his horses in front of Bird’s Nest Cottage, and loudly announced: - -“Here we are!” - -Beresford handed Floy out, and walked through the cottage gate up to -the door with her, whispering under the leafy shade of the honeysuckle -vines a tremulous question: - -“Will you give me love for love, darling Floy? Will you marry me?” - -She tried to draw away the hand he held, murmuring, agitatedly: - -“You--you have no right to talk to me like this. You are engaged to -Maybelle.” - -Her voice broke in a sob, and he put his arm around her, drawing her -close to his side, hoping that the shadow of the vines was dense enough -to prevent the inquisitive driver from watching their love-making. - -“I’m _not_ engaged to Maybelle; never _was_, either. What made you -think so, my sweet one?” he whispered. - -“Otho Maury told me so the night before the picnic. He said you were to -marry his sister in the fall.” - -“I’ll be shot if I do! That is another of Otho’s lies, my pet. The wish -was father to the statement. But I never thought of marrying Maybelle, -and they know it. You are my only sweetheart, dearest, and unless you -promise to marry me, I shall sail the seas over with a broken heart -to-morrow.” - -“Oh!” she sighed, doubtfully. - -“It’s true, dearest, and you must answer me quickly, for that driver -is getting impatient, don’t you know? And I can not come back for an -answer to-morrow, for I’ll be on my way to New York before your blue -eyes see the light in the morning, and the day after I sail for Europe, -to be absent, at the shortest possible time, a month. And you won’t be -so cruel as to send me away in despair?” - -She had always thought, in her maidenly dreams of love, that she should -not answer yes to her lover’s first proposal; she would keep him in -suspense awhile; but at the thought of the long sea voyage, her tender -heart quaked. What if he should be drowned, her darling boy, and never -know she loved him so dearly? - -“Answer me,” he pleaded; and she sighed: - -“It is so sudden.” - -Beresford laughed low and happily. - -“Yes, Love was born full grown, was he not? Love at first sight, and -it is delicious so. Oh, Floy, is it hopeless? Don’t you love me just a -little after all?” - -“Not a little--a whole world full,” she whispered, carried out of -herself by his passion. - -Just then the gruff driver bawled irascibly: - -“Ain’t you never coming, sir? It’ll soon be daylight!” - -Beresford caught her in his arms, pressing her tightly to his heart, as -he whispered: - -“You hear that impatient wretch! I must leave you, darling, but I -shall be back in a month, and I’ll write you while I’m gone. Wear this -ring, but keep our sweet secret till I give you leave to speak. I must -conciliate my little world first, you know. One kiss, darling, and -don’t forget your absent boy.” - -He kissed the sweet lips a dozen times, and felt her tears raining down -her cheeks till they mixed their salty taste with the sweetness of her -mouth. She could not speak one word more after her sweet impulsive -avowal of her love, only trembled in his arms, with tears in her eyes -and smiles on her lips, like April weather, till he snatched one last -passionate kiss, and tore himself away. - -Floy dashed the tears from her eyes and listened sadly to the carriage -wheels as they rolled away, then turning back to the cottage door, -knocked loudly for admittance. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. “WHEN I AM MARRIED!” CRIED FLOY. - - -Pretty soon John Banks, in an old frayed dressing-gown, opened the door -himself, exclaiming: - -“I thought you were going to stay all night with the girls, dearie!” - -“I changed my mind,” she answered, softly; then threw her arms around -his neck, laughing, and whispering: “I’m sorry I disturbed your nap, -you dear old darling, but I’ll creep softly up to my room, and you can -go to sleep again directly, can’t you?” - -“Yes, I hope so; but I’ve not slept well to-night. My head aches a -little. Maybe it will be all right in the morning. I’m glad you came -home to-night, dear, I always feel better when you are in the house.” - -“Do you, Uncle John? Oh, how good of you, when I’m nothing but a care -to you, after all--a care and expense!” - -“Don’t get such notions in your head, Floy. I love to work for you; -that is what I told Miss Maury last evening, when she called to offer -me a place for you in her father’s great New York store. I told her you -should never go while I lived to take care of you, my child. But she -said you had almost promised to go. Did you?” - -“No; not unless you were to drive me away, you dear old darling! No, -I shall never leave you till I am--married--no, not even then, for I -shall marry rich, and take you and auntie to live with me in my grand -New York home.” - -“Castles in Spain!” laughed John Banks, incredulously; but it warmed -his fifty-year-old heart to hear her gracious promises, and to realize -how she loved him. He kissed her a fond good-night, and went back to -his couch, where he slept better the few hours before the early dawn -for knowing that his lovely adopted child, the merry madcap girl, was -safe under the cottage roof. - -And Floy, as she flew up the steps to her simple room, felt her heart -throb with repentance over the way she had deceived the kind, trusting -old soul, and resolved to make a clean breast of it in the morning by -confessing her sojourn at Suicide Place. - -“And I’ll promise him to never, never, never, set my foot there again!” -she vowed, shuddering at the thought of all she had endured that night. - -“What a terrible night, and what a happy ending!” she murmured as she -sunk among the downy pillows of her little bed, with her thoughts full -of her lover, grand, noble St. George Beresford. - -She could hardly realize her happiness, pretty little Floy, for only -two days ago she had not seen his face, although now it was the star of -her future. - -Her head was so full of the events of the night, that it was a long -time before she fell asleep; so she was left undisturbed in the early -morning when Mrs. Banks prepared her husband’s early breakfast and sent -him off cheerfully to his work on a building two blocks away. - -“Don’t call her till she wakes of herself, Mary,” he said as he kissed -his wife good-bye and went away whistling merrily, though his head was -not quite easy of its strange pain. - -So Floy slept on deeply and dreamlessly like a weary child till the sun -was several hours high in the heavens and the merry birds twittered -unheard in the tree at her window--slept on sweetly, to wake at last in -a confused haste with a terrible sense of disaster. - -“Oh, what is the matter?” she shrieked aloud in fear and grief, -springing up and rushing to the door. - -For she had been startled from her calm, sweet sleep by the unwonted -sounds of heavy footsteps lumbering in at the front door, while over -all rose shrill, agonized cries in a woman’s voice--cries of bitter -bereavement. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. IN THE MESHES OF HER HUNGRY FATE. - - -Floy stood scared and trembling at the head of the stairs, trying to -make out what was going on below. - -She presently recognized that it was the voice of Mrs. Banks, uplifted -in those grievous cries, and a conviction of the truth rushed over her -mind--something terrible had happened to John Banks. - -The tender-hearted wife had always been nervous over his trade of -house-builder--always forebode an accident. - -Tears rushed blindingly to Floy’s sweet blue eyes, and her heart sunk -heavily as she thought: - -“Poor, poor auntie! Her life-long presentiments are realized at last.” - -For what else could be meant by those heavy, lumbering steps -down-stairs, and those doleful cries in the little house that was -usually so calm and peaceful? - -She groped with ice-cold fingers for a loose wrapper, threw it over her -snowy night-gown, and thrusting her little rosy bare feet into tiny -slippers, flew down the stairs. - -The little front room seemed full of people. - -There were men in working garb, without their coats, and homely -neighbor women with their aprons to their eyes. There was _something_ -covered up solemnly on a couch, and beside it Mrs. Banks was kneeling, -wringing her hands and filling their sorrowing ears with her doleful -cries. - -Floy rushed to the couch, but an old woman caught and held her back. - -“It is Uncle John--I know it! Do not tell me he is dead!” she moaned. - -But it was, alas! too true. - -He had fallen from a scaffolding on the third story, and death had been -instantaneous. The true and tender heart had ceased to beat, the noble -nature had passed from earth to its reward in heaven. - -“It was that dizziness in his head made him miss his footing. I know -it. I begged him to stay at home till he was better, but he said they -could not spare him, and now he is gone from me forever!” wailed the -stricken widow. - -And by the couch of death she and Floy mingled their anguished tears -together, both so bitterly bereaved of their loved one and their only -supporter. - -For when the first days of grief had passed, and their dead had been -laid away to rest in the grave-yard beneath the sweet spring flowers, -these two, the lonely woman and the helpless girl, had to look the -future in the face. - -The faithful hands that had toiled for them, the loving heart that had -shielded them, these, alas! were no more, and grim poverty stalked into -the little cottage now, a guest they could not thrust away. - -The carpenter had worked faithfully all his life, but his meager -savings had all been swept away by the failure of a savings bank to -which he had trusted them. During the last two years of financial panic -and stress he had been much out of work, and lately he had just caught -up with the rents again, and given his wife and Floy their simple -spring outfits. - -There was nothing, nothing for them to look to but the labor of their -hands. Poor Floy did not know how to do anything useful, they had -spoiled and petted her so, and Mrs. Banks, who did plain sewing for -the neighbors sometimes, knew that all her profits would not pay the -cottage rent. - -When the funeral expenses had been paid out of the money for her -husband’s last job, there remained to the poor woman only the simple -furniture of the tiny cottage and five dollars in her purse. - -“What are we to do?” she sobbed, pitifully. - -It was then that Maybelle Maury came to the rescue. - -“Mamma will employ you in her house as a seamstress; and papa will give -Floy a place as salesgirl,” said the dark-eyed beauty, cheerfully. - -“Oh, I can not be parted from my child!” exclaimed the unhappy widow, -tearfully. - -Maybelle curled an imperious lip, and answered: - -“That is nonsense! You can not keep Floy with you now. She will have to -earn her living like other poor girls!” - -Floy, sitting over at the window in dreary silence, thought, exultantly: - -“Wait till my lover comes back from Europe, Miss Maybelle, and see! Oh, -it will break your proud heart when St. George Beresford marries me! -And how he will laugh when I tell him of her grand airs now!” - -She longed to startle Maybelle now by telling her that she would -have no need to work for her living, that she was soon to marry a -millionaire’s son, and could take care of Mrs. Banks in luxury; but she -remembered that Beresford had told her not to betray their secret till -he gave her leave, because he must first propitiate his own little -world. So she kept back the words, and at last said, with a careless -little air that angered Maybelle deeply: - -“We may as well accept these positions now, dearest auntie, and try to -bear the separation as best we can for awhile, but after I am married, -and that may be before long, you shall come and live in my new home, -and we shall be as happy as possible without our dear lost one!” - -She could not forbear this little boast in her resentment against -proud Maybelle, and the beauty looked at her angrily while Mrs. Banks -exclaimed in smiling astonishment: - -“Married--married! Why, who ever put such a notion in that little giddy -head? Who would marry a child like you?” - -“A child, auntie? Why, I was seventeen the day before the picnic, so -I’ll be eighteen my very next birthday, and many a girl is married -before eighteen. Why, I may be engaged already for all you know to the -contrary--although I don’t swear that I am!” concluded Floy, fearing -she had said too much, and not intending to arouse their suspicions. - -But Maybelle, who knew from Otho all that had happened at Suicide Place -the night when his dastardly plans had been foiled by Beresford’s -timely appearance, trembled with inward rage and fear, suspecting -Floy’s thinly-veiled meaning. - -Otho had left no stone unturned to find out all that had happened to -Floy after Beresford took her away that night. - -The carriage-driver had been ferreted out and interviewed, although he -had nothing to tell except that he had driven the pair to Bird’s Nest -Cottage as fast as he could, and that they had lingered and parted at -the door like lovers, with a kiss. - -In the story of that kiss all was told. - -Otho knew that St. George Beresford, unlike the generality of rich -young men, was a man of honor. - -No young girl’s ruin lay at his door. - -He might flirt in a careless, non-committal way if invited to it by a -pair of bold eyes, but he never trespassed the proprieties. - -Maybelle had led him on as far as any, for she was one of the most -accomplished coquettes of the day; but his bearded lips had never -pressed the bloom from her lips and cheeks. If languishing eyes had -dared and tempted him to the feast, he had most successfully resisted -the temptation. - -So Otho and his sister, knowing Beresford’s honor and Floy’s purity, -knew full well the meaning of that kiss. - -It was the sacred pledge of their solemn betrothal. - -Ay, though they had known each other scarcely twenty-four hours, they -had instantly recognized each other as soul-mates; their hearts had -leaped together and melted into one beneath the burning sun of Love. - - “When Love, like a red rose, burns and blushes, - How sweet is the kiss that warm lips give; - The soul’s far deep at its coming hushes - The thirsting passions that in them live.” - -Otho, mad with love for Floy, and Maybelle for Beresford, knew that -something terrible indeed must happen if these two were to be prevented -from marrying. - -Nothing short of Floy’s death or dishonor would keep the proud young -aristocrat from making her his worshipful bride. - -Maybelle, in the madness of her jealous love, hated Floy with a -terrible hate. - -She felt that she had come very near to winning Beresford’s love just -before he met Floy. - -And she vainly imagined that with Floy removed from her path, she might -yet succeed in her heart’s desire. - -Love, ambition, and jealousy combined had transformed Maybelle from a -merely selfish, domineering girl into a relentless fiend. She felt as -if she would like to murder innocent Floy with her laughing blue eyes, -and her saucy, winning smile so frank and ready. Why should this girl, -socially her inferior, and with only a babyish kind of beauty, have won -in one brief, fateful day the prize that Maybelle had schemed for long, -weary months, and which she would have sold her soul to win? - -When she thought of Floy’s possessing Beresford for her very own, of -the love and caresses she craved being lavished on the little beauty, -she felt as if her heart leaped into her throat and choked her. She -grew lividly pale with emotion. - -She could not speak for a moment after Floy’s little boast, and the -young girl continued, lightly: - -“But, auntie, we needn’t really be parted at all. Why can’t we go -and live together at Suicide Place? It’s mine, you know, and much -grander, after all, than Bird’s Nest Cottage. There is plenty of nice, -old-fashioned furniture too, and I’m sure we could be comfortable. What -do you say?” - -But Mrs. Banks almost fainted at the bare idea. - -“Oh, my pet, I’d make any sacrifice in the world for you, except that -one!” she cried, in horror; and so Floy fell into the meshes of her -hungry fate. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. THROWN ON THE WORLD. - - -Mrs. Banks was wretched at the thought of being parted from Floy, whom -she loved as dearly as if she had been her own child. - -Tears sprung to her eyes, and she cried piteously: - -“Oh, Miss Maybelle, how can I let my child go into that great wicked -city of New York, with all its terrible temptations to a poor girl who -has to earn her bread! Couldn’t I go, too, and watch over her young -life?” - -“How could you go? Floy will only earn five dollars a week, and that -will barely provide her board, lodging, car-fare, and clothing,” -answered Maybelle. - -“Good heavens! I should say not,” cried Mrs. Banks, in dismay. “But, -oh, I did not mean to live on Floy’s small earnings. Couldn’t I get -work in the city, too? If we had only one little room together, we -could be happier than apart.” - -“Yes; I should not mind it so much if only you could be with me, dear,” -added Floy, eagerly. - -But Maybelle was relentless. - -The success of the plot she had in her mind depended on the separation -of these two, who seemed to have no one in the world but each other. - -So she persisted in throwing cold water on all the woman’s plans, -declaring that there were thousands of women out of work and starving -in the great city, and that her father was doing Floy a great favor in -giving her this position when hundreds of others would have been so -glad to get it. - -“And mamma can recommend Floy to a good lodging-house,” she added. -“It is kept by a woman who used to keep house for us when I was a -child. She married a car-driver, and went to live in New York. She has -been keeping a salesgirls’ boarding-house ten years, and they have a -charming home with her, I am sure. So Floy will be as safe with her as -under your own protection.” - -“And you think she is a good woman, and will be kind to my poor child, -Miss Maybelle?” - -“Yes, indeed!” earnestly. - -“That takes a load off my mind, I assure you, and I will write this -woman a special letter, or perhaps I had better go with Floy to New -York myself and talk with this Mrs. ----” - -“Horton,” said Maybelle. - -“Yes, Horton--thank you.” - -“Very well--if you can spare the money for the trip--although a letter -would do just as well, and papa would take Floy to New York with him -any morning and put her in the woman’s care.” - -“Do you think he would be so kind?” exclaimed Mrs. Banks, reminded by -Maybelle’s hints of her scarcity of money, and thinking that she had -better save what she had for a little nest-egg for Floy to take with -her in case of sickness or other needs, for her salary would be such a -miserable pittance. - -In the end, Maybelle persuaded her to send Mrs. Horton a letter instead -of going to New York herself, so at parting with Floy she pressed the -five-dollar bill into the girl’s hand, whispering tenderly: - -“You may need it, dear.” - -Floy thrust it back, crying out: - -“It is your little all, I can not take it!” - -“Yes, you must, my darling, for I shall have more from the sale of the -furniture, you know.” - -Floy kept it reluctantly. She vowed that she never would use it except -in case of direst need. - -And so with tears in her eyes, and her sweet bright face clouded with -trouble, she parted from the good woman who had been like a mother to -her for almost ten years, and went her way to the city with Mr. Maury, -who was acting in good faith toward the girl, and did not dream that -his son and daughter, in begging him to give Floy a place in his store, -were only using him as a tool to further the nefarious designs they had -against the poor girl’s happiness. - -But the pair of plotters were in haste to get in their cruel work, for -they knew that St. George Beresford did not expect to remain away more -than a month. - -In that month they must accomplish the task they had set themselves--to -build a wall between Floy and Beresford too high for either to -scale, in short, to make that parting at the cottage door an eternal -separation. - -Maybelle had called at the cottage with her father to see Floy off, and -when the parting was over she turned to the sobbing Mrs. Banks, and -asked, curiously: - -“What was it that she ran back to whisper to you at the last moment?” - -Mrs. Banks did not dream how much was involved in her answer. She -thought it a matter of little moment, and answered, carelessly: - -“She told me that if any letters came for her to Mount Vernon to send -them to her at once in New York.” - -“So she has a correspondent?” Maybelle muttered, jealously. - -“Why, no, indeed, miss; I don’t believe the child ever received a -letter in her whole life. I think she must have meant it for fun, for -who would write her a letter? She has no relations that she knows of, -and no real friend but me, poor little one!” - -“Perhaps she has a clandestine love affair.” - -“No, indeed, Miss Maybelle; I’m sure not. She was only joking.” - -“Well, Mrs. Banks, I must go now. Shall I tell mamma that you will come -to-morrow?” - -“If you please, miss, for I shall get things ready to have the auction -sale of my household effects in the morning.” - -Maybelle hurried away, and her next interview was with the -letter-carrier for that district. - -She told him that Florence Fane had gone to New York to live, and had -requested her--Miss Maybelle Maury--to receive any letters that might -come to her address. He was to deliver them privately to her keeping, -that her aunt might not discover the correspondence she was carrying on. - -The carrier promised compliance. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. “AS PROUD AND AS PRETTY AS A PRINCESS.” - - -Floy was taken to Mr. Maury’s palatial store, on one of the most -prosperous business thoroughfares of New York, and given a position -behind the handkerchief counter. - -Her genial, sunny nature, always looking at the bright side of -everything, soon attracted admiring friends among her fellow employés, -and made her popular with the elegant customers who patronized the -well-known importing house. - -She was so frank, so pretty, so engaging that it was a pleasure to -be waited on by such a girl, who, while eager to please, did not feel -abashed by the notice of the stately ladies of the grand Four Hundred, -nor permit herself to be patronized by them. She had a rare and -graceful dignity, this wild rose of a girl, that repelled insolence and -patronage alike. When her fellow salesgirls twitted her on her air of -easy independence, declaring that it would give offense, she tossed her -shining head and answered, saucily: - -“Why, I am as good as they are, so why should I cringe to them? Money -is the only difference between us.” - -They laughed at her; but in their hearts they admired her independence, -and they said among themselves that there was not a rich girl who came -to the store half as pretty and dainty as merry little Floy, in her -cheap blue dress that set off to such advantage her flower-like face, -and tiny dimpled hands with their exquisite taper fingers. - -Floy would not own even to herself that she really occupied a very -subordinate position in the world, for there was some proud blood -in her veins that made her hold her little head high; and, besides, -didn’t she know in her heart that she was engaged to the son of a -millionaire--the dearest fellow in the world, too, who was coming back -in a month to claim her for his happy bride? - -She said to herself blithely enough that this selling handkerchiefs -across a counter was only an episode in her life, brought about by the -jealous malice of Miss Maybelle Maury, and that it would soon be over -forever. Next year she would be coming to Maury & Co.’s in her own -liveried carriage to buy the costly handkerchiefs of web-lace and fine -embroidery. How the girls she worked with now would stare and nudge -each other with surprise when she appeared! - -She had a foretaste of this one day when a beautiful, brown-eyed woman -sailed up to the counter and set all the clerks whispering to each -other. - -How grand she was, how stately! and her gray gown was a Parisian -importation--all the girls knew that, even Floy, though she had been in -New York barely a week. - -The lady asked for lace handkerchiefs in a musical voice that made -Floy’s heart leap wildly, while the frankly admiring brown eyes made -her blush like a wild rose; the voice and the eyes were so like--so -like those that Floy dreamed of every night. - -She was a little nervous while she displayed the beautiful -handkerchiefs; some of the girls noticed it, and they whispered to one -another that Floy was losing some of her saucy independence, and was -overawed at last by a Fifth Avenue swell. - -The lady was very kind and gracious, and she looked admiringly at the -lovely salesgirl while she counted out the money--something over a -hundred dollars--to pay for the dainty trifles she had purchased. As -she was turning away, she said: - -“Send the package to Mrs. Beresford, No. -- Fifth Avenue.” - -Then Floy comprehended instantly that the handsome, gracious lady was -none other than St. George Beresford’s mother. - -She gazed after her almost yearningly till she had passed through the -street door, then turned to replace the boxes of handkerchiefs on the -shelves. - -And as she did so, she noticed that the lady had carelessly left her -well-filled purse on the counter under a drift of snowy lawn. - -“Oh!” she cried, breathlessly, catching it up and rushing in swift -pursuit. - -The footman was just opening the carriage door for his lady when Floy -appeared, her sweet face like a rose, her hair a tangle of gold in the -sunshine. - -“Madame--Mrs. Beresford--your purse! You left it on the counter!” she -cried, incoherently. - -“Thank you very much, my dear,” answered the lady, turning and taking -the purse, and the girl’s hand with it. Gazing admiringly at Floy, she -laughed sweetly, and exclaimed: “Do you know how I chanced to forget -it? You are so very pretty, I kept staring at you as if you were a -picture until the purse must have dropped unconsciously from my hand. -It was very good of you to run after me with it, and I shall reward you -with some of the contents.” - -And she was opening the dainty gold-mounted _porte-monnaie_, when -Floy’s little hand closed it impetuously. - -“No, no, you must not--I can not accept it!” she exclaimed, confusedly, -but with a little imperious air that bespoke secret indignation; and -with a courteous bow to the surprised lady, she hurried back into the -store. - -Mrs. Beresford entered her carriage, feeling somehow as if she had been -gently snubbed, and saying to herself, half smiling: - -“The saucy little thing! I should have thought she would be glad to -get five dollars so easily. I should have liked to reward her for her -honesty, too, for some girls would have been mean enough to keep the -purse. There’s five hundred dollars in it, too, that I brought out to -spend on a bridal gift for Cousin Marion. But that girl, so lovely and -dainty, made me forget everything. She’s proud enough and pretty enough -for a princess, and it’s a pity she’s poor, for beauty is too often a -curse to a poor salesgirl.” - -When Floy ran back to finish putting away the handkerchief boxes, -several curious girls hastened to help her and to congratulate her on -having made such a handsome sale to Mrs. Beresford. - -“She’s as rich as cream and peaches--her husband has so many millions -he can’t count ’em,” declared one, rashly. - -“Her house is a marble palace on Fifth Avenue. We will go out with you -to see it Sunday, if you like.” - -“Didn’t she make you a present for returning her purse?” queried -another curious one. - -“Certainly not,” Floy answered, proudly. - -“She wouldn’t take it. I saw her push Mrs. Beresford’s purse back with -so queenly an air that the lady stared with surprise,” laughed Nell -Jarley. - -The girls all made great eyes of wonder, and one said that Floy should -have taken the reward. - -Floy only listened, and smiled like one in a sweet waking dream. She -was charmed with the gracious beauty of her lover’s mother, and she -thought, with tender pride: - -“When I am his wife I will create as much sensation as she does when -she comes here to shop.” - -And just then one of her mates said, carelessly: - -“With all that money, the Beresfords have only two children, a son and -daughter, to inherit it.” - -“Is--is--the son married?” asked Floy, timidly; and they all laughed. - -“What a question! Are you thinking of setting your cap for him, -princess! No, he is not married yet, though they do say he has fallen -in love with Mr. Maury’s eldest daughter. She is very lovely and -stylish, and comes here often. St. George Beresford comes here, too, -with his mother now and then. He is perfectly splendid.” - -Floy wondered, with a throbbing heart, what they would say if they knew -that she was betrothed to this grand Beresford. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. A CRUEL PERSECUTION. - - -Floy went home that evening from the store with a blithe heart. - -The meeting with St. George Beresford’s mother had been a delight to -the innocent girl. - -The great lady’s graciousness had thrilled her with hope. - -She remembered how anxiously her lover had admitted that he must -conciliate his little world before his marriage. - -It seemed to her simple mind that Mrs. Beresford had been won over -already. - -“She told me I was pretty--that she was looking at me as if I had -been a picture; she can not be angry with her son for loving me,” she -murmured, sagely, and she decided that if he should write her a letter -from abroad she would answer it at once, telling him all that had -happened since their parting and of her pleasant _rencontre_ with his -charming mother. - -Dimpling with happy smiles, the fragment of a love-song on her rosy -lips, Floy climbed the uncarpeted stairs to her own poor little den, -away up under the eaves in the fourth story, where a minute later she -was followed by her landlady, pudgy Mrs. Horton. - -The woman carried in her hand a beautiful bunch of roses and a letter. - -“These came for you awhile ago, Miss Fane,” she said, blandly. - -“From whom?” exclaimed Floy, in surprise. - -“Some of your beaus, I suppose. Better read the letter and see,” the -woman returned good-naturedly. - -Floy tore it open with nervous fingers, and read these words written in -an elegant masculine hand: - - “DEAR LITTLE FLOY--I can not rest under the ban of your anger. - - “We used to be such good friends before that night at Suicide Place - that I think you might forgive my folly when I was so drunk I did not - realize what I was doing--nothing worse, after all, than trying to - steal a kiss from the sweetest lips in the world. Many a pretty girl - has forgiven a little fault like that in an adoring lover. - - “Ah, will you not forgive me and be friends again? - - “I am coming to call on you this evening to take you to the - Garden Theater if you will accompany me. The play is ‘Trilby’--of - course you’ve read that wonderful ‘Trilby’ that has made such a - sensation--and I think you will enjoy it. Do not refuse, I beg of you. - - “Be ready when I call--I send you some roses for you to wear--and I - promise you a charming time. - - “O. M. - - “Union League Club, New York, - May 21st, 1895.” - -Floy stood motionless and pale to the lips, gazing at the letter as if -it had been a Gorgon’s head and had turned her to stone. - -“Oh, Miss Fane, I hope it’s not bad news!” cried the landlady. - -Floy roused herself from her trance of indignation, and answered, -angrily: - -“Mrs. Horton, if a gentleman calls for me this evening you will kindly -tell him I am not at home. As for these flowers, you may have them or -throw them out of the window.” - -“Thank you kindly, miss,” replied the woman, taking them down to -ornament her stuffy little parlor. - -And there Otho Maury found them when he made his call. He crushed an -oath under his black mustache as he asked, eagerly: - -“Is Miss Fane at home?” - -“Lor’, Mr. Maury, are you the one that sent her the flowers?” - -“Yes,” he replied, coldly. - -“Oh, sir, I’m sorry to tell you, but she burned your letter and gave -me the roses, and told me to say she was not at home!” blurted out -Mrs. Horton, in her amasement at Floy’s antagonism to this charming -exquisite. - -Otho repressed his rage, and said, gratingly: - -“That’s strange. Wonder how I have offended the young woman? -She used to be awfully fond of me at Mount Vernon. There’s some -misunderstanding, and if I could see her one moment I know I could set -it straight with the pretty little vixen. Mightn’t I just go up and -knock at her door?” - -“I don’t see as there’d be any _great_ harm, sir. It’s the fourth -flight, No. 19.” - -Floy had forgotten to lock her door after Mrs. Horton went, she was so -angrily intent on setting a match to Otho’s letter. - -“How dare he persecute me so?” she cried, with flashing eyes as she -watched it shrivel to ashes. - -The tea-bell rang, but she did not heed it. She was too excited to be -conscious of hunger. - -She lighted her lamp, bathed her hot face, brushed out her tangled -curls, then raised the window and looked down into the street at the -motley crowds beneath the glaring lights. - -She was startled from a long reverie by the soft opening and closing of -her door. - -Turning about with a cry of alarm, Floy saw Otho Maury standing with -his back against the door, an insolent smile of triumph on his lips. - -“Floy, let me speak to you one moment,” he pleaded humbly. - -“No, I will not listen. How dare you come up here? Leave the room this -instant, you villain!” she cried out in stormy anger. - -“By Heaven, I will not go, you pretty little vixen, till you hear me. -Oh, Floy, I love you; I offer you my heart and protection! Will you -accept them? No! Then I swear I’ll have the kiss you denied me that -other night!” - -Maddened with passion for the scornful young beauty, he advanced toward -her, and in her terrible fright at the thought of his loathed caress, -she leaned her slight body far over the sill, and sent her voice -ringing down to the street in agonized shrieks: - -“Help! help! help!” - -“Oh, horror! horror!” - -It was Otho who cried out then, for the girl suddenly lost her balance -and plunged headlong through the window, going down, down, down, -through the dizzy distance to a terrible death! - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. THE FAIR DEAD FACE HE HAD LOVED SO WELL. - - -“My God, the girl will be instantly killed!” groaned Otho Maury, with -blanched lips, and staggering like a drunken man as he reeled backwards -to the door. - -For even in the horror and remorse of the moment, knowing that he had -caused Floy’s death as certainly as though he had plunged a dagger -in her heart, a swift, prudential consideration restrained him from -following his first impulse to rush to the window and watch the doomed -girl’s terrible plunge to destruction. - -“I must not be suspected of having caused her accident by my -persecutions,” he thought, in alarm for his reputation. - -A blind impulse of flight seized upon him, and, trembling with horror, -his face ashen white, his evil black eyes staring blankly before him, -he made his exit from the room and the house without encountering any -one. - -As he gained the street he heard a tumult of excited voices, but his -guilty conscience would not permit him to join the crowd that was -collecting on the pavement. - -Wickedly as he had plotted against the poor girl’s happiness, he felt -that he could not bear the sight of her poor mutilated body with all -the sweet, saucy beauty crushed out of the poor dead face. - -If it were Maybelle now, she would gloat over the sight in her joy that -her beautiful rival was dead. - -But it was different with Otho, for deep in his heart burned a mad -passion for bewitching Floy. - -Though he had plotted with his sister to destroy her, it was her soul -_he_ meant to wreck, not her beautiful body. _That_ he worshiped with -doting admiration, and had hoped to win. - -It almost seemed as if the hands of angels had been outstretched to -foil his nefarious designs, and to draw Floy back, pure and unspotted, -to heaven. - -With these thoughts raging in his excited mind, Otho fled in horror -from the scene, and to drown his haunting remorse, spent the night in a -drunken orgie with some boon companions, who took him to his hotel in -the “wee sma’ hours ayant the twal,” and consigned him to the porters -to put to bed. - -At noon of the next day he awoke with the usual large head incident -to such dissipations, and swore at himself for a besotted fool, after -which he ordered brandy and soda and breakfast. - -When he had been bathed, and shaved, and dressed, he still remained -pale, tremulous, and shaken, for the horror of last evening had rushed -freshly over his mind. - -“She is dead, poor little Floy, so pretty and so gay, like a merry -little humming-bird ever on the wing--dead, and Maybelle will rejoice -at the news, but as for me, I must ever bear about with me a load of -remorse that will drive me to madness,” he groaned, as he rang the -bell for the morning papers, nerving himself to read an account of the -tragedy. - -It was there, on the first page of the paper they brought him, in -glaring head-lines: - - “A PLUNGE TO DEATH! - - “A Beautiful Young Girl Falls from the Fourth-Story Window of Her - Home on Adams Street, and is Removed to Bellevue Hospital in a Dying - Condition. - - “As newsdealer Herr Spiel was dozing last evening in a chair by his - news-stand on Adams Street, he was startled from his dreams by - hearing something fall with a dull thud on the awning above his head, - and springing to his feet, saw with consternation a beautiful young - girl roll off the awning down to the pavement. - - “At first sight the girl seemed to have escaped without injury after - her fearful fall, for she rose to her feet very quickly, and stood - looking about her with a half-shy smile, as if hoping that no one had - noticed her accident. - - “But in the next moment the pretty face grew pale, the smile faded, - and with a groan she sunk unconscious to the earth. - - “She was Miss Frances Fane, a boarder in the house, and had in some - inexplicable manner fallen out of her window in the fourth story. - She was removed to Bellevue Hospital in an unconscious condition, - believed to be due to internal injuries, and will probably die.” - -Otho Maury read the paragraphs with working feature, for he knew that -the victim was Floy, although a mistake had been made in her name, -giving it as Frances. - -“So she will die, poor little girl, poor little Fly-away Floy,” he -muttered, heavily. “Indeed, it is a marvel that she escaped instant -death. Heigho! I must go home to-day, and carry the news to Maybelle.” - -And Otho swept his hand across his eyes to shut out the vision of a -fair dead face that he had loved so well in its living beauty, so gay -and sunny. - -Then he remembered that Mrs. Vere de Vere had told him yesterday that -Maybelle was coming to New York to-day. So he hurried to Fifth Avenue, -and found her just arrived. - -He drew her aside to tell her what had happened to Floy, and even his -callous nature was shocked at her savage glee. - -“What a cruel heart you have, Maybelle!” he cried in disgust. - -She flashed him an angry look, and answered: - -“I am no worse than you, Otho. Remember what a fate you plotted for the -girl! She is better off as it is, for death is better than dishonor.” - -“A fine sentiment,” he gibed, wondering if she thought herself quite -honorable, as she had connived at the plot. - -She read his thought, and tossed her head defiantly, thinking how glad -she was that Floy was out of her way, by whatever means. - -Otho sighed, and said: - -“If you are going back to Mount Vernon to-morrow, perhaps you will -break the news to Mrs. Banks? Poor soul!” - -“No, I shall not go so soon. Besides, we need not hurry. Better wait -till all is over. If she found out before Floy died, she would want to -come down here and see her, and mamma could not really spare her now. -She is busy with the summer sewing,” Maybelle answered, heartlessly. - -“I must be going,” he said, with a tortured sigh, remorse heavy at his -heart. - -“No, stay, and go with us to the _matinée_ to see ‘Trilby.’ Mrs. -Vere de Vere has invited a little box party--the Van Dorns and the -Beresfords. Join us, and you may get in a word with Alva Beresford.” - -“Hang Alva Beresford!” he replied, with the impatience of pain. - -“Don’t be a fool, Otho. You know you said you would help me catch St. -George if I would perform a similar office for you with Alva.” - -“Yes, I know; but when did she get back from Paris and her painting?” - -“Oh, weeks and weeks ago, and they say she has fitted up a magnificent -studio at home and paints away all the time, as if she had to work for -a living.” - -“Well, then, what’s the use of my making up to such a girl? She has -refused every fellow in society, I’m told. And she’s getting quite a -spinster--bachelor girl, I mean--isn’t that the latest fad?” - -“Alva is twenty-seven, that’s a fact--nearly three years older than -her brother--but she is still the most magnificent beauty in New York, -and will have millions at her father’s death. She is devoted to her -daubing--‘wedded to her art,’ she calls it--but she’s only a woman -after all, and some day she will lose her heart, of course. And why not -to you, Otho, as well as another?” cried Maybelle, eagerly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. “CUPID.” - - -Otho Maury joined the theater party to see “Trilby,” and devoted -himself to the beautiful brown-eyed Alva Beresford, who looked like a -young princess, and accepted his devotion with the careless patronage -of one who knows that homage is her due. - -It was her first meeting with Otho, and she read him at sight, and -despised him accordingly, perhaps fathoming his designs on her fortune -as she had already fathomed Maybelle’s efforts to insnare St. George. - -The Beresfords tolerated Maybelle without admiring her, and they were -not pleased with the rumor that St. George was the young girl’s suitor. -They had higher views for the noble, handsome son of the house. - -So perhaps it was with a spice of malice toward Maybelle that Alva -said, gayly, in a pause between the acts: - -“Do you see how sober mamma looks? She had a great fright this morning.” - -“Alva!” cried that lady, with a reproving nod; but her daughter, who -was at times very volatile, laughed at her, and continued: - -“She received her first letter from my brother, written on shipboard, -and mailed at Queenstown. He perpetrated a terrible joke on mamma, -declaring that he is in love at last.” - -She saw the hot color flame into Maybelle’s cheeks, and continued, -maliciously: - -“St. George is contemplating a shocking _mésalliance_. He is in love, -he says, with a pretty little nobody, poor as poverty, and wild as a -deer. He intended to postpone his confession until his return a month -hence, and beg our consent to his marriage, but his heart is so full he -can not wait. He begs mamma to write and give him some hope that she -will approve his choice.” - -“Who is she?” Mrs. Vere de Vere inquired, trying to keep the blank look -out of her face, her feelings stirred for Maybelle’s sake. - -“He did not tell us her name or home, much to mamma’s regret, as if she -only knew where to find her she would go and buy off her claims on St. -George before he returns.” - -“Alva! Alva!” cried her mother, remonstratingly; but the daughter, who -really regarded the whole affair as a huge joke of her brother, who -seemed still but a boy to her maturer age, simply bubbled over with -laughter, and continued: - -“As it is, mamma is seriously contemplating an immediate trip across -‘the pond’ to persuade her boy out of his fancy, or to detain him -abroad until his lovely charmer wearies of waiting his return and -bestows her affections elsewhere.” - -At her light, merry tone every one laughed, and Mrs. Van Dorn said, -consolingly: - -“I dare say it is only some pretty little actress, that he will forget -in a week.” - -“I only hope so,” sighed Mrs. Beresford; and then Mrs. Van Dorn, -pitying her embarrassment, turned the conversation into other channels. - -They talked of books and art, and now Mrs. Beresford could turn the -tables on mischievous Alva. - -“I shall punish Alva finely for telling my secret woes!” she exclaimed. - -Every one turned to her eagerly, and she continued: - -“You see, Alva is painting a Cupid, but she can not find a face to -please her; and yesterday I saw a little salesgirl--in your father’s -store, by the way, Miss Maury--who had an ideal face for the picture. -Such a face! all dimples and roses, blue eyes, and rings of golden hair -on the graceful boyish head. And her smile--it was something to dream -of were one a man--saucy, sweet, enchanting--such a smile as Cupid -himself might wear when drawing his bow to transfix a heart. Well,” -drawing a long breath, “I meant to go to-morrow morning and secure this -little beauty as a model for Alva’s Cupid, but to punish her now I -shall not do so, so the charming picture will never be painted.” - -“You cruel mamma, I shall go and find her myself to-morrow, and you -will be balked of your revenge!” exclaimed Alva, with sparkling eyes; -and for the rest of the time she could think of nothing but the lovely -face she was going to secure for her Cupid. - -Otho whispered to Maybelle: - -“It must have been Floy that she saw at father’s store.” - -“Yes,” she answered; and exulted in her heart that the fair Cupid face -had lost its roses, the blue eyes their happy light, the rosy mouth its -witching smile, all faded in death. - -Then the curtain raised again, and they turned to watch the mimic woes -of “Trilby” and her lover. - -Otho watched with dull, glazed eyes, that saw through all the glare and -brightness the face of one lost to him forever, and when the actors -recited the griefs of “Pauvre Trilby,” his heart echoed “Pauvre Floy!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. THE BERESFORD PRIDE. - - -In the letter that Alva Beresford treated as a merry jest, St. George -had poured out the tenderness of a love-freighted heart to his mother. - -When he parted from Floy that night beneath the vines on the cottage -porch and hurried away to perform the mission on which he was sent -across the sea, his heart was full of her grace and beauty, and every -hour seemed leaden-winged that kept him from her side. - -“How beautiful she is, how far above all others in her ineffable grace -and charm!” he said to himself every hour; and in his impatience to -have her for his own he could not wait till his return to propitiate -his mother, for whose sympathy he yearned with the eagerness of a -loving son. He determined to write to her and plead his cause. - -He knew, alas! all the Beresford pride, and how high it soared. Had -not Alva’s heart been crucified on its altar?--gay, mocking Alva, in -whose past lay the story of a broken love-dream never to be resurrected -now, for he was dead, the young poet lover whose suit her parents had -scorned when Alva was a budding girl, fit incarnation of a poet’s -dream. It was only a few months later that he died--of a lingering -fever, said the physicians--of a broken heart, vowed the girl, flinging -it frantically in her parents’ face in the desperation of her keen -despair. - -Well, the key was turned on that past. Few knew the story of its -bitter pathos, but St. George recalled it now with something like -terror--prophetic terror. - -He cried to himself, resolutely: - -“They shall not break my heart on the rack as they did poor Alva’s. -I am a strong man, she was only a weak girl. I will never give up -my heart’s love as she did, and drag out a cynical life, enjoying -nothing, giving all my soul to cold, lifeless art in lieu of a broken -love-dream. No, I shall marry pretty Floy, my heart’s darling, and our -life shall be ideally happy.” - -So he mused while pacing the steamer-deck the long starlit nights, and -one day the letter was written to his mother, telling of his love, and -begging for her approval. - -Then he wrote to his little sweetheart--the first letter he had ever -penned to her, and it was so full of his love and hope, that, had Floy -received it, her heart would have thrilled for joy at the story it -told--the story that blanched Maybelle’s cheek with rage, for she, -according to her plans, received Floy’s letter from the postman, and -ruthlessly broke the seal in the solitude of her chamber. - -And how jealously her bosom throbbed, how ashen grew her cheek, as she -read the burning words of love written to her innocent little rival, -bonny Floy. - -It seemed to her that a love so true as that expressed in those pages -could never be turned aside from its object save by some fateful -tragedy. Floy seemed to fill his heart to overflowing. - -He left the ship at Queenstown, and posted his letters. Then, having -attended to some business in Ireland, he crossed over to London to -pursue his mission, counting in his heart every day and hour until he -should receive answers from Floy and his mother, for he had begged them -for immediate replies. - -And every day he wrote again to Floy--love letters full of the -tenderness that thrilled his heart. - - “And so I write to you; and write, and write, and write, - For the mere sake of writing to you, dear. - What can I tell you that you know not? - Locked in my heart thou liest! - Love has set our souls in music to the self-same air.” - -A week passed, then another, and he knew the time had come when he -might begin to look for letters if his correspondents were prompt. - -It was now three weeks since he had left New York, but his hope of -returning in a month was nipped in the bud. - -The business on which his father had dispatched him dragged wearily -along, and did not promise to turn out successfully. His lawyer said -frankly that it would very likely detain him another month. - -Just as he was beginning to chafe impatiently over the delay, came the -anxiously awaited letter from his mother. - -Oh! how eagerly he broke the seal, the color flying to his face, his -heart beating like a trip-hammer. - -For he longed for the approval of his family on his choice, longed for -them to love and admire pretty Floy as he did, longed to take her to -the great stately home where she would be like a glancing sunbeam in -the grand surroundings. - -He snatched the letter from its thick perfumed envelope, and his eager -brown eyes glanced down the thickly-written pages penned by the hand of -his beautiful, proud mother. - -How could she be so cruel to the boy she loved so dearly? - -Had she forgotten the tortured heart of Alva, that she could doom her -son to a like anguish? - -Poor Alva--belle, beauty, and heiress--yet--_poor_ Alva! - -Whispering in her empty heart the name of one that died heart-broken -for her sake! - -Yes, the pride of birth and wealth that had stood between Alva and her -happiness now threatened shipwreck also to her brother’s bark of love. - -Mrs. Beresford, in a passion of imperious anger, denounced the weakness -and folly of her son. - -She wrote, bitterly: - - “You are a man, and of course I can not forbid you from making the - dreadful _mésalliance_ you contemplate, but I can say positively, - from your father and myself, that should you persist in your - determination to wed this nobody--whose very name you were ashamed - to mention--you will cut yourself off from our love and recognition, - and also from inheriting one penny of the Beresford millions. As - you have nothing to look to but the small legacy you had from your - grandfather, perhaps this will bring you to your senses. Doubtless - it will cure that scheming adventuress of her fancy for you--some - second-rate actress, at the best, I suppose--and you had as well - advise her of the change in your prospects should you follow your - insane desire to marry such a creature! Our determination on this - point is unalterable.” - -Every scathing word sunk deep into her son’s heart, and with an -inarticulate cry of anger and pain, he tore the offensive letter into -ribbons, and cast it beneath his feet, trampling it as if it had been a -living serpent. - -“I might have known it!” he cried, bitterly. “They did not spare poor -Alva, and they will not spare me! But I am not a child as my sister -was. I will show them I am made of sterner stuff!” - -He raged up and down the floor, his eyes blazing with insulted pride. - -Though he had destroyed the letter, he could see in his mind’s eye -every offensive word standing out clearly, as though traced with a pen -of fire. - -He muttered in savage wrath, blended with wounded pride: - -“Such cruel epithets--‘this nobody’--‘this scheming adventuress’--‘some -second-rate actress’--‘such a creature’--oh, shame! that my lovely, -innocent, pure-minded Floy should be insulted thus! Well, I will show -them how I will come to my senses!” - -He threw himself down at a table with his face on his arm, his broad -shoulders heaving with emotion. - -Long minutes passed while he fought the battle between filial duty and -affection and the strong love of his life--strong and eternal, though -such a short time ago he had not seen her face nor heard her name. - -Love had passed over his soul like a torrent, bearing everything before -it. To some deep natures love comes like this, and then it is either a -tragedy of pain or a heaven of bliss. - - “Love scorns degrees. The low he lifteth high; - The high he draweth down to that fair plane - Whereon, in his divine equality, - Two loving hearts may meet.” - -Beresford lifted his head, his face transfigured with its passionate -love and wounded pride. - -Drawing a sheet of paper to him, he seized a pen, and wrote rapidly: - - “May God forgive you, my beloved mother, for your cruel pride, and - comfort you for the loss of your son; for you have forced me to - choose between you and my heart’s love. You have put my heart on the - rack, like Alva’s; but I am not weak like she was, my poor sister; so - I, loving you still, and praying as ever for your welfare, renounce - everything you choose to withhold from me, for my love’s sake.” - -It was signed and posted, the brief letter, and then he realized -the might of his love for Floy, that could reconcile him to such a -renunciation as he had made. - -He was no longer the heir of a millionaire, but a disinherited son, -with nothing to live on but an income of three thousand a year left him -by his grandfather. What then? He and Floy would be poor in gold, but -rich in love. He could bear anything, so that she was not taken away -from him. - -Two days passed, and then there came another letter from New York. It -was from Otho Maury--a smooth, fawning letter, pleading the paragraph -he inclosed as an excuse for writing. - -It was the story of poor little Floy’s accident, and Otho wrote briefly -of what had happened to Floy since Beresford had gone away--the death -of John Banks, and Floy’s venture as a salesgirl in New York, with the -unaccountable accident that had closed the brief story of her sweet -life; for at the end of the paragraph Otho penciled: - - “_She died the next day._ Thinking you had a kindly interest in the - sweet girl is the reason why I have written you,” he added. “As for - myself, I loved her, and had proposed marriage, but she refused me. I - hope that our mutual admiration for the dear girl may form a bond of - sympathy between us.” - -St. George Beresford could not bear the terrible shock of this letter, -following on the excitement of his mother’s denunciation. - -His senses reeled before it, and he sunk in a heavy swoon to the floor, -where an attendant discovered him presently and summoned a physician, -who found him suffering from the first symptoms of brain fever. - -Days and weeks of severe illness followed; but before he fell into a -delirium he gave strict orders that no news of his condition should be -sent to America. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. ALVA’S DISAPPOINTMENT. - - -The day after the theater party Miss Beresford stood alone in her -beautiful studio in a sunny wing thrown out at the side of the -mansion, and gazed meditatively at her latest work. - -She was no mean artist, this queenly heiress, for having much talent in -the beginning, she had improved upon it by spending several years in -Paris under the best masters. She threw all her soul into her work, and -delighted in every successful effort she made. - -Her most ambitious work, and one that had occupied much time and study, -was one that she called “Cupid.” - -It represented the beautiful little god of love strolling through a -green wood, and coming suddenly on a party of lovely youths and maidens -dancing on the banks of a crystal stream. - -Cupid, charmed by the pretty sight, instantly determined to make -himself two victims in the merry party. The picture represented Cupid, -the mischievous little god, drawing his bow to transfix a heart with a -piercing arrow. - -One can fancy how sweet and arch and happy Cupid must have appeared at -that moment when exercising his fateful power. - -The large canvas was almost finished, and the painting was spirited -and striking. The best judges could have found little fault in the -execution. One more touch and it would be perfect. - -The unfinished part was the face of Cupid. - -Alva had despaired of putting on canvas the face of Cupid as it -appeared to her fancy. - -Beautiful faces she could find in plenty, but the arch, radiant smile, -the laughing eyes so brightly blue, these eluded her brush. - -“If I could only find a living face like my ideal and put it on -canvas!” she cried, eagerly, over and over to her mother, who at last -became almost as anxious over the subject as Alva herself. - -It was no wonder that the lady had told Floy she had looked at her as -at a beautiful picture, for in the young girl’s enchanting face she had -seen the realization of Alva’s dream. - -And the artist, standing before her unfinished work, recalled her -mother’s words of the day before, and cried out, joyously: - -“I must find that lovely girl! She must be my model!” - -Hastening to her mother, she exclaimed: - -“You must come with me this morning to find Cupid!” - -“Excuse me, Alva, but I can not go to-day. I--I am not feeling well. -Besides, I have just commenced a letter to your brother.” - -Alva did not ask what would be written to her brother; she could guess -only too well by the thorn in her own heart. - -She repressed a bursting sigh of sympathy for St. George, and said, -determinedly: - -“Then tell me where to find her, for I am going alone this very hour.” - -“She was a young salesgirl at the handkerchief counter at Maury & -Co.’s. I bought those exquisite cobweb lace handkerchiefs from her, you -know.” - -“Her name, mamma?” - -“I did not ask it, Alva; but you cannot fail to know her, for there is -no one like her. She is the loveliest salesgirl in New York, and looks -like a princess.” - -“Tall or short, mamma?” - -“Of medium height, dear, slenderly yet exquisitely formed, with a face -of rarest beauty.” - -“It should be a boy’s face, mamma.” - -“This one is boyish, Alva, because the sunny hair lies in soft loose -rings of short hair all over the pretty head, and the roguish smile, -and the dimples, the sea-shell coloring, the marvelous eyes so brightly -blue, so innocent--arch--oh, I can not describe them!--go see for -yourself.” - -“I will; and you may expect me to bring her home with me.” - -She hurried out, ordered the carriage, and within an hour was on her -way to the store. - -Mrs. Beresford turned back with a sigh to her task, and finished the -cruel letter that was to carry such pain to her son across the sea. - -When the bitter task was over she threw herself upon a low divan and -wept bitterly a long, long while, almost frightened at what she had -done. - -She feared that she could not mold her son’s will to compliance by -harshness as easily as she had done that of his timid sister. - -“But he will not give up everything--he could not be so rash--for the -sake of a fair-faced girl,” she told herself, with faint flickering -hope. - -Several hours later Alva entered the room, still in her rich -carriage-dress, her face pale and grave. - -“Oh, mamma, I have had a great shock,” she sighed. - -“You did not find Cupid?” - -“No; she had not come to the store this morning, but they told me where -she boarded, and I drove there. Oh, what a terrible story I heard!” - -“The girl had eloped, perhaps,” smiled the lady. - -“Worse than that. I’ve often regretted that I didn’t elope myself -when I was a girl,” returned Alva, flippantly; then instantly grew -serious again as she continued, sadly: “The poor girl, by some strange -accident, fell from her window in the fourth story down to the street -last evening, and was removed to Bellevue, unconscious, and believed to -be dying.” - -“Oh, how sad, how shocking! and she was _so sweet_!” mused Mrs. -Beresford, tenderly. - -“So I drove to Bellevue, though expecting to find her dead,” went on -Alva. “And now, mamma, comes the strangest part of the story--my Cupid -had been mysteriously spirited away from the hospital.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. “WHERE IS SHE NOW?” - - -“Alva!” cried Mrs. Beresford, gazing at her daughter in consternation. - -She grew pale and shuddered as she spoke, for the thought of the lovely -girl’s terrible accident touched her deeply. - -“Is it not a terrible disappointment?” cried Alva. “Perhaps I shall -never find her now, and my ‘Cupid’ will never be finished.” - -“But surely the girl will be found again!” Mrs. Beresford cried, -consolingly; but Alva shook her head. - -“I fear not, for her disappearance was so strange. Listen, mamma: they -took her to Bellevue, and she did not recover consciousness the whole -way. They supposed she would certainly die of her terrible fall. When -they arrived at the hospital, she was left alone on a couch in the -receiving-room for a few minutes, so the attendants say, and when the -physician in charge went to see about her case, the little beauty was -gone--had vanished as entirely as if she had been snatched up into the -sky or swallowed by the earth, and left not a trace behind.” - -Mrs. Beresford smiled, and said: - -“But, as we know that neither one of those things happened to her, we -may hope that she is safe. My own theory is that she was unhurt by the -fall, and simply fainted from the shock. When she recovered from her -swoon, she doubtless became alarmed at finding herself alone in that -strange place, and ran away in a fright.” - -“Yes, that is what they think at the hospital; but what became of her, -mamma, _afterward_?” - -She paused a moment, then added, anxiously: - -“You see, that was the day before yesterday, and she never returned to -her boarding-house nor the store. So--_where is she now?_” - -And that question, asked by Mrs. Beresford’s pale lips, became the text -on which many changes were rung afterward. - -A beautiful young girl had disappeared in the strangest way, and no -clew to the mystery could be found. - -The hospital authorities, fearing they might be accused of neglect -in the matter, kept the occurrence as quiet as possible; and when -some rumor of it reached the ubiquitous reporter, and he came to make -inquiries, they told him the girl was all right--oh, yes, and had -returned to her friends in New Jersey. She had written back to say that -she had recovered from her swoon and ran away in a fright, that was -all. Might he see the letter? Certainly. - -But a hasty search proved unavailing. They were sorry, very sorry, but -it must have gone into the waste-basket. - -So the reporter, satisfied that there was no sensation in the case, -withdrew, and sought a spicy paragraph for his paper elsewhere. But, -all the same, he had been cleverly gulled and cheated out of an -interesting item. - -For the mystery of Florence Fane’s disappearance became one of the most -unfathomable on record. - -The fair young girl returned neither to her New York boarding-house, -nor to the store where she was employed, nor to her Mount Vernon home. - -It was not until a week had passed, and poor Mrs. Banks was beginning -to fret over the non-reception of letters from Floy, that she was told -the terrible truth of the girl’s disappearance. - -But, prompted by Otho, they made light of the matter, declaring that -the giddy young girl would turn up when least expected. No doubt she -had gone to stay with some new friends she had made in New York. - -Poor Mrs. Banks was heart-broken, but she could do nothing. Poverty -tied her hands from making any search for her darling. She could only -pine and endure in silence. - -The Maurys did not see that there was anything to do but wait for -developments. - -In all the world there seemed to be no friend to seek for the missing -girl. - -And yet, undreamed of by the Maurys, there was a search going on for -Floy. - -It seemed like a grim mocking of fate that the Beresfords, who would -have rejoiced to hear of the death of St. George’s sweetheart, should -have put themselves to great expense to trace Florence Fane in her -mysterious disappearance. Yet they had done so. - -Mrs. Beresford was at heart a noble lady, and, where personal pride did -not goad her to extremes, a firm friend. - -She had taken a strong, admiring interest in the pretty young salesgirl -whose beauty had charmed her, and whose pride had amused her while it -also inspired respect. - -She would not have owned it to herself, but Floy’s blue eyes had looked -straight into her heart and won herself a place there. - -She had conceived the idea of employing the young girl to act as a -model for Alva, and her disappointment was almost as keen as Alva’s -when she learned the truth. - -Each day they both felt the disappointment more keenly, until from the -mother came the startling suggestion: - -“Why not put a private detective on her track?” - -“Mamma, you seem to feel sure that the girl is alive, while on my side -I think that her brain was injured by her terrible fall, and that she -left the hospital in a dazed condition and met death in her wanderings.” - -“I have a strange feeling that the girl is alive and will be found -again, dear, so I shall put a detective on the case at once,” returned -Mrs. Beresford; and she sent for one in whom she knew she could place -confidence, and sent him on the quest. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. “OH, MY SON, MY SON!” - - -The clever detective was not the only person who was furtively engaged -in an eager search for the missing girl. - -Otho Maury, although he had written falsely to St. George Beresford -that Floy was dead, had learned already, to his dismay, of her strange -disappearance. - -He saw that matters were more complicated than ever. - -Floy was alive, he felt sure, and he foreboded that she would be -turning up at some inopportune moment in Maybelle’s path, and blocking -her way to success with Beresford. - -He guessed readily enough that Floy had become frightened at his -persecutions, and had hidden herself away from him, awaiting -Beresford’s return. - -And at the bare thought of Beresford’s possessing the enchanting little -beauty, Otho’s jealous blood leaped like fire along his veins, and he -swore to himself that he would rather murder Floy with his own hands -than to witness her happiness with his splendid, noble rival. - -Again he held a secret conference with his sister, and she raged with -anger when she learned of Floy’s escape from death. - -“You have botched everything, and I shall lose the man I love, after -all!” she cried, stormily; and her brother, unmoved by her blame, -replied, coldly: - -“Your chances certainly do not appear good at present; but I will -continue to do the best I can for your interests. But the game is in -fate’s hands, and will be hard won, if won at all.” - -“If you could only find her and put her out of the way,” she muttered, -darkly. - -“I will try,” he answered; and it was tacitly understood between them -that the contest against Floy’s life and honor was to be waged more -persistently than ever. - -Let her but be found again, and Otho swore that he would make it -impossible for her to marry Beresford. - -Oh, it was cruel, shameful, wicked, this terrible warfare against a -helpless orphan girl to whom life might otherwise have proved so bright -and fair! - -It was a wonder that peaceful sleep could visit the pillows of the two -arch-plotters, Otho and Maybelle. - -Yet the girl dreamed of a future wherein Floy should be swept from her -path and Beresford won at last, while Otho--well, as for Otho, the -future did not look so bright. - -He loved Floy, and the plot against her, though he never swerved from -it, planted thorns in his own heart. - -So he took up the quest for the hapless little beauty, and when all -inquiry failed in New York and Mount Vernon, he was obliged to consider -himself baffled. - -“I wish I had the powers of an amateur detective,” he thought, -longingly; but he did not dare to employ one. - -And he would have been startled if he had known that he was under the -espionage of the best private detective in New York. - -For Mrs. Beresford’s clever employé in pursuing his search for Floy, -had informed himself first of all as to whether the young girl had a -lover. - -He found out that Otho Maury had paid her marked attention, and while -he pursued his search for Floy he kept a careful eye on her lover. - -And his first suspicion that Otho might know the girl’s whereabouts was -soon dissipated by finding out that Otho was as keenly on the alert as -himself. - -So the mystery deepened. - -Neither lover nor detective could find one trace of bonny Floy after -her flight from Bellevue that fateful twenty-first of May. - -The detective went down to Mount Vernon and spent a week. He found out -everything about the girl, save and except that St. George Beresford -had been her accepted lover. That affair had been so brief that none -guessed it save Otho and Maybelle. - -Floyd Landon, the detective, intercepted Mrs. Banks in one of her -visits to the cemetery, and in a casual way, introduced himself, -hoping to find out something more. She was quite willing to talk on -the beloved subject; but she could tell no more than the neighbors had -told already--the story of Suicide Place, and the pretty child the kind -carpenter had taken from her dead mother’s arms and brought to their -humble cottage to be their own thereafter. - -“And,” sobbed the broken-hearted widow, looking down with streaming -eyes at the lonely grave, “we loved her just as dearly as if she had -been our own flesh and blood, and if my poor John knew what she has -come to now, I don’t believe he could rest in his grave.” - -“It was very noble in you both to care for her as you did,” said Floyd -Landon; and a minute later he asked, thoughtfully: “In case of her -being proved dead, who will inherit Suicide Place?” - -“I don’t know, sir--there are no relatives alive that I’m aware of. It -seemed like Floy was the last of her line.” - -“And you do not believe that she has followed the example of her race -and cut herself off from life?” - -Mrs. Banks shuddered. - -“Oh, no, sir, I can not believe that she would do that. She always -laughed at the notion, and never showed any superstition but once.” - -His persuasive gaze coaxed her to proceed with her confidences. - -“It was the night before she went away to be a salesgirl in the great -city,” continued Mrs. Banks. “We sat up late talking, and sweet little -Floy said, humbly: - -“‘There’s one thing I must confess to you, auntie: I’ve often disobeyed -your orders and gone into Suicide Place alone. Will you forgive me now?’ - -“‘Oh my dear, how could you venture near that terrible place?’ I cried, -in alarm. Then, seeing the paleness of her sweet face, I added: ‘I -forgive you, dear; but you must never venture near that place again.’ - -“‘No, I _never_ shall!’ cried Floy, with the greatest energy. Clasping -her pretty little hands together, she went on, tremblingly: ‘I went -there once too often, auntie, dear, and I found out the--the--I found -out that the old place is haunted, as people say, and I think I -understand the malign influence there that drives people to madness and -suicide.’ - -“I begged her to tell me all, but she refused, growing pale, and -trembling like a leaf in a storm, as she added: - -“‘I must not tell any one. It is an accursed knowledge, and brings doom -on those who learn it--a terrible doom! Oh, I used to laugh at the -croakers, but now I know they were right. I have seen the horror that -haunts the place. I know the secret hidden in those old stone walls. -But it shall not destroy me, auntie, dear, for I will shun it like the -plague. Never will I cross that fatal threshold again; and if I am ever -rich enough, I shall have the house torn down stone by stone, and let -in the light of day on the earth it covers, so that there shall be no -more curse upon it!’” - -“And she would tell you no more, madame?” - -“Not one word more; and the next day she went away from me, my pretty -darling, to be lost in the mysteries of that wicked New York!” sobbed -the poor woman. - -“Do you really believe that Suicide Place is haunted, Madame?” - -“Oh, yes, sir, certainly. Every one says so; and lights have been seen -in the windows many a dark night, though the place hasn’t had a tenant -these nine years and more. ’Tis said that evil spirits haunt the place -and drive the tenants to madness or suicide.” - -Her story was interesting, but it threw no light on the deep mystery of -Florence Fane’s fate. - -So he went back to New York to tell his wealthy patron that he had -failed in his quest. - -“I have learned all that was possible to find out about her,” he said. -“It is agreed by all who know her that she was lovely and fascinating -to a high degree. She had many admirers, but she had laughed at them in -her pretty, saucy fashion, and all believed that she was heart-whole -and fancy-free.” - -He found Mrs. Beresford and Alva so strangely interested in the young -girl’s fate that he told them all he had heard at Mount Vernon of her -romantic story, and added: - -“It seems likely that there is a stain of madness in the blood leading -ultimately to suicide. This young girl, inheriting this terrible taint, -and suffering an aberration of mind from her fall, may have fled from -the hospital straight to the cold embrace of the river.” - -They shuddered, the two beautiful, high-born women, at his words, but -Mrs. Beresford said quickly: - -“Although it is a plausible theory, there is one weak point in it.” - -Landon looked at her inquiringly, and she said: - -“If a strain of madness in the race led its members to suicide, why -did one who was alien to them--a hired man on the place, I think you -said--prove the victim in one decade?” - -“That fact escaped my mind while I was speaking,” he replied, “so my -theory really has no ground to stand on. The horror-haunted house must -really have some malign influence, must be haunted, as the young girl -averred.” - -“It is a strange story you have told us, Mr. Landon, and makes the -young girl more interesting to us than before. I hope you will not -entirely give up the search, for success would be liberally rewarded,” -said Mrs. Beresford, as she handed him a munificent check for his two -weeks’ services. - -He bowed himself out, and then the mask of conventionality fell from -the proud woman’s face, and it grew sad to the verge of tears. - -“Oh, my son, my son!” she sobbed under her breath, and the thought of -him was like a sword in her wounded heart. - -She had that day received from St. George the sorrowful letter in which -he had renounced home and wealth for Love’s sake. - -Bitter was her anger, deep the wound in her heart, as she read the -brief, manly words. - -“He is stubborn, foolish!” she cried, as she flung the letter to Alva. - -Her queenly daughter read it, and smiled her light, cynical smile. - -“How brave he is, how loyal to his love! I see now that he was in -earnest, and I admire him more than ever!” she exclaimed. - -“Alva!” reproachfully. - -“I mean it all, mamma! I--I would not have my brother’s heart tortured -as mine was in my spring of youth.” - -“Have we not humored every other whim, my darling?” - -“You have been most indulgent, but----” and Alva broke off with a long, -quivering sigh. - -She was thinking: - - “Thou canst not restore me the depth and the truth - Of the dreams that came o’er me in earliest youth; - Their gloss is departed, their magic is flown, - And sad and faint-hearted I wander alone.” - -“His father will be bitterly angry,” said Mrs. Beresford, sighing. - -“Very likely,” Alva returned, indifferently. - -“I am sorry you take sides with your brother against us,” stiffly. - -Alva laughed drearily, then said, coldly: - -“I glory in his independence!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. “YOU WICKED, WICKED GIRL!” CRIED THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR. - - -Otho Maury received no answer to the letter he so artfully sent to St. -George Beresford. - -But he had not expected a reply. He knew that the blow must fall with -too crushing a weight on the lover’s heart to admit of comment, and -he knew also that Beresford would never forgive him for his offense -against Floy. - -He gave up the quest for the missing girl after two weeks, and went -back to Mount Vernon distracted with doubt and fear. - -“I am all at sea,” he confessed, frankly, to Maybelle, who grew pale -with anger as she cried: - -“You have failed!” - -“Yes, I have failed. There is no clew to her disappearance. She may -possibly be dead, but the probabilities are that, frightened by my -persecution, she has hidden herself away from all who know her to -baffle persecution until Beresford’s return. Let us hope that she is -dead.” - -“She is not dead. She will live to thwart all our hopes!” cried his -sister, furiously. - -Springing to her feet, she stood before him, livid with emotion, -hissing: - -“Oh, how I hate that girl! I wish that I had killed her last night when -I had her in my power!” - -“Last night, Maybelle! Why, what do you mean?” he exclaimed in wonder, -clutching her arm and forcing her back to a seat. - -Maybelle leaned back panting and unnerved for a moment, then cried, -bitterly: - -“I was a fool to be frightened and take her for a ghost!” - -“Calm yourself, Maybelle, and tell me what you mean,” Otho insisted, -excitedly. - -Fixing her flashing eyes on his face, she said, hoarsely: - -“Do you know that all the talk for several days has been that Floy’s -ghost has been seen several times in Mount Vernon in the past two -weeks?” - -“No--no.” - -“Well, it is true, Otho. She has been seen three times, they say, by -towns-people, twice on foot, and one night on her bicycle. But when -spoken to, she did not reply, and vanished like a spirit. So they say -that she is surely dead.” - -He started, and his eyes flashed as he cried: - -“But you, Maybelle?--you said you saw her last night! Where?” - -“Here, Otho, in this very house!” - -“Heavens! then she must be in collusion with Mrs. Banks.” - -“No, she is not. The woman firmly believes that her _protégée_ is dead.” - -“Then tell me all. Do you not see how impatient you have made me with -your mysterious hints?” - -She leaned nearer to him and whispered, hoarsely: - -“She was here in this house at midnight last night. I was lying asleep -on my bed. The windows were raised, for the air was oppressively warm. -Then, too, I liked to smell the mingled odors of rose and honeysuckle -clambering up the trellis. It was clear, bright moonlight, so I -extinguished my lamp when I retired.” - -“Yes, yes; go on, Maybelle!” breathed Otho, impatiently. - -“I fell asleep, and rested calmly until about midnight, when I awakened -in a fright, for some one was shaking me rudely. - -“‘Get up--get up, Maybelle Maury! I want the letters my lover wrote -me--the letters you have stolen!’ cried an angry voice. - -“I started bolt upright in bed, frightened almost to death, and -half-dazed by being so suddenly roused from sleep, and there before -me was that little vixen Floy, all in ghastly white, her golden hair -all in a fluff over her head like a halo. She stood in a patch of white -moonlight that made her look ethereal, and in my confusion I really -took her for a ghost!” - -“Pshaw!” exclaimed Otho, impatiently; and Maybelle said, deprecatingly: - -“You must remember that I was roused from sleep and taken by surprise, -or I should not have been so easily deceived. And she was so -imperative, she did not give me time to collect my thoughts, but went -on, angrily: - -“‘Get up, Maybelle Maury, you wicked, wicked girl, and give me my -letters this minute, or I will go to your Mother and tell her how -cruelly you and Otho have treated me! You will not enjoy that, for your -mother is a good woman; she would be shocked if she knew that you told -the postman a lie that you might get my letters and keep them from me.’” - -“She did not talk much like a ghost,” interpolated Otho. - -“No, she did not, but I was so dazed and frightened I did not realize -it then. And the little vixen kept scolding and threatening and -pointing her finger at me until I felt like one under a hypnotic spell, -and afraid to disobey; so, following the pointing of her finger, I -rose from my bed, staggered tremblingly to my desk, and handed her -the package of letters I had intercepted. Then, overcome by horror, I -fell unconscious upon the bed. When I revived, my midnight visitor had -disappeared.” - -“It was Floy herself!” declared Otho, with bitter chagrin. - -“Yes, I am certain of it--have not doubted it since I came to my sober -senses,” answered Maybelle, with a choking sigh of futile rage. “Oh, -how I hate myself,” she continued, “for giving her those letters! She -is gloating over them--rejoicing at every tender word--while I--I could -strangle her with my own hands for her triumph over me!” - -“And I!” cried Otho, burning with murderous jealousy at thought of -Floy’s innocent joy at the recovery of her love letters. - -He could fancy what tender words Beresford would write to his darling, -and how her eyes would beam with joy as she read them over. - -He felt, like Maybelle, that he would like to strangle the joy in her -sweet white throat with murderous hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. “A ROYAL ROAD TO FORTUNE.” - - -“I am sorry now that I did not follow my first impulse and burn those -hateful letters!” cried Maybelle regretfully. - -“How many were there?” asked her brother, grimly. - -“Seven in all. He must have written to her every day until he received -your letter that she was dead. And such letters! fully of the silliest -love. Pah!” cried the girl, who despised the letters because they were -written to her rival. - -If they had been intended for her--jealous, envious Maybelle--she would -have wished them framed in gold and precious stones. - -For what is so dear to a woman’s heart as a love letter from the man -she adores? - -The mere sight of it makes the blood bound gladly through her frame, -and brightens eye and cheek with joy. - -The touch of it makes her fingers tingle with delight. - -She reads it over and over in the solitude of her own chamber, and -kisses it as fondly as if it were the face of her beloved. - -She carries it in her bosom by day, and places it beneath her pillow, -to bring blissful dreams, by night. - -All this bliss of which Maybelle had robbed bonny Floy was hers now, -and the angry girl’s bosom throbbed with the awful pain of jealousy as -she realized how her sweet rival would rejoice over those ardent words -of love sprinkled like diamonds over the pages he had written for her -comfort while they were sundered one from each other. - - “I thought of thee--I thought of thee - On ocean many a weary night, - When heaved the long and solemn sea, - With only waves and stars in sight. - We stole along by aisles of balm, - We furled before the coming gale, - We slept amid the breathless calm, - We flew before the straining sail-- - But thou wert lost alas! to me, - And day and night I thought of thee.” - -Otho listened to his sister with a cynical frown, guessing all that she -suffered by the pain in his own heart. - -“I have a suspicion!” he exclaimed, abruptly. - -“What is it?” - -“Floy is hidden at Suicide Place,” he said, with an evil gleam in his -deep-set, dark eyes. - -“Do you think so? But Floy told Mrs. Banks before she went away that -she had seen something terrible there, and would never cross the -threshold again.” - -“No matter; I believe she is in hiding there. It is so simple a -solution of the mystery that I wonder it did not occur to me before. -Yes, she is surely at Suicide Place, and I shall entrap her to-night!” -he exclaimed, with triumphant malice. - -“But, Otho, are you not afraid to venture into that fatal house?” - -“Not in the least. I prize my life too highly ever to commit suicide, -I assure you. I am strong-minded, practical. The grim influence of the -place will not affect me.” - -“I am glad that you think so, and I hope that you prosper in your -undertaking to-night.” - -“Thank you, sis, I can not foresee any possible failure this time. She -will be entirely at my mercy, with no Beresford to interfere.” - -They were both silent for a time, ashamed to discuss their wicked -plans, then Maybelle drew a deep breath, exclaiming: - -“Whatever is done it must be ended soon, for it is three weeks now -since he sailed, and he expected to return in a month.” - -“Her fate will be sealed before then,” Otho answered, quickly, and -added: “If you are ever to win Beresford, it must be done quickly also, -for father is on the verge of failure, though reputed a millionaire.” - -“On the verge of failure--oh, heavens! That is why he refused me the -new set of diamonds I craved! Oh, Heaven help me to win Beresford, for -I could not endure a life of poverty!” exclaimed Maybelle, hysterically. - -“I do not see how I am to endure it either; but I did not seem to make -any progress with the heiress,” grumbled Otho. - -“You did not, for she showed her indifference too plainly to encourage -the least hope,” agreed his sister, frankly. - -“Curse her for a proud, haughty jade; but I do not care for her any -way. My heart is set on bewitching little Fly-away Floy.” - -“Then why not marry her, Otho, if you care so much, since that would -take her from Beresford as effectually as if she were dead?” - -“She would not marry me to save my life, the proud little minx! But -I’ll have my revenge for her scorn, never fear, and leave the field -clear for you to win Beresford,” laughed Otho, gratingly. - -“Oh, if you succeed, I shall pay you well out of my husband’s riches,” -she cried, eagerly. - -“You may not get the handling of many dollars, and my demands will be -exhorbitant,” he grumbled, sighing: “I wish that the foul fiend would -deign to show me some royal road to fortune.” - -It was an aspiration he had uttered often before in his greed for gold -and his impatience of his father’s restraints, and no thought came to -him that it would be granted soon. - -Rejoicing in his good luck at finding Floy’s hiding-place at last, he -waited most impatiently for the close of the beautiful June day that he -might sally forth on his dastardly errand. - -The sun set in a blaze of golden glory, and the young moon rose over -the tree-tops, shedding a tender amber light upon the quiet, resting -world. - -As soon as he could get away unobserved, Otho took the lonely road -toward Suicide Place. - -“She cannot escape me now, my pretty Floy!” he muttered. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. HOW THOSE TENDER LETTERS TO ANOTHER MUST HAVE STABBED -MAYBELLE’S HEART! - - -“Oh, my darling, a whole life-time of devotion shall teach you the -strength of my love. Your life with me, my bonny bride, shall be a -dream of bliss.” - -Floy’s big, starry-blue eyes glowed like blue jewels in the dusk as she -read aloud the tender words of her lover’s letter. - -Then she pressed her rosy lips to the page as fondly as though it had -been the handsome face of her absent love. - -“How he loves me, my noble, splendid, beautiful, dark-eyed lover! He -has chosen me, simple little Floy, poor and obscure, out of a whole -world of rich and beautiful girls, any one of whom must have loved him -if he had so chosen,” she cried in an ecstasy of adoring love. - -She was alone in a large, gloomy bedroom of Suicide Place, for, as Otho -had suspected, on hearing Maybelle’s story to-day, she was here in -hiding from her foes. - -She had been most indiscreet in her adventure last night, but the -longing to possess the letters Beresford had written to her overpowered -every other impulse; so, trusting that Maybelle might take _her_ for a -ghost, the brave little beauty made a determined onslaught and secured -her own property, escaping undetected through the open window that -looked upon an upper veranda wreathed in fragrant vines. - -“What a wretch she was to obtain my letters in that fashion! I am glad -I thought of going to see the good carrier and finding out the truth, -or I never should have had these sweet words to read!” cried Floy, -kissing them again, as she had done dozens of times already to-day. - -In the falling twilight she sat at the upper window behind the lace -curtain that screened her from view outside, and read and reread the -precious trophies in artless delight, her heart throbbing fast with joy -at each tender word. - -“What a fortunate girl I am to have won such a splendid lover!” she -thought, with innocent pride and exultation, for her tender young heart -yearned for love and care, she was so lonely. - -Floy did not realize all her great charms of mind and person, and in -her lack of vanity she was always wondering how the splendid Beresford -had chosen her so quickly for his heart’s queen out of a whole world -full lovely girls. - - “I seek you--you alone I seek; - All other women fair - Or wise or good may go their way, - Without my thought or care. - - “But you I follow day by day, - And night by night I keep - My heart’s chaste mansion lighted, where - Your image lies asleep. - - “Asleep! If e’er to wake, He knows - Who Eve to Adam brought, - As you to me, the embodiment - Of boyhood’s dear, sweet thought. - - “And youth’s fond dream, and manhood’s hope, - That still half hopeless shone, - Till every rootless, vain ideal - Commingled into one-- - - “_You_, who are so diverse from me, - And yet as much my own - As this my soul, which formed a part, - Dwells in its bodily throne. - - “I swear no oaths, I tell no lies, - Nor boast I never knew - A love dream--we all dream in youth-- - But, _waking_, I found _you_-- - - “The real woman, whose first touch - Aroused to highest life - My real manhood. Crown it, then, - Good angel, friend, love, wife!” - -“Oh, what lovely words and thoughts!” cried Floy, reading them again -for the twentieth time; and she added, half in pity for cruel, jealous -Maybelle: “How it must have stabbed her heart to read these tender -words addressed to me! It must have been punishment enough for all her -sin.” - -She was right; for what could be more cruel pain to a jealous, envious -heart than to read those words of love to another? - - “He loves, but ’tis not me he loves, - Not me on whom he ponders, - When in some dream of tenderness - His truant fancy wanders.” - -The purple gloaming deepened, the shadows grew darker in the gloomy -room, until even the eyes of love could not distinguish the written -words; so Floy laid her letters upon the little table before her, and -fell to dreaming over them in tender wise: - -“_Seven_ letters! and such beautiful _long_ ones, too! Oh, how good he -was to write me such charming love letters! Can such love ever grow -cold, I wonder? Can he ever look back and regret? Ah, no, no, no! I -will not remember the stories of false love I have read and heard. He, -my own dark-eyed lover, is not one of those fickle wretches flying from -one love to another, like a butterfly from flower to flower. He will be -true.” - -A happy sigh escaped her lips, and she continued: - -“It is terrible being shut up here like a prisoner, with nothing to eat -but half-ripe fruit picked from the orchard by night! I wish I dared -reveal myself to Auntie Banks and beg her to come here and share my -solitude. But she wouldn’t consent, I know; and those wretches would -contrive some new peril for me, if they found out I was alive. Oh, dear -Heaven, give me patience to bear this life till my lover returns! It is -only a few days more now, for he said he should not stay longer than -a month. He will think it strange I did not answer his letters, as he -told me to do in each loving postscript; but I can easily explain all -to him when I see him, and he will not blame me for not writing when he -knows I did not get his letters for so long.” - -Poor Floy, counting the days and hours before her lover’s return, -how little she dreamed that far across the sea he lay ill unto death, -stricken down by the false and cruel story that she was dead. - -The hours waned, and the moon rose in the purple sky, while she -lingered there, poor child, so lonely in her exile, so beautiful, so -unfortunate. - -She rose presently, drew the shutters close, then lighted a little lamp -on the table, not caring much if the light was seen by passers-by, for -she knew no one would venture in. She had heard stories often of lights -being seen in the house by night, but they were all attributed to -ghostly visitants. - -Floy knew the ghastly secret of Suicide Place now, and nothing but her -terror of Otho Maury would have tempted her to enter the house again. - -But when she had recovered consciousness at Bellevue Hospital the -evening of her accident, and found herself uninjured, an awful fear of -Otho Maury’s persecutions entered her mind. - -“Oh, if I could hide myself away from him somewhere until St. George’s -return,” she moaned. - -She had a subtle presentiment that Otho’s persecutions would ruin her -life if his nefarious plans were not balked. - -“Oh, I must hide myself from that black-hearted wretch!” she sobbed, -sitting up on the couch, and gazing wildly around. - -She saw that she was quite alone, the attendant having gone to hasten -the physician whose duty it was to attend to her case. - -The thought of Suicide Place came to her like an inspiration, and she -sighed to herself that all its horrors were not equal to Otho Maury’s -relentless pursuit. - -She staggered to her feet and found herself unhurt. The long swoon had -been the result of the shock of fear. - -Pursued by fear and unrest, Floy fled wildly from the hospital, and as -she had on her person the five dollars given her by Mrs. Banks, she -made use of it to return to Mount Vernon. - -That night she rested in the haunted house, that, with its evil repute, -seemed to offer her a refuge from despair. - -Here, during the two weeks while the search for her went on, Floy -rested safe from pursuit. - -But her adventurous spirit drove her forth at last to inquire of -the letter-carrier about the mail she had expected to receive from -Beresford. Without acquainting him with her hiding-place, she pledged -him to secrecy over her visit, and obtained from him the information -that Miss Maury had intercepted her letters. - -She made several futile trips to the Maury residence before she -succeeded in getting possession of the precious letters. - -Having purposely made herself look as phantom-like as possible, she was -seen by several persons, and the report that her spirit walked became -noised about. - -Having obtained the letters, she resolved not to venture forth again, -lest she should be followed and her identity discovered. - -But, as we have seen, by Maybelle’s story, her discretion came too -late, and she was fated to a severe ordeal--the result of last night’s -adventure. - -Through the fragrant gloom of the summer night Otho Maury was gliding -toward the house, wriggling his lean body through the shadows like -a hungry panther about to spring upon its prey, and as his stealthy -step pressed the threshold, he kept muttering, darkly, with horrible -exultation: - -“She can not escape me now!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. “I WILL SELL MY LIFE AND HONOR DEARLY!” CRIED THE -MADDENED GIRL. - - -The room where Floy sat had been her mother’s bedchamber. It was a -large, handsome apartment, with stenciled walls and deep mahogany -wainscoting after the old style, and the dark, massive furniture was -of the richest mahogany. The dark polished floor was covered with rich -rugs from Persia, and a magnificent full-length mirror between the -two windows had reflected many a beautiful face and form of Floy’s -ancestors. - -They had been handsome people, the Nellests, but Floy’s beauty was of -quite a different type. - -Her mother had been dark and stately, like all the Nellests, but Floy -was fair as Venus fresh risen from the foam. She had inherited her -blonde beauty from her English father, as also her sunny, happy nature. -The Nellests had been cold, grave, severe people, given to moroseness -on account of their loss of fortune sixty years ago. - -They had been rich and grand in their day, and the first suicide in -the family dated from the time when the death of the head of the house -revealed the appalling fact that the family was beggared, nothing -remaining of vast wealth but the fine farm--their summer residence. - -It was incredible, for old Jasper Nellest had been miserly in his way, -and it was supposed that under his management the property must have -increased instead of dwindling. - -His two sons, both married and fathers of families, investigated -matters, and found that their father had turned everything he -possessed--bonds, houses, land, and ships upon the sea--into hard, -yellow, shining gold. - -What had become of this great treasure? - -They found out that he had also been a heavy and reckless stock -gambler, and this seemed to account for everything. - -The mad thirst for speculation had swallowed up everything. Having -staked all and lost, he died without confessing that he had beggared -his family. - -But, as his death had been a swift and sudden one, from apoplexy, there -had been no time for death-bed disclosures. - -But neither did Jasper Nellest leave any papers bearing on the subject -of his lost wealth. - -He had simply possessed it, and made “ducks and drakes” of it. That was -the situation that stared his descendants in the face. - -The brothers began an unequal struggle with the world as poor men with -dependent families. - -The elder one suicided within a decade, and the younger dragged the -weary chain of life until he was sixty; then death released him. - -But along the path of their descendants each decade was marked by a -suicide in the morose family, and they decreased in numbers until the -unfortunate line had almost died out. Only Floy was left now--fairest -and most unfortunate of her race. - -The shadows of fate had indeed fallen most heavily on that little -golden head. - -Bereaved of all who loved her, bound in the cruel toils of poverty, -sundered from her lover, in hiding from relentless foes--alas, poor -little Floy! - - “In sorrow did your life begin, - Dark lines of fate have hedged it in; - Yet is your face as bright and fair - As if the shadow of black care - Threw over it no dismal gloom-- - A cloud between you and earth’s bloom. - - “The blue of heaven is in your eyes, - The heavens’ o’erarching paradise; - The sunshine’s gold doth crown your head - Your pouting lips are cherry-red; - The lily’s whiteness doth bedeck - The soft curves of your dimpled neck, - And on your cheek in beauty glows - And faint blush of the opening rose.” - -Floy paced up and down the room awhile, yawned and threw herself down -again in a chair at the window. - -“How slowly the time goes!” she sighed. “I wish I _did_ have a lock to -that door! But I don’t suppose anything human will annoy me here. Otho -Maury _would_, I know, if he dreamed that I was here; but, of course, -he is searching for me in New York, hoping all the while that I’m dead -and out of Maybelle’s way. Oh-h-h! what was _that_?” - -She shuddered and groaned, for a sound had reached her ears in the -awfully still old house--an eerie sound! - -It came up from the parlor below, and sounded like a discord played by -unskilled hands upon the piano keys. - -It had been caused, in fact, by Otho Maury, stumbling against the -piano, in his furtive search for Floy. - -Floy’s heart thumped terrifically against her side for a moment, then -she recovered herself as memory recalled her first night at Suicide -Place. - -“It’s just the mice running over the piano keys,” she laughed. - -A full half an hour passed, and she grew nervous and restless, startled -by muffled sounds of footsteps in the house. - -“What can it be?--the wind or the rats?” she muttered, in alarm. “I -have never heard such strange noises in the house before. Can any one -have dared enter?” - -Instinctively she caught up a dagger that she had found in a drawer of -the old-fashioned bureau and laid on the table for self-protection. - -Drawing the keen, shining blade from its sheath, she held it in her -hand, her flashing eyes turned toward the door. - -“Let any intruder dare enter here, and I will sell my life and honor -dearly!” she cried. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. AT BAY. - - -As if in answer to her defiance, a stealthy hand turned the knob, the -door swung lightly back, and the form of a man stood hesitating on the -threshold. - -“Otho Maury!” - -The cry shrilled over her lips in a strangled gasp of loathing--not -fear, for with that weapon in her hand she felt strong to defy the -villain. - -He started, and stood looking at her with dazed eyes. - -He had searched the whole house over by the aid of a dark lantern, and -almost began to despair of success, when he opened this last door. - -He found her there, beautiful, brave, defiant, her angry blue eyes -fixed on him, and her white hand grasping the weapon whose shining -blade would surely be sheathed in his heart if he dared approach the -little beauty. - -After his first start of surprise he cried, longingly: - -“Floy!” - -She saw that he was deathly pale, and heard a strange tremor in his -voice. - -“He is frightened, and I shall easily drive him off,” she thought, -exultantly; and replied: - -“How dare you intrude yourself into this house again, Otho Maury? Have -you forgotten how you were punished the last time?” - -He glared angrily at her, and returned: - -“No; but Beresford is not here to save you now.” - -“But I can defend myself!” she cried, defiantly, brandishing her weapon. - -“Put down that child’s toy, my dear. I am not afraid of it in the -least. I could take it from you and snap it like a twig!” - -“You _are_ afraid, you wretch! Your face is ashen pale and your voice -trembles with fear!” she retorted, confidently. - -“If my face is pale, and my voice weak, it is not from fear of that -shining little blade in your tiny hand, it is from horror at what I -have seen since I entered this house. Tell me, Floy, did you know that -this house is really haunted?” - -“Yes, I knew it,” she answered, and her voice grew tremulous also, -while a look of horror dawned in her eyes. - -“You knew it!” he cried in wonder. “Then how have you had the courage -to remain here alone?” - -“You do well to ask that question,” the poor girl cried out, bitterly. -“You, Otho Maury, who have almost hounded me to death. Stay! do not -advance one step nearer, or----” - -He drew back sullenly, and remained on the threshold facing her with -his back to the dark corridor, while he said, pleadingly: - -“Floy, I followed you here with an honorable object. I love you madly. -Will you become my wife?” - -“Never!” she answered, curtly, with measureless contempt that angered -him to frenzy. - -“Take care how you scorn me, pretty Floy, for you are in my power, -and I may take a terrible revenge for your contempt,” he exclaimed, -advancing toward her, secure in his ability to disarm the weak, puny -girl. - -“Heaven help me!” silently prayed the poor girl, bracing herself to -drive home her weapon of defense into her assailant’s breast as soon as -he came within reach. - -“If you come within reach, you are rushing on your death!” she cried, -wildly. - -“Ha! ha!” he laughed, as at some pretty child, and made a rush -sidewise, aiming to wrench away the weapon, and, in spite of her -alertness, he grasped the middle of the arm that held the dagger. - -Like a flash, Floy transferred it to her other hand and struck out at -random. - -But the keen blade went home, piercing the side of his neck through, -and as the blood spurted into his face, blinding him with its hot -waves, he relaxed his hold and fell dizzily to the floor. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. ANOTHER INTRUDER. - - -Still grasping the bloody weapon, Floy looked down in terror at the -body of her bleeding victim. - -“Oh-h-h! I have killed the mean coward, but--I couldn’t help it--I had -to do it!” she exclaimed, bursting into hysterical sobs. - -“Bravo, miss, that was a brave deed! He deserved death; but if you -had waited a minute longer, I would have killed him for you myself!” -exclaimed an admiring voice, and a man who had been watching and -listening in the corridor outside came hastily into the room. - -He was a stranger to Floy, but you and I, reader, know him as the -clever detective who had been searching for our heroine for several -weeks. - -Once he had decided that he would give up the hopeless quest, but his -patron’s anxiety spurred him on to another effort. - -He returned to Mount Vernon, and when he heard the story of Floy’s -spirit having been seen abroad on several nights, he conceived a -suspicion that the missing girl might be hidden at Suicide Place, in -spite of her assertion that she would never venture near the house -again. - -Having no fear of ghosts, and laughing to himself at the idea of the -place being haunted, he determined to search it for Floy. - -He went upon the quest the same evening that Otho did, and arriving -some time later, went carefully round the house till he saw some gleams -of light shining through the shutters. - -“She is there!” he thought, exultantly, and went in through a door that -Otho had carelessly left open. - -Without taking the trouble to explore the lower regions, he made his -way to the second story, following the location of the light he had -detected. - -When his stealthy steps reached the upper corridor he saw, to his -amazement, a man stealing along in front of him, guided by a dark -lantern. - -The next moment he recognized him as Otho Maury, whose steps he had -once dogged in the hope of discovering Floy. - -“Aha! I was right after all; he _is_ her lover. I will watch and see -what comes of this!” he cried to himself, keeping at a safe distance -behind Otho. - -By this means he became an excited spectator of the tragic scene that -followed, and learned how deeply Floy feared and dreaded her villainous -persecutor. - -He was springing into the room to her assistance, when the frantic -thrust of her little dagger struck Maury at random in the neck, and -stretched him bleeding at her feet. - -At her sobs of terror and remorse--for it was awful to the gentle, -white-souled girl to realize that she had taken life, even in -self-defense--he cried, cheerily: - -“Bravo, miss! that was a brave deed. He deserved death; but if you had -waited a minute longer, I would have killed him for you myself.” - -Floy shrunk against the window, with a low cry of alarm, as she beheld -this new intruder. - -“Oh, God, why am I so bitterly persecuted?” - -“I beg you not to be afraid of me, Miss Fane. I am your friend,” -exclaimed the detective, kindly. - -His voice sounded so honest and kindly that Floy said, faintly: - -“Who are you? How came you here, sir?” - -“I am Floyd Landon, a detective, miss; and I came here to search for -you, but not with any evil intent, be sure; for I was employed by a -true friend of yours, who will be delighted when I take you to her -house.” - -Floy summoned courage to look at him, and saw that he was a -good-looking, middle-aged person, with the frank, open face an honest -countryman. No one would have suspected that he was one of the most -successful detectives in the city of New York. - -His heart was as kind as his face, too, and it was touched by the -misery of the girl who was so remorseful over having destroyed a life. - -Her beauty astonished him also, even though Mrs. Beresford’s flattering -description had prepared him in some measure for Floy’s charms. - -“A friend of mine!” she cried, in surprise. “Oh then it must have been -Mrs. Banks. I think she is the only true friend I have in the world.” - -“No, it is not Mrs. Banks; it is another woman in the great city of New -York.” - -“Not Mrs. Horton; she is no friend of mine!” cried Floy, who suspected -the woman of having sent Otho Maury to her room that evening. - -“Not Mrs. Horton,” he replied, and bent down to look at Otho. - -“His heart beats faintly; you have not killed him, miss--more’s the -pity, for he’s only a human serpent,” he added, under his breath. - -“He’s alive, you say? Oh, how glad I am! I did not want his death on my -soul, though I hate and fear him!” cried Floy. - -“Give me some water and a towel, miss, and I’ll stanch the blood and -see how bad the wound is,” added the detective. - -She brought the desired things, and as he went to work, he said: - -“I was educated for a surgeon, so I know how to fix him all right. It’s -only a superficial wound through the side of his neck, and I can sew it -up all right before he comes to himself.” - -He brought out a tiny surgical-case from his coat-pocket and sewed up -the cut, after which he bandaged it nicely. - -“Oh, how fortunate that you had those things along!” cried Floy, -admiringly. - -“Yes; they often come in handy in a detective’s business as well as a -surgeon’s,” smiled Floyd Landon. “So! he will do nicely, I think, and -presently he will revive. Before then we must be out of the way.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. “OH, HOW BLEST I AM!” CRIED FLOY. - - -Floy looked at him inquiringly, and he said: - -“Will you come with me to-night to New York and the lady who wants you -so much, or shall you go to Mrs. Banks?” - -“Not to her, though I love her dearly; for, oh! there is danger for me -in her vicinity, since it is the home of Otho Maury, also. No; I must -seek another hiding-place. Oh, sir, you look at me strangely! You do -not understand my trouble, and I can not explain it, for--for--I have a -secret!” cried Floy, incoherently. - -She looked down at Otho’s face in alarm, crying: - -“Oh, how ghastly he looks! Are you sure he is not really dead?” - -“He is not dead, and will be able to devise new deviltry in a few weeks -from now.” - -“Then let us hasten away. Who is the lady--the friend you said had -employed you to find me?” - -“Have you no suspicion?” - -“Not the slightest,” she replied, honestly. - -“Did you ever meet a Mrs. Beresford in Maury’s store in New York?” - -Floy blushed divinely at the mention of the name of Beresford and -exclaimed: - -“Yes; I saw her once. She bought real lace handkerchiefs from me, and -was so sweet and kind I have loved her memory ever since.” - -“She admired you very much,” smiled the detective. - -“She told me I was pretty--that she liked to look at me,” confessed -Floy, naïvely. - -“Yes, that is it; she was charmed with your beauty, Miss Fane, and I -applaud her good taste,” said Landon, admiringly; and continued: “Did -you know that Mrs. Beresford’s only daughter is a great artist?” - -“I had not heard anything about her, sir.” - -“Well, it is true, and Mrs. Beresford saw that your face was the very -one Miss Alva wanted as a model for a picture of Cupid that she is -painting.” - -“Oh!” cried Floy, clasping her hands in wondering delight. - -“So she told Miss Alva about you,” continued the detective, “and they -decided to try to secure you for a model; but when they went to the -store--it was the day after the accident--you had disappeared. So they -sent for me to find you.” - -He could not understand the wonderful radiance that came upon Floy’s -lovely face while he was speaking, making her beauty almost unearthly. - -She was thinking, joyously: - -“Oh, how blest I am that I have found favor with _his_ mother--my -darling’s mother--and his gifted sister! They will take me into his -dear home, and I will try to win their love, so that when he comes and -finds me there they will be glad that I am his chosen one.” - -“Do you like the plan? Will you come with me to Mrs. Beresford?” asked -Floyd Landon. - -“Oh, so gladly--so gladly!” she cried, in a sort of rapture. - -“Then let us lose no time in starting. And--hadn’t you better find -some sort of a disguise--a thick veil anyhow--so that you need not be -recognized in going through the town?” he suggested. - -Floy pulled open the drawers and found an old-fashioned traveling-wrap -and thick veil and bonnet. She put these on in a hurry, and they left -the house with its grim occupant, Otho Maury, lying silent on the -floor, not yet revived from his long swoon. - -No one would have recognized the detective’s prim, -old-fashioned-looking traveling companion as merry little Fly-away -Floy. Her disguising costume was foreign in style, in fact, had been -worn by her mother on her return from England. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. “’TIS HOME WHERE’ER THE HEART IS.” - - -“I can no longer wonder at my mother’s enthusiasm,” thought Alva -Beresford, on first beholding Floy. - -It was not yet midnight when Floyd Landon arrived at the Fifth Avenue -mansion with his charge. - -He knew that it was late to intrude, but under the peculiar -circumstances of the case, he deemed it best to waive ceremony and go -at once to the house. - -His arrival was timely, for Miss Beresford was just leaving her -carriage on returning from a wedding-reception. She was in magnificent -evening-dress, and the sheen of her diamonds fairly dazzled Floy’s eyes -as she gazed at the beautiful belle, while her features, so like those -of her brother, made her fond heart leap wildly in her breast. - -Floyd Landon presented his charge with a few explanatory words, and -Miss Beresford was exceedingly gracious. - -“So good of you to bring her to me at once,” she cried, as she pressed -Floy’s little hand. “Now, you must come into the house and tell me all -about it,” she added, eagerly. - -“I thank you, but the hour is late, and you must be weary after the -evening’s pleasure. I will postpone the telling until another time, if -you will permit me,” answered Floyd Landon, anxious to get home to his -wife, whom he had left ailing when he went away that day. - -“To-morrow morning then, if you have leisure,” replied the beautiful -heiress; and after bidding him good-night, she and Floy went up the -white marble steps and into the house. - -Floy felt like one in a blissful dream. In entering this splendid -house, with its magnificent halls adorned with potted plants, -glimmering statues, and costly paintings, she thought far less of the -grandeur of the place than of the fact that it was the home of her -lover. - -Every association breathed of him, and made the strange house seem -home-like at once to her fond, loving heart. - -She felt herself blessed in the strange freak of Fate that had brought -her to be a dweller beneath this roof. - -“A few more days--just a few more days now--and he too, will be here, -my love, my love!” throbbed her happy heart. - -Alva led her upstairs to her own room, and summoned her maid. - -“I have brought home a guest--Miss Fane--who will serve me as a model -in future. Arrange the blue room opposite mine for her occupancy,” she -said, in a tone that forbid curiosity. - -When the maid had gone to do her bidding, she said, kindly: - -“My dear, you look positively radiant somehow, yet surely you must be -very tired.” - -“I am not tired--I have come only a short journey--from Mount -Vernon--and I _am_ so glad to be here, so glad that I can be of service -to you, Miss Beresford, that every other emotion is swallowed up in -pure joy!” exclaimed the grateful girl. - -Alva looked admiringly at the lovely face with its radiant blue eyes -and joy-flushed cheeks, and her heart went out to her strongly, -tenderly. - -“You are a sweet, lovely child!” she exclaimed, impulsively. “You have -the most beautiful face in the world! It is no wonder my mother thought -your face the ideal one for Cupid. Did you know that I wish to paint -you as the little god of Love?” - -“Is it so?” cried Floy, delightedly; and every moment she grew more -lovely. The gladness of her heart was reflected charmingly in her face. - -She had thrown off her disguising wraps, and in her simple attire was -so lovely that Miss Beresford wondered how she would look in rich -attire like her own--diamonds, laces, and rustling white satin. - -“But she does not need them, she is lovely enough in her girlish bloom -without adornment,” she thought, quickly. - -“I shall not ask you to-night to tell me where you have been hidden -away so long, dear, for you must have your rest, but to-morrow, in my -studio, you shall tell me everything,” she said, as she conducted Floy -to an exquisite room across the hall. - -Floy looked about her in delight. - -Was this beautiful room, all blue and silver, so dainty and bride-like, -to be all her own, to sleep in and rest in day by day? - -Alva saw her glance with secret perturbation at her cheap attire, and -knew she was thinking of the contrast. - -“You did not bring your trunk,” she said, cheerfully. “Never mind, we -will remedy all that to-morrow. I will send Honora shopping for you, -and she has charming taste.” - -“You are too kind to me. I--I have no money, and--I can not accept -charity,” faltered Floy, her sensitive pride taking alarm. - -“You proud little Cupid, it will not be charity. Aren’t you going to -pose for me? I shall put your face into lovely pictures, and I shall -have to pay you well for the privilege. The new outfit will be a -payment in advance on my debt, that is all.” - -“Oh, thank you--thank you!” cried Floy, dimpling with delight at the -thought of having new clothes when St. George came home. - -“For I do not wish him to see me shabby and unsuited in my dress to my -beautiful surroundings,” she thought, with honest pride in herself. - -Alva bid her a kind good-night and retired, leaving her in such a -flutter of delight that it was several hours before her eyelids closed, -thought and hope were so busy over the future. - -The next morning she breakfasted alone with Alva and the latter said: - -“I did not tell you last night that my parents sailed for Europe -yesterday.” - -Floy looked so surprised that she added: - -“They read in the paper a telegraphic dispatch from the London reporter -that my brother St. George is quite ill in London.” - -“_Ill!_” almost shrieked poor Floy. - -Her eyes drooped, her rosy face went white, she trembled so that Miss -Beresford thought she was going to faint. - -“My dear child, what is the matter--are you also ill?” she demanded, in -alarm and surprise. - -Floy recovered herself with an effort. - -“Pardon me; I felt deathly sick for a moment,” she faltered; then -added: “I am afraid I lost what you were saying, Miss Beresford. But -please go on; I am better now.” - -“I was saying that my brother is ill in London, and my parents sailed -yesterday to bring him home as soon as he is better,” replied Alva. - -“Oh, I hope he is not very ill!” sighed Floy, very pale still, in spite -of her declaration that she was better. - -“Oh, no, I have no idea that there is much the matter with St. -George, for he would have had his physician cable us, of course, if -he had been really ill. These dispatches from foreign correspondents -to their papers are often greatly exaggerated in the interests of -sensationalism,” replied Alva, carelessly; adding, after a moment: “But -my parents fairly idolize their only son, so they took quick alarm and -hurried over the sea to bring home the invalid.” - -They left the table, and Alva led Floy to her beautiful studio, where -wealth and taste had united in adorning a most beautiful apartment. -Priceless rugs covered part of the inlaid floor, and exquisite statues -gleamed whitely from velvet-draped niches, while pictures were -scattered everywhere, some framed, some in an unfinished condition on -their easels, yet all showing the work of a master-hand. Here and there -were vases of flowers perfuming the air with their sweetness, while -silken curtains of rare design filtered the garish light of day into -soft, rosy shadows. - - “Rich was the shadow of the room, - And bright the sifted sunlight’s bloom, - That lofty wall and ceiling sheathed; - Heavy the perfumed air she breathed. - - “Sumptuous sense of costly cheer - Pervaded the soft atmosphere, - As if charmed walls had shut it in - From all the wild world’s noisy din.” - -Alva watched with delight Floy’s keen appreciation of everything, as -she wandered from picture to picture, drinking in their beauty with -eager, appreciative eyes. - -“She has a cultured soul, this lovely wild flower. I shall never be -bored by her, no matter how much we are thrown together,” thought Alva, -gladly. - -Then she drew the covering from her latest work and directed Floy to -look at it. - -The girl approached, and the first sight of the painting charmed her, -it was so life-like--the dancing youths and maidens were so natural, -the woods and water so perfect. - -“Oh!” she cried, in an ecstasy; and Alva smiled, well pleased. - -“You see it is not yet completed,” she explained. “See there the figure -of Cupid, with his bow and arrow. When I have given him your enchanting -face, it will be finished; and I am so impatient to begin that I will -commence painting this very morning!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. NEAR TO DEATH. - - -Alva painted unweariedly for several hours, and declared herself -charmed with her lovely, patient model. - -Floy was enthusiastic, too. She declared that she could not be grateful -enough to Miss Beresford for putting her face in that enchanting -picture. - -“Only think!” she cried. “When I am dead and gone--when the light has -faded from my eyes--when this form of mine is dust in a forgotten -grave--this beauty will live on upon the deathless canvas, and some one -may say of me: ‘She was so pretty, this little Floy Fane, that Miss -Beresford made her face immortal by painting it as Cupid.’” - -Alva saw that the girl’s delight was genuine, and it charmed her very -much. - -“I shall put you in other pictures, too,” she said. “Last night, after -I left you, the thought came to me to paint your portrait in a simple -white gown, and call it ‘Maidenhood.’ Do you like the idea?” - -“I am charmed!” cried Floy. - -“You remember Longfellow’s ‘Maidenhood’?” continued Alva; and she -murmured some of the verses: - - “‘Maiden with the meek brown eyes, - In whose orbs a shadow lies, - Like the dusk in evening skies. - - “‘Thou whose locks outshine the sun, - Golden tresses wreathed in one, - As the braided streamlets run: - - “‘Standing with reluctant feet, - Where the brook and river meet, - Womanhood and childhood fleet.’” - -“How old are you, Floy?” - -“Almost seventeen.” - -“A charming age--the time of illusions! I am twenty-eight, dear--almost -an old maid.” - -“You do not look twenty.” - -“So they tell me; but my heart is even older than my years,” with a -suppressed sigh; then, smiling: “Have you ever had a lover, Floy? Why, -how frightened you look--how deeply you blush! Never mind; you needn’t -answer, child; your face tells its own conscious story.” - -“Oh, if she only knew the name of that lover!” thought Floy, with -quickened heart-beats; but she did not feel much frightened. She hoped -that the haughty Beresfords who admired her so much would find it easy -to forgive St. George for his choice. - -But in the meantime she must keep her pretty secret, as he had -commanded her to do. She would not tell them a word till he should take -her by the hand and say: - -“Pretty little Floy is my heart’s choice.” - -How impatiently she waited for that day, only God and the angels knew. - -For the thought of his illness and the secret terror that he might die, -far away from his beloved, kept Floy awake many hours each night. - -But if Alva were uneasy over her sick brother, she concealed it -cleverly, or did not think that her pretty model had any interest in -the subject, for she never mentioned it again until more than a week -had passed away. - -Then Floy, tortured by a secret unrest, cried out one day: - -“Have you never heard from your parents yet?” - -Alva was so busy she did not look around from her picture, and only -answered: - -“No. It is only a week since they went, you see, and they would not -send a cablegram unless St. George was very ill. I dare say it was all -a false alarm.” - -Floy feared it was not, for although she had written secretly to the -postmaster at Mount Vernon to forward her letters, none had been -received, and she knew there must be some reason for his ceasing to -write. - -At last she ventured on a little loving letter to him, but by freak of -fate it went astray, and the lover’s heart lost the joy it would have -brought. - -At length there came letters for Alva from abroad, and then she said to -Floy: - -“It was all true about my brother, mamma says. He has been very, very -ill with brain fever, and came near to death.” - -They were sitting alone in the twilight, so Alva did not see the -corpse-like pallor of the listener’s face as Floy clinched her dimpled -hands together in her lap, silently praying Heaven not to let her cry -out in her anguish and betray her loving secret. - -“But,” continued Alva, “the crisis passed the day they reached -London, and my brother is slightly better. The physicians say he may -recover--unless he has a relapse.” - -Floy could not answer one word. It was all that she could do to keep -her reeling senses from failing altogether. - -St. George, her heart’s love, her idol, ill unto death, and parted from -her by the breadth of the terrible sea! Oh, it was cruel, cruel! - -And she dared not cry out to this woman, his own sister: - -“Pity me, sympathize with me, for I love him; he is my own, my own, and -if he dies my heart will break!” - -Not one word of grief must she utter unless the tidings came that he -was dead. - -Then she might open the flood-gates of her love and despair, for -betrayal would not matter when he was gone. - -But she sat like a stone in the twilight of the room, so cold, so -white, so still, and waited for Alva to say more. - -Alva was in a bitter mood, that came to her sometimes when the memory -of her past was revived. - -She had been struggling to repress herself, but all in vain, for -now, half forgetting Floy’s presence, she cried out with passionate -indignation: - -“If he dies, that poor boy, my brother, his broken heart and early -death will lie at his mother’s door!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. “THE SILENCE OF A BROKEN HEART.” - - -Floy leaned forward and clutched Alva’s arm with icy fingers. - -“Oh, for God’s sake, tell me what you mean!” she faltered, imploringly. - -“Why, what is it to you, child?” exclaimed Alva, startled out of -herself by Floy’s emotion. - -“Oh, nothing, nothing; pardon me, Miss Beresford. But I was so sorry -for you and for _him_, for--for you spoke of a broken heart,” sobbed -Floy, drawing back in dismay. - -Miss Beresford was silent one moment, then she reached out and caressed -Floy’s golden head with one jeweled hand, while she answered: - -“I am not offended, Floy. You startled me from a painful retrospect, -that was all. I did not mean to answer you rudely, dear.” - -And loving the girl like a younger sister, perhaps craving her sympathy -in this sad hour, she threw reserve to the winds and poured out her -brother’s story. - -Nothing was kept back; his letter telling of his love, his mother’s -anger, her cruel reply, then the brief renunciation of the outraged son. - -“Was he not brave?” cried Alva, with kindling eyes. “He threw away -everything for Love’s sake. Would that I, his sister, had been so true -to self.” - -“You! you!” cried Floy, in tears and wonder. - -“Hush! hush! I did not mean to refer to myself!” cried Alva; and sure -as she was of the girl’s sympathy, she repented of her momentary -self-betrayal, and wrapped herself in a mantle of reserve. - - “A grief may ease itself with tears to start, - Or vehement outcries in passion’s breath. - But the calm stillness of a broken heart - Is sadder far than death. - - “Life may flow patiently in tearless wave, - Its palmless martyrdom concealed, secure; - Only the soul itself the grief may know, - And silently endure. - - “The strength of all regret is lost in sighs, - In murmuring sorrow’s fiercest flame expires; - But silence is the close where memories - Burn with undying fires.” - -There was silence for a little while. Floy was fighting down the ache -in her heart so that her voice would not betray her when she spoke. - -Then she breathed, timidly: - -“This illness of--your brother’s--its cause?” - -“His trouble, of course. He was in love with a beautiful girl, but he -loved his parents well also; and he was his mother’s pride and idol. -She would have thought a princess unworthy of him.” - -“Oh, Heaven!” thought Floy, despairingly. - -“This very journey my brother took to Europe,” continued Alva, “was -planned by mamma to break him from a fancy he seemed to have for the -beautiful Miss Maury of Mount Vernon. We did not admire the girl, -and mamma was wild at the thought of having her for a daughter. But -Maybelle was angling for him so skillfully that mamma had papa to -telegraph him to come home, to go across the sea at a minute’s notice.” -She sighed, and added: “You can see from this one incident how resolute -mamma can be when roused to action. And as for papa, he always takes -sides with her in everything.” - -“Perhaps--perhaps they will persuade your brother to desert his love,” -breathed Floy, tremulously. - -“Perhaps so; or perhaps he will cling to her in spite of all; and -in either case he will be unhappy,” returned Alva, not dreaming how -cruelly her words stabbed Floy’s loving heart. She continued, sadly -enough: “You see, if St. George marries the girl, they will disinherit -him, and he will have so little money, poor fellow--having been used to -luxury all his life--that he will not know how to live. Poverty will -crush him, and perhaps he will regret that he ever saw the girl. Ah, -me! Will you ring for lights, please, dear Floy?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. PRIDE BROUGHT LOW. - - -St. George Beresford’s precautions that his parents should not know of -his illness were useless. - -It was not probable that the son of an American millionaire could fall -ill in London without the knowledge of the ubiquitous reporters for the -American newspapers. - -So the first news the Beresfords had of their son’s illness was brought -through a special to a New York daily paper. - -Something seemed to snap like a too hardly strained cord in the -mother’s heart when she read the paragraph and she fell in a heavy -swoon to the floor. - -The thought had struck through her mind that if her son died it would -have been through her pride and harshness that it had happened. - -She had been too imperious and too hasty. She should have tried gentler -means with her spoiled but noble and loving boy. - -She realized it all too late as she cried out to her anxious husband: - -“You must take me to my son. He must forgive me before he dies!” - -“We will start at the earliest possible hour,” he replied, huskily. - -Most fortunately a steamer was leaving New York that day, and they had -no difficulty in securing a first-class passage. - -“It will be lonely for you, dear, without us. Perhaps you had better -go on to Newport next week, as we had planned,” they said to Alva, who -answered, cheerily: - -“No--no; I will await your return here. I am not anxious to begin the -gay season at the seashore.” - -So she remained in the large, splendid mansion with the servants, and -the anxious parents set out on their journey. - -Oh, those weary days upon the sea, how long they were, how heavily they -dragged to those two hearts aching with remorse and grief! - -“We were too harsh,” sighed the father. - -“It was all my fault,” sobbed the mother. “If I had pleaded for my boy -you would have yielded, for your pride was not so great as mine.” - -“And, after all, the girl might not have been so objectionable. She was -a poor girl,” he said, “but poverty is not a crime, dear.” - -“No--no; and we have wealth enough to spare as a royal dowry for -our son’s bride. But, oh, the doubt as to whether she is pure and -worthy!--for St. George is a noble son--it is that which tortures so -cruelly. Oh, why did he not tell us who she was, that we might have -judged for ourselves.” - -“It may be that he feared our interference with the girl during his -absence.” - -“And he was right; for had I known where to find her, I should have -bribed her, if possible, to give up her claim on St. George--yes, to -go away and hide herself until the affair blew over,” confessed Mrs. -Beresford, frankly. - -And had any one told the proud lady that she had employed a high-priced -detective to seek the girl her son loved, and bring her home to the -Fifth Avenue palace, she would have thought they had taken leave of -their senses. - -The weary journey was over at last, and they reached London. - -Soon they were bending over their son’s sick-bed. - -But alas! it was enough to break their hearts, that sight. - -The lethargy of that terrible illness following on acute delirium held -the patient in its grasp, and he did not recognize the fond, anxious -faces that bent over him, his ears were deaf to their words of love. - -This condition continued for days, and they feared that the patient -would sink into death without knowing the remorse and penitence they -had crossed the sea to pour into his ears. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. TOO LATE! - - -Oh, those days and nights of sorrow and suspense! The tortured parents -would never forget them. - -The memory of their harshness was a lash to conscience that never -ceased to sting. - -In the weary nightly vigils, when they hung over the sufferer’s -bedside, the mother prayed, unceasingly: - -“Oh, God, give me back my boy, that I may atone!” - -All her pride was brought low. If she could have known where to find -the mysterious girl her son loved, she would have dragged her by force, -if necessary, to her son’s bedside, hoping that the sight of her beauty -would lure him back to life. - -Oh, the strength of a mother’s love! What will it not endure and yield -and suffer for the sake of the beloved one! - -The proud woman learned, in that fiery trial, all the strength of her -love for her son--knew that it was stronger than pride or ambition, -mightier than death. - -“Give him back that I may atone!” was her continual prayer, until it -seemed as if God must have heard and pitied at last. - -The day came when he opened his heavy eyes and knew his mother. - -They lightened with a faint gleam of pleasure, and from that moment he -began to convalesce. - -Memory lay dormant in his mind for days; but it wakened at last, as she -knew by the sudden change on his face. - -It was twilight, and the windows were open, that warm summer evening, -to admit the pleasant air. The western sky was still faintly roseate -with hues of the fading sunset, and the sounds of the London streets -were softening with the close of the weary day of toil. - -Mr. Beresford had gone out for a walk, and the mother and son were -alone. - -She sat at the head of his low couch, softly stroking back the dark -hair from his high, white brow with her jeweled slender white hand. - -It made her heart ache to see how thin and wasted he was, and to think -that her cruelty had wrought the change. - -His hollow dark eyes were turned toward the open window, watching the -rosy-purple sky with a far-off look. - -Suddenly she saw his whole face change as with a spasm, and his lips -contract as with pain. She knew that memory had reasserted itself, by -the anguish in his eyes. - -Impulsively she stooped and pressed her lips to his brow, and it was -not all her fancy that he shrunk from the caress. - -“My son!” she cried, entreatingly; but there was no reply, and she -continued: “Forgive me!” - -She knelt down by his side and put her arms around him. The proud, -beautiful woman had never humbled herself like this to any one before -in all her life. - -“St. George, listen to me,” she murmured, tremulously, but he could not -speak. She felt his whole form shaking with emotion. - -She cried out, tenderly: - -“Oh, my son, I see that you remember everything, and you shrink from -me. You feel that I was hard and cruel, and I know now that I was -wrong, that I had no right to write you that cruel letter. My heart -almost broke when I heard of your illness, and I came to you at -once--your father with me--to tell you that we repent our harshness and -wish to atone.” - -No answer yet, and she felt the wasted form heaving beneath the touch -with heavy, repressed sobs that it seemed unmanly to utter. - -“St. George, do you understand me, my dear?” she murmured, tenderly. -“We repent our harshness, we withdraw our objections to your marriage. -Whoever the girl is--and we feel that she must be good and pure, or she -would not be our son’s choice--we will take her to our hearts for your -sake.” - -She paused for his answer, but it was only a succession of heavy sobs, -such as can only burst from the breast of a man who gives up the -struggle against emotion and lets the storm sweep him away. - -It was a tempest of grief before which the grieving mother was appalled. - -She put her arms around him and wept with him in passionate sympathy. - -Mr. Beresford stole back to the room so quietly that neither heard him. -He hovered over them in perplexity of grief. - -At length he saw that the tempestuous sobs were stifled by a manly -will, and St. George answered, faintly, to his mother’s implorings: - -“Alas! it is too late.” - -“No, no, my son! Do not grieve my heart with such cruel words!” she -cried. “You will soon be strong enough to come home with us, and then -you shall marry when you will. Shall I write to Alva to seek out your -betrothed and bring her home to greet you when we return?” - -A strangled sob shook the invalid’s form. - -“Oh, mother, how good you are to me--just like an angel! I forgive -all that there is to forgive, and--there will never be any more -discord between us, please Heaven. I shall never have any one to love -henceforth but you three--for--for--_she_ is dead!” - -“Great Heaven!” cried his mother, in amazement. - -“_She_ is dead,” he repeated, with the calmness of despair. “That was -the secret of my sickness, dear mother. They wrote to me just after I -sent you my last letter, that she was dead--my pure, beautiful little -love! There, I can not talk of it even to you, dear, and---- But there -is father with a letter.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. “HE IS FICKLE AND FALSE--MY LOVER WHOM I TRUSTED SO -FONDLY!--HOW CAN I BEAR THIS PAIN AND LIVE?” - - -Mr. Beresford, when he saw himself discovered, advanced to the bedside. - -He was a tall, portly gentleman, with kind brown eyes and a pleasant -face that beamed with joy as he said: - -“A letter from Alva at last!” - -His wife sunk back in her chair and eagerly perused it. Then she handed -it to her husband, and turned again to her son. - -“I suppose Alva is at Newport?” he said, trying to bring his thoughts -back from the painful theme that held them--the loss of his darling. - -But it was hard to remember anything else now, when sorrow was at its -flood-tide, sweeping like a torrent over his heart. - -“No; Alva is at home. She will not leave New York till we return,” his -mother returned. - -“But she will be very lonely, I fear.” - -“No; she is very busy painting, and Alva loves art better than society, -you know. Besides, she has a companion--a lovely young girl whom she -has employed as a model.” - -Alva’s letter had not been very long, and she had chronicled the -finding of Floy in one careless paragraph: - -“Floyd Landon was so fortunate as to find Cupid the very day you left -the city, and brought her to me at once, so I hope to finish my picture -before your return.” - -St. George, in his bitter despair over Floy’s supposed death, took no -interest in his sister’s pretty model, and Mrs. Beresford, of course, -had no idea that her son’s sweetheart was domiciled beneath her roof, -while her lover mourned her as dead. - -The mere utterance of her name by St. George would have solved the -mystery, and saved him hours and days and weeks of pain, hastening his -recovery by the force of joy; for the influence of mental emotions on -the bodily health is too well known to be disputed, and the effects of -grief and sorrow in breaking down health and retarding recovery are -especially significant. - -So the long summer days waxed and waned until it was well into July -before the invalid’s tedious convalescence became confirmed enough for -him to be removed from his room to a pleasant place by the sea. Here he -remained for a week, gaining strength more rapidly, and at last asking -to be taken home. - -A fancy had seized him to revisit the scenes made sacred by their -connection with his lost love, and to find her lonely little grave, -unmarked perhaps by monument or flower, and to raise a costly stone -above the spot. - -But he did not confide these thoughts to his parents. - -The subject had never been revived between them again. - -St. George had a bitter, secret consciousness that he did not have -their sympathy in his sorrow, and that at heart the death of his -betrothed was a relief to them. - -Mrs. Beresford had indeed hinted to her son that a certain fair English -dame, a dainty Lady Maud whom he had met the previous year, was not -indifferent to him, and would be a very welcome daughter-in-law. - -But her son had answered, with the indifference of ill-health and an -aching heart: - -“I would not want her though she were ‘the daughter of a hundred -earls!’” - -And his father had whispered to his wife: - -“Leave the lad alone awhile. His grief is too fresh and new to bear -consolation yet. Time will bring the only balm--forgetfulness.” - -So when St. George renewed the subject of going home, they did not say -him nay. - -They, too, were anxious to return, and by the middle of July had -engaged their state-rooms on a steamer of the fastest line. - -Bidding farewell to all their little coterie of English friends at -Brighton, they were soon _en route_ for home and Alva. - -St. George was gaining strength but slowly, and his large, dark eyes -looked out of a wan, pale face, whose expression was too sad for tears. - -This home-coming was inexpressibly bitter to his tortured heart, and -his pale, grave, handsome face made him an object of romantic interest -to all the lady passengers. - -But he did not reciprocate their interest, he cared nothing for black -eyes or blue that looked at him with gay coquetry or tender sympathy. - -He said to himself that since Floy was dead he could never love again. - -He held himself moodily apart from every passenger but one. - -This was a blonde nobleman of barely middle age, very handsome and -grave-looking--Lord Alexander Miller, who had recently inherited by his -father’s death a grand estate in Devonshire. - -He was going over for a tour of the States, he told the Beresfords, -but his grave blue eyes had in them a look as if he should not enjoy -anything very much, the look of a man with some secret sorrow tugging -at his heart-strings. - -Perhaps it was this secret kinship of sorrow that drew the two men -together on shipboard, for each recognized a subtile affinity in the -other, and so they became fast friends. - -There was something, too, in the nobleman’s fair, frank face, so -debonair though so serious, that fascinated the younger man. Where had -he seen such blue eyes before in the dim past? - -It came to him at last with a shock of mingled pain and pleasure. - -His new friend bore a subtile, haunting, charming likeness to his dead -love Floy. And for this likeness St. George admired him all the more. - -By the time they reached New York, St. George was loath to part with -his fascinating friend. - -He pressed him to become his guest. The reply startled him. - -“I shall be most happy to visit you later on, but for the present I am -going to Mount Vernon, New York, where I have--friends.” - -It was a startling answer to St. George, who had also planned an early -trip to Mount Vernon. - -Why he wished to go he hardly knew, except to revisit in silence and -sorrow the places sacred to his brief, ill-fated love-dream. - -“As for the Maury’s, they need not know I am there. I shall not call, -for I despise that scheming Maybelle,” he decided, remembering how -falsely she had told Floy she was engaged to marry him. - -But he did not tell the nobleman that he also was soon to visit Mount -Vernon. He parted from him with frank regret, expressing the hope that -they might soon meet again. - -Then they went on shore, and there was Alva radiant with joy to meet -them. - -She had come down in the carriage to meet them, and tears flashed -into her bright eyes as she looked at her darling brother so pale, so -changed, so sad. - -Her mother had written to her simply that her son’s love affair was -ended forever, making no mention of the girl’s death, and Alva had been -very indignant, saying to Floy: - -“Mamma has made him give up his love. I feared she would, but I hoped -St. George would hold out against her arguments. I see how it is. He -loves mamma so dearly--never son adored a mother so blindly--and she -has made him think that the girl is unworthy of him.” - -Floy choked back a rising sob, and sat like a statue in her chair, -fearing to breathe lest she betray her cruel secret. - -She was as proud as she was beautiful, this willful little Floy. - -In the long happy weeks since she had been here with Alva she had -dreamed some happy dreams, but now they were all over. - -At first she had been glad to be here with her lover’s sister, and she -had pictured to herself over and over his joy when he should come home -and find her here an inmate of his home, a pet with his loved ones. -Surely, then, it would be easy to win their liking for his chosen bride. - -But when Alva’s confidences showed Floy the overweening pride of the -Beresfords, she began to be frightened even of charming Alva. - -She said to herself in weary nightly vigils: - -“She, too, is proud, although she pretends to take her brother’s part. -I can see that she has little sympathy with unequal marriages. If she -but guessed that I am the girl her brother loves, she would send me -away from the shelter of this roof.” - -And in her terror of the cold world outside, her fear of her foes, and -her longing to stay here till her lover’s return, poor Floy held fast -her wretched little secret of love, scarcely daring to breathe when -Alva named her brother’s name in praise or blame. - -But that last conjecture of Alva’s as to her brother’s resignation to -his mother’s will nearly broke the poor child’s heart. - -She could not doubt Alva’s word. It must be true that among them all, -in their pride of name and place, they had turned his heart against -her, his absent little love. - -“He is fickle and false, my lover whom I trusted in so fondly! How can -I bear this pain and live?” she moaned to her stricken heart, in the -silence of her terrible despair. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. “NOT TILL LOVE COMES.” - - -But we must digress a short while from the main points of our story to -note what became of our villain, Otho Maury, after Floyd Landon and our -heroine left him unconscious on the floor, to recover at his leisure -from his long swoon. - -Never was a villain assured of success in a nefarious design more -cleverly checkmated. - -In a few minutes after their departure, Otho revived, and lifted his -head in wonder at his position. - -A darting pain in his wounded neck recalled him sharply to a sense of -all that had happened. - -He had gone to Suicide Place to search for Floy, and found her; but she -was armed, and had attacked him desperately with a murderous looking -dagger. - -He had swooned with the pain of the wound she gave him, and knew no -more. - -How long ago had that been? How long had he been lying here? And where -was Floy? - -He called her name faintly in the silence, but only the echoes of the -grim old house gave reply. - -“She has fled the scene believing that I am dead, curse her!” he -muttered, vindictively, dragging himself up out of the slippery pool -of blood beneath him, and dropping heavily into an arm-chair. Then he -discovered, to his surprise, that his neck had been carefully bandaged. - -Not knowing, of course, of the presence of the detective who had come -upon the scene the moment after he swooned, he was filled with wonder -at the fact that Floy had apparently bandaged his neck. - -“But she has escaped me again! The foul fiend must have helped her to -drive that blow into my neck!” he muttered, angrily; adding: “But she -would not have found me such an easy victim--I could have grappled with -her and taken away the weapon--only that I was unnerved and trembling -from the sights I had seen before I entered this room.” - -He shuddered and glanced fearfully at the door, as though expecting -some unearthly presence to appear. - -“Alone in a haunted house!” he muttered, fearfully. “I that always -laughed at spooks and phantoms! But I shall never deny them again. I -have stumbled by accident on the secret of this old house, and I know -that it has its restless ghost. What if I could turn my knowledge to -account, and---- Ugh! what was that?” - -He broke off, shuddering, for a fiend’s laugh seemed to echo in the -stillness--the laugh of a fiend who has tempted some poor soul to its -eternal ruin. It was more than the unstrung nerves of the man could -bear. - -With a muttered imprecation, he seized his hat from the floor, where it -was lying, and groped his way out of the dismal house into the sweet -night air. - -But as he closed the door and turned from the accursed threshold, that -fiendish, mocking laugh seemed to follow him with taunting echoes down -the road. - -Slowly and painfully he made his way home, thankful that the pall of -midnight covered the earth, so that none saw him in the blood-soaked -garments he wore. - -Going to Maybelle’s room, he told her what had happened, and asked her -to examine the wound. - -Shuddering at sight of the blood, his sister carefully unwrapped the -bandages, and found that the wound--a very slight one, though it had -bled freely--had already been carefully dressed. - -“Your swoon must have been a long one, to enable her to do all this -before she fled from the house,” said Maybelle, as she carefully -replaced the bandages. - -Otho was bitterly chagrined at the failure of his scheme and Floy’s -second escape from his devilish machinations. - -“And the worst of it is that I can not follow up her track for some -time now. I shall be obliged to keep my room several days with this -mark of affection she has given me,” he growled. - -Maybelle wept in bitterness of spirit; but she had no reproaches to -offer him now. He had done all that he could, and was not to blame for -his failure. - -It seemed to her as if her lovely rival must indeed bear a charmed -life, so cleverly had she escaped each time from the machinations of -her enemies. - -Her chances of ever winning Beresford grew each day less and less; but -so madly had she fixed her heart upon him that it seemed to her without -that hope she must die. - -It was less than a year since she had known him, but her jealousy had -altered all her life. - -Before she met him, Maybelle had been simply a handsome, selfish girl, -ambitious to make a grand match--even to secure a title, if possible. - -Mrs. Vere de Vere had abetted all her desires; but no grand suitor had -fallen into the net they spread until Beresford’s careless flirting had -awakened hopes never to be realized, and, alas! roused the sleeping -devil in a nature well endowed with capabilities for evil. - -What a potent factor is Love in all the affairs of life. - -Laugh at Love, flout him as we may, he still is our master, we his -slaves. - - “Not till Love comes in all his strength and terror, - Can we read other’s hearts; not till then know - A wide compassion for all human error, - Or sound the quivering depths of mortal woe. - - “Not till we sail with him o’er stormy oceans - Have we seen tempests; hidden in his hand - He holds the keys to all the great emotions; - Till he unlocks them none can understand.” - -Maybelle’s unhappy love and thwarted ambition had roused all the worst -passions of her nature. She would have committed any evil deed that -would have won her Beresford’s heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. SEARCHING IN VAIN. - - -It was a week before Otho could mingle with the world again in his -search for the brave girl who had so strangely eluded him. - -And then her disappearance became as strange as it had seemed the first -time. - -Naturally it did not once occur to him that Floy had found a powerful -protector in the person of Miss Beresford. - -The splendid house on Fifth Avenue, where the heiress lived, was the -last one he would have thought of searching for the missing girl. - -Yet in that splendid casket Floy, like some beautiful precious jewel, -was hidden from his sight. - -The fair girl in her modesty had refrained from acquainting her kind -employer with the story of her persecution by Otho Maury. She thought: - -“If I told her all, she might think me boastful and vain.” - -And she was too anxious for that lady’s good opinion to run such a risk -by lack of discretion. - -She had even secured the detective’s promise of silence on the subject. - -“Do not tell Miss Beresford about that villain. You can simply say you -found me at Suicide Place,” she had urged while they were on the train -coming to New York. - -Thinking it could do no harm to keep the little beauty’s secret, he -consented to what she asked, and in his subsequent interview with Miss -Beresford--in which she generously remunerated him for his time and -trouble in finding her _protégée_--he made no mention of Otho Maury’s -dastardly persecution of Floy. - -Floy on her part was equally reticent. - -The fall from the window of her lodging-house, as told by herself, -seemed a very tame affair. - -“I lost my balance while looking down and fell into the street,” she -said. “As for my sensations while plunging through the air, they were -simply indescribable in their horror; for, of course, I thought I was -rushing upon instant death. But the newsdealer’s shed broke my fall, -and I rolled down to the pavement actually unhurt, though the shock of -terror was succeeded by a long swoon, during which I was removed to -Bellevue. When I revived alone in the waiting-room and found myself -unhurt, I ran away, and what more natural than that I should hide -myself in the only refuge that belonged to me--my old home.” - -She might have told her story, with all its romantic embellishments, to -Alva, and made herself a very heroine of romance in that young lady’s -eyes; but she shrunk from doing so. She dreaded ridicule, perhaps -disbelief of her strange story. - -“I am safe from my enemy’s machinations now, so I will spare him until -I can pour the whole story into St. George’s ears,” she decided. - -But Miss Beresford noticed that whenever she took the little beauty -for a drive in the park, as she often did, Floy was always muffled in -a very thick veil, through whose meshes even the keen eyes of love or -hate could scarcely have detected her identity. - -Miss Beresford remarked on this one day, and Floy faltered out -something about sunburn and freckles. - -“Oh-h, I see! You are afraid of spoiling that rose-and-lily complexion, -and I can scarcely blame you,” laughed Miss Beresford, whose rich olive -complexion could bear well the kisses of the wind and sun. Then, as she -saw how sensitively Floy blushed at her words, she added: “Or, more -likely, you are shy of the admiring glances you would meet if unveiled.” - -Floy had no answer ready, for she did not wish to tell the lady that -she feared to be recognized by an enemy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. A BOWER OF ROSES. - - -So, while Floy’s enemy sought her all in vain, the day of her lover’s -return came at last. - -It was two months now since their parting at the cottage door, in the -May moonlight, under the drooping vines that shaded the porch--two -months since that last kiss of love so true and warm and tender. - -The burning heats of July held the world in their hot grasp, and the -little spring flowers were faded and gone, as were the tender hopes of -Floy’s heart. - -But all that last day she busied herself, flitting hither and thither, -helping Alva to make the house beautiful for the returning dear ones. - -“My brother loves flowers, especially roses, most dearly; so we will -have roses everywhere,” said Alva. - -Floy’s heart beat fast, and she flushed, then paled again, as she -remembered that strange dream of roses--hers and St. George’s--that -summer night of their first meeting--the dream that had seemed to draw -their hearts closer together. - -“But his love grew cold before the sweet roses faded,” she sighed from -the bottom of her sad young heart. - -Then something seemed to whisper tauntingly: - -“He is rich, and grand, and handsome, and can choose from the proudest -women in the world. You should have known from the first that you could -not hold his fickle fancy--a simple little maiden like you.” - -As she passed and repassed the grand plate-glass mirrors she would look -into them anxiously, and with dissatisfaction. - -She saw that she was wonderfully lovely, that her hair was bright as -spun gold, her eyes as blue as violets, her mouth a budding rose, her -complexion as gloriously tinted as a rose-lipped sea-shell, her dimples -entrancing--but after all it seemed to her a babyish kind of beauty. - -She thought that the dark queenly style of beauty of Alva and Maybelle -was hundred times more attractive than her blonde type of beauty. - -Poor little Floy was sadly changed since she had heard that her lover’s -heart had grown cold. - -She had lost the sauciness from her smile, the sparkle from her eyes, -and now and then a low, repressed sigh heaved her tortured breast. - -Miss Beresford could not help seeing the change. - -It puzzled and perplexed her, until she said at last: - -“You are not happy here with me, Floy. Perhaps I go out too often in -society and leave you here alone. I will stay at home more hereafter.” - -“Oh, no--no; I am happy enough!” protested the poor child; who -felt relieved when she was alone and could throw off the mask of -indifference and let her tears flow unrestrainedly over her broken -love-dream. - -She was so young, so friendless, and this love had become a part of -her life. She could not see how she was going to live with this aching -heart. - -But she could not own her sorrow to St. George Beresford’s sister, -never--never! She would go away and die sooner than that. - -With her own little trembling white hands she carried the great basket -of roses to his luxurious suite of rooms. She arranged every bud and -flower to look their best for his eyes, and the single bud in the tiny -crystal vase on his toilet-table she kissed twice, thinking: - -“It is so sweet and fragrant he may perhaps wear it on his coat, and -think of me.” - -Alva came in, and looked about her with delight. - -“Why, Cupid, you have made it a bower of roses. Are you sure you have -left any for me?” she laughed, admiringly. - -“The florist said he would bring you some more,” answered Floy, -blushing because she had taken so many for her darling’s room. - -“Then you must finish the arrangements, dear; for it is time to go and -meet them now, and you refuse to accompany me.” - -“Oh, I could not--I could not!” Floy cried, affrighted; and Miss -Beresford cried, gayly: - -“What a bashful child you are, Cupid!” - -She was turning away when Floy caught her sleeve, and gasped, -imploringly: - -“You must promise me one thing. I shall not see them to-night. You will -let me keep my room till to-morrow, and not send for me to come down -this evening? For--for--of course you will have many things to talk of, -you four, and a stranger would be in the way.” - -Alva saw that she was painfully in earnest, but she thought it was only -girlish bashfulness. She smiled indulgently, and said: - -“Perhaps you are right. We shall have much to talk of, and it might not -interest a gay little girl like you. Besides, they will be tired and -will retire soon, so you may easily be excused till to-morrow.” - -She hurried down to the waiting carriage, and Floy, with one last -tender glance about the room, went to her task of decorating Mrs. -Beresford’s suite of rooms, her heart heavy with pain as she thought -of the proud, rich woman who had come between her son and his heart’s -true love. - -When they came at last, Floy was at her window, peeping between the -lace curtains for one furtive glance at the beloved face; and when she -saw him step from the carriage at last, so pale, so wan, so ill, like a -wraith of her debonair lover, it almost broke her fond, pitying heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. A LITTLE HAND. - - -Alva was right about the travelers being weary. They retired early to -their rooms that evening, St. George first of all. - -“How sweet, how beautiful!” he cried, when the odor of the roses -greeted him from every side. - -He went up to the table, where a half-blown bud in a slender crystal -vase charmed him with its crimson beauty. - -“What a rich, warm, velvety scarlet rose--the flower of love!” he -exclaimed; and pressed his lips on the curling petals. - -In that instant a memory of Floy, his lost young love, came to him in -bitter agony. - -He turned his head quickly toward the door. - -It had seemed to him that he heard a long, low, quivering sigh behind -the shadowy _portières_ of violet silk. - -And as he looked he saw vaguely--or was it only fancy?--a tiny hand all -white and dimpled, gleam an instant on the shining silk, then vanish. - -“Alva!” he called, thinking she had followed him for a tender little -chat. - -But there was no reply. - -He sprung to the _portières_ and thrust them aside, but the long, -brightly lighted corridor was empty. - -He returned to his room slowly, thinking in a solemn awe: - -“It was not my fancy. I distinctly saw a little hand--small, white and -dimpled--vanishing away. It was _her_ hand--my Floy’s--beckoning me to -the world of shadows.” - -All night, whether waking or sleeping, she was in his thoughts--his -dead love. - -The odor of the roses, their bloom and beauty, had recalled her to his -mind as she had been the night that he had dreamed of her among the -roses--blessed dream that had sent him to her side to save her from -deadly peril! - -She was with the angels now--lovely little Floy!--but she had hovered -near him to-night; he knew by the little welcoming hand that had -gleamed there a moment among the folds of violet silk. - -Dear little hand! How he had loved its dimpled beauty! How soft and -warm and thrilling it had been when he pressed it! Alas! it was only an -icy shadow now! - -“Dear Heaven, I wish that I might die and follow little Floy to her -bright home!” he groaned, despairingly. - -Small wonder that his sleep was restless and disturbed, and that in the -morning he was wan and hollow-eyed as some pale ghost. - -Alva was shocked, but she did not tell him so; she only showed her -concern by the tenderest care. - -“We must take you down to Newport before the end of the week; New York -is stifling now,” she said, with a significant look at her mother. - -“Yes, I am very anxious to get away from here,” rejoined Mrs. -Beresford, promptly, as she rose from the table, adding: “I suppose -your ‘Cupid’ is finished, dear?” - -“Yes, and you must all come and pronounce on its merits,” replied Alva, -leading the way arm in arm with her brother. - -St. George had to profess a polite interest he did not feel as they -entered the studio and stood before the favorite picture. - -“Where is she--your lovely model? I had forgotten her until this -moment!” cried her mother. - -“I will send for her,” returned Alva, speaking to a maid who was in the -room. - -The girl went out, and then Alva turned to her brother, who was gazing -with startled eyes at the beautiful canvas. - -“That face! that face!” he exclaimed, pointing wildly. - -“I painted it from life,” she replied; adding, proudly: “Can you -imagine anything in life so perfectly beautiful?” - - - - -CHAPTER XL. A STARTLING REVELATION. - - -Alva looked intently at her brother, and she saw that he was struggling -with deep emotion. - -It pleased her to see that her picture could affect him so deeply. - -“Is it not beautiful--the face of Cupid? Can you imagine anything -living so perfectly beautiful?” she repeated. - -Slowly, without taking his eyes from the lovely face, St. George -replied, dreamily: - -“Yes, I can imagine it, for I knew the original in all her living -beauty, the fairest among women. Oh! my sister, how exquisitely you -have reproduced her upon canvas! This picture must be mine, mine -only--all that is left me of poor dead Floy.” - -They drew close to him--father, mother, sister--and Alva caught his -hand. - -“What is that you mean? Have you ever known this girl Floy--my lovely -model?” she exclaimed. - -Half impatiently, as if amazed at her stupidity, he answered: - -“Have I not told you that she was mine--my little sweetheart Floy, that -the angels took away from me?” - -“Floy Fane?” almost shrieked his mother; and he answered, wearily: - -“Yes; did you not know?” - -And so they stood face to face with the truth. - -Bonny little Floy, the lovely Cupid of Alva’s picture, was St. George’s -sweetheart, whom they had hated and reviled--without knowing! - -The shock was so great for a moment that no one could speak, they -simply looked at one another with joy, and wonder in their eyes. - -They loved Floy in their hearts for her beauty and sweetness and pride. -Oh, if they had only known it sooner, how much sorrow had been spared -his suffering heart! Even their pride could not have rebelled against -that lovely bride. - -Mrs. Beresford found voice to exclaim: - -“Why did you not tell me her name? Why did you say that she was dead?” - -Something in her face and voice so startled him that, with his unstrung -nerves, he could not stand upright. Sinking heavily into a chair before -the picture, he looked up at her in wonder, answering bitterly: - -“Why need I have told you her sacred name when I knew that you would -only execrate it because my darling was a poor girl and not in the -‘set’ you adore? Besides, where was the use? She was dead, poor little -Floy!” - -They gazed at one another questioningly, wondering how they could -break to him the truth that Floy was alive and well. In his nervous, -enfeebled condition, how would the shock of joy affect him? - -The father, with the usual masculine dread of scenes, kept himself in -the background, leaving it all to the two women. - -Mrs. Beresford’s heart swelled with joy as she thought that now was the -moment in which to atone for all her cruelty. - -She had been bitterly despondent over her son’s low spirits and failing -health. - -She had fancied sometimes, in her trouble, that the spirit of the -beloved dead girl was drawing him by invisible threads to rejoin her in -the spirit world. - -Against that subtile power of love she had felt herself so impatient -that she could have cried aloud for mercy, in her wild despair. - -Then, what joy, what relief, to know that the girl was alive--a girl, -too, so fair, so young, so innocent that she need not be ashamed to -present her to the world as her son’s wife. - -Her face fairly beamed with joy as she bent over him asking, tenderly: - -“My son, who told you that Floy Fane was dead?” - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. JOY AND SORROW. - - -St. George looked up at his mother, and it angered him to see the look -of joy on her face. - -“She is so glad--so glad of my darling’s death that she has not the -grace to hide it, to feign a sympathy she can not feel,” he thought, -miserably. - -“Answer me, dear,” she persisted, grasping his arm in her excitement. - -He turned his heavy eyes on her face, and said, reproachfully: - -“You need not look so glad that she is dead, mother; my grief is bitter -enough without that. Well, it was Otho Maury, if you wish to know who -wrote me she was dead. He sent me a paragraph from a daily paper. She -died by accident--fell from a fourth-story window. Oh, God!” he ended, -with a groan, putting his hand upon his eyes as if to shut out some -terrible sight. - -Mrs. Beresford drew back at her son’s reproach, and signed to Alva that -she could not go on; it must be her task to break the truth to her -brother. - -She knelt down before him; she put her arm about his shoulders, and -her dark eyes, when she raised them to his face, were streaming with -tears--tears through which the sunshine of joy broke gladly, as she -exclaimed: - -“Dearest, we have news for you--joyful news. Can you bear it?” - -He started, his heavy eyes flashed with sudden hope. - -“Speak!” he cried, hoarsely; and she answered: - -“Florence Fane did indeed fall from the window--the paragraph told the -truth--but Mr. Maury was mistaken about her death. She--she--lives!” - -“Lives?” he cried. - -And they never forgot the joy that transfigured his face. It was like -sunshine suddenly breaking through a dark cloud. - -But in a moment he added, sadly: - -“She lives? How can that be? Perhaps you are going to tell me that -she is a wretched cripple for life?” and the anguish of his voice was -heart-rending. - -She studied his face gravely, then asked: - -“Would that make any change in your love for her, my brother?” - -Trembling with emotion, his brain whirling with the shock of joy, he -answered, fervently: - -“Change? Yes, I should love her all the dearer, my suffering little -love, because to my devotion would be added the divine elements of pity -and sympathy. Where is she, Alva? Take me to my darling at once! Ah, -now I can live again in her life! I will be her strength and shield. I -will watch by her couch of pain, and soothe her in her sufferings!” - -Overcome with emotion, he leaned his face on Alva’s shoulder, and a -stifled sob burst from his lips. - -In that moment they all realized in its greatness the might of his love -for little Floy. - -Alva glanced around to see if Floy were coming in answer to her message. - -What a moment it would be when she should take the fair young girl by -the hand and lead her to St. George in all her enchanting beauty! - -Several moments passed, yet the door did not open. - -Alva guessed now all the cause of Floy’s timidity, but she wondered at -the girl’s delay. - -If she really loved St. George, why did she not hasten to his side? - -Lifting his head from her shoulder, he asked again, eagerly: - -“Where is my darling?” - -“She is here in this house, St. George, alive, uninjured, more -beautiful than ever. I have sent for her. She will be here in a moment.” - -“You have planned all this to surprise me! Oh, what a joyful moment!” -he cried, with his eager eyes on the door. - -“No, it is you who surprised us, dear. We knew her only as my model. -How could we guess she was your little sweetheart whose name you did -not tell? And as for her, she did not breathe her secret.” - -“Because I bid her not,” he explained. - -And while they waited with burning impatience for Floy to appear, they -told him all they knew of the fair girl who had so interested his -mother from the first moment of their meeting. - -St. George listened with breathless interest to every word, his heart -throbbing with joy, his blood bounding through his veins with new life. - -“If you had only written me her name, dear, all this trouble would have -been avoided, for Floy won my heart at our first meeting, and I should -not have been able to steel my heart against the little beauty!” cried -his mother. - -“And you will welcome her as a daughter?” he asked. - -“Proudly,” she answered, smilingly. - -“And you, father?” - -Mr. Beresford laughed, and answered, blandly: - -“My son, I have always been under petticoat government since I married -this proud lady, your mother. Her indorsement of your choice secures my -consent.” - -How bright the future looked at that moment to them all! - -But the next instant Alva’s maid entered the room with so grave a face -that it instantly sobered the happy party. - -“Where is Miss Fane?” cried Alva, impatiently. - -“Oh, Miss Alva, I wish I could answer that question; but--but I’ve been -all over the house--everywhere--and she’s not in it. And then I went -back to her room and searched more closely, and I’m afraid she has gone -away, for--I found this note for you, miss,” answered Honora, in real -distress, as she presented her mistress with a square blue envelope -addressed in Floy’s hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. A YOUNG GIRL’S PRIDE. - - -Alva took the letter from Honora amid cries of dismay from them all. - -She broke the seal, and as she opened the letter, a flashing diamond -ring fell out into her hand from the closely written sheet. - -“It is the ring I gave her when we became engaged,” exclaimed St. -George, taking it and kissing it in memory of that night, his heart -thrilling with the memory of her beauty and sweetness as he kissed her -good-bye beneath the drooping vines. - -Alva read aloud, knowing how impatient they would be to hear the letter: - - “‘DEAR MISS BERESFORD--I have gone away because there is a secret I - can no longer keep from you, and I know that when you learn it you - will be glad I left you. - - “‘I am the poor girl whose engagement to your brother so bitterly - outraged the Beresford pride. - - “‘When I first came to you I was very happy, because I fancied I - might win your love, so that you would welcome St. George’s choice. - - “‘But when you told me his story, although you seemed to take his - part, it seemed to me that you sympathized with your parents and - feared that your brother would be unhappy in the lot he had chosen. - You said he would be so poor he would regret that he had sacrificed - fortune for love’s sake. - - “‘At first I did not believe it; I was resolved to cling to my lover, - and put his constancy to the test. - - “‘When you told me that your brother’s love affair was over, that you - believed that your mother had persuaded him the girl was unworthy, I - fancied you were glad. - - “‘So I knew there was no use staying on for his return. His heart had - turned from me, and he would be sorry to find me here. - - “‘I, too, am proud, though not a Beresford. There may be other pride - than that of wealth and place. - - “‘I, little Floy Fane, the daughter of a most unfortunate race, born - to a heritage of sorrow, poor and alone in life, am yet too proud to - thrust myself upon a family that despises me, yet whose equal I feel - myself to be in all but money--that mere dross to a truly noble heart. - - “‘So I have left you forever. I am glad that I have been of some use - to you. I pity you and love you, for it seems to me that pride has - made shipwreck of your own life. Love has no part in it, and you are - not happy. - - “‘Do not feel troubled over my fate. Thanks to your generosity, I - have money enough to support me till I find work again. - - “‘This ring--your brother’s gift to me in the hour when I promised - to be his wife, not knowing his family’s pride and his own fickle - heart--please return to him with a last farewell from - - “‘FLOY.’” - -The letter bore date of the evening before. She had waited--poor little -loving heart--for one sight of him, her fickle, lost love; then she had -stolen away, alone and lonely, to begin her battle with the world again. - -It was a cruel disappointment to them all, but they bore it bravely, -because it did not seem possible that Floy could hide herself from them -long. - -Indeed, she had not even threatened to hide herself, for how could she -suppose they would search for her in her exile? - -She had told herself most bitterly that they would rejoice at her -flight. - -“Oh, the proud little darling, how cruelly she misunderstood me!” cried -Alva, tenderly. “But we will send for Floyd Landon. He will find her -for us as he did before.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. MAYBELLE WRITES A LETTER. - - -They sent for the detective and confided the whole story to him, -knowing that he was both clever and trustworthy. - -Mr. Landon was pleased when he heard that beautiful Floy was St. -George’s chosen bride, and he was confident that he could find her -again. - -But he did not judge it expedient to keep his promise to Floy any -longer--the promise to shield Otho Maury. - -So he said to the anxious lover: - -“You have a dangerous rival.” - -“You mean Otho Maury?” - -“Yes.” - -“Floy hates the villain.” - -“Yes, and he knows it. That makes him all the more dangerous, because -he is determined on revenge for her scorn;” and the detective related -the story of that night when he found Floy at Suicide Place. - -“That man will bear watching,” he said. - -“Then watch him for me, and if he harms one hair of my darling’s head, -his life shall pay the forfeit!” cried the angry lover. - -It hurt him bitterly that he was not strong enough yet to join Landon -in the search for his darling; but still, he had every confidence in -the detective’s ability, so he prepared to wait with what patience he -could for tidings. - -Meanwhile, his heart was filled with a great, glad joy at the news that -she was living. - -She was living, his beautiful darling, and she loved him still! He knew -it in his heart that she loved him still. Such love as theirs could not -change or falter from its allegiance. - -Their hearts had met in a love that could not change or die. - -It was only a little misunderstanding that had come between them--a -little misunderstanding brought about by pride--that could easily be -explained away once they met again. - -“And I shall scold her just a little for doubting my faith,” he -resolved, thinking that Floy’s belief in him should have been absolute -even through absence and estrangement. - - “And yet I know, past all doubting, truly-- - A knowledge greater than grief can dim-- - I know as he loved, he will love me duly; - Yea, better--e’en better than I love him. - - “And as I walk by the vast calm river, - The awful river so dread to see, - I say, ‘Thy breath and thy depth forever - Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.’” - -Meanwhile, the very thought that Floy was alive was like the very -elixir of life to him. - -It did him more good than all the doctors in the world, with their -pills and potions, could have accomplished. - -“I shall get well now; I feel stronger already!” he exclaimed, gladly. - -Several days passed without news from the detective, but he would not -permit himself to be cast down. - -“She will soon be found, my little love, my blue-eyed darling! I will -be patient; I will wait; for when I find her again, we shall be parted -no more, save by death itself!” he exclaimed. - -They had talked it all over, and agreed that when Floy was found, St. -George should persuade her to marry him at once. - -She was friendless, homeless, and the sooner she became one of the -family, the better. - -There would be a nine-days’ wonder over the marriage, of course. But no -matter; they were prepared to risk it, in their eagerness to make up to -the young lover for all the pangs he had suffered. - -Alva made him welcome in the studio, where he spent more than half his -time. - -The picture of Cupid, and the half-finished one of Maidenhood charmed -him, and beguiled the long hours of waiting for Floy to be found. - -He was surprised one day to receive a letter from Maybelle Maury. - -She knew that he had come home at last, but she did not know that Floy -had been hidden in his home all those weeks, so she hoped that the -hapless girl had dropped out of all their lives forever. Perhaps she -had committed suicide, after all? - -The very madness of love and longing drove Maybelle into a most -unwomanly act. - -She fancied that by thrusting herself upon the young man’s notice she -might reawaken in his heart the tenderness she had fancied was dawning -there just before his meeting with Floy. - -She wrote a tender and pathetic letter, in which all her heart was -revealed. - - “You are home at last,” she wrote. “Oh, how glad I am to know it! - Need I tell you how cruelly I suffered when I heard that you were - ill far, far across the sea? I longed for the wings of a bird to fly - to you, and hover near you all unknown. Would I have been welcome if - you had guessed I was there? Ah, St. George, once I believed I might - be all in all to you, but a cloud came between us. It was the last - day of the picnic, and I have never understood why you left us so - strangely that night, with only a note of farewell. Why was it? Will - you not explain now? Was it my fault? Did I offend you in any way? If - I did, surely I have a right to ask in what way? For surely you knew - how kindly I felt toward you. But I must not say too much. Surely - you understand the feelings you awakened in my heart. Forgive me for - writing, but I am so wretched! Otho says you were only flirting with - me, but I can not believe it. Your dark eyes looked too earnest. But - I implore you to write. Let me know the cruel truth if you really - meant nothing by your words and looks. The certainty of despair is - better than the cruelty of suspense. - - “MAYBELLE.” - -She thought she had written a very crafty letter, and that he could not -have the hardihood to doom her to despair. He would believe that Floy -was lost to him forever, and be willing to go back to the old fancy. - -At any rate, she knew that St. George was too honorable to betray her -secret to the world. Whether he accepted her love or not, he would -never reveal to any one that she had proffered it to him unsought. - -He did not belong to the low type of manhood that goes about with -coat-pockets bulging with silly love letters from silly women, reading -them aloud to whoever will listen, and boasting of his conquests among -the fair sex. - -Such a contemptible poltroon makes a high-minded person exclaim with -Shakespeare: - - “Oh, for a whip, - To lash the rascal naked through the world!” - -St George was the soul of white-handed honor. He burned Maybelle’s -letter to ashes, and no soul ever heard from him that she had stooped -from her pedestal of womanly reticence to write such words. - -And he wrote back, courteously: - - “I am sorry that you have misunderstood me, but your brother was - right. I never had any serious intentions toward you, and thought - it understood on both sides that we were engaged in a very harmless - flirtation. Need I remind you that I never sought you, and that my - brief visit at your home was as your brother’s friend, and at his - repeated solicitation? - - “I thank you for the regard you have expressed for me, but I hope you - will withdraw it and bestow the treasure of your love on one more - able to reciprocate the gift. It may be best for me to own that my - heart is irrevocably given elsewhere, and that I shall soon lead a - bride to the altar.” - -And so with cruel kindness St. George strove to pluck the thorn of love -from Maybelle’s heart. - - “For love is often a thorny flower, - It breaks, and we bleed and smart; - The blossom falls at the fairest, - And the thorn runs into the heart.” - -The thorn had pierced deep in Maybelle’s heart, and it almost drove her -mad, that letter. - -She sought Otho with it, and confessed the failure of her scheme. - -“He despises me. I can never--never win him. And I think I hate him -now. I would like to wound his heart as he has wounded mine!” she -groaned, in her misery. - -“Let him go. There are others as well worth winning,” he said, angrily. - -“But how am I to win them?” she cried, bitterly. “Listen, Otho: do you -know that papa will surely fail next week? The panic has ruined him, -and we shall be beggars. Mamma told me all to-day, and she said she had -hoped I would have caught a rich husband before now. I could not tell -her how hard I have tried and failed. And how cruel it will be to be -poor! I would rather die!” - -Otho looked at her closely. He had a pale, nervous look, and his eyes -gleamed with a sullen fire. - -Leaning close to her, he whispered: - -“I have a plan to get money, Maybelle. Would you be willing to help me?” - -“What could I do?” - -“You would have to run a terrible risk, be sure of that. But my nerves -are strong as steel, and yours, too, are they not?” - -“Yes--yes; I am no baby. Tell me your plan, Otho. - -“There is no danger for us, I am sure,” he repeated reassuringly to -himself; then in low, whispered words he told her his story. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. BUT ONE CHANCE IN A HUNDRED. - - -But we must turn our attention from other interests for awhile to -follow the fortunes of our unhappy heroine, lovely Floy. - -How sadly her fortunes had altered since we first saw her flashing -through the streets of Mount Vernon on her bicycle, a vision of beauty, -light of heart, and careless as a joyous little humming-bird! - -Love and sorrow had come to her as it comes to many, hand in hand, -saddening her heart and changing her life. - -Her life in those weeks with Alva had been widened in its scope. The -clever and intelligent Alva had taught her many things. - -Bitterest of all, she had learned how wide was the gulf of pride that -yawned between her, a simple poor girl, and the heir of the Beresfords. - -Self-exiled in her pride and poverty, she stole away from her luxuriant -home that summer night, her blue eyes blinded by heavy tears, her heart -aching in its desolation, yet with no thought of turning back from the -conflict that lay before her in the struggle for existence. - -In that slender, lovely form was embodied indomitable pride and strong -self-will. - -Her heart swelled with bitterness against St. George Beresford, who, -after pretending to love her with such entire devotion, could be so -easily swayed from his allegiance by another’s will. - -“He was not worthy my love!” she cried bitterly to her heart, as she -flitted along Fifth Avenue in the glare of the lights, but so plainly -dressed and heavily veiled that none could notice the wonderful beauty -that might have attracted unwelcome admiration. - -As her flight from Alva’s protection had been carefully planned ever -since she had heard of St. George’s projected return, Floy had made -sure of a refuge that, though lowly, would be safe and secure. - -In an humble quarter of the city, not very far away from the Beresford -mansion, lived a poor woman who made her living by lace-mending and -embroidery. The Beresford ladies frequently employed her, and Floy had -seen her a number of times during her stay with Alva. She knew that the -woman lived alone very quietly with an aged, bed-ridden mother, and she -had made private arrangements to go and board with this humble soul for -a week until she could make arrangements for her future. - -To this humble home Floy made her way without accident of any kind, and -was welcomed by Ruth Bascom, the spinster lace-mender. That night the -restless little golden head was pillowed on straw instead of down, the -luxury of yesterday exchanged for the poverty of to-day. - -She sat upon the side of the hard cot looking about her with a bitter -smile, wondering why fortune was so unequally divided in this world, -and if the Beresfords deserved wealth and happiness any more than she -and the Bascoms did poverty and pain. - -A passionate wish came to her to meet the Beresfords on equal -grounds--to be rich and grand, to wear jewels and laces, and dance at -their grand balls. - -“They would not pity and scorn me then--they would be glad for their -son to marry me,” she thought. - -The wish grew into a longing as the sleepless hours wore on. - -Visions came to her in the long, sultry night--so close and hot in the -stifling little chamber that she could not rest--of how different life -might have been if only the wealth that had become only a tradition in -the family now had not been so strangely lost. - -“I should be his equal now. No one would try to part us, and--we should -be so happy!” she sobbed; and the bitter, bitter tears came in a -burning shower. - -She buried her hot face in the pillow, shuddering, for a wild -temptation had come to her--one from which she shrunk in terror. - -She murmured, faintly: - -“It is a terrible risk; but what matter? Life is not so sweet that one -should greatly prize it, even if goaded to throw it away!” - -But she hid her face in her hands, and her slight frame shook as with a -mortal chill. - -A vision had swept over her of the day when she had found her -beautiful mother cold and dead--dead by her own hand--and how she, -a weeping child, had been taken to the hearts of the good, kind old -couple who had loved her so dearly. - -“If I died, there would be none to weep for me--none but dear Mrs. -Banks,” she thought, piteously; and the terrible temptation to risk -life for the sake of sordid gold overpowered the poor girl who had -never realized till now the worldly value of the hard, yellow, shining -metal. - -A yearning to be rich and grand like the Beresfords, to meet them on -equal grounds, to give them scorn for scorn, to flaunt before their -eyes the devotion of other lovers, overpowered the unhappy girl, who -knew that there was one chance in a hundred of realizing these radiant -dreams--one chance which she vowed to strive for despite the grim -records of sixty years of her ill-fated race. - -It was August now, and ten years had passed since a victim had been -immolated on the grim altar of the Moloch of Suicide Place. Would it -claim another sacrifice, this insatiable monster? But a few months of -the fatal year remained. - -“Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. “HOPE DEFERRED MAKETH THE HEART SICK.” - - -Ah, how slowly pass the days and weeks when parted from one we love! - - “Oh, absence is the night of love, - Lovers are very children then, - Fancy ten thousand feverish ills - Till their loved one returns again!” - -Beresford knew all the meaning of the poet’s plaint as the slow days -and nights dragged their weary lengths along without tidings of Floy. - -For, though a week had passed away, Landon had no encouraging news to -give. - -The suspense began to tell on the weakened nerves of the impatient -lover, and his improvement became less marked as hope and expectation -became dulled in his heart. - -But in vain they urged him to desert the hot city for the cool breezes -of Newport. - -“It would seem like deserting my darling. I can not go until I find -her,” he answered, resolutely; and so the burning August days found -them lingering still in the city, though the aristocratic avenue was -deserted save for them. They would not leave him there to fret and -grieve alone over his trouble. - -He was bitterly impatient over his lingering weakness that prevented -him from taking an active part in the search for Floy. - -“Be patient, dear; Mr. Landon will surely find her soon!” Alva would -exclaim each day, her own heart aching in sympathy with his pain. - -She brought from Floy’s room, for his eyes to feast on, the books the -young girl had read and marked, and it was a melancholy joy to him to -read every line her dear eyes had rested on or her pencil marked. It -seemed to bring their sundered hearts closer together. - -One day she chanced on a little blank-book in which Floy had been wont -to scribble her girlish fancies when alone, and she found that many of -her sweet thoughts had been clothed in poetic diction. - -Poetry is the natural language of love, and Floy, in her sorrow, had -fallen so often into this tender speech, that Alva’s tears fell like -rain as she read the simple lines. - -There was one little poem that bore date the very day of St. George’s -home-coming, so she could not doubt that it was written for her brother. - -“Who would have dreamed that bright, arch little Floy had such depths -of womanly tenderness in her nature?” she exclaimed, when telling St. -George about the sweet little verses. - -“You will let me see them!” he cried, eagerly; and Alva assented, -saying: - -“Yes, for I am sure they were composed by Floy herself, and intended -for you, my dear. They are very simple and sad, and perhaps have but -little literary merit, yet they breathe the love and constancy of a -noble heart.” - -She gave him the little book to read, and he turned the pages as though -they were something sacred, for here and there they were blistered with -Floy’s sad tears. - -The letter that Floy had left for Alva had told but little of her love, -and breathed only her indomitable pride. How different was the little -book that in her hurry she had forgotten to take away! - -Every tender word found an echo in St. George’s devoted heart, and -when he came to the page that bore date of his home-coming, he was not -ashamed of the tears that rose when he read the sad and tender lines so -full of her love and sorrow and tenderness. - -“YOU WILL KNOW. - - “When lighter loves shall fail you in your need, - When the prop you lean on proves a broken reed, - When wrong and falsehood cause your heart to bleed; - - “When all the world seems hollow, cold, and dark, - When for one tender voice you vainly hark, - When quenched in night seems Love’s ethereal spark; - - “And when, heart-broken, you remember me, - The love forsaken in youth’s wanton glee, - To roam the wide world fickle, fancy free; - - “And you return repentant and forlorn, - Shamed in your soul that ever you were born, - Scarred with the lash of heartless worldings’ scorn; - - “And when you find, despite the cruel past, - The patient heart that held your image fast, - Forgiving all, then you will know at last; - - “How I have loved you, how my heart has kept - Its faith through unfaith, though of joy bereft - When naught but hope and memory were left; - - “How I have loved you when I dry your tears, - And calm your wild remorse and anxious fears, - And point your hopes to brighter future years.” - -St. George read the sad words over and over till they were imprinted on -his memory. They had the greatest fascination for him in their hopeless -love and sorrow. - -He tried to write some verses in reply to them, but after many efforts -he was chagrined to find that he did not possess the least poetic -faculty. He could rhyme “love” with “dove” to be sure, but the lines -were not even. - -He threw aside the pencil, crying, tenderly: - -“Oh, my little love, how cruelly you have misunderstood me! But only -let me find you again, bonnie Floy, and I will show you that I, too, -can love with changeless constancy.” - -But oh, how far away that blessed time seemed; for Floyd Landon failed -to find any clew to the beautiful runaway, and at last he appeared at -the house saying rather abruptly that he wished to give up the case. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. “THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED.” - - -Beresford could find no words in which to express his surprise and -chagrin. - -He could only stare, speechlessly, at the detective waiting for an -explanation. - -He saw that Landon looked pale and nervous. - -“You are ill!” he exclaimed, at last, as if that explained all. - -“No, I am not ill, but--I--have had--a great shock--so that I can not -bring myself to go on with the search for Miss Fane. You must employ -some one else.” - -“But who can succeed where you have failed, Landon? You, the bravest, -cleverest detective in New York!” - -The detective smiled, as if gratified at this praise, then sighed: - -“You would not call me brave if you knew all. You could hardly credit -it, that a New York detective, in this prosaic nineteenth century, -could feel a fear of--the supernatural!” - -He paled and shuddered as at some ghastly recollection, then continued: - -“I am coward, I confess it, Mr. Beresford. I that never flinched at -the sight of danger in mortal shape, have struck my colors and fled -from--ghosts!” - -“Explain!” cried the young man, anxiously; then seeing the extreme -pallor of his visitor, hastily rang for wine. “Drink; you will feel -better,” he said. - -Landon gulped down half a glass, and the color returned to his pallid -face, as he said: - -“I have been searching Suicide Place again for Miss Fane.” - -“Yes?” eagerly. - -“I have not found the missing girl, Mr. Beresford, but I have learned -that the gossips of Mount Vernon told the truth when they declared that -Suicide Place is haunted by evil spirits!” - -Every word dropped separately with awful emphasis, and Landon’s face, -white and solemn, with deep, troubled eyes, attested his implicit faith -in his own declaration. - -Beresford was too shocked to reply. He waited mutely for more. - -Landon drained his glass, and continued: - -“When I had searched New York vainly for a week, I concluded that Miss -Fane had perhaps ventured back to Suicide Place. I went down there -three days ago. The very first night I made a startling discovery.” - -“What?” - -“I found that Otho Maury and his eldest sister, the beautiful Maybelle, -were in the habit of spending the wee small hours of each night -secretly within the portals of Suicide Place.” - -“Great heavens! for what sinister purpose, Landon?” - -“It occurred to me that they had somehow imprisoned Miss Fane in the -house, and were keeping her there to force her consent to a marriage -with Otho, who is madly in love with the little beauty.” - -“It is very probable. But you--you found out----” - -“No.” - -As that strange word dropped from the detective’s lips, Beresford -glared at him as if he would spring at his throat. - -“You--you dared to come away and leave her to their mercy, you coward!” -he groaned. - -Landon paled and shuddered, but he fronted the other’s wrath -fearlessly, answering quietly: - -“I am not angry at your harsh epithets, for--my God! how can you -understand?” - -“Explain then before I leave this house to go to her assistance!” -thundered Beresford, in deadly anger, overcome by the thought of Floy -in the power of her relentless enemies. - -What would they do to her, his hapless darling? Would they kill her, -or, perhaps, more terrible still, force her into an abhorred marriage -with Otho Maury? - -His senses whirled with his misery, and he was on the verge of falling, -when Landon caught him, pushing him back into his seat. - -“Listen to me one moment,” he cried, and continued: “I have done that -any man could do, but I have failed to follow the wretches to their -lair. In that grim old house there is some malign influence that drives -the bravest man back to the threshold half mad with horror. What is -it? It is haunted; that is why! No, I have seen nothing, but--the -spirits of the damned haunt that house as surely as we two live and -breathe. If you could hear them, Mr. Beresford, those sounds of woe -that echo through the long corridors and empty rooms, that fiend’s -laugh that chills your blood like ice, and drives you back, shuddering -from the threshold, out into the cool darkness of the summer night so -sweet and peaceful, you would no longer cry out coward; you, too, would -turn and fly.” - -“Not I, Landon; not I. All the hordes of hell assembled could not -frighten me back from my darling in peril!” - -“You think so. Let me tell you what I have seen. I have watched them -go in before me, Otho and his sister, and as I retreated they would -rush past me in terror great as mine. I have seen her three nights fall -swooning on the wet grass. He would revive her, coax her, and hand in -hand, encouraging each other, they would re-enter, perhaps overcoming -their fears, and remain for hours, always leaving before daylight and -skulking home unseen. Braver than I, you say? Yes, but they were two, I -was only one. At last I could bear it no longer; I came away. I ask no -recompense; I resign the terrible quest.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. “LIFE IS SO SAD!” CRIED FLOY. - - -Floyd Landon’s nerves were so shaken by his experiences at Suicide -Place, that no entreaties could induce him to go on with the search for -Floy. - -His usual clear head and steady nerves had apparently deserted him. The -truth was, that he was on the verge of a severe illness that seized on -him that night and prostrated him for several weeks. - -When he was gone, the impatient lover confided all to his family, and -announced his immediate departure for Mount Vernon. - -“I shall take a posse of men and explore the old house by daylight. Not -a nook or cranny shall escape me, and if my darling is hidden there, -she will be found. Indeed, I can not understand why Mr. Landon did not -do this,” he concluded, with feverish impatience. - -“I can not let you go alone. I will accompany you!” exclaimed Alva, -eagerly; and the offer was eagerly accepted. - -They started for Mount Vernon within the hour, and on arriving went at -once to a hotel. - -What was Beresford’s astonishment to meet there a person whom, in the -agitation of his troubles, he had almost forgotten--his interesting -_compagnon du voyage_--Lord Alexander Miller! - -The nobleman’s fair, handsome face had acquired a deeper cast of -pensiveness than before. His splendid blue eyes were grave and sad, but -they kindled with admiration when they rested on the brilliant beauty -of Alva as St. George presented him to his sister. - -When he saw St. George’s start of surprise, he smiled and said: - -“I see you had almost forgotten me, Mr. Beresford.” - -“Not so; but I was not expecting to meet you here--although I remember -now you told me when we parted that you were coming to Mount Vernon.” - -“Yes; I have been here ever since, and am just now leaving. In fact, my -cab is waiting for me at the door.” - -“Shall we not meet you in New York on our return?” - -“Perhaps so. I have not forgotten your invitation, but I have felt too -depressed to leave here before. The truth is, I came here expecting -to see some dear--friends. But I have had a great shock. I found them -dead.” - -There was a note of pain in his voice, and Alva’s heart throbbed with a -strange sympathy, he seemed so grave, so sad. - -He resumed, after a moment, wearily: - -“I feel so unsettled, I scarcely know what to do. My first impulse was -to return to England, but I have been lingering on here till now, so -I suppose I shall do America before I go home. My present plan is to -go to Newport at the pressing invitation of some Americans I met last -spring in London.” - -“We, too, go to Newport as soon as my business here is concluded; so we -may meet again soon,” exclaimed St. George, with real pleasure. - -“I am glad of that--so it is _au revoir_, and not good-bye,” smiled the -Englishman, lifting his hat in farewell ere he turned and descended the -steps to the waiting carriage. - -Alva’s eyes followed him with frank pleasure--not only that he was -the handsomest man she had ever seen, but because something about him -recalled to her the loved and lost one of her girlhood’s dreams. - -“How like, how strangely like!” she thought, with silent pain. - -And somehow her thoughts followed him on his way with a kindly interest -just for the sake of the frank blue eyes that had looked at her gently -like the eyes of her dead lover--dead, but not forgotten. - -And as Alva’s thoughts followed him with a strange interest, so did the -handsome Englishman’s fancy return to her during his brief journey to -New York, dwelling with pleasure on her beauty. - -“What a magnificent creature! The most beautiful American I ever saw! -There was soul in those large dark eyes--soul and feeling as of one who -has suffered! But what sorrow could come to the beautiful heiress, Miss -Beresford?” he wondered, with deep sympathy, resolving that he would be -very certain to accept her brother’s invitation, for the sake of seeing -her again. - -She was still in his thoughts, and his blue eyes had a dreamy look as -he left the train and sought a carriage to convey him to a hotel. - -It was late afternoon, and the great city was a Babel of noise and -confusion. - -Shaking off the spell thrown over him by Alva’s charms, he leaned from -the window of the carriage, watching the unfamiliar scene with curious -eyes. - -The next moment he became the witness of an accident that thrilled him -with alarm. - -A beautiful young girl, who had attempted to cross the street, had been -knocked down by a reckless bicyclist, who, with shameless indifference -to what he had done, hurried on his way ere he could be arrested. - -The girl, who was carrying a small traveling-bag, as though on her way -to the station, lay helpless where she had fallen, the blood trickling -down her face from a cut on her white temple. - -In a moment the Englishman had stopped the carriage. He sprung out and -caught up the unconscious girl from her perilous position in the middle -of the street in the surge of hurrying vehicles, and carried her to the -sidewalk. - -A knot of people gathered around, gazing in pity and admiration at the -lovely face in its frame of rippling golden hair. - -A compassionate woman took some water and bathed the blood from the -wounded temple, exclaiming, angrily: - -“It is a shame that that rude fellow was not arrested for running down -this sweet girl! She might have been killed!” - -She bound a soft white handkerchief about the wound, and continued: - -“Does anybody know her? She ought to be taken home or to the hospital. -Oh! so you are coming to, miss?” - -The girl had indeed opened two large blue, wondering eyes upon the -anxious group that surrounded her. - -“Are you hurt much?” inquired the kind though loquacious woman, helping -Floy--for it was our little heroine--in her efforts to rise. - -Floy was now on her feet, but ghastly pale and trembling. - -She answered, faintly: - -“No, no; only my head. But I feel very weak. I--I must sit down a -minute.” - -“Drink this,” said some one, proffering a glass of water. - -She looked up into the face of a fair, handsome man, and felt a thrill -of subtle pleasure at his gaze. - -When she had drained the glass, he added, kindly: - -“My carriage is here; permit me to take you to your destination.” - -Floy knew that it was not safe to trust strangers usually; but the -voice and face of this one were so noble they inspired instant -confidence, so she answered, gratefully: - -“I will thank you very much,” and, with a grateful smile at the woman, -she followed him to the carriage, saying: “I was on my way to the -station, to go away; but I feel so shaken that I had better postpone my -trip till to-morrow;” and she named the address of Ruth Bascom, with -whom she had been staying while she rallied her courage to return to -Mount Vernon. - -It was a long distance, and a sudden mutual attraction between them -made the pair very confidential. - -“I am so thankful your injuries are so slight. You might have been -killed,” he began; and the girl answered, sadly enough: - -“It would not have mattered much; life is so sad.” - -“Sad? For one so young, and--pardon me--so lovely?” exclaimed her new -friend, in surprise. - -Floy answered, out of the bitterness of her sad heart: - -“I am only a poor orphan, sir, with no relatives and but few friends. -To such a one life offers little happiness.” - -“That is true,” assented the nobleman, with keen sympathy; and a great -wave of tenderness swept over him for the lovely, hapless child of -misfortune. - -He looked at her simple dress, and guessed that she was poor as well as -orphaned. - -He, too, was almost alone in life; but he was rich, so he had many -friends. We can always count our friends when we are rich. - -She seemed little more than a child to this man of forty years, and he -felt as if he would like to draw the golden head against his shoulder -and tell her she should be his child, his dear adopted little daughter, -if she would, and that poverty and sorrow, those grim twins, should -never come near her any more. - -But he feared to startle her by an abrupt avowal of his benevolent -desire, lest he should arouse distrust in her girlish mind, she looked -so timid and innocent as she sat there by his side, so he decided not -to speak to her abruptly of his wish. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. A STRANGE ROMANCE. - - -He said, with a long-drawn sigh: - -“Life is sad to many, my dear little girl, and perhaps I have had as -sad an experience as any.” - -She looked at him with questioning eyes, and, although he was usually -very quiet and reserved, after the English nature, the lovely face drew -him so strangely to her that he continued: - -“Suppose we compare notes. I will tell you what a great sorrow I have -had in my life, and then you may tell me your story.” - -Floy did not reply, and he saw her rosy under lip quiver as if she -repressed a sob with difficulty. - -She was thinking with pride and pain: - -“I can never tell this kind and noble gentleman the story of my -blighted love-dream. I do not believe that he could understand a nature -so ignoble, so fickle as that of the handsome lover I trusted so -fondly, and who failed me so cruelly in the end. His name shall never -pass my lips either in praise or blame, although I never can forget -him.” - -Her new friend continued in a clear, low voice, just audible above the -rumble of their carriage-wheels on the stony street: - -“But I have not told you who I am yet, so perhaps I had better -introduce myself. My name is Miller. I am an Englishman, and but a few -months ago inherited a title and large estate from my father, who was a -peer of the realm.” - -“You are great and rich!” exclaimed Floy; and he caught a note of -disappointment in her voice, and wondered at it. - -He continued his story by saying: - -“Wealth and position do not always bring happiness. They stood in the -way of mine.” - -“And of mine,” thought Floy, in silent sympathy, while he went on: - -“Eighteen years ago--ah, me! how long it seems!--I was the heir -apparent to my father, a powerful noble, and a member of parliament. I -was his only son, and all his hopes centered in me. My mother was dead, -and I used to spend much of my time with a favorite aunt in London, -who had two charming children. I met there a beautiful American girl -recently orphaned, who was employed as a governess. We loved at first -sight.” - -“It is a great pity for the rich and poor to fall in love with each -other. It can not end happy!” cried Floy, out of the bitterness of her -own experience. - -“How cynically you speak! Has the world already made you so wise?” -exclaimed Lord Miller, in surprise; but Floy blushed without replying, -unwilling to betray herself further. - -And again he took up the thread of his story: - -“I see that you understand what a _mésalliance_ it would be considered -for the heir to a title to marry a poor governess, though she was pure -as an angel and beautiful as a princess. I knew it all too well, but -love would not listen to reason. I won her promise to be mine, and -then, hopeless of gaining my father’s consent to be married, persuaded -my darling to elope with me. Her consent was hardly won, but she became -my bride at a little English church, and we went to live in a pretty -cottage home pending my forgiveness by my father. Alas! it was never to -be won. My father cursed me, and drove me from his presence, swearing -that I should never have a penny from him, and that I should live on -the beggarly two hundred a year that I inherited as a legacy from my -mother. My aunt was also obdurate, and would have nothing to do with -us. In fact, we got the cold shoulder from all our former friends.” - -“The rich are as cruel as death!” murmured Floy. - -“Not all of them, dear child, as I shall convince you by and by,” -returned Lord Miller, wondering what cruel experience had made her so -harsh and bitter, and resolving that she should be his adopted child if -she would consent. - -She looked up at him with admiring blue eyes, and added: - -“I am glad that you were brave enough to marry your love, in spite of -the opposition of your rich relations. Not many a young man would be so -brave and true.” - -He said to himself, shrewdly: - -“This lovely child has had a romance in her life already. The pain of -an aching heart throbs through her bitter little speeches. Her pride -has been wounded by some vulgar rich person, no doubt.” - -And he looked tenderly at the little beauty, while he said: - -“There are plenty of young men who would marry the girl they love in -spite of the whole world. I am glad I was one of them, and I had two -years of almost perfect happiness with my darling--two years in which a -lovely little daughter came to us--a girl who would be about as old as -you, my child, if she had lived. Alas! she is dead--she and her mother!” - -His voice trembled, his face grew pale, she read keen despair in his -dark-blue eyes. - -“I must hasten with my story,” he cried, mournfully. “I have told you -I was happy with her only two years. Well, at the end of that time my -father sent for me to come down to one of his estates in the country--a -dreary place in Cornwall that we seldom visited, and that was half a -ruin. We thought--my wife and I--that he meant to forgive us at last, -and I went joyfully, for I did not know he had a heart of stone. - -“I met him at that grim old pile of ruins, and he tried to bribe -me to divorce my darling wife and desert my child. When I refused -indignantly, he--can you imagine anything so horrible?--made his -minions thrust me into a dungeon of the old castle, and swore to me I -should die there unless I consented to his plan. - -“I steadily refused, and I remained his prisoner almost fifteen years, -while he gave it out to the world that I had wearied of my American -wife and gone to travel in far countries. - -“Is it not a wonder that my heart did not break in those cruel years? -At last Heaven took pity on my tears and prayers, and stretched my -inhuman parent on a bed of death. Then he had me brought to his -bedside, and implored my pardon for what he had done, after confessing -that my poor wife, believing his diabolical tale that I had deserted -her, had eked out a toilsome existence for herself and babe in London -for a few years, then returned to her native land, and he knew not what -had been her fate thereafter. - -“How could I forgive him his cruel work? I fell in a swoon by his -bedside, and before I revived he died, and went to meet the judgment -of the wicked. Then I set about finding my darlings. I wrote to her -old home in Mount Vernon, New York, and received no reply. I searched -London over for months, and with no success, so I determined to come to -America. I went to my wife’s ancestral home, Nellest Farm, and found it -was deserted. I made inquiries, and learned that my wife, Mrs. Fane, -as she called herself, had died the terrible death of the suicide ten -years before--that my daughter Florence was taken care of by some -kindly neighbor who only lately met death by a terrible accident!” - -“No--no; I am your daughter Florence, dearest father!” cried Floy, in -joyous excitement. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. “SOMETHING TERRIBLE!” - - -Leaving Floy to explain matters to her new-found father, we must return -to Mount Vernon and follow our hero in his search for his missing love. - -At his hotel, which was located within a square of the Maury mansion, -he found that the all-absorbing subject of conversation was of -the disasters that had befallen the Maury family within the last -twenty-four hours. - -The great importing house of Maury & Co. had failed yesterday, and the -head of the house had fallen dead of a stroke of apoplexy. - -And following on this calamity to the devoted wife and family was the -mysterious disappearance of Otho and Maybelle. - -Last evening they had retired early to their rooms, seemingly -prostrated with grief over the death of their kind, indulgent parent. - -This morning they were missing, and no clew to them could be found. - -When St. George Beresford heard this news his heart sunk within him in -prophetic dread. - -Knowing what he did of Otho and Maybelle’s nocturnal wanderings at -Suicide Place, he could come to but one conclusion. - -Floy was their prisoner, as Landon had suspected, and fearing -detection, they had spirited her away to another place. - -“We have come too late!” he cried, bursting into Alva’s presence in a -quiver of emotion, and falling wearily into a chair. - -“No--no; you must not tell me so,” she exclaimed, with keen regret; -and then he poured out the whole story. - -Alva saw the situation in all its terror. She did not know what to say -to her brother, but she saw that she must offer him some comfort to -save him from utter despair. - -He had grown frightfully pale, and the despair in his beautiful eyes -made her heart ache. - -It seemed to her as if his very life was bound up in his sweetheart -Floy--as if the failure to find her would surely break his heart. - -She could not permit him to give up hope, although she herself had -almost lost heart. - -“You must not lose heart like this. That old house must be searched!” -she cried, with such cheerful eagerness that he was inspired with fresh -courage. - -“Then I will go at once!” he cried, starting up. - -“The sooner the better,” agreed Alva; and within an hour they were on -their way, Alva choosing to accompany him, because she wished to be on -the spot to solace his sorrow if he failed to find Floy. - -She was determined to do all she could for him, openly blaming herself -for the flight of the girl. - -“It was my idle chatter to her that made her lose faith in him and run -away, so I must do what I can to atone,” she said. - -At the very last they decided to go alone. - -St. George remembered the gruesome character of Suicide Place, and how -he had heard that no one could be persuaded to go there for love or -money. - -Besides, he shrunk from creating a useless sensation, for he had little -hope now of finding his darling there. - -“You know all the terrible things that Landon told me. Are you willing -to risk the horrors of the place?” he asked Alva, anxiously. - -Alva was a magnificent woman, in high health and with strong nerves. -She laughed at her brother’s question. - -“I am not at all afraid that the ghosts will rout _me_!” she replied, -gayly. - -So they ordered a carriage to take them out, and the driver was almost -petrified with astonishment when they told him to drive past Suicide -Place. - -It was nearing sunset when they reached the grim old building in its -splendid grove of trees, and again the driver gasped with amazement -when told to stop there. - -“We are going to walk through that splendid grove,” explained Alva, -carelessly. - -“But, begging your pardon, miss, surely you don’t know what an awful -name the place bears. I wouldn’t set foot inside that gate for a -thousand dollars, poor as I am!” cried the man, in consternation. - -“Oh, yes, I _do_ know all about the place, but I don’t believe those -spook tales, and my brother and I are determined to explore those -grounds so that we can boast of our bravery hereafter. So you may wait -for us here,” laughed Alva; and she was vastly amused when she saw the -disgusted man drive off to the opposite side of the road so as to be as -far as possible from the place. - -But as she went in through the gates, out of the glory of the August -sunlight that flooded the west, into the heavy shallows of the dark -grove, the smile faded from Alva’s ruby lips, and a subtle premonition -of evil began to weigh on her spirits. - -As for St. George, he was remembering the first time he came here--that -May night that seemed so long ago now, when he had followed Floy, -warned of her peril by that strange dream, and saved her from the -insults of Otho Maury. - -How freshly it all came back--the sweet May night cool with soft spring -rain, the breeze laden with odors of wet lilacs tossing their purple -plumes against the windows. - -How sweet she had been! how grateful, bonnie little Floy! He -remembered, as if it were last night, their ride home, and how they had -parted at the door betrothed lovers! He could still feel that sweet, -dewy kiss on his lips in all its divine bliss, and he stifled a bitter -groan as he remembered all that had come and gone since then, parting -them so cruelly from each other. - -He felt Alva shudder as she clung to his arm, and looking down at her -face, saw that it was pale and grave, with somber eyes. - -“Alva, you are ill, or frightened!” he cried, anxiously. - -“No, no; go on!” she answered, urging him on, and trying to shake off -her strange depression. - -The spell fell over St. George, too, and icy fingers seemed to clutch -at his heart. He muttered, in a strange voice: - -“I--I am not a coward, Alva; I do not wish to turn back; but I have a -feeling that we are going to confront--something terrible.” - -“Yes, yes; but--go on!” she whispered back, with white lips. - -They moved slowly, arm in arm, around the winding walk toward the side -of the house, as St. George had gone that first night, toward the side -door. - -Everything was so still they could hear the beating of their own hearts. - -“The door stands ajar. Perhaps I had better go in alone. You are -nervous, Alva,” he whispered. - -“Not at all; but the place has a depressing influence--doubtless from -the stories told of it,” she murmured, clinging to him, and, indeed, -putting her foot first upon the threshold. - -They went mutely along the gloomy hall, expecting to hear the silence -broken by those awful demoniac shrieks of which Landon had told. But -all was still--awfully still. - -Close to them a door swung wide open. They stopped, and looked with -curious eyes at _what_ lay beyond the threshold--two bodies, white and -cold in death, lying side by side in a pool of clotted blood that -showed dark in the sunset light streaming through the open window. - - - - -CHAPTER L. THE LAST VICTIM. - - -It was no wonder that the fiends’ laugh echoed no longer through the -dark, grim halls of Suicide Place, since its awful Moloch had claimed -the sacrifice of the sixth decade. - -Beresford and his sister stood as if turned to stone upon the -threshold, gazing in upon that awful sight, on which the sun’s last -rays flickered dismally, as if in pity. - -No wonder Otho and Maybelle had not returned last night! No wonder -their disappearance remained so deep a mystery! They lay here dead in -that awful house where scarcely a human foot dared penetrate. - -Otho’s stiffened hand lay along the carpet, still grasping the weapon -with which he had sent a bullet through his heart. - -His handsome features, white as marble by contrast with his jetty hair -and mustache, showed ghastly now, with the fallen lower jaw and the -half-open dark eyes, that held frozen in their unseeing upward gaze an -expression of hate, as if they had looked last on some abhorred sight. - -It was a tragedy to shake the strongest nerves, and they turned with -relief toward Maybelle, who looked more natural, her eyes and lips -closed, only her stillness and corpse-like pallor betraying that death -was there. Above her heart was a clot of dried blood that had flowed -from a dagger-thrust given by her own hand, for just beneath her touch -lay the shining steel. - -Alva and St. George contemplated the awful sight in horror too deep -for words. With their arms about each other, they gazed and gazed, -shuddering and trembling with pity, for their generous hearts forgot -the wrong-doing of the pair in sympathy for the strange fate that had -overtaken them. - -At last rousing himself to the exigencies of the moment, Beresford -sighed heavily and said: - -“We must go and tell the driver of this awful discovery, and send him -back to Mount Vernon with the news.” - -They went to the driver, who was so astounded he could hardly credit -the story. - -Curiosity conquered his dread of Suicide Place for once, and he -followed them into the gloomy portals to gaze with awe on the sickening -sight of the two suicides, then willingly agreed to drive back into -town to spread the news and summon the coroner. - -Alva insisted on remaining with her brother. - -“We have not found Floy yet, you know,” she said. - -“Shall we resume our search?” he asked. - -“It would be better than remaining in this room,” she shuddered, and -was turning away, when her pitying gaze, that had rested on Maybelle’s -ghastly face, suddenly returned to it in amazement. - -“Look--look!” she cried, wildly. “Her eyelids moved! See, her breast -heaves! She is not dead! She revives!” - -St. George turned back at his sister’s words and saw that they were -true. - -Maybelle was reviving. - -Her dark eyes opened wide and rested imploringly on their faces. - -“Do not leave me!” she faltered. - -They hurried to her side, and Alva lifted the heavy head on her arm -while Beresford poured a few drops of wine between her lips from a -flask he had brought with other restoratives in a tiny case. - -Maybelle moaned faintly: - -“Poor Otho, he is quite dead, is he not? His courage did not fail--like -mine--at the last.” - -Beresford drew a shawl over the dead face reverently, hiding it from -her sight, and she added: - -“When the cold steel pierced my flesh it pained me so I could not drive -it home to my heart. It fell from my hand and I fainted. But--but--I -shall die all the same, shall I not?” anxiously. - - - - -CHAPTER LI. “JUST ONE KISS!” - - -“Oh, we hope not!” they answered, soothingly, and raised her gently, -placing her on a soft couch by the window, where the summer breeze -could caress her pale brow. - -“Oh, how I have prayed and prayed for some one to come,” she continued. -“Ever since midnight I have lain here fainting and reviving, fainting -and reviving, too weak to rise, and longing for water to cool my -parched throat. Oh, thank you, thank you, how sweet and cool it is! -Oh, what a wretched day! When I heard your steps and voices coming, I -fainted from pure joy!” - -She did not seem surprised at their coming. Perhaps she guessed in some -way at the reason. - -Beresford stooped over her with anguish in his eyes. - -“I must ask you one question,” he cried, “and as you hope for Heaven, -if you die, I implore you, answer it truly. Is Florence Fane in this -house?” - -“She is not. That is true,” answered Maybelle, growing paler at this -reminder of her successful rival. - -“Where is she, then? Do you know?” - -“I swear I do not know,” she replied, faintly, and he read truth in her -beautiful eyes. - -She was strangely beautiful in her pallor and pain, and Alva thought -for a moment how strange it was that her brother had not loved -charming Maybelle before he met Floy. - -But in the next moment she sighed to herself: - -“There is no accounting for Love’s vagaries. I am glad my brother loved -little Floy instead of imperious Maybelle.” - -Beresford looked at the poor girl with pitying eyes. The knowledge of -her hopeless love for himself softened his heart, and he said, gently: - -“Why did you attempt this terrible deed? What malign influence drove -you to self-murder?” - -She shuddered and closed her eyes. He thought she was going to faint -again, and reproached himself for tormenting her by such questions. - -But Maybelle opened her eyes again, and said, solemnly: - -“I will tell you the grim secret of Suicide Place, for perhaps I am -dying, and the story should be known, and the old building torn down to -set at rest an unquiet spirit. Floy knows it all, I am sure, but I do -not think she would ever tell.” - -“You may exhaust yourself,” he objected, though his curiosity was on -the _qui vive_. - -“No; I shall not talk more than is necessary.” She swallowed some more -wine held to her lips by his hand, and began: “Perhaps you have heard -that the owners of this property--Floy’s ancestors--were very rich long -ago?” - -“Yes, I have heard of old Jasper Nellest who was so miserly, and yet -died poor, and left his descendants nothing but this property that -seemed afterward to be banned by a curse,” he replied. - -“Yes, that is the gist of the story,” answered Maybelle, sighing. -“That old man died rich, but he had turned all he owned into yellow, -shining, golden coin. But he did not mean to cheat his heirs of their -inheritance, only he died suddenly before he could tell them where the -treasure was hidden. Well, his punishment is to haunt his old home, -vainly trying to reveal the secret he carried to the grave.” - -“Can this be true?” cried Alva in wonder. - -“It is true,” answered Maybelle. “I have seen him again and again, and -it is horrible!” - -She paused and glanced half fearfully at the door, muttering: - -“But, no, no--he will be shocked at the evil he has wrought, he will -not venture back for long, long years. It has always been so, they say.” - -They listened eagerly, devouring every word, wondering if her strange -story could be true. - -“You doubt me!” cried Maybelle, reading their faces. “Well, I am too -weak to waste words trying to convince you. I can only tell what I know -in the briefest fashion.” - -She rested a little while, then resumed her story: - -“This old man--this miser--has surely hidden his gold somewhere in -this house, but he has not the power of speech, only of strange, -demoniacal laughter. It is this way: Some night in wandering through -the long corridor--always the long corridor--you come upon an old man -chuckling, gibbering to himself. You stop, you stare in terror, and -he spreads abroad his lean hands. You see grouped about him, as in a -golden haze, open chests of golden coin--think of it, _great chests -of gold!_--and the sight fires you with a mad longing to possess the -treasure whose existence you thus discover. You gaze spell-bound, but -the hideous old miser begins to laugh with hideous mirth, gloating over -his wealth, till you fly in deadly terror from the scene. But, alas! -only to return, goaded by an awful desire to search the old place over -for the missing gold. You search in vain, and the old miser seems to -gloat over your failures with his demon laughter; and then--then--the -rage, the fear, the baffled desire for the treasure--seem to combine to -drive one mad, so that this”--she shuddered as she pointed at Otho’s -still form--“comes naturally as the awful _finale_. He--Otho--found it -all out while seeking Floy, and persuaded me to come with him to seek -for the chests of gold. Alas, alas!” and with a long, shuddering sigh -she closed her eyes again. - -Alva stroked the dark tresses back from the damp brow, and they looked -at each other, she and St. George, with wondering eyes that questioned: - -“Can this story be true?” - -The young man looked from the chamber of horror out at the quiet -sunset skies, and it seemed to him incredible that such things could be. - -But in the face of all that had gone before, and of this present -tragedy, he was not prepared to deny anything. He could only say to -Alva: - -“It is a strange story.” - -Everything began to grow dark in the room before Maybelle spoke again. - -She looked wistfully at Beresford, sighing: - -“I do not wish to die now, though all the best things of life have -slipped away from me. But--but I seem to be sinking away.” - -“Have you any last words--any wish?” he began. - -“Yes, one wish.” She seemed to forget Alva’s presence, or not to care. -“Will you--kiss me--just once?--I have loved you so!” - -Her voice was pathetic in its hopeless yearning, and Alva motioned him -to obey. She knew that noble little Floy would not grudge this one -caress to her dying rival. - -So Beresford gave the one kiss that was a joyful memory in all -Maybelle’s future years. - -For she did not die as she foreboded. - -The room was filled presently with a curious crowd who heard in wonder -the strange story, and then carried the dead and the living home again -through the darkening twilight. - -Otho and his father were buried side by side, and kind friends cared -for the helpless Maury family. Mrs. Vere de Vere, always Maybelle’s -stanch friend, adopted the girl as a daughter, so she never missed the -wealth she prized so much. - -In time Maybelle made the grand match Mrs. Vere de Vere had schemed for -so long, but it was long years first, and when she married the rich -politician, it was for ambition, not love. All her proud husband’s -caresses were not worth as much to her as the memory of one pitying -kiss. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. ALL THAT FLOY HAD LONGED FOR IN OTHER DAYS WAS HERS -NOW.--LUCKY LITTLE MORTAL! - - -The Beresfords returned to New York the next day sick at heart and -dispirited, for the mystery of Floy’s fate was more inexplicable than -ever. - -In twenty-four hours after their return Lord Miller’s card was received. - -Mrs. Beresford was out, and St. George was ill again from the fever of -a baffled hope. - -So Alva went down alone to meet the handsome Englishman, and their -mutual attraction toward each other was strengthened by this interview. - -His earnest sympathy with her brother tempted her to confide the story -of Floy to his sympathetic ears. - -He listened in wonder to it all, and then she ended with a sigh: - -“He is ill again, my poor brother, and no mortal physician can heal the -wound from which he suffers--the pain of hopeless love.” - -He looked at the bright, beautiful face, wondering how she should know -so much of what she spoke, then he said, abruptly: - -“I wonder if your brother would see me a little while if I could give -him good news?” - -“Good news?” she faltered. - -“Yes, of this girl--this Floy Fane. I know where she is to-day.” - -Alva almost fainted with joy. He never forgot her looks of gratitude -and her expressions of joy. - -“Come with me!” she cried; and led him to her brother’s rooms. - -“I have brought you a physician with news to make you well!” she cried, -radiantly, to the pale, languid invalid. - -And then Lord Miller told them of his _rencontre_ with Floy the night -of his return to New York, and his discovery that she was his own child. - -We must pass over their delight and amazement when the romantic story -was all told, and he ended by saying: - -“I left Floy at the hotel, very busy looking over a few thousand -dollars’ worth of finery she purchased yesterday, but if you both will -return with me, I think she will be glad to see you.” - -“Are you well enough dear?” inquired Alva, looking at her brother -doubtfully. - -He leaned upon her, his face flushed, his eyes alight with joy. - -“I am a new man. I do not feel as if I ever had been ill,” he repeated, -joyfully. - -So leaving an explanation for their parents, should they return in -their absence, Alva and her brother accompanied Lord Miller to the -Fifth Avenue Hotel in search of Floy. - -“And to think how near she was to me while I was breaking my heart over -her loss!” thought the happy lover. - -He wondered if Floy would be glad to see him again, and his heart -throbbed a happy response. He had the greatest confidence in his -darling’s truth. - -“Lady Florence is in her own parlor,” said the servant whom Lord Miller -asked for his daughter. - -Lady Florence! How strange that sounded to Alva and St. George! Yet it -was her rightful title now. - -Little Floy was never to know again the ills of poverty and loneliness. -All that she had sighed for in other days was hers now--love, wealth, -position. Lucky little mortal! - -She had been amusing herself all day trying on her new dresses and -jewels, but after all they did not fill her tender little heart. There -was an ache there all the time because of her grief for her fickle -lover. - -“I wish that he could see me now. This gown is so becoming,” she -thought, artlessly, rejoicing in the possession of the cool white robe -so soft and billowy in its fine laces and streaming ribbons. - -At that moment three people were at the door, and Lord Miller opened it -without knocking. - -“Oh, let us wait outside!” cried Alva, with a romantic impulse, drawing -back as St. George crossed the threshold. - -Neither do we want to make a third at the reunion of the long parted -lovers, reader, so we will wait outside with the other couple, for we -can guess at all that passed. Haven’t we all been there ourselves? - -Ah! happy love! Is it not a foretaste of Paradise? - -Lord Miller found that he had recovered his lovely child only to lose -her again. - -St. George was the most persistent lover in the world. - -He pleaded continually for an early marriage. - -“Floy is nothing but a child, barely seventeen. Wait till her -eighteenth birthday,” answered the fond father. - -The lover was most unhappy over the year’s probation. - -“I can not bear to lose sight of my darling again. I give you warning I -shall follow you to England when you take her away--ay, to the world’s -end!” he protested. - -Lord Miller answered, laughingly: - -“I shall extend you a cordial invitation to be our guest at our English -home for as long as you please,” and with that the lover had to be -content, for even his own parents, though they loved Floy so dearly, -took part against him. - -“It is right that her father should have her for a time,” they said; -and Floy, who adored her noble parent, was well satisfied to have it -so. She knew quite well, the saucy little darling, that St. George -would seldom be absent from her side in that year of waiting. - -They would not sail for their ancestral home until October, anyway, for -they had much to do in America. - -For one thing, Lord Miller had to seek out his wife’s neglected grave, -and place a fitting monument above the gentle heart that his father’s -wickedness had driven wild with despair. The thought of all she had -suffered would haunt Lord Miller with keen despair as long as he lived. - -Then, too, a great force of men was put to work on Suicide Place, to -tear it down stone by stone to the ground, that its haunting spirit -should claim no more maddened victims of the craze for gold. Even -the grove was hewn down, that the very site should be forgotten, and -Lady Florence presented the farm to Mount Vernon to be turned into a -pleasure park. - -The chests of gold that had been seen in ghastly visions of the night -by so many poor victims were found to be a reality. - -They were walled up in stone beneath the brick flooring of the cellar, -and contained riches to the amount of half a million. - -It seemed like a ghastly legacy to Floy, and she tried to atone for the -sin of old Jasper Nellest, by devoting more than half of it to works of -charity. - -She had seen so much of the world’s poverty and sorrow while she was -poor herself, that she knew how to pity and sympathize, and, better -still, to lend a helping hand. - -She did not neglect to search out the good Mrs. Banks, who was now -adrift on the world since poverty had fallen on the Maury family, and -oh! what joy it was to the kind soul to see Floy again, whom she had -mourned as dead. - -She rejoiced unselfishly in the girl’s good fortune, and wept when she -clasped her in her arms, exclaiming: - -“You shall come and live with me now, and be rich and grand.” - -“Oh, dearie, I could never go away from Mount Vernon and my poor John’s -grave!” she cried in her simple, faithful fidelity. - -Lady Florence wept with her as she answered: - -“But I cannot stay here with you now, and I do so want to make you -happy. I have plenty of money, you know, and I want to give you as much -as you want.” - -“God bless you, my sweet child, for your offer. It will make my heart -glad just to raise a pretty stone over my husband’s grave, and to go -back to live in the little cottage again.” - -Lady Florence gratified her simple wishes, and settled on her a sum of -money that kept her in luxury a life-time, with a stout servant to wait -on her, and an elderly cousin for a companion. - -“And next year, you know, auntie, I am to have a grand wedding at our -English home, Earlscourt, and you shall promise me now that you will -cross the sea with the Beresfords to see me married,” continued Lady -Florence, blushingly. - -Mrs. Banks was very proud of the invitation, and many good people in -Mount Vernon envied her because she was so loved by the earl’s fair -daughter. They forgot that she had earned it all by her goodness to -the lonely orphan child when her friends were few, and when they had -sneered at her girlish pranks and given her the soubriquet of Fly-away -Floy. - -Lord Miller would be very lonely when his daughter should leave him for -her husband’s home, and one day, when he was grieving over it, Floy, -said, roguishly: - -“Get Alva to stay with you when I come away. She would make a -magnificent countess.” - -“The very thing that was in my mind,” he answered, quickly; and before -he left America he told Alva of his wish. - -“If you can be satisfied with a second love, I will make you a devoted -husband,” he said. - -And Alva replied with a like confidence: - -“My first love, too, is dead, but you have won my heart. I believe that -we can be very happy together,” she admitted, frankly. - -And because Lady Florence would need her so much in the year before her -marriage, she consented to an early wedding, and sailed with them in -October to her new home far across the sea. - -THE END. - - * * * * * - - Glorious Romances - Thrilling Adventure - Baffling Mysteries - Realistic Love - Tales of the Old West - -An extensive list of famous stories by famous authors. Books for every -reading taste ... at an extremely moderate price. - - THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY - Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A. - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller was the pen name for Mittie Frances Clark -Point. - -This novel was first serialized in the _Fireside Companion_ story paper -from July 27, 1895 to October 12, 1895 under the title “Fly-Away Floy, -the Saucy Little Darling; or, the Mystery of Suicide Place.” - -Punctuation has been made consistent. - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have -been corrected. - -The following changes were made: - -p. 97: “and” was assumed for unclear word in original text (save and -except) - -p. 110: “foes” was assumed for unclear word in original text (from her -foes.) - -p. 198: “I” was assumed for missing word in original text (perhaps I -have) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mystery of Suicide Place, by -Mrs. Alex. 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