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diff --git a/old/60451-h/60451-h.htm b/old/60451-h/60451-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a1140bf..0000000 --- a/old/60451-h/60451-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10138 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mystery of Suicide Place, by Mrs. Alex. 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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/)) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 581px;"> -<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" width="581" height="800" alt="Cover." /> -</div> - - - -<h1>THE MYSTERY<br /> -<em>of</em><br /> -SUICIDE PLACE</h1> - - -<p class="center p2" style="line-height:2"><em>By<br /> -<span class="xlargefont boldfont">Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</span></em></p> - -<p class="center p3 largefont boldfont">HART SERIES No. 40</p> - -<p class="center p3">(Printed in the United States of America)</p> - -<p class="center p3"><span class="smallfont">PUBLISHED BY</span><br /> -<span class="largefont">THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Cleveland</span>, U. S. A.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td class="tocchapt"></td><td class="tocpage"><span class="smallfont">PAGE.</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“If Only——”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">5</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Heiress of Fate”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">8</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Dastardly Plot</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Why Did She Do It?</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">16</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Reason Why</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"> 23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Dream of Roses</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">At the Dread Hour of Midnight</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“From That Spot by Horror Haunted”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Oh! Those Happy Moments Spent Together!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Sleeping, I Dreamed, Love!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Plighted</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“When I Am Married!” Cried Floy</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">In the Meshes of Her Hungry Fate</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Thrown on the World</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“As Proud and as Pretty as a Princess”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">66</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Cruel Persecution</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Fair Dead Face He Had Loved So Well</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Cupid”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Beresford Pride</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Alva’s Disappointment</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Where is She Now?”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Oh, My Son, My Son!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“You Wicked, Wicked Girl!” Cried the Midnight Visitor</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“A Royal Road to Fortune”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">How Those Tender Letters to Another Must Have Stabbed Maybelle’s Heart!</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">110</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“I Will Sell My Life and Honor Dearly!” Cried the Maddened Girl</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">At Bay</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Another Intruder</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Oh, How Blest I Am!” Cried Floy</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">125</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“’Tis Home Where’er the Heart Is”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Near to Death</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“The Silence of a Broken Heart”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">137</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Pride Brought Low</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXIV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Too Late!</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">142</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“He is Fickle and False—My Lover Whom I Trusted So Fondly!—How Can I Bear This Pain and Live?”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">146</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXVI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Not Till Love Comes”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXVII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Searching in Vain</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">155</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Bower of Roses</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">158</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXXIX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Little Hand</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XL.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Startling Revelation</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">163</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Joy and Sorrow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Young Girl’s Pride</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">170</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Maybelle Writes a Letter</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">173</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLIV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">But One Chance in a Hundred</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">180</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Hope Deferred Maketh the Heart Sick”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">184</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLVI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“The House is Haunted”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">188</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLVII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Life Is So Sad!” Cried Floy</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLVIII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Strange Romance</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">198</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER XLIX.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Something Terrible!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">203</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER L.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Last Victim</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_L">209</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER LI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Just One Kiss!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_LI">212</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tocchapt" colspan="2">CHAPTER LII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">All That Floy Had Longed for in Other Days Was Hers Now—Lucky Little Mortal!</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_LII">217</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum invisiblefont">[5]</span></p> - -<p id="CHAPTER_I" class="xxlargefont center" style="margin-bottom:2em">THE MYSTERY<br /> -<em>of</em><br /> -SUICIDE PLACE</p> - - -<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“IF ONLY——”</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Our space, however, will not permit us to follow the -progress of Maybelle’s flirtation through those bright October -days upon the sea.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Her dark eyes flashed with pleasure as they clasped -hands again after those months of separation, and she -cried reproachfully:</p> - -<p>“You forgot your promise!”</p> - -<p>The laughing brown eyes grew soft with repentance -as he returned, coaxingly:</p> - -<p>“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, <em>recently</em>. So now—will you -forgive me?”</p> - -<p>Would she not forgive the deceitful wretch anything, -charming Maybelle, who secretly adored him? She knew<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> -that he had only remained South five weeks, but she -flashed him a melting glance, and murmured, sweetly:</p> - -<p>“I’ll forgive you, sir, on only one condition—that you -come in the early spring.”</p> - -<p>“Only too glad to promise—so good of you to permit -me,” cooed the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jeunesse dorée</i>; 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>But that night her pillow was wet with tears because of -his careless farewell when he heard she was going.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Oh, how shyly happy Maybelle was at his coming! The<span class="pagenum">[8]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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——</p> - -<p>Ah! those words, <em>if only</em>—so short, so simple, yet so -fraught with meaning!</p> - -<p>Maybelle might have won Beresford’s heart and become -his bride, <em>if only</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“Who is she?” he asked, hoarsely, of Otho; who replied, -carelessly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>It was that lovely face, dear reader, that brought the -elements of tragedy into my story.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“HEIRESS OF FATE.”</span></h2> - - -<p>Otho Maury’s tone was light and contemptuous, but -at heart he was furious. He had a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">penchant</i> for Florence -Fane himself, and dreaded a rival in this man whose<span class="pagenum">[9]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Maybelle came down the graveled walk to them, beautiful -in a dainty white gown with purple lilacs at her slender -waist.</p> - -<p>But St. George Beresford did not turn to meet her -gaze, and Otho said, sneeringly:</p> - -<p>“Beresford has been struck dumb by the sight of a -beauty on a bicycle.”</p> - -<p>“A beauty?” frowningly.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Little Fly-away Floy.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, <em>she</em> is no beauty, only a mischievous little -hoiden! Don’t let her turn your head, Mr. Beresford; -she isn’t in <em>our</em> set at all. Her father is a mechanic, and -her mother a seamstress.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed, carelessly, turning around and -flashing her a bright, quizzical glance, in which he seemed -to dismiss the thought of Florence Fane.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But Maybelle had equivocated, and she hoped ardently -that he would not find it out.</p> - -<p>A flavor of romance and mystery hung around Florence -Fane’s origin.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Floy was heiress by her birth to a small estate and to -a terrible taint of blood—the mania for suicide.</p> - -<p>She was a descendant of the Nellest family, that for -forty years had numbered in each decade a suicide among -its members.</p> - -<p>The scene of these tragedies was at an old farm-house -on a lonely road two miles from Mount Vernon.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[11]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He found Mrs. Fane dead, with a bottle of poison<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> -clutched in her stiffened hand. She had been dead for -hours.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Enough money was found in the house to bury her -decently, and then the old place was left to its grim solitude -again.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When St. George Beresford turned away from the<span class="pagenum">[13]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>He tried to smile and chat as usual with Maybelle and -Otho, but his thoughts wandered from them in spite of -himself.</p> - -<p>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 <em>his -glance</em> had made any impression on the girl’s heart.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A DASTARDLY PLOT.</span></h2> - - -<p>The first moment that Maybelle was alone with Otho -she clung to his arm, whispering, sorrowfully:</p> - -<p>“Otho, I am wretched! Did you mean what you said -this morning—that St. George admired that girl?”</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">distrait</i> and half-hearted he has been all -day?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[14]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, I saw it too plainly; but, oh, I can not give him -up! Oh, surely, he would not stoop to <em>her</em>—so far beneath -him socially! Besides, she isn’t so pretty, either—only -with a babyish kind of beauty.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He flushed, then laughed, answering, coolly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>him</em>, 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?”</p> - -<p>“Probably she will in the end; but she isn’t unhappy -enough yet.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Otho’s eyes flashed back the same spirit, for his heart<span class="pagenum">[15]</span> -was burning with a cruel passion for bonny Floy. Stooping -close to her ear, he whispered, hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“Suppose I could drive her mad with love for me?”</p> - -<p>“Try it, Otho, try it! Begin at once, please!” she responded, -eagerly, hopefully.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au serieux</i>.”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>He continued:</p> - -<p>“Of course you know she will be at the picnic we attend -to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“No! Who dared invite the creature?” imperiously.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me how, Otho, and be sure I will act my part.”</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> -too, that he’s engaged to you, etc., so that she will shun -him.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Otho accepted the praise complacently, but he knew -he was working more for himself than for her.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">WHY DID SHE DO IT?</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>They all bowed graciously, and then the quartet sat<span class="pagenum">[17]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The pretty girls who heard him all shrieked and shuddered -with dismay—all except Floy, who shrugged her -pretty shoulders, and said, vivaciously:</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! that is not any great thing to do. I shouldn’t -be afraid to stay in a haunted house all night.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you afraid of ghosts, like most young girls?” -asked Otho, incredulously.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not afraid, for I don’t believe in spirits.”</p> - -<p>Maybelle laughed tauntingly.</p> - -<p>“You are joking, Floy. You wouldn’t dare stay alone -all night in Suicide House—now, would you?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Flushing with anger, her blue eyes blazing with defiance, -she cried, stormily:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[18]</span></p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“No, no; you must not!” cried a few voices, frightened -at the thought of what she had been goaded to do.</p> - -<p>But Floy’s high spirit was up in arms, and she would -not be dissuaded from her purpose.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> -Turk, and it makes her angry for any other girl to even -look at him.”</p> - -<p>He had counted rightly on Floy’s high sense of honor.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Let us go and dance,” he said to Maybelle, hoarsely.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m too lazy to move. Go and find another partner,” -she laughed.</p> - -<p>“But I’m not acquainted with any of the girls here.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At last she observed, patronizingly:</p> - -<p>“You’ve never been <em>anywhere</em>, have you, Floy?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>But the latter continued, gently and purringly:</p> - -<p>“It’s too bad your having to stay with those poor, hard-working<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> -people, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you like to support -yourself, Floy?”</p> - -<p>“I should not know how to earn a penny,” murmured -Floy, who was like the naughty Brier-Rose of the poem:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Whene’er a thrifty matron this idle maid espied, -</div><div class="indent0">She shook her head in warning and scarce her wrath could hide; -</div><div class="indent0">For girls were made for housewives, for spinning-wheel and loom, -</div><div class="indent0">And not to drink the sunshine and the flowers’ sweet perfume. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“But out she skipped the meadows o’er and gazed into the sky, -</div><div class="indent0">Her heart o’erbrimmed with gladness, she scarce herself knew why; -</div><div class="indent0">And to a merry tune she hummed: ‘Oh, Heaven only knows -</div><div class="indent0">Whatever will become of the naughty Brier-Rose?’” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“Suppose I tell you what papa was saying about you -last night?” continued Maybelle.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Floy answered, helplessly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy reddened, paled, then gasped:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[21]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“She has plenty of smiles for that shallow Otho. I’d -like to wring his little black neck!” he thought, angrily.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She turned her back on him rather rudely, and exclaimed -to Otho:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That is nonsense. I am sure you are too strong-minded -to yield to such a temptation,” Otho replied, reassuringly.</p> - -<p>St. George could not help listening to the sound of the<span class="pagenum">[22]</span> -musical voice and watching the beautiful profile when it -turned toward him in her animated talk.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He heard her continue, almost defiantly, as if annoyed:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I hope not. You would break a dozen hearts if you -did, mine among the rest,” Otho replied, banteringly, with -a killing glance.</p> - -<p>She continued, meditatively:</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Laughing, she rose to her feet, and he said:</p> - -<p>“It seems that fate always demands the sacrifice within -the gates of the grim old place.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[23]</span> -myself, I shall disappoint everybody in the location. It -shall not be at the old farm, but—<em>here</em>!”</p> - -<p>Then all at once the startling tragedy happened.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">THE REASON WHY.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They watched eagerly for the golden head to reappear.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“How deuced clever in the little girl to hasten the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dénouement</i> -of her life like this! It saves Maybelle and me -a world of trouble.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> -his shoulder as though she could not bear the sight of the -river.</p> - -<p>But in an instant Beresford recovered from his trance -of horror, and struggled to release himself and rise.</p> - -<p>But Maybelle clung to him so wildly that he could not -loosen her grasp without hurting the clinging white -hands.</p> - -<p>“Do not leave me—do not leave me, St. George! I -am so frightened!” she wailed, beseechingly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Our hero, swimming with strong and gallant strokes toward<span class="pagenum">[25]</span> -the spot, made a bold dive down to the depths, but -rose again without Floy.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Grasping her tightly, he said in hoarse tones, broken -with joyful emotion:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy laughed softly, and answered in a meek little -voice:</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sorry now that I did it. I don’t believe I -want to die after all!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he returned, coolly, but with a fast-beating -heart. “I am sure the experience would be delightful;<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> -and if you like to try it after we are safe on land, -I shall be most happy.”</p> - -<p>“I hate you!” pouted Floy, and letting her hands slip, -sunk again below the surface.</p> - -<p>Terribly alarmed, he dived and brought her safely to -the surface once more, saying, sternly:</p> - -<p>“Do not be so careless again, or you may lose your -life.”</p> - -<p>To his amazement, she laughed mockingly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">terra firma</i>, greeted by admiring cheers from the -onlookers.</p> - -<p>While they were in the water, Otho had hurried to -Maybelle, and whispered, hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[27]</span></p> - -<p>In the silence that followed the rousing cheer of joy -at their return, Floy turned to her dripping cavalier, -saying demurely:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>There was a swelling murmur of surprise from all -around her, and one little girl, bolder than the rest, came -up and said:</p> - -<p>“Why, Floy, didn’t you intend to drown yourself after -all?”</p> - -<p>Floy tossed back her wet curly mass of short ringlets, -and returned merrily:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Her accusing blue eyes turned on Otho Maury, and -she said, with light, laughing scorn:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He was livid with secret, sullen rage, but putting a bold -face on the matter, he answered, carelessly:</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[28]</span> -he was fooled. Come, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mon ami</i>, shall I drive you into -town for some dry clothes?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Who cares?” returned Floy, gayly, not the least -abashed by Mr. Beresford’s resentment.</p> - -<p>When the picnic was over, Maybelle slyly reminded her -of her promise about Suicide Place.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[29]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A DREAM OF ROSES.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She mused a little soberly on the events of the day.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancé</i> was; how brave, -how cool, and if only—he wasn’t engaged, I believe I -should have lost my heart to him—so there!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps she <em>had</em> 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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy had thrilled with sweet ecstasy at his daring -words, and now she said, audaciously:</p> - -<p>“Yes, I—I <em>should</em> like to try it! I should throw -my arms around his big neck and hug him tight, and kiss his<span class="pagenum">[30]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>And like a dash of cold water came the memory of -Otho’s words.</p> - -<p>Beresford was angry with her for the joke she had -played, and would like to shake her for a naughty, saucy -little vixen.</p> - -<p>“Let him try it—that’s all!” she exclaimed, shaking -her bright head defiantly, then leaning it half despondently -on her arm.</p> - -<p>Wearied by the pleasures of the long, bright day, she -sunk into slumber.</p> - -<p>Sweet dreams came to her there in the fragrant gloom -of the warm spring night.</p> - -<p>To her fancy she was walking with St. George Beresford -in a beautiful rose garden.</p> - -<p>Overhead there leaned a sky all darkly, beautifully -blue, while little fleecy clouds tempered the golden brightness -of noon.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[31]</span></p> - -<p>By her side, with his arm about her slender, supple -waist, walked handsome St. George Beresford.</p> - -<p>They were lovers.</p> - -<p>And in this beautiful rose garden they seemed to be -as much alone as Adam and Eve were in Eden.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They did not miss nor want the world in this Eden. -They were all in all to each other, this beautiful pair of -lovers.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“My only love, my bride!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But suddenly a dark, portentous cloud overspread the -sky, and a low rumble of thunder shook the earth.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[32]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>But at that very moment a flash of lightning irradiated -the gloom, and Floy saw a woman dashing toward her -in insane fury.</p> - -<p>She had the dark, beautiful, jealous face of Maybelle -Maury, and she rushed between them and thrust Floy -away.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Her dream had been only half a dream, after all.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Dazed and wondering, she sprung to her feet, and it -was several minutes before she could realize her position.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She had come and fallen asleep on the porch and -dreamed that exquisite dream that was so lovely until—Maybelle -came.</p> - -<p>“How strange that I should dream of Maybelle’s -lover—and dream that he was <em>mine</em>!” she murmured, -wonderingly, as she hurried into the house out of the -muttering storm.</p> - -<p>Fortunately she had brought some matches, and she<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Then she uttered a cry of dismay and looked back half -fearfully over her shoulder at a piano in a dark corner.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then a quick suspicion came to her, and running -straight to the instrument, she threw back the lid.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Floy laughed aloud merrily:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>She threw herself into a large easy-chair cushioned in -leather, and closed her eyes.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>But slumber refused to visit her eyes again. She felt -preternaturally wide awake.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[34]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She could not resist a sudden longing to escape from -the room, and from the grim scrutiny of her pictured -ancestors.</p> - -<p>Taking the lamp in her hand, she started out to explore -the house.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Presently, over the roar of the storm outside, her voice -rang out in a loud, wild, terrified shriek thrice repeated—then -awful silence.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">AT THE DREAD HOUR OF MIDNIGHT.</span></h2> - - -<p>Half an hour passed by slowly.</p> - -<p>The storm was over.</p> - -<p>The lightning, thunder, and rain had ceased, and the<span class="pagenum">[35]</span> -moon was coming out from the black wrack of clouds -where she had hidden her glory.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The hall door opened softly, and Floy staggered across -the threshold, bearing the lamp unsteadily in her small -hand.</p> - -<p>What a change had come over the sparkling <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">riante</i> face!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“I wonder if my hair has turned white?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[36]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Floy heaved a long, bursting sigh of intense relief, set -down the lamp, and dropped wearily into a chair near the -window.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>What had changed and shaken the careless girl like -this? Would she ever reveal the secret? Or would her -indomitable pride seal her lips?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Hark! what was that sound? Only the low wind of -the summer night soughing through the trees.</p> - -<p>“No,” she cried, dismissing the fancy and springing to -her feet, “it is a step in the hall!”</p> - -<p>She clung to the window-sill, looking over her shoulder -with terrified blue eyes, her heart beating wildly against -her side.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[37]</span></p> - -<p>She was half tempted to spring from the window and -seek refuge in flight.</p> - -<p>But it was at least ten feet from the ground, and she -did not fancy the idea of making a cripple of herself.</p> - -<p>The door was suddenly flung open, and a laughing voice -exclaimed, eagerly:</p> - -<p>“Where are you, Floy?”</p> - -<p>The very sound of a human voice was bliss to her after -the long and fearful night.</p> - -<p>She sprung up, sobbing with joy and relief, as Otho -Maury entered the room with a lantern.</p> - -<p>“So you have come for me! I—I didn’t guess it was -near daylight yet,” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t, Floy—only a little past midnight.”</p> - -<p>He came up to her with a jubilant air, and his eager, -dark eyes burned on her face as he continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Wait a little, Floy, for there’s a storm coming up. I<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> -did not think you would want to go until daylight, when -the committee called for you with a carriage.”</p> - -<p>She recoiled, looking at him with startled eyes.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say that they did not come with -you—that you came here alone?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The wet lilacs at the window shook and rustled as in -a rising gale, but neither heeded it in their excitement.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Go! leave me at once!” she commanded, imperiously.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But the man made no motion to obey, and his manner -was full of a jaunty <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">insouciance</i> that filled her with indefinable -dismay.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“I command you to go at once!” she said, angrily.</p> - -<p>“I refuse to obey,” he returned, jauntily; and there -was a streaming fire of elation in his eyes that almost -drove her wild.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But the next moment Otho’s arms were caught in a -grasp of steel, and a hoarse voice thundered:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[40]</span></p> - -<p>“Release the lady, you vile hound, and take your punishment!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“FROM THAT SPOT BY HORROR HAUNTED.”</span></h2> - - -<p>Floy watched the punishment of Otho Maury with -that boundless admiration a woman always feels for -manly strength and power.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But she was frightened, too, when she saw her persecutor’s -body flying through the air, and she cried out, -shudderingly:</p> - -<p>“Oh, you have killed the wretch!”</p> - -<p>But her preserver answered, coolly:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[41]</span></p> - -<p>And he laughed softly to himself at the ease with which -he had sent Maury spinning through the window.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He smiled at her kindly, thinking to himself that it was -the loveliest face in the round world, and answered:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Beresford clasped the little hand ardently, and longed -to kiss it, but would not frighten her by such a demonstration.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“And now you will take me home, will you not?” -added Floy, appealingly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Oughtn’t we to see—if <em>he</em> is hurt or killed?” she -murmured, timidly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[42]</span></p> - -<p>Beresford answered, carelessly:</p> - -<p>“Oh, he is all right. I hear him coming behind us -now.”</p> - -<p>And, sure enough, a voice called, humbly:</p> - -<p>“Beresford—Miss Fane! Will you please wait a moment?”</p> - -<p>They paused, and saw Otho Maury limping dejectedly -toward them, looking very meek in the bright moonlight -that streamed through interstices of the trees.</p> - -<p>Floy’s tender little heart gave a leap of joy that he was -not killed, although she knew that he well deserved it.</p> - -<p>He dropped with difficulty on one knee before Floy, -muttering:</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Floy had the tenderest heart in the world, and Otho’s -repentance was so frank and engaging that she hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I ought to forgive him?” she whispered -to Beresford, with a ravishing little air of reliance -on his judgment!</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders, and replied, carelessly:</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so—since he asks it.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p> - -<p>She was turning away, with her head held high in -scorn, but he caught at her sleeve.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>They both stopped to listen, and he muttered:</p> - -<p>“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—<em>you</em> know how it could -sting. Beresford, for God’s sake, be merciful, as you are -strong and brave!”</p> - -<p>He drooped before them—craven, abject, appealing, a -cur to despise—in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He was disposed to pity the abject suppliant, the depths -of whose meanness his own noble nature could not -fathom.</p> - -<p>So he answered, after a moment’s reflection:</p> - -<p>“It shall be as the young lady says, of course, though -I must say you do not merit her leniency.”</p> - -<p>“I know too well that I do not, but she is an angel, -and will grant my prayer,” muttered the wretched delinquent.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[44]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I’ll not forget that you have constituted -yourself her protector.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Curse him! He foiled my clever plan entirely!” he -raved to himself.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“OH! THOSE HAPPY MOMENTS SPENT TOGETHER!”</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“With your permission I will see you safely home,” -he said, courteously, springing in after her and closing -the door.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But the faint remnant of reason remaining to him -whispered, warningly:</p> - -<p>“Wait till she knows you better. Such impetuous -violence would frighten and disgust the little darling!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[46]</span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“You said you came to take me home. Did any one -send you?”</p> - -<p>“No; I came of my own free will,” he returned, -gently.</p> - -<p>“Why—why, that was strange!” she faltered, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Finding that she did not reply, her handsome companion -continued:</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you would be offended if I should tell -you about a strange dream that warned me to come to -your assistance!”</p> - -<p>Floy started and thrilled, remembering her own beautiful -dream, and she found courage to return:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He said, soothingly:</p> - -<p>“I do not think he will ever dare to annoy you again.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I should like you to hear it, only—promise me you -will not be angry,” tenderly.</p> - -<p>“Of course not. One can not stop dreams. And this -one must have been a good one.”</p> - -<p>“It was charming!” he cried, vivaciously.</p> - -<p>“Then tell me all about it.” And it seemed to him -that all unconsciously to herself she nestled confidingly -closer to his side.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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?<span class="pagenum">[48]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“But I have no parents—only adopted ones, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy remained demurely silent, smiling to herself at -the thought of how those dear adopted parents always -humored her every madcap whim.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Said Brier-Rose’s mother to the naughty Brier-Rose: -</div><div class="indent0">‘Whatever will become of you the Lord Almighty knows! -</div><div class="indent0">You will not scrub the kettles, and you will not touch the broom, -</div><div class="indent0">You never sit a minute still at spinning-wheel or loom!’ -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And oft the maiden cried when Brier-Rose went by: -</div><div class="indent0">‘You can not knit a stocking, you can not make a pie!’ -</div><div class="indent0">But Brier-Rose, as was her wont, she cocked a curly head, -</div><div class="indent0">‘But I can sing a pretty song,’ full merrily she said.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“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 -<em>you</em>,” tenderly.</p> - -<p>Floy did not answer a word; she listened attentively, -thinking how sweet and musical his voice sounded, and<span class="pagenum">[49]</span> -how sorry she was that this charming drive would soon -be over. She could have gone on, and on, and on with -him forever.</p> - -<p>But the cross driver, not sharing her predilections, -swore at his horses and whipped them up impatiently, -while Beresford added:</p> - -<p>“The telegram drove everything else out of my mind -until I retired, when I fell asleep and dreamed of you.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“SLEEPING, I DREAMED, LOVE!”</span></h2> - - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Floy, with a delicious start, throwing up -her little hands.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Words are too weak to describe the beauties of that -spot.”</p> - -<p>“I can imagine it,” thought Floy, recalling her own -dream of roses.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> -roses on the ground, roses in your hair—white ones—and -at the waist of your white gown were pink and white ones -blended.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how strange, how passing strange!” she sighed -and he answered, tenderly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>One moment of thrilling silence, in which they could -almost hear each other’s wild hearts leap with joy; then -Floy cried, eagerly:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” breathed Floy, eagerly, as he paused.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He caught the whisper, and repeated, joyously:</p> - -<p>“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 <em>so</em> -natural—-how strange it seems that you could follow my<span class="pagenum">[52]</span> -dream in thoughts as you did. You must possess the gift -of mind-reading.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She paused, awed and trembling, overcome by the -strange coincidence of her dream.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">PLIGHTED.</span></h2> - - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Here we are!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[53]</span></p> - -<p>“Will you give me love for love, darling Floy? Will -you marry me?”</p> - -<p>She tried to draw away the hand he held, murmuring, -agitatedly:</p> - -<p>“You—you have no right to talk to me like this. You -are engaged to Maybelle.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I’m <em>not</em> engaged to Maybelle; never <em>was</em>, either. -What made you think so, my sweet one?” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“Otho Maury told me so the night before the picnic. -He said you were to marry his sister in the fall.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she sighed, doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> -quaked. What if he should be drowned, her darling boy, -and never know she loved him so dearly?</p> - -<p>“Answer me,” he pleaded; and she sighed:</p> - -<p>“It is so sudden.”</p> - -<p>Beresford laughed low and happily.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Not a little—a whole world full,” she whispered, carried -out of herself by his passion.</p> - -<p>Just then the gruff driver bawled irascibly:</p> - -<p>“Ain’t you never coming, sir? It’ll soon be daylight!”</p> - -<p>Beresford caught her in his arms, pressing her tightly -to his heart, as he whispered:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[55]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“WHEN I AM MARRIED!” CRIED FLOY.</span></h2> - - -<p>Pretty soon John Banks, in an old frayed dressing-gown, -opened the door himself, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“I thought you were going to stay all night with the -girls, dearie!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Do you, Uncle John? Oh, how good of you, when -I’m nothing but a care to you, after all—a care and expense!”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.<span class="pagenum">[56]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[57]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, what is the matter?” she shrieked aloud in fear -and grief, springing up and rushing to the door.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">IN THE MESHES OF HER HUNGRY FATE.</span></h2> - - -<p>Floy stood scared and trembling at the head of the -stairs, trying to make out what was going on below.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The tender-hearted wife had always been nervous over -his trade of house-builder—always forebode an accident.</p> - -<p>Tears rushed blindingly to Floy’s sweet blue eyes, and -her heart sunk heavily as she thought:</p> - -<p>“Poor, poor auntie! Her life-long presentiments are -realized at last.”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The little front room seemed full of people.</p> - -<p>There were men in working garb, without their coats, -and homely neighbor women with their aprons to their -eyes. There was <em>something</em> covered up solemnly on a -couch, and beside it Mrs. Banks was kneeling, wringing<span class="pagenum">[58]</span> -her hands and filling their sorrowing ears with her doleful -cries.</p> - -<p>Floy rushed to the couch, but an old woman caught and -held her back.</p> - -<p>“It is Uncle John—I know it! Do not tell me he is -dead!” she moaned.</p> - -<p>But it was, alas! too true.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What are we to do?” she sobbed, pitifully.</p> - -<p>It was then that Maybelle Maury came to the rescue.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I can not be parted from my child!” exclaimed -the unhappy widow, tearfully.</p> - -<p>Maybelle curled an imperious lip, and answered:</p> - -<p>“That is nonsense! You can not keep Floy with you -now. She will have to earn her living like other poor -girls!”</p> - -<p>Floy, sitting over at the window in dreary silence, -thought, exultantly:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[60]</span> -little world. So she kept back the words, and at last -said, with a careless little air that angered Maybelle -deeply:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Married—married! Why, who ever put such a notion -in that little giddy head? Who would marry a child -like you?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Otho had left no stone unturned to find out all that had -happened to Floy after Beresford took her away that -night.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> -could, and that they had lingered and parted at the door -like lovers, with a kiss.</p> - -<p>In the story of that kiss all was told.</p> - -<p>Otho knew that St. George Beresford, unlike the generality -of rich young men, was a man of honor.</p> - -<p>No young girl’s ruin lay at his door.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>So Otho and his sister, knowing Beresford’s honor and -Floy’s purity, knew full well the meaning of that kiss.</p> - -<p>It was the sacred pledge of their solemn betrothal.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“When Love, like a red rose, burns and blushes, -</div><div class="indent1">How sweet is the kiss that warm lips give; -</div><div class="indent0">The soul’s far deep at its coming hushes -</div><div class="indent1">The thirsting passions that in them live.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Nothing short of Floy’s death or dishonor would keep -the proud young aristocrat from making her his worshipful -bride.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[62]</span></p> - -<p>Maybelle, in the madness of her jealous love, hated -Floy with a terrible hate.</p> - -<p>She felt that she had come very near to winning Beresford’s -love just before he met Floy.</p> - -<p>And she vainly imagined that with Floy removed from -her path, she might yet succeed in her heart’s desire.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She could not speak for a moment after Floy’s little -boast, and the young girl continued, lightly:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>But Mrs. Banks almost fainted at the bare idea.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[63]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">THROWN ON THE WORLD.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Tears sprung to her eyes, and she cried piteously:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I should not mind it so much if only you could -be with me, dear,” added Floy, eagerly.</p> - -<p>But Maybelle was relentless.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“And mamma can recommend Floy to a good lodging-house,” -she added. “It is kept by a woman who used to<span class="pagenum">[64]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“And you think she is a good woman, and will be -kind to my poor child, Miss Maybelle?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed!” earnestly.</p> - -<p>“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. ——”</p> - -<p>“Horton,” said Maybelle.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Horton—thank you.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“You may need it, dear.”</p> - -<p>Floy thrust it back, crying out:</p> - -<p>“It is your little all, I can not take it!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you must, my darling, for I shall have more -from the sale of the furniture, you know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[65]</span></p> - -<p>Floy kept it reluctantly. She vowed that she never -would use it except in case of direst need.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“What was it that she ran back to whisper to you at -the last moment?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Banks did not dream how much was involved in -her answer. She thought it a matter of little moment, -and answered, carelessly:</p> - -<p>“She told me that if any letters came for her to -Mount Vernon to send them to her at once in New York.”</p> - -<p>“So she has a correspondent?” Maybelle muttered, -jealously.</p> - -<p>“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?<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> -She has no relations that she knows of, and no real -friend but me, poor little one!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps she has a clandestine love affair.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed, Miss Maybelle; I’m sure not. She was -only joking.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mrs. Banks, I must go now. Shall I tell -mamma that you will come to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“If you please, miss, for I shall get things ready to -have the auction sale of my household effects in the -morning.”</p> - -<p>Maybelle hurried away, and her next interview was -with the letter-carrier for that district.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The carrier promised compliance.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“AS PROUD AND AS PRETTY AS A PRINCESS.”</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She was so frank, so pretty, so engaging that it was a<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“Why, I am as good as they are, so why should I -cringe to them? Money is the only difference between -us.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[68]</span> -worked with now would stare and nudge each other with -surprise when she appeared!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Send the package to Mrs. Beresford, No. — Fifth -Avenue.”</p> - -<p>Then Floy comprehended instantly that the handsome, -gracious lady was none other than St. George Beresford’s -mother.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And as she did so, she noticed that the lady had carelessly<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> -left her well-filled purse on the counter under a -drift of snowy lawn.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she cried, breathlessly, catching it up and -rushing in swift pursuit.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Madame—Mrs. Beresford—your purse! You left it -on the counter!” she cried, incoherently.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>And she was opening the dainty gold-mounted <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">porte-monnaie</i>, -when Floy’s little hand closed it impetuously.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford entered her carriage, feeling somehow -as if she had been gently snubbed, and saying to herself, -half smiling:</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“She’s as rich as cream and peaches—her husband has -so many millions he can’t count ’em,” declared one, -rashly.</p> - -<p>“Her house is a marble palace on Fifth Avenue. We -will go out with you to see it Sunday, if you like.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t she make you a present for returning her -purse?” queried another curious one.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not,” Floy answered, proudly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>The girls all made great eyes of wonder, and one said -that Floy should have taken the reward.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“When I am his wife I will create as much sensation -as she does when she comes here to shop.”</p> - -<p>And just then one of her mates said, carelessly:</p> - -<p>“With all that money, the Beresfords have only two -children, a son and daughter, to inherit it.”</p> - -<p>“Is—is—the son married?” asked Floy, timidly; and -they all laughed.</p> - -<p>“What a question! Are you thinking of setting your -cap for him, princess! No, he is not married yet, though<span class="pagenum">[71]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Floy wondered, with a throbbing heart, what they -would say if they knew that she was betrothed to this -grand Beresford.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A CRUEL PERSECUTION.</span></h2> - - -<p>Floy went home that evening from the store with a -blithe heart.</p> - -<p>The meeting with St. George Beresford’s mother had -been a delight to the innocent girl.</p> - -<p>The great lady’s graciousness had thrilled her with -hope.</p> - -<p>She remembered how anxiously her lover had admitted -that he must conciliate his little world before his -marriage.</p> - -<p>It seemed to her simple mind that Mrs. Beresford had -been won over already.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rencontre</i> with his -charming mother.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[72]</span> -fourth story, where a minute later she was followed by -her landlady, pudgy Mrs. Horton.</p> - -<p>The woman carried in her hand a beautiful bunch of -roses and a letter.</p> - -<p>“These came for you awhile ago, Miss Fane,” she said, -blandly.</p> - -<p>“From whom?” exclaimed Floy, in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Some of your beaus, I suppose. Better read the letter -and see,” the woman returned good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>Floy tore it open with nervous fingers, and read these -words written in an elegant masculine hand:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear little Floy</span>—I can not rest under the ban of your -anger.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Ah, will you not forgive me and be friends again?</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Be ready when I call—I send you some roses for you to wear—and -I promise you a charming time.</p> - -<p class="ir2 p-1">“O. M.</p> - -<p class="p-1">“Union League Club, New York,<br /> -<span style="padding-left:4em">May 21st, 1895.”</span></p></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Miss Fane, I hope it’s not bad news!” cried the -landlady.</p> - -<p>Floy roused herself from her trance of indignation, and -answered, angrily:</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Horton, if a gentleman calls for me this evening<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you kindly, miss,” replied the woman, taking -them down to ornament her stuffy little parlor.</p> - -<p>And there Otho Maury found them when he made his -call. He crushed an oath under his black mustache as he -asked, eagerly:</p> - -<p>“Is Miss Fane at home?”</p> - -<p>“Lor’, Mr. Maury, are you the one that sent her the -flowers?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he replied, coldly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Otho repressed his rage, and said, gratingly:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see as there’d be any <em>great</em> harm, sir. It’s the -fourth flight, No. 19.”</p> - -<p>Floy had forgotten to lock her door after Mrs. Horton -went, she was so angrily intent on setting a match to -Otho’s letter.</p> - -<p>“How dare he persecute me so?” she cried, with flashing -eyes as she watched it shrivel to ashes.</p> - -<p>The tea-bell rang, but she did not heed it. She was too -excited to be conscious of hunger.</p> - -<p>She lighted her lamp, bathed her hot face, brushed out<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> -her tangled curls, then raised the window and looked -down into the street at the motley crowds beneath the -glaring lights.</p> - -<p>She was startled from a long reverie by the soft opening -and closing of her door.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Floy, let me speak to you one moment,” he pleaded -humbly.</p> - -<p>“No, I will not listen. How dare you come up here? -Leave the room this instant, you villain!” she cried out -in stormy anger.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Help! help! help!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, horror! horror!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[75]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">THE FAIR DEAD FACE HE HAD LOVED SO WELL.</span></h2> - - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I must not be suspected of having caused her accident -by my persecutions,” he thought, in alarm for his -reputation.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>If it were Maybelle now, she would gloat over the sight -in her joy that her beautiful rival was dead.</p> - -<p>But it was different with Otho, for deep in his heart -burned a mad passion for bewitching Floy.</p> - -<p>Though he had plotted with his sister to destroy her, -it was her soul <em>he</em> meant to wreck, not her beautiful -body. <em>That</em> he worshiped with doting admiration, and -had hoped to win.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[76]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>It was there, on the first page of the paper they brought -him, in glaring head-lines:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">A Plunge to Death!</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“As newsdealer Herr Spiel was dozing last evening in -a chair by his news-stand on Adams Street, he was startled<span class="pagenum">[77]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“But in the next moment the pretty face grew pale, -the smile faded, and with a groan she sunk unconscious -to the earth.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He drew her aside to tell her what had happened to<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> -Floy, and even his callous nature was shocked at her -savage glee.</p> - -<p>“What a cruel heart you have, Maybelle!” he cried -in disgust.</p> - -<p>She flashed him an angry look, and answered:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“A fine sentiment,” he gibed, wondering if she thought -herself quite honorable, as she had connived at the plot.</p> - -<p>She read his thought, and tossed her head defiantly, -thinking how glad she was that Floy was out of her way, -by whatever means.</p> - -<p>Otho sighed, and said:</p> - -<p>“If you are going back to Mount Vernon to-morrow, -perhaps you will break the news to Mrs. Banks? Poor -soul!”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I must be going,” he said, with a tortured sigh, remorse -heavy at his heart.</p> - -<p>“No, stay, and go with us to the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">matinée</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Hang Alva Beresford!” he replied, with the impatience -of pain.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be a fool, Otho. You know you said you would<span class="pagenum">[79]</span> -help me catch St. George if I would perform a similar -office for you with Alva.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know; but when did she get back from Paris -and her painting?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“CUPID.”</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The Beresfords tolerated Maybelle without admiring<span class="pagenum">[80]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>So perhaps it was with a spice of malice toward Maybelle -that Alva said, gayly, in a pause between the acts:</p> - -<p>“Do you see how sober mamma looks? She had a -great fright this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Alva!” cried that lady, with a reproving nod; but -her daughter, who was at times very volatile, laughed -at her, and continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She saw the hot color flame into Maybelle’s cheeks, and -continued, maliciously:</p> - -<p>“St. George is contemplating a shocking <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mésalliance</i>. -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> -her maturer age, simply bubbled over with laughter, and -continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>At her light, merry tone every one laughed, and Mrs. -Van Dorn said, consolingly:</p> - -<p>“I dare say it is only some pretty little actress, that -he will forget in a week.”</p> - -<p>“I only hope so,” sighed Mrs. Beresford; and then -Mrs. Van Dorn, pitying her embarrassment, turned the -conversation into other channels.</p> - -<p>They talked of books and art, and now Mrs. Beresford -could turn the tables on mischievous Alva.</p> - -<p>“I shall punish Alva finely for telling my secret woes!” -she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Every one turned to her eagerly, and she continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You cruel mamma, I shall go and find her myself<span class="pagenum">[82]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Otho whispered to Maybelle:</p> - -<p>“It must have been Floy that she saw at father’s -store.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Then the curtain raised again, and they turned to watch -the mimic woes of “Trilby” and her lover.</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">THE BERESFORD PRIDE.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How beautiful she is, how far above all others in her<span class="pagenum">[83]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He cried to himself, resolutely:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[84]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And every day he wrote again to Floy—love letters full -of the tenderness that thrilled his heart.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And so I write to you; and write, and write, and write, -</div><div class="indent0">For the mere sake of writing to you, dear. -</div><div class="indent0">What can I tell you that you know not? -</div><div class="indent0">Locked in my heart thou liest! -</div><div class="indent0">Love has set our souls in music to the self-same air.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was now three weeks since he had left New York, -but his hope of returning in a month was nipped in the -bud.</p> - -<p>The business on which his father had dispatched him -dragged wearily along, and did not promise to turn out<span class="pagenum">[85]</span> -successfully. His lawyer said frankly that it would very -likely detain him another month.</p> - -<p>Just as he was beginning to chafe impatiently over the -delay, came the anxiously awaited letter from his mother.</p> - -<p>Oh! how eagerly he broke the seal, the color flying to -his face, his heart beating like a trip-hammer.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>How could she be so cruel to the boy she loved so -dearly?</p> - -<p>Had she forgotten the tortured heart of Alva, that she -could doom her son to a like anguish?</p> - -<p>Poor Alva—belle, beauty, and heiress—yet—<em>poor</em> -Alva!</p> - -<p>Whispering in her empty heart the name of one that -died heart-broken for her sake!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford, in a passion of imperious anger, denounced -the weakness and folly of her son.</p> - -<p>She wrote, bitterly:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“You are a man, and of course I can not forbid you from -making the dreadful <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mésalliance</i> 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<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> -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.”</p></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He raged up and down the floor, his eyes blazing with -insulted pride.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He muttered in savage wrath, blended with wounded -pride:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He threw himself down at a table with his face on his -arm, his broad shoulders heaving with emotion.</p> - -<p>Long minutes passed while he fought the battle between -filial duty and affection and the strong love of his life—strong<span class="pagenum">[87]</span> -and eternal, though such a short time ago he had -not seen her face nor heard her name.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Love scorns degrees. The low he lifteth high; -</div><div class="indent0">The high he draweth down to that fair plane -</div><div class="indent0">Whereon, in his divine equality, -</div><div class="indent0">Two loving hearts may meet.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>Beresford lifted his head, his face transfigured with its -passionate love and wounded pride.</p> - -<p>Drawing a sheet of paper to him, he seized a pen, and -wrote rapidly:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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.”</p></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Two days passed, and then there came another letter -from New York. It was from Otho Maury—a smooth,<span class="pagenum">[88]</span> -fawning letter, pleading the paragraph he inclosed as an -excuse for writing.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<em>She died the next day.</em> 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.”</p></div> - -<p>St. George Beresford could not bear the terrible shock -of this letter, following on the excitement of his mother’s -denunciation.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">ALVA’S DISAPPOINTMENT.</span></h2> - - -<p>The day after the theater party Miss Beresford stood -alone in her beautiful studio in a sunny wing thrown out<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> -at the side of the mansion, and gazed meditatively at her -latest work.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Her most ambitious work, and one that had occupied -much time and study, was one that she called “Cupid.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>One can fancy how sweet and arch and happy Cupid -must have appeared at that moment when exercising his -fateful power.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The unfinished part was the face of Cupid.</p> - -<p>Alva had despaired of putting on canvas the face of -Cupid as it appeared to her fancy.</p> - -<p>Beautiful faces she could find in plenty, but the arch, -radiant smile, the laughing eyes so brightly blue, these -eluded her brush.</p> - -<p>“If I could only find a living face like my ideal and -put it on canvas!” she cried, eagerly, over and over to her<span class="pagenum">[90]</span> -mother, who at last became almost as anxious over the -subject as Alva herself.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And the artist, standing before her unfinished work, recalled -her mother’s words of the day before, and cried -out, joyously:</p> - -<p>“I must find that lovely girl! She must be my model!”</p> - -<p>Hastening to her mother, she exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“You must come with me this morning to find Cupid!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Alva did not ask what would be written to her brother; -she could guess only too well by the thorn in her own -heart.</p> - -<p>She repressed a bursting sigh of sympathy for St. -George, and said, determinedly:</p> - -<p>“Then tell me where to find her, for I am going alone -this very hour.”</p> - -<p>“She was a young salesgirl at the handkerchief counter -at Maury & Co.’s. I bought those exquisite cobweb lace -handkerchiefs from her, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Her name, mamma?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Tall or short, mamma?”</p> - -<p>“Of medium height, dear, slenderly yet exquisitely -formed, with a face of rarest beauty.”</p> - -<p>“It should be a boy’s face, mamma.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[91]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I will; and you may expect me to bring her home -with me.”</p> - -<p>She hurried out, ordered the carriage, and within an -hour was on her way to the store.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Several hours later Alva entered the room, still in her -rich carriage-dress, her face pale and grave.</p> - -<p>“Oh, mamma, I have had a great shock,” she sighed.</p> - -<p>“You did not find Cupid?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“The girl had eloped, perhaps,” smiled the lady.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[92]</span> -from her window in the fourth story down to the street -last evening, and was removed to Bellevue, unconscious, -and believed to be dying.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how sad, how shocking! and she was <em>so sweet</em>!” -mused Mrs. Beresford, tenderly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“WHERE IS SHE NOW?”</span></h2> - - -<p>“Alva!” cried Mrs. Beresford, gazing at her daughter -in consternation.</p> - -<p>She grew pale and shuddered as she spoke, for the -thought of the lovely girl’s terrible accident touched her -deeply.</p> - -<p>“Is it not a terrible disappointment?” cried Alva. -“Perhaps I shall never find her now, and my ‘Cupid’ will -never be finished.”</p> - -<p>“But surely the girl will be found again!” Mrs. Beresford -cried, consolingly; but Alva shook her head.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[93]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford smiled, and said:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is what they think at the hospital; but what -became of her, mamma, <em>afterward</em>?”</p> - -<p>She paused a moment, then added, anxiously:</p> - -<p>“You see, that was the day before yesterday, and she -never returned to her boarding-house nor the store. So—<em>where -is she now?</em>”</p> - -<p>And that question, asked by Mrs. Beresford’s pale lips, -became the text on which many changes were rung afterward.</p> - -<p>A beautiful young girl had disappeared in the strangest -way, and no clew to the mystery could be found.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But a hasty search proved unavailing. They were -sorry, very sorry, but it must have gone into the waste-basket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[94]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>For the mystery of Florence Fane’s disappearance became -one of the most unfathomable on record.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The Maurys did not see that there was anything to do -but wait for developments.</p> - -<p>In all the world there seemed to be no friend to seek -for the missing girl.</p> - -<p>And yet, undreamed of by the Maurys, there was a -search going on for Floy.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[95]</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford was at heart a noble lady, and, where -personal pride did not goad her to extremes, a firm friend.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Each day they both felt the disappointment more -keenly, until from the mother came the startling suggestion:</p> - -<p>“Why not put a private detective on her track?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“OH, MY SON, MY SON!”</span></h2> - - -<p>The clever detective was not the only person who was -furtively engaged in an eager search for the missing girl.</p> - -<p>Otho Maury, although he had written falsely to St.<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> -George Beresford that Floy was dead, had learned already, -to his dismay, of her strange disappearance.</p> - -<p>He saw that matters were more complicated than ever.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He guessed readily enough that Floy had become -frightened at his persecutions, and had hidden herself -away from him, awaiting Beresford’s return.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Again he held a secret conference with his sister, and -she raged with anger when she learned of Floy’s escape -from death.</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“If you could only find her and put her out of the way,” -she muttered, darkly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Let her but be found again, and Otho swore that he -would make it impossible for her to marry Beresford.</p> - -<p>Oh, it was cruel, shameful, wicked, this terrible warfare<span class="pagenum">[97]</span> -against a helpless orphan girl to whom life might -otherwise have proved so bright and fair!</p> - -<p>It was a wonder that peaceful sleep could visit the pillows -of the two arch-plotters, Otho and Maybelle.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He loved Floy, and the plot against her, though he -never swerved from it, planted thorns in his own heart.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I wish I had the powers of an amateur detective,” he -thought, longingly; but he did not dare to employ one.</p> - -<p>And he would have been startled if he had known that -he was under the espionage of the best private detective -in New York.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>So the mystery deepened.</p> - -<p>Neither lover nor detective could find one trace of -bonny Floy after her flight from Bellevue that fateful -twenty-first of May.</p> - -<p>The detective went down to Mount Vernon and spent -a week. He found out everything about the girl, save -<a id="Ref_97"></a>and except that St. George Beresford had been her accepted<span class="pagenum">[98]</span> -lover. That affair had been so brief that none -guessed it save Otho and Maybelle.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And you do not believe that she has followed the example -of her race and cut herself off from life?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Banks shuddered.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>His persuasive gaze coaxed her to proceed with her -confidences.</p> - -<p>“It was the night before she went away to be a salesgirl<span class="pagenum">[99]</span> -in the great city,” continued Mrs. Banks. “We sat -up late talking, and sweet little Floy said, humbly:</p> - -<p>“‘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?’</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘No, I <em>never</em> 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.’</p> - -<p>“I begged her to tell me all, but she refused, growing -pale, and trembling like a leaf in a storm, as she added:</p> - -<p>“‘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!’”</p> - -<p>“And she would tell you no more, madame?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[100]</span></p> - -<p>“Do you really believe that Suicide Place is haunted, -Madame?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Her story was interesting, but it threw no light on the -deep mystery of Florence Fane’s fate.</p> - -<p>So he went back to New York to tell his wealthy patron -that he had failed in his quest.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>They shuddered, the two beautiful, high-born women, -at his words, but Mrs. Beresford said quickly:</p> - -<p>“Although it is a plausible theory, there is one weak -point in it.”</p> - -<p>Landon looked at her inquiringly, and she said:</p> - -<p>“If a strain of madness in the race led its members to -suicide, why did one who was alien to them—a hired man<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> -on the place, I think you said—prove the victim in one -decade?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my son, my son!” she sobbed under her breath, -and the thought of him was like a sword in her wounded -heart.</p> - -<p>She had that day received from St. George the sorrowful -letter in which he had renounced home and wealth for -Love’s sake.</p> - -<p>Bitter was her anger, deep the wound in her heart, as -she read the brief, manly words.</p> - -<p>“He is stubborn, foolish!” she cried, as she flung -the letter to Alva.</p> - -<p>Her queenly daughter read it, and smiled her light, -cynical smile.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Alva!” reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“I mean it all, mamma! I—I would not have my<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> -brother’s heart tortured as mine was in my spring of -youth.”</p> - -<p>“Have we not humored every other whim, my darling?”</p> - -<p>“You have been most indulgent, but——” and Alva -broke off with a long, quivering sigh.</p> - -<p>She was thinking:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Thou canst not restore me the depth and the truth -</div><div class="indent0">Of the dreams that came o’er me in earliest youth; -</div><div class="indent0">Their gloss is departed, their magic is flown, -</div><div class="indent0">And sad and faint-hearted I wander alone.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“His father will be bitterly angry,” said Mrs. Beresford, -sighing.</p> - -<p>“Very likely,” Alva returned, indifferently.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry you take sides with your brother against -us,” stiffly.</p> - -<p>Alva laughed drearily, then said, coldly:</p> - -<p>“I glory in his independence!”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“YOU WICKED, WICKED GIRL!” CRIED THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR.</span></h2> - - -<p>Otho Maury received no answer to the letter he -so artfully sent to St. George Beresford.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[103]</span> -would never forgive him for his offense against -Floy.</p> - -<p>He gave up the quest for the missing girl after two -weeks, and went back to Mount Vernon distracted with -doubt and fear.</p> - -<p>“I am all at sea,” he confessed, frankly, to Maybelle, -who grew pale with anger as she cried:</p> - -<p>“You have failed!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“She is not dead. She will live to thwart all our -hopes!” cried his sister, furiously.</p> - -<p>Springing to her feet, she stood before him, livid with -emotion, hissing:</p> - -<p>“Oh, how I hate that girl! I wish that I had killed -her last night when I had her in my power!”</p> - -<p>“Last night, Maybelle! Why, what do you mean?” -he exclaimed in wonder, clutching her arm and forcing -her back to a seat.</p> - -<p>Maybelle leaned back panting and unnerved for a moment, -then cried, bitterly:</p> - -<p>“I was a fool to be frightened and take her for a -ghost!”</p> - -<p>“Calm yourself, Maybelle, and tell me what you -mean,” Otho insisted, excitedly.</p> - -<p>Fixing her flashing eyes on his face, she said, hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[104]</span></p> - -<p>“No—no.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He started, and his eyes flashed as he cried:</p> - -<p>“But you, Maybelle?—you said you saw her last night! -Where?”</p> - -<p>“Here, Otho, in this very house!”</p> - -<p>“Heavens! then she must be in collusion with Mrs. -Banks.”</p> - -<p>“No, she is not. The woman firmly believes that her -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</i> is dead.”</p> - -<p>“Then tell me all. Do you not see how impatient you -have made me with your mysterious hints?”</p> - -<p>She leaned nearer to him and whispered, hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; go on, Maybelle!” breathed Otho, impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I fell asleep, and rested calmly until about midnight, -when I awakened in a fright, for some one was shaking -me rudely.</p> - -<p>“‘Get up—get up, Maybelle Maury! I want the letters -my lover wrote me—the letters you have stolen!’ -cried an angry voice.</p> - -<p>“I started bolt upright in bed, frightened almost to -death, and half-dazed by being so suddenly roused from<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” exclaimed Otho, impatiently; and Maybelle -said, deprecatingly:</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘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.’”</p> - -<p>“She did not talk much like a ghost,” interpolated -Otho.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“It was Floy herself!” declared Otho, with bitter -chagrin.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am certain of it—have not doubted it since<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>“And I!” cried Otho, burning with murderous jealousy -at thought of Floy’s innocent joy at the recovery -of her love letters.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He felt, like Maybelle, that he would like to strangle -the joy in her sweet white throat with murderous hands.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“A ROYAL ROAD TO FORTUNE.”</span></h2> - - -<p>“I am sorry now that I did not follow my first impulse -and burn those hateful letters!” cried Maybelle -regretfully.</p> - -<p>“How many were there?” asked her brother, grimly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>If they had been intended for her—jealous, envious -Maybelle—she would have wished them framed in gold -and precious stones.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[107]</span></p> - -<p>For what is so dear to a woman’s heart as a love letter -from the man she adores?</p> - -<p>The mere sight of it makes the blood bound gladly -through her frame, and brightens eye and cheek with -joy.</p> - -<p>The touch of it makes her fingers tingle with delight.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She carries it in her bosom by day, and places it beneath -her pillow, to bring blissful dreams, by night.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“I thought of thee—I thought of thee -</div><div class="indent1">On ocean many a weary night, -</div><div class="indent0">When heaved the long and solemn sea, -</div><div class="indent1">With only waves and stars in sight. -</div><div class="indent0">We stole along by aisles of balm, -</div><div class="indent1">We furled before the coming gale, -</div><div class="indent0">We slept amid the breathless calm, -</div><div class="indent1">We flew before the straining sail— -</div><div class="indent0">But thou wert lost alas! to me, -</div><div class="indent0">And day and night I thought of thee.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>Otho listened to his sister with a cynical frown, guessing -all that she suffered by the pain in his own heart.</p> - -<p>“I have a suspicion!” he exclaimed, abruptly.</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[108]</span></p> - -<p>“Floy is hidden at Suicide Place,” he said, with an evil -gleam in his deep-set, dark eyes.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“But, Otho, are you not afraid to venture into that -fatal house?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad that you think so, and I hope that you -prosper in your undertaking to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sis, I can not foresee any possible failure -this time. She will be entirely at my mercy, with no -Beresford to interfere.”</p> - -<p>They were both silent for a time, ashamed to discuss -their wicked plans, then Maybelle drew a deep breath, -exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“On the verge of failure—oh, heavens! That is why -he refused me the new set of diamonds I craved! Oh,<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> -Heaven help me to win Beresford, for I could not endure -a life of poverty!” exclaimed Maybelle, hysterically.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You did not, for she showed her indifference too -plainly to encourage the least hope,” agreed his sister, -frankly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you succeed, I shall pay you well out of my -husband’s riches,” she cried, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The sun set in a blaze of golden glory, and the young<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> -moon rose over the tree-tops, shedding a tender amber -light upon the quiet, resting world.</p> - -<p>As soon as he could get away unobserved, Otho took -the lonely road toward Suicide Place.</p> - -<p>“She cannot escape me now, my pretty Floy!” he -muttered.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">HOW THOSE TENDER LETTERS TO ANOTHER MUST HAVE STABBED MAYBELLE’S HEART!</span></h2> - - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then she pressed her rosy lips to the page as fondly -as though it had been the handsome face of her absent -love.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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 -<a id="Ref_110"></a>foes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[111]</span></p> - -<p>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 <em>her</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[112]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“I seek you—you alone I seek; -</div><div class="indent1">All other women fair -</div><div class="indent0">Or wise or good may go their way, -</div><div class="indent1">Without my thought or care. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“But you I follow day by day, -</div><div class="indent1">And night by night I keep -</div><div class="indent0">My heart’s chaste mansion lighted, where -</div><div class="indent1">Your image lies asleep. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Asleep! If e’er to wake, He knows -</div><div class="indent1">Who Eve to Adam brought, -</div><div class="indent0">As you to me, the embodiment -</div><div class="indent1">Of boyhood’s dear, sweet thought. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And youth’s fond dream, and manhood’s hope, -</div><div class="indent1">That still half hopeless shone, -</div><div class="indent0">Till every rootless, vain ideal -</div><div class="indent1">Commingled into one— -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“<em>You</em>, who are so diverse from me, -</div><div class="indent1">And yet as much my own -</div><div class="indent0">As this my soul, which formed a part, -</div><div class="indent1">Dwells in its bodily throne. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“I swear no oaths, I tell no lies, -</div><div class="indent1">Nor boast I never knew -</div><div class="indent0">A love dream—we all dream in youth— -</div><div class="indent1">But, <em>waking</em>, I found <em>you</em>— -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“The real woman, whose first touch -</div><div class="indent1">Aroused to highest life -</div><div class="indent0">My real manhood. Crown it, then, -</div><div class="indent1">Good angel, friend, love, wife!” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She was right; for what could be more cruel pain to a -jealous, envious heart than to read those words of love -to another?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[113]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“He loves, but ’tis not me he loves, -</div><div class="indent1">Not me on whom he ponders, -</div><div class="indent0">When in some dream of tenderness -</div><div class="indent1">His truant fancy wanders.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“<em>Seven</em> letters! and such beautiful <em>long</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>A happy sigh escaped her lips, and she continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Poor Floy, counting the days and hours before her<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if I could hide myself away from him somewhere -until St. George’s return,” she moaned.</p> - -<p>She had a subtle presentiment that Otho’s persecutions -would ruin her life if his nefarious plans were not balked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I must hide myself from that black-hearted -wretch!” she sobbed, sitting up on the couch, and gazing -wildly around.</p> - -<p>She saw that she was quite alone, the attendant having -gone to hasten the physician whose duty it was to attend -to her case.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[115]</span></p> - -<p>She staggered to her feet and found herself unhurt. -The long swoon had been the result of the shock of fear.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>That night she rested in the haunted house, that, with -its evil repute, seemed to offer her a refuge from despair.</p> - -<p>Here, during the two weeks while the search for her -went on, Floy rested safe from pursuit.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She made several futile trips to the Maury residence -before she succeeded in getting possession of the precious -letters.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Having obtained the letters, she resolved not to venture -forth again, lest she should be followed and her -identity discovered.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[116]</span> -the threshold, he kept muttering, darkly, with horrible -exultation:</p> - -<p>“She can not escape me now!”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“I WILL SELL MY LIFE AND HONOR DEARLY!” CRIED THE MADDENED GIRL.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They had been handsome people, the Nellests, but -Floy’s beauty was of quite a different type.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[117]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>What had become of this great treasure?</p> - -<p>They found out that he had also been a heavy and -reckless stock gambler, and this seemed to account for -everything.</p> - -<p>The mad thirst for speculation had swallowed up -everything. Having staked all and lost, he died without -confessing that he had beggared his family.</p> - -<p>But, as his death had been a swift and sudden one, -from apoplexy, there had been no time for death-bed -disclosures.</p> - -<p>But neither did Jasper Nellest leave any papers bearing -on the subject of his lost wealth.</p> - -<p>He had simply possessed it, and made “ducks and -drakes” of it. That was the situation that stared his -descendants in the face.</p> - -<p>The brothers began an unequal struggle with the world -as poor men with dependent families.</p> - -<p>The elder one suicided within a decade, and the younger -dragged the weary chain of life until he was sixty; then -death released him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[118]</span></p> - -<p>The shadows of fate had indeed fallen most heavily -on that little golden head.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“In sorrow did your life begin, -</div><div class="indent0">Dark lines of fate have hedged it in; -</div><div class="indent0">Yet is your face as bright and fair -</div><div class="indent0">As if the shadow of black care -</div><div class="indent0">Threw over it no dismal gloom— -</div><div class="indent0">A cloud between you and earth’s bloom. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“The blue of heaven is in your eyes, -</div><div class="indent0">The heavens’ o’erarching paradise; -</div><div class="indent0">The sunshine’s gold doth crown your head -</div><div class="indent0">Your pouting lips are cherry-red; -</div><div class="indent0">The lily’s whiteness doth bedeck -</div><div class="indent0">The soft curves of your dimpled neck, -</div><div class="indent0">And on your cheek in beauty glows -</div><div class="indent0">And faint blush of the opening rose.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>Floy paced up and down the room awhile, yawned -and threw herself down again in a chair at the window.</p> - -<p>“How slowly the time goes!” she sighed. “I wish -I <em>did</em> have a lock to that door! But I don’t suppose anything -human will annoy me here. Otho Maury <em>would</em>, -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 <em>that</em>?”</p> - -<p>She shuddered and groaned, for a sound had reached -her ears in the awfully still old house—an eerie sound!</p> - -<p>It came up from the parlor below, and sounded like a -discord played by unskilled hands upon the piano keys.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[119]</span></p> - -<p>It had been caused, in fact, by Otho Maury, stumbling -against the piano, in his furtive search for Floy.</p> - -<p>Floy’s heart thumped terrifically against her side for -a moment, then she recovered herself as memory recalled -her first night at Suicide Place.</p> - -<p>“It’s just the mice running over the piano keys,” she -laughed.</p> - -<p>A full half an hour passed, and she grew nervous and -restless, startled by muffled sounds of footsteps in the -house.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Drawing the keen, shining blade from its sheath, she -held it in her hand, her flashing eyes turned toward the -door.</p> - -<p>“Let any intruder dare enter here, and I will sell my -life and honor dearly!” she cried.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">AT BAY.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Otho Maury!”</p> - -<p>The cry shrilled over her lips in a strangled gasp of<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> -loathing—not fear, for with that weapon in her hand she -felt strong to defy the villain.</p> - -<p>He started, and stood looking at her with dazed eyes.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>After his first start of surprise he cried, longingly:</p> - -<p>“Floy!”</p> - -<p>She saw that he was deathly pale, and heard a strange -tremor in his voice.</p> - -<p>“He is frightened, and I shall easily drive him off,” -she thought, exultantly; and replied:</p> - -<p>“How dare you intrude yourself into this house again, -Otho Maury? Have you forgotten how you were punished -the last time?”</p> - -<p>He glared angrily at her, and returned:</p> - -<p>“No; but Beresford is not here to save you now.”</p> - -<p>“But I can defend myself!” she cried, defiantly, -brandishing her weapon.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“You <em>are</em> afraid, you wretch! Your face is ashen -pale and your voice trembles with fear!” she retorted, -confidently.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> -house. Tell me, Floy, did you know that this house is -really haunted?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I knew it,” she answered, and her voice grew -tremulous also, while a look of horror dawned in her -eyes.</p> - -<p>“You knew it!” he cried in wonder. “Then how have -you had the courage to remain here alone?”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>He drew back sullenly, and remained on the threshold -facing her with his back to the dark corridor, while he -said, pleadingly:</p> - -<p>“Floy, I followed you here with an honorable object. -I love you madly. Will you become my wife?”</p> - -<p>“Never!” she answered, curtly, with measureless contempt -that angered him to frenzy.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“If you come within reach, you are rushing on your -death!” she cried, wildly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Like a flash, Floy transferred it to her other hand and -struck out at random.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[122]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">ANOTHER INTRUDER.</span></h2> - - -<p>Still grasping the bloody weapon, Floy looked down in -terror at the body of her bleeding victim.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Once he had decided that he would give up the hopeless -quest, but his patron’s anxiety spurred him on to another -effort.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Having no fear of ghosts, and laughing to himself at<span class="pagenum">[123]</span> -the idea of the place being haunted, he determined to -search it for Floy.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“She is there!” he thought, exultantly, and went in -through a door that Otho had carelessly left open.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The next moment he recognized him as Otho Maury, -whose steps he had once dogged in the hope of discovering -Floy.</p> - -<p>“Aha! I was right after all; he <em>is</em> her lover. I will -watch and see what comes of this!” he cried to himself, -keeping at a safe distance behind Otho.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[124]</span></p> - -<p>Floy shrunk against the window, with a low cry of -alarm, as she beheld this new intruder.</p> - -<p>“Oh, God, why am I so bitterly persecuted?”</p> - -<p>“I beg you not to be afraid of me, Miss Fane. I am -your friend,” exclaimed the detective, kindly.</p> - -<p>His voice sounded so honest and kindly that Floy said, -faintly:</p> - -<p>“Who are you? How came you here, sir?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Her beauty astonished him also, even though Mrs. -Beresford’s flattering description had prepared him in -some measure for Floy’s charms.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“No, it is not Mrs. Banks; it is another woman in the -great city of New York.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Not Mrs. Horton,” he replied, and bent down to look -at Otho.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[125]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Give me some water and a towel, miss, and I’ll stanch -the blood and see how bad the wound is,” added the detective.</p> - -<p>She brought the desired things, and as he went to work, -he said:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He brought out a tiny surgical-case from his coat-pocket -and sewed up the cut, after which he bandaged -it nicely.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how fortunate that you had those things along!” -cried Floy, admiringly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“OH, HOW BLEST I AM!” CRIED FLOY.</span></h2> - - -<p>Floy looked at him inquiringly, and he said:</p> - -<p>“Will you come with me to-night to New York and<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> -the lady who wants you so much, or shall you go to -Mrs. Banks?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She looked down at Otho’s face in alarm, crying:</p> - -<p>“Oh, how ghastly he looks! Are you sure he is not -really dead?”</p> - -<p>“He is not dead, and will be able to devise new deviltry -in a few weeks from now.”</p> - -<p>“Then let us hasten away. Who is the lady—the -friend you said had employed you to find me?”</p> - -<p>“Have you no suspicion?”</p> - -<p>“Not the slightest,” she replied, honestly.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever meet a Mrs. Beresford in Maury’s store -in New York?”</p> - -<p>Floy blushed divinely at the mention of the name of -Beresford and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“She admired you very much,” smiled the detective.</p> - -<p>“She told me I was pretty—that she liked to look at -me,” confessed Floy, naïvely.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I had not heard anything about her, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it is true, and Mrs. Beresford saw that your<span class="pagenum">[127]</span> -face was the very one Miss Alva wanted as a model for -a picture of Cupid that she is painting.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Floy, clasping her hands in wondering -delight.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He could not understand the wonderful radiance that -came upon Floy’s lovely face while he was speaking, making -her beauty almost unearthly.</p> - -<p>She was thinking, joyously:</p> - -<p>“Oh, how blest I am that I have found favor with -<em>his</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Do you like the plan? Will you come with me to -Mrs. Beresford?” asked Floyd Landon.</p> - -<p>“Oh, so gladly—so gladly!” she cried, in a sort of -rapture.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>No one would have recognized the detective’s prim, -old-fashioned-looking traveling companion as merry little<span class="pagenum">[128]</span> -Fly-away Floy. Her disguising costume was foreign in -style, in fact, had been worn by her mother on her return -from England.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“’TIS HOME WHERE’ER THE HEART IS.”</span></h2> - - -<p>“I can no longer wonder at my mother’s enthusiasm,” -thought Alva Beresford, on first beholding Floy.</p> - -<p>It was not yet midnight when Floyd Landon arrived -at the Fifth Avenue mansion with his charge.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Floyd Landon presented his charge with a few explanatory -words, and Miss Beresford was exceedingly gracious.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[129]</span> -Floyd Landon, anxious to get home to his wife, -whom he had left ailing when he went away that day.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Every association breathed of him, and made the -strange house seem home-like at once to her fond, loving -heart.</p> - -<p>She felt herself blessed in the strange freak of Fate -that had brought her to be a dweller beneath this roof.</p> - -<p>“A few more days—just a few more days now—and -he too, will be here, my love, my love!” throbbed her -happy heart.</p> - -<p>Alva led her upstairs to her own room, and summoned -her maid.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>When the maid had gone to do her bidding, she said, -kindly:</p> - -<p>“My dear, you look positively radiant somehow, yet -surely you must be very tired.”</p> - -<p>“I am not tired—I have come only a short journey—from -Mount Vernon—and I <em>am</em> so glad to be here, so -glad that I can be of service to you, Miss Beresford, that<span class="pagenum">[130]</span> -every other emotion is swallowed up in pure joy!” exclaimed -the grateful girl.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Is it so?” cried Floy, delightedly; and every moment -she grew more lovely. The gladness of her heart was -reflected charmingly in her face.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“But she does not need them, she is lovely enough -in her girlish bloom without adornment,” she thought, -quickly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Floy looked about her in delight.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Alva saw her glance with secret perturbation at her -cheap attire, and knew she was thinking of the contrast.</p> - -<p>“You did not bring your trunk,” she said, cheerfully. -“Never mind, we will remedy all that to-morrow. I<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> -will send Honora shopping for you, and she has charming -taste.”</p> - -<p>“You are too kind to me. I—I have no money, and—I -can not accept charity,” faltered Floy, her sensitive -pride taking alarm.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you—thank you!” cried Floy, dimpling -with delight at the thought of having new clothes when -St. George came home.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The next morning she breakfasted alone with Alva -and the latter said:</p> - -<p>“I did not tell you last night that my parents sailed -for Europe yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Floy looked so surprised that she added:</p> - -<p>“They read in the paper a telegraphic dispatch from -the London reporter that my brother St. George is quite -ill in London.”</p> - -<p>“<em>Ill!</em>” almost shrieked poor Floy.</p> - -<p>Her eyes drooped, her rosy face went white, she trembled -so that Miss Beresford thought she was going to -faint.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[132]</span></p> - -<p>“My dear child, what is the matter—are you also ill?” -she demanded, in alarm and surprise.</p> - -<p>Floy recovered herself with an effort.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I hope he is not very ill!” sighed Floy, very pale -still, in spite of her declaration that she was better.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[133]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Rich was the shadow of the room, -</div><div class="indent0">And bright the sifted sunlight’s bloom, -</div><div class="indent0">That lofty wall and ceiling sheathed; -</div><div class="indent0">Heavy the perfumed air she breathed. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Sumptuous sense of costly cheer -</div><div class="indent0">Pervaded the soft atmosphere, -</div><div class="indent0">As if charmed walls had shut it in -</div><div class="indent0">From all the wild world’s noisy din.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Then she drew the covering from her latest work and -directed Floy to look at it.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she cried, in an ecstasy; and Alva smiled, well -pleased.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[134]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">NEAR TO DEATH.</span></h2> - - -<p>Alva painted unweariedly for several hours, and declared -herself charmed with her lovely, patient model.</p> - -<p>Floy was enthusiastic, too. She declared that she could -not be grateful enough to Miss Beresford for putting -her face in that enchanting picture.</p> - -<p>“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.’”</p> - -<p>Alva saw that the girl’s delight was genuine, and it -charmed her very much.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I am charmed!” cried Floy.</p> - -<p>“You remember Longfellow’s ‘Maidenhood’?” continued -Alva; and she murmured some of the verses:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[135]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“‘Maiden with the meek brown eyes, -</div><div class="indent0a">In whose orbs a shadow lies, -</div><div class="indent0a">Like the dusk in evening skies. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“‘Thou whose locks outshine the sun, -</div><div class="indent0a">Golden tresses wreathed in one, -</div><div class="indent0a">As the braided streamlets run: -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“‘Standing with reluctant feet, -</div><div class="indent0a">Where the brook and river meet, -</div><div class="indent0a">Womanhood and childhood fleet.’” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“How old are you, Floy?”</p> - -<p>“Almost seventeen.”</p> - -<p>“A charming age—the time of illusions! I am twenty-eight, -dear—almost an old maid.”</p> - -<p>“You do not look twenty.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Pretty little Floy is my heart’s choice.”</p> - -<p>How impatiently she waited for that day, only God -and the angels knew.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then Floy, tortured by a secret unrest, cried out one -day:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[136]</span></p> - -<p>“Have you never heard from your parents yet?”</p> - -<p>Alva was so busy she did not look around from her -picture, and only answered:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At length there came letters for Alva from abroad, -and then she said to Floy:</p> - -<p>“It was all true about my brother, mamma says. He -has been very, very ill with brain fever, and came near -to death.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy could not answer one word. It was all that she -could do to keep her reeling senses from failing altogether.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p> - -<p>And she dared not cry out to this woman, his own -sister:</p> - -<p>“Pity me, sympathize with me, for I love him; he is -my own, my own, and if he dies my heart will break!”</p> - -<p>Not one word of grief must she utter unless the tidings -came that he was dead.</p> - -<p>Then she might open the flood-gates of her love and -despair, for betrayal would not matter when he was -gone.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Alva was in a bitter mood, that came to her sometimes -when the memory of her past was revived.</p> - -<p>She had been struggling to repress herself, but all in -vain, for now, half forgetting Floy’s presence, she cried -out with passionate indignation:</p> - -<p>“If he dies, that poor boy, my brother, his broken -heart and early death will lie at his mother’s door!”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“THE SILENCE OF A BROKEN HEART.”</span></h2> - - -<p>Floy leaned forward and clutched Alva’s arm with icy -fingers.</p> - -<p>“Oh, for God’s sake, tell me what you mean!” she -faltered, imploringly.</p> - -<p>“Why, what is it to you, child?” exclaimed Alva, startled -out of herself by Floy’s emotion.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing, nothing; pardon me, Miss Beresford. -But I was so sorry for you and for <em>him</em>, for—for you<span class="pagenum">[138]</span> -spoke of a broken heart,” sobbed Floy, drawing back in -dismay.</p> - -<p>Miss Beresford was silent one moment, then she -reached out and caressed Floy’s golden head with one -jeweled hand, while she answered:</p> - -<p>“I am not offended, Floy. You startled me from a -painful retrospect, that was all. I did not mean to -answer you rudely, dear.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You! you!” cried Floy, in tears and wonder.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“A grief may ease itself with tears to start, -</div><div class="indent1">Or vehement outcries in passion’s breath. -</div><div class="indent0">But the calm stillness of a broken heart -</div><div class="indent1">Is sadder far than death. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Life may flow patiently in tearless wave, -</div><div class="indent1">Its palmless martyrdom concealed, secure; -</div><div class="indent0">Only the soul itself the grief may know, -</div><div class="indent1">And silently endure. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“The strength of all regret is lost in sighs, -</div><div class="indent1">In murmuring sorrow’s fiercest flame expires; -</div><div class="indent0">But silence is the close where memories -</div><div class="indent1">Burn with undying fires.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[139]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then she breathed, timidly:</p> - -<p>“This illness of—your brother’s—its cause?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Heaven!” thought Floy, despairingly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps—perhaps they will persuade your brother -to desert his love,” breathed Floy, tremulously.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> -regret that he ever saw the girl. Ah, me! Will you -ring for lights, please, dear Floy?”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">PRIDE BROUGHT LOW.</span></h2> - - -<p>St. George Beresford’s precautions that his parents -should not know of his illness were useless.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>So the first news the Beresfords had of their son’s illness -was brought through a special to a New York daily -paper.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She had been too imperious and too hasty. She should -have tried gentler means with her spoiled but noble and -loving boy.</p> - -<p>She realized it all too late as she cried out to her anxious -husband:</p> - -<p>“You must take me to my son. He must forgive -me before he dies!”</p> - -<p>“We will start at the earliest possible hour,” he replied, -huskily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[141]</span></p> - -<p>Most fortunately a steamer was leaving New York -that day, and they had no difficulty in securing a first-class -passage.</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“No—no; I will await your return here. I am not -anxious to begin the gay season at the seashore.”</p> - -<p>So she remained in the large, splendid mansion with -the servants, and the anxious parents set out on their -journey.</p> - -<p>Oh, those weary days upon the sea, how long they -were, how heavily they dragged to those two hearts -aching with remorse and grief!</p> - -<p>“We were too harsh,” sighed the father.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“It may be that he feared our interference with the girl -during his absence.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[142]</span> -until the affair blew over,” confessed Mrs. Beresford, -frankly.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The weary journey was over at last, and they reached -London.</p> - -<p>Soon they were bending over their son’s sick-bed.</p> - -<p>But alas! it was enough to break their hearts, that -sight.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">TOO LATE!</span></h2> - - -<p>Oh, those days and nights of sorrow and suspense! -The tortured parents would never forget them.</p> - -<p>The memory of their harshness was a lash to conscience -that never ceased to sting.</p> - -<p>In the weary nightly vigils, when they hung over the -sufferer’s bedside, the mother prayed, unceasingly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[143]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, God, give me back my boy, that I may atone!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Oh, the strength of a mother’s love! What will it not -endure and yield and suffer for the sake of the beloved -one!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Give him back that I may atone!” was her continual -prayer, until it seemed as if God must have heard and -pitied at last.</p> - -<p>The day came when he opened his heavy eyes and -knew his mother.</p> - -<p>They lightened with a faint gleam of pleasure, and -from that moment he began to convalesce.</p> - -<p>Memory lay dormant in his mind for days; but it wakened -at last, as she knew by the sudden change on his -face.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mr. Beresford had gone out for a walk, and the -mother and son were alone.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It made her heart ache to see how thin and wasted<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> -he was, and to think that her cruelty had wrought the -change.</p> - -<p>His hollow dark eyes were turned toward the open -window, watching the rosy-purple sky with a far-off -look.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Impulsively she stooped and pressed her lips to his -brow, and it was not all her fancy that he shrunk from -the caress.</p> - -<p>“My son!” she cried, entreatingly; but there was no -reply, and she continued: “Forgive me!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“St. George, listen to me,” she murmured, tremulously, -but he could not speak. She felt his whole form -shaking with emotion.</p> - -<p>She cried out, tenderly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>No answer yet, and she felt the wasted form heaving -beneath the touch with heavy, repressed sobs that it -seemed unmanly to utter.</p> - -<p>“St. George, do you understand me, my dear?” she -murmured, tenderly. “We repent our harshness, we<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was a tempest of grief before which the grieving -mother was appalled.</p> - -<p>She put her arms around him and wept with him in -passionate sympathy.</p> - -<p>Mr. Beresford stole back to the room so quietly that -neither heard him. He hovered over them in perplexity -of grief.</p> - -<p>At length he saw that the tempestuous sobs were -stifled by a manly will, and St. George answered, faintly, -to his mother’s implorings:</p> - -<p>“Alas! it is too late.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>A strangled sob shook the invalid’s form.</p> - -<p>“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—<em>she</em> is dead!”</p> - -<p>“Great Heaven!” cried his mother, in amazement.</p> - -<p>“<em>She</em> is dead,” he repeated, with the calmness of despair.<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> -“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.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“HE IS FICKLE AND FALSE—MY LOVER WHOM I TRUSTED SO FONDLY!—HOW CAN I BEAR THIS PAIN AND LIVE?”</span></h2> - - -<p>Mr. Beresford, when he saw himself discovered, advanced -to the bedside.</p> - -<p>He was a tall, portly gentleman, with kind brown eyes -and a pleasant face that beamed with joy as he said:</p> - -<p>“A letter from Alva at last!”</p> - -<p>His wife sunk back in her chair and eagerly perused -it. Then she handed it to her husband, and turned again -to her son.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>But it was hard to remember anything else now, when -sorrow was at its flood-tide, sweeping like a torrent over -his heart.</p> - -<p>“No; Alva is at home. She will not leave New York -till we return,” his mother returned.</p> - -<p>“But she will be very lonely, I fear.”</p> - -<p>“No; she is very busy painting, and Alva loves art better -than society, you know. Besides, she has a companion—a<span class="pagenum">[147]</span> -lovely young girl whom she has employed as a -model.”</p> - -<p>Alva’s letter had not been very long, and she had chronicled -the finding of Floy in one careless paragraph:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But he did not confide these thoughts to his parents.</p> - -<p>The subject had never been revived between them -again.</p> - -<p>St. George had a bitter, secret consciousness that he<span class="pagenum">[148]</span> -did not have their sympathy in his sorrow, and that at -heart the death of his betrothed was a relief to them.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But her son had answered, with the indifference of ill-health -and an aching heart:</p> - -<p>“I would not want her though she were ‘the daughter -of a hundred earls!’”</p> - -<p>And his father had whispered to his wife:</p> - -<p>“Leave the lad alone awhile. His grief is too fresh -and new to bear consolation yet. Time will bring the -only balm—forgetfulness.”</p> - -<p>So when St. George renewed the subject of going -home, they did not say him nay.</p> - -<p>They, too, were anxious to return, and by the middle -of July had engaged their state-rooms on a steamer -of the fastest line.</p> - -<p>Bidding farewell to all their little coterie of English -friends at Brighton, they were soon <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i> for home -and Alva.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[149]</span></p> - -<p>He said to himself that since Floy was dead he could -never love again.</p> - -<p>He held himself moodily apart from every passenger -but one.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>It came to him at last with a shock of mingled pain -and pleasure.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>By the time they reached New York, St. George was -loath to part with his fascinating friend.</p> - -<p>He pressed him to become his guest. The reply startled -him.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[150]</span></p> - -<p>It was a startling answer to St. George, who had also -planned an early trip to Mount Vernon.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then they went on shore, and there was Alva radiant -with joy to meet them.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy choked back a rising sob, and sat like a statue in -her chair, fearing to breathe lest she betray her cruel -secret.</p> - -<p>She was as proud as she was beautiful, this willful -little Floy.</p> - -<p>In the long happy weeks since she had been here with<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> -Alva she had dreamed some happy dreams, but now they -were all over.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But when Alva’s confidences showed Floy the overweening -pride of the Beresfords, she began to be frightened -even of charming Alva.</p> - -<p>She said to herself in weary nightly vigils:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[152]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“NOT TILL LOVE COMES.”</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Never was a villain assured of success in a nefarious -design more cleverly checkmated.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes after their departure, Otho revived, -and lifted his head in wonder at his position.</p> - -<p>A darting pain in his wounded neck recalled him -sharply to a sense of all that had happened.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He had swooned with the pain of the wound she gave -him, and knew no more.</p> - -<p>How long ago had that been? How long had he been -lying here? And where was Floy?</p> - -<p>He called her name faintly in the silence, but only the -echoes of the grim old house gave reply.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[153]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He shuddered and glanced fearfully at the door, as -though expecting some unearthly presence to appear.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Going to Maybelle’s room, he told her what had happened, -and asked her to examine the wound.</p> - -<p>Shuddering at sight of the blood, his sister carefully -unwrapped the bandages, and found that the wound—a<span class="pagenum">[154]</span> -very slight one, though it had bled freely—had already -been carefully dressed.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Otho was bitterly chagrined at the failure of his scheme -and Floy’s second escape from his devilish machinations.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was less than a year since she had known him, but -her jealousy had altered all her life.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>What a potent factor is Love in all the affairs of life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[155]</span></p> - -<p>Laugh at Love, flout him as we may, he still is our -master, we his slaves.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Not till Love comes in all his strength and terror, -</div><div class="indent1">Can we read other’s hearts; not till then know -</div><div class="indent0">A wide compassion for all human error, -</div><div class="indent1">Or sound the quivering depths of mortal woe. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Not till we sail with him o’er stormy oceans -</div><div class="indent1">Have we seen tempests; hidden in his hand -</div><div class="indent0">He holds the keys to all the great emotions; -</div><div class="indent1">Till he unlocks them none can understand.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">SEARCHING IN VAIN.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And then her disappearance became as strange as it -had seemed the first time.</p> - -<p>Naturally it did not once occur to him that Floy had -found a powerful protector in the person of Miss Beresford.</p> - -<p>The splendid house on Fifth Avenue, where the heiress -lived, was the last one he would have thought of searching -for the missing girl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[156]</span></p> - -<p>Yet in that splendid casket Floy, like some beautiful -precious jewel, was hidden from his sight.</p> - -<p>The fair girl in her modesty had refrained from acquainting -her kind employer with the story of her persecution -by Otho Maury. She thought:</p> - -<p>“If I told her all, she might think me boastful and -vain.”</p> - -<p>And she was too anxious for that lady’s good opinion -to run such a risk by lack of discretion.</p> - -<p>She had even secured the detective’s promise of silence -on the subject.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</i>—he made no mention of Otho -Maury’s dastardly persecution of Floy.</p> - -<p>Floy on her part was equally reticent.</p> - -<p>The fall from the window of her lodging-house, as told -by herself, seemed a very tame affair.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[157]</span> -myself in the only refuge that belonged to me—my old -home.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Miss Beresford remarked on this one day, and Floy -faltered out something about sunburn and freckles.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Floy had no answer ready, for she did not wish to tell -the lady that she feared to be recognized by an enemy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[158]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A BOWER OF ROSES.</span></h2> - - -<p>So, while Floy’s enemy sought her all in vain, the day -of her lover’s return came at last.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But all that last day she busied herself, flitting hither -and thither, helping Alva to make the house beautiful for -the returning dear ones.</p> - -<p>“My brother loves flowers, especially roses, most -dearly; so we will have roses everywhere,” said Alva.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“But his love grew cold before the sweet roses faded,” -she sighed from the bottom of her sad young heart.</p> - -<p>Then something seemed to whisper tauntingly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>As she passed and repassed the grand plate-glass mirrors -she would look into them anxiously, and with dissatisfaction.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[159]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She thought that the dark queenly style of beauty of -Alva and Maybelle was hundred times more attractive -than her blonde type of beauty.</p> - -<p>Poor little Floy was sadly changed since she had heard -that her lover’s heart had grown cold.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Miss Beresford could not help seeing the change.</p> - -<p>It puzzled and perplexed her, until she said at last:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But she could not own her sorrow to St. George Beresford’s -sister, never—never! She would go away and -die sooner than that.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[160]</span></p> - -<p>“It is so sweet and fragrant he may perhaps wear it -on his coat, and think of me.”</p> - -<p>Alva came in, and looked about her with delight.</p> - -<p>“Why, Cupid, you have made it a bower of roses. -Are you sure you have left any for me?” she laughed, -admiringly.</p> - -<p>“The florist said he would bring you some more,” -answered Floy, blushing because she had taken so many -for her darling’s room.</p> - -<p>“Then you must finish the arrangements, dear; for it -is time to go and meet them now, and you refuse to accompany -me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I could not—I could not!” Floy cried, affrighted; -and Miss Beresford cried, gayly:</p> - -<p>“What a bashful child you are, Cupid!”</p> - -<p>She was turning away when Floy caught her sleeve, -and gasped, imploringly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Alva saw that she was painfully in earnest, but she -thought it was only girlish bashfulness. She smiled indulgently, -and said:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> -woman who had come between her son and his heart’s -true love.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A LITTLE HAND.</span></h2> - - -<p>Alva was right about the travelers being weary. They -retired early to their rooms that evening, St. George -first of all.</p> - -<p>“How sweet, how beautiful!” he cried, when the odor -of the roses greeted him from every side.</p> - -<p>He went up to the table, where a half-blown bud in -a slender crystal vase charmed him with its crimson -beauty.</p> - -<p>“What a rich, warm, velvety scarlet rose—the flower -of love!” he exclaimed; and pressed his lips on the -curling petals.</p> - -<p>In that instant a memory of Floy, his lost young love, -came to him in bitter agony.</p> - -<p>He turned his head quickly toward the door.</p> - -<p>It had seemed to him that he heard a long, low, quivering -sigh behind the shadowy <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">portières</i> of violet silk.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[162]</span></p> - -<p>“Alva!” he called, thinking she had followed him for a -tender little chat.</p> - -<p>But there was no reply.</p> - -<p>He sprung to the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">portières</i> and thrust them aside, but -the long, brightly lighted corridor was empty.</p> - -<p>He returned to his room slowly, thinking in a solemn -awe:</p> - -<p>“It was not my fancy. I distinctly saw a little hand—small, -white and dimpled—vanishing away. It was <em>her</em> -hand—my Floy’s—beckoning me to the world of -shadows.”</p> - -<p>All night, whether waking or sleeping, she was in his -thoughts—his dead love.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>“Dear Heaven, I wish that I might die and follow little -Floy to her bright home!” he groaned, despairingly.</p> - -<p>Small wonder that his sleep was restless and disturbed, -and that in the morning he was wan and hollow-eyed as -some pale ghost.</p> - -<p>Alva was shocked, but she did not tell him so; she -only showed her concern by the tenderest care.</p> - -<p>“We must take you down to Newport before the end<span class="pagenum">[163]</span> -of the week; New York is stifling now,” she said, with -a significant look at her mother.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and you must all come and pronounce on its -merits,” replied Alva, leading the way arm in arm with -her brother.</p> - -<p>St. George had to profess a polite interest he did not -feel as they entered the studio and stood before the -favorite picture.</p> - -<p>“Where is she—your lovely model? I had forgotten -her until this moment!” cried her mother.</p> - -<p>“I will send for her,” returned Alva, speaking to a maid -who was in the room.</p> - -<p>The girl went out, and then Alva turned to her brother, -who was gazing with startled eyes at the beautiful canvas.</p> - -<p>“That face! that face!” he exclaimed, pointing wildly.</p> - -<p>“I painted it from life,” she replied; adding, proudly: -“Can you imagine anything in life so perfectly beautiful?”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A STARTLING REVELATION.</span></h2> - - -<p>Alva looked intently at her brother, and she saw that -he was struggling with deep emotion.</p> - -<p>It pleased her to see that her picture could affect him -so deeply.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[164]</span></p> - -<p>“Is it not beautiful—the face of Cupid? Can you -imagine anything living so perfectly beautiful?” she repeated.</p> - -<p>Slowly, without taking his eyes from the lovely face, -St. George replied, dreamily:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>They drew close to him—father, mother, sister—and -Alva caught his hand.</p> - -<p>“What is that you mean? Have you ever known this -girl Floy—my lovely model?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Half impatiently, as if amazed at her stupidity, he answered:</p> - -<p>“Have I not told you that she was mine—my little -sweetheart Floy, that the angels took away from me?”</p> - -<p>“Floy Fane?” almost shrieked his mother; and he answered, -wearily:</p> - -<p>“Yes; did you not know?”</p> - -<p>And so they stood face to face with the truth.</p> - -<p>Bonny little Floy, the lovely Cupid of Alva’s picture, -was St. George’s sweetheart, whom they had hated and -reviled—without knowing!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[165]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford found voice to exclaim:</p> - -<p>“Why did you not tell me her name? Why did you -say that she was dead?”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>The father, with the usual masculine dread of scenes, -kept himself in the background, leaving it all to the two -women.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford’s heart swelled with joy as she thought -that now was the moment in which to atone for all her -cruelty.</p> - -<p>She had been bitterly despondent over her son’s low -spirits and failing health.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[166]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Against that subtile power of love she had felt herself -so impatient that she could have cried aloud for mercy, -in her wild despair.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Her face fairly beamed with joy as she bent over him -asking, tenderly:</p> - -<p>“My son, who told you that Floy Fane was dead?”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">JOY AND SORROW.</span></h2> - - -<p>St. George looked up at his mother, and it angered -him to see the look of joy on her face.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Answer me, dear,” she persisted, grasping his arm in -her excitement.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[167]</span></p> - -<p>He turned his heavy eyes on her face, and said, reproachfully:</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Dearest, we have news for you—joyful news. Can -you bear it?”</p> - -<p>He started, his heavy eyes flashed with sudden hope.</p> - -<p>“Speak!” he cried, hoarsely; and she answered:</p> - -<p>“Florence Fane did indeed fall from the window—the -paragraph told the truth—but Mr. Maury was mistaken -about her death. She—she—lives!”</p> - -<p>“Lives?” he cried.</p> - -<p>And they never forgot the joy that transfigured his -face. It was like sunshine suddenly breaking through -a dark cloud.</p> - -<p>But in a moment he added, sadly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[168]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She studied his face gravely, then asked:</p> - -<p>“Would that make any change in your love for her, my -brother?”</p> - -<p>Trembling with emotion, his brain whirling with the -shock of joy, he answered, fervently:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Overcome with emotion, he leaned his face on Alva’s -shoulder, and a stifled sob burst from his lips.</p> - -<p>In that moment they all realized in its greatness the -might of his love for little Floy.</p> - -<p>Alva glanced around to see if Floy were coming in answer -to her message.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>Several moments passed, yet the door did not open.</p> - -<p>Alva guessed now all the cause of Floy’s timidity, but -she wondered at the girl’s delay.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[169]</span></p> - -<p>If she really loved St. George, why did she not hasten -to his side?</p> - -<p>Lifting his head from her shoulder, he asked again, -eagerly:</p> - -<p>“Where is my darling?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You have planned all this to surprise me! Oh, what -a joyful moment!” he cried, with his eager eyes on the -door.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Because I bid her not,” he explained.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>St. George listened with breathless interest to every -word, his heart throbbing with joy, his blood bounding -through his veins with new life.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“And you will welcome her as a daughter?” he asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[170]</span></p> - -<p>“Proudly,” she answered, smilingly.</p> - -<p>“And you, father?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Beresford laughed, and answered, blandly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>How bright the future looked at that moment to them -all!</p> - -<p>But the next instant Alva’s maid entered the room -with so grave a face that it instantly sobered the happy -party.</p> - -<p>“Where is Miss Fane?” cried Alva, impatiently.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A YOUNG GIRL’S PRIDE.</span></h2> - - -<p>Alva took the letter from Honora amid cries of dismay -from them all.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[171]</span></p> - -<p>She broke the seal, and as she opened the letter, a flashing -diamond ring fell out into her hand from the closely -written sheet.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Alva read aloud, knowing how impatient they would -be to hear the letter:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Beresford</span>—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.</p> - -<p>“‘I am the poor girl whose engagement to your brother -so bitterly outraged the Beresford pride.</p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p>“‘At first I did not believe it; I was resolved to cling -to my lover, and put his constancy to the test.</p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[172]</span></p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p>“‘I, too, am proud, though not a Beresford. There -may be other pride than that of wealth and place.</p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p>“‘Do not feel troubled over my fate. Thanks to your -generosity, I have money enough to support me till I find -work again.</p> - -<p>“‘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</p> - -<p class="ir2 p-1"><span class="smcap">“‘Floy</span>.’”</p></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Indeed, she had not even threatened to hide herself, -for how could she suppose they would search for her in -her exile?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[173]</span></p> - -<p>She had told herself most bitterly that they would rejoice -at her flight.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">MAYBELLE WRITES A LETTER.</span></h2> - - -<p>They sent for the detective and confided the whole -story to him, knowing that he was both clever and trustworthy.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But he did not judge it expedient to keep his promise -to Floy any longer—the promise to shield Otho Maury.</p> - -<p>So he said to the anxious lover:</p> - -<p>“You have a dangerous rival.”</p> - -<p>“You mean Otho Maury?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Floy hates the villain.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and he knows it. That makes him all the more -dangerous, because he is determined on revenge for her<span class="pagenum">[174]</span> -scorn;” and the detective related the story of that night -when he found Floy at Suicide Place.</p> - -<p>“That man will bear watching,” he said.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, his heart was filled with a great, glad joy -at the news that she was living.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Their hearts had met in a love that could not change -or die.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[175]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And yet I know, past all doubting, truly— -</div><div class="indent1">A knowledge greater than grief can dim— -</div><div class="indent0">I know as he loved, he will love me duly; -</div><div class="indent1">Yea, better—e’en better than I love him. -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And as I walk by the vast calm river, -</div><div class="indent1">The awful river so dread to see, -</div><div class="indent0">I say, ‘Thy breath and thy depth forever -</div><div class="indent1">Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.’” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>Meanwhile, the very thought that Floy was alive was -like the very elixir of life to him.</p> - -<p>It did him more good than all the doctors in the world, -with their pills and potions, could have accomplished.</p> - -<p>“I shall get well now; I feel stronger already!” he -exclaimed, gladly.</p> - -<p>Several days passed without news from the detective, -but he would not permit himself to be cast down.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>They had talked it all over, and agreed that when Floy -was found, St. George should persuade her to marry him -at once.</p> - -<p>She was friendless, homeless, and the sooner she became -one of the family, the better.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[176]</span></p> - -<p>Alva made him welcome in the studio, where he spent -more than half his time.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He was surprised one day to receive a letter from -Maybelle Maury.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>The very madness of love and longing drove Maybelle -into a most unwomanly act.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She wrote a tender and pathetic letter, in which all her -heart was revealed.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> -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.</p> - -<p class="ir2 p-1">“<span class="smcap">Maybelle.</span>”</p></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Such a contemptible poltroon makes a high-minded -person exclaim with Shakespeare:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[178]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent10">“Oh, for a whip, -</div><div class="indent0">To lash the rascal naked through the world!” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And he wrote back, courteously:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“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?</p> - -<p>“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.”</p></div> - -<p>And so with cruel kindness St. George strove to pluck -the thorn of love from Maybelle’s heart.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“For love is often a thorny flower, -</div><div class="indent1">It breaks, and we bleed and smart; -</div><div class="indent0">The blossom falls at the fairest, -</div><div class="indent1">And the thorn runs into the heart.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>The thorn had pierced deep in Maybelle’s heart, and it -almost drove her mad, that letter.</p> - -<p>She sought Otho with it, and confessed the failure of -her scheme.</p> - -<p>“He despises me. I can never—never win him. And<span class="pagenum">[179]</span> -I think I hate him now. I would like to wound his heart -as he has wounded mine!” she groaned, in her misery.</p> - -<p>“Let him go. There are others as well worth winning,” -he said, angrily.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>Otho looked at her closely. He had a pale, nervous -look, and his eyes gleamed with a sullen fire.</p> - -<p>Leaning close to her, he whispered:</p> - -<p>“I have a plan to get money, Maybelle. Would you be -willing to help me?”</p> - -<p>“What could I do?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—yes; I am no baby. Tell me your plan, Otho.</p> - -<p>“There is no danger for us, I am sure,” he repeated reassuringly -to himself; then in low, whispered words he -told her his story.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[180]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">BUT ONE CHANCE IN A HUNDRED.</span></h2> - - -<p>But we must turn our attention from other interests -for awhile to follow the fortunes of our unhappy heroine, -lovely Floy.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>Love and sorrow had come to her as it comes to many, -hand in hand, saddening her heart and changing her -life.</p> - -<p>Her life in those weeks with Alva had been widened in -its scope. The clever and intelligent Alva had taught her -many things.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In that slender, lovely form was embodied indomitable -pride and strong self-will.</p> - -<p>Her heart swelled with bitterness against St. George<span class="pagenum">[181]</span> -Beresford, who, after pretending to love her with such -entire devotion, could be so easily swayed from his allegiance -by another’s will.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She sat upon the side of the hard cot looking about her -with a bitter smile, wondering why fortune was so unequally<span class="pagenum">[182]</span> -divided in this world, and if the Beresfords deserved -wealth and happiness any more than she and the -Bascoms did poverty and pain.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“They would not pity and scorn me then—they would -be glad for their son to marry me,” she thought.</p> - -<p>The wish grew into a longing as the sleepless hours -wore on.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She buried her hot face in the pillow, shuddering, for -a wild temptation had come to her—one from which she -shrunk in terror.</p> - -<p>She murmured, faintly:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>But she hid her face in her hands, and her slight frame -shook as with a mortal chill.</p> - -<p>A vision had swept over her of the day when she had<span class="pagenum">[183]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make -mad.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[184]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“HOPE DEFERRED MAKETH THE HEART SICK.”</span></h2> - - -<p>Ah, how slowly pass the days and weeks when parted -from one we love!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“Oh, absence is the night of love, -</div><div class="indent1">Lovers are very children then, -</div><div class="indent0">Fancy ten thousand feverish ills -</div><div class="indent1">Till their loved one returns again!” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>For, though a week had passed away, Landon had no -encouraging news to give.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But in vain they urged him to desert the hot city for -the cool breezes of Newport.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He was bitterly impatient over his lingering weakness<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> -that prevented him from taking an active part in the -search for Floy.</p> - -<p>“Be patient, dear; Mr. Landon will surely find her -soon!” Alva would exclaim each day, her own heart -aching in sympathy with his pain.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You will let me see them!” he cried, eagerly; and -Alva assented, saying:</p> - -<p>“Yes, for I am sure they were composed by Floy herself, -and intended for you, my dear. They are very<span class="pagenum">[186]</span> -simple and sad, and perhaps have but little literary merit, -yet they breathe the love and constancy of a noble -heart.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center p1" style="margin-bottom:-0.75em">“YOU WILL KNOW.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“When lighter loves shall fail you in your need, -</div><div class="indent0">When the prop you lean on proves a broken reed, -</div><div class="indent0">When wrong and falsehood cause your heart to bleed; -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“When all the world seems hollow, cold, and dark, -</div><div class="indent0">When for one tender voice you vainly hark, -</div><div class="indent0">When quenched in night seems Love’s ethereal spark; -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And when, heart-broken, you remember me, -</div><div class="indent0">The love forsaken in youth’s wanton glee, -</div><div class="indent0">To roam the wide world fickle, fancy free; -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And you return repentant and forlorn, -</div><div class="indent0">Shamed in your soul that ever you were born, -</div><div class="indent0">Scarred with the lash of heartless worldings’ scorn; -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“And when you find, despite the cruel past, -</div><div class="indent0">The patient heart that held your image fast, -</div><div class="indent0">Forgiving all, then you will know at last; -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“How I have loved you, how my heart has kept -</div><div class="indent0">Its faith through unfaith, though of joy bereft -</div><div class="indent0">When naught but hope and memory were left; -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentquote0">“How I have loved you when I dry your tears, -</div><div class="indent0">And calm your wild remorse and anxious fears, -</div><div class="indent0">And point your hopes to brighter future years.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[187]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He threw aside the pencil, crying, tenderly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[188]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED.”</span></h2> - - -<p>Beresford could find no words in which to express -his surprise and chagrin.</p> - -<p>He could only stare, speechlessly, at the detective -waiting for an explanation.</p> - -<p>He saw that Landon looked pale and nervous.</p> - -<p>“You are ill!” he exclaimed, at last, as if that explained -all.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But who can succeed where you have failed, Landon? -You, the bravest, cleverest detective in New York!”</p> - -<p>The detective smiled, as if gratified at this praise, then -sighed:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>He paled and shuddered as at some ghastly recollection, -then continued:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Explain!” cried the young man, anxiously; then<span class="pagenum">[189]</span> -seeing the extreme pallor of his visitor, hastily rang for -wine. “Drink; you will feel better,” he said.</p> - -<p>Landon gulped down half a glass, and the color returned -to his pallid face, as he said:</p> - -<p>“I have been searching Suicide Place again for Miss -Fane.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” eagerly.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Beresford was too shocked to reply. He waited -mutely for more.</p> - -<p>Landon drained his glass, and continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Great heavens! for what sinister purpose, Landon?”</p> - -<p>“It occurred to me that they had somehow imprisoned<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“It is very probable. But you—you found out——”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>As that strange word dropped from the detective’s -lips, Beresford glared at him as if he would spring at his -throat.</p> - -<p>“You—you dared to come away and leave her to their -mercy, you coward!” he groaned.</p> - -<p>Landon paled and shuddered, but he fronted the other’s -wrath fearlessly, answering quietly:</p> - -<p>“I am not angry at your harsh epithets, for—my -God! how can you understand?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>His senses whirled with his misery, and he was on the -verge of falling, when Landon caught him, pushing him -back into his seat.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[191]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Not I, Landon; not I. All the hordes of hell assembled -could not frighten me back from my darling in -peril!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[192]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“LIFE IS SO SAD!” CRIED FLOY.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When he was gone, the impatient lover confided all to -his family, and announced his immediate departure for -Mount Vernon.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I can not let you go alone. I will accompany you!” -exclaimed Alva, eagerly; and the offer was eagerly accepted.</p> - -<p>They started for Mount Vernon within the hour, and -on arriving went at once to a hotel.</p> - -<p>What was Beresford’s astonishment to meet there a -person whom, in the agitation of his troubles, he had -almost forgotten—his interesting <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">compagnon du voyage</i>—Lord -Alexander Miller!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[193]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When he saw St. George’s start of surprise, he smiled -and said:</p> - -<p>“I see you had almost forgotten me, Mr. Beresford.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I have been here ever since, and am just now -leaving. In fact, my cab is waiting for me at the door.”</p> - -<p>“Shall we not meet you in New York on our return?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>There was a note of pain in his voice, and Alva’s heart -throbbed with a strange sympathy, he seemed so grave, -so sad.</p> - -<p>He resumed, after a moment, wearily:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[194]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I am glad of that—so it is <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au revoir</i>, and not good-bye,” -smiled the Englishman, lifting his hat in farewell -ere he turned and descended the steps to the waiting carriage.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How like, how strangely like!” she thought, with -silent pain.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[195]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was late afternoon, and the great city was a Babel -of noise and confusion.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The next moment he became the witness of an accident -that thrilled him with alarm.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A knot of people gathered around, gazing in pity and -admiration at the lovely face in its frame of rippling -golden hair.</p> - -<p>A compassionate woman took some water and bathed -the blood from the wounded temple, exclaiming, angrily:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[196]</span></p> - -<p>“It is a shame that that rude fellow was not arrested -for running down this sweet girl! She might have been -killed!”</p> - -<p>She bound a soft white handkerchief about the wound, -and continued:</p> - -<p>“Does anybody know her? She ought to be taken -home or to the hospital. Oh! so you are coming to, -miss?”</p> - -<p>The girl had indeed opened two large blue, wondering -eyes upon the anxious group that surrounded her.</p> - -<p>“Are you hurt much?” inquired the kind though loquacious -woman, helping Floy—for it was our little -heroine—in her efforts to rise.</p> - -<p>Floy was now on her feet, but ghastly pale and trembling.</p> - -<p>She answered, faintly:</p> - -<p>“No, no; only my head. But I feel very weak. I—I -must sit down a minute.”</p> - -<p>“Drink this,” said some one, proffering a glass of -water.</p> - -<p>She looked up into the face of a fair, handsome man, -and felt a thrill of subtle pleasure at his gaze.</p> - -<p>When she had drained the glass, he added, kindly:</p> - -<p>“My carriage is here; permit me to take you to your -destination.”</p> - -<p>Floy knew that it was not safe to trust strangers usually; -but the voice and face of this one were so noble<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> -they inspired instant confidence, so she answered, -gratefully:</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>It was a long distance, and a sudden mutual attraction -between them made the pair very confidential.</p> - -<p>“I am so thankful your injuries are so slight. You -might have been killed,” he began; and the girl answered, -sadly enough:</p> - -<p>“It would not have mattered much; life is so sad.”</p> - -<p>“Sad? For one so young, and—pardon me—so -lovely?” exclaimed her new friend, in surprise.</p> - -<p>Floy answered, out of the bitterness of her sad heart:</p> - -<p>“I am only a poor orphan, sir, with no relatives and -but few friends. To such a one life offers little happiness.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He looked at her simple dress, and guessed that she was -poor as well as orphaned.</p> - -<p>He, too, was almost alone in life; but he was rich, so he<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> -had many friends. We can always count our friends -when we are rich.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">A STRANGE ROMANCE.</span></h2> - - -<p>He said, with a long-drawn sigh:</p> - -<p>“Life is sad to many, my dear little girl, and perhaps <a id="Ref_198"></a>I -have had as sad an experience as any.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Suppose we compare notes. I will tell you what a<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> -great sorrow I have had in my life, and then you may tell -me your story.”</p> - -<p>Floy did not reply, and he saw her rosy under lip quiver -as if she repressed a sob with difficulty.</p> - -<p>She was thinking with pride and pain:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Her new friend continued in a clear, low voice, just -audible above the rumble of their carriage-wheels on the -stony street:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You are great and rich!” exclaimed Floy; and he -caught a note of disappointment in her voice, and wondered -at it.</p> - -<p>He continued his story by saying:</p> - -<p>“Wealth and position do not always bring happiness. -They stood in the way of mine.”</p> - -<p>“And of mine,” thought Floy, in silent sympathy, while -he went on:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[200]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>And again he took up the thread of his story:</p> - -<p>“I see that you understand what a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mésalliance</i> 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<span class="pagenum">[201]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“The rich are as cruel as death!” murmured Floy.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She looked up at him with admiring blue eyes, and -added:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He said to himself, shrewdly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>And he looked tenderly at the little beauty, while he -said:</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[202]</span> -as old as you, my child, if she had lived. Alas! she is -dead—she and her mother!”</p> - -<p>His voice trembled, his face grew pale, she read keen -despair in his dark-blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum">[203]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“No—no; I am your daughter Florence, dearest -father!” cried Floy, in joyous excitement.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“SOMETHING TERRIBLE!”</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[204]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The great importing house of Maury & Co. had failed -yesterday, and the head of the house had fallen dead of -a stroke of apoplexy.</p> - -<p>And following on this calamity to the devoted wife -and family was the mysterious disappearance of Otho -and Maybelle.</p> - -<p>Last evening they had retired early to their rooms, -seemingly prostrated with grief over the death of their -kind, indulgent parent.</p> - -<p>This morning they were missing, and no clew to them -could be found.</p> - -<p>When St. George Beresford heard this news his heart -sunk within him in prophetic dread.</p> - -<p>Knowing what he did of Otho and Maybelle’s nocturnal -wanderings at Suicide Place, he could come to but -one conclusion.</p> - -<p>Floy was their prisoner, as Landon had suspected, and -fearing detection, they had spirited her away to another -place.</p> - -<p>“We have come too late!” he cried, bursting into -Alva’s presence in a quiver of emotion, and falling wearily -into a chair.</p> - -<p>“No—no; you must not tell me so,” she exclaimed,<span class="pagenum">[205]</span> -with keen regret; and then he poured out the whole -story.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He had grown frightfully pale, and the despair in his -beautiful eyes made her heart ache.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She could not permit him to give up hope, although -she herself had almost lost heart.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Then I will go at once!” he cried, starting up.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She was determined to do all she could for him, openly -blaming herself for the flight of the girl.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>At the very last they decided to go alone.</p> - -<p>St. George remembered the gruesome character of<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> -Suicide Place, and how he had heard that no one could -be persuaded to go there for love or money.</p> - -<p>Besides, he shrunk from creating a useless sensation, -for he had little hope now of finding his darling there.</p> - -<p>“You know all the terrible things that Landon told -me. Are you willing to risk the horrors of the place?” he -asked Alva, anxiously.</p> - -<p>Alva was a magnificent woman, in high health and -with strong nerves. She laughed at her brother’s question.</p> - -<p>“I am not at all afraid that the ghosts will rout <em>me</em>!” -she replied, gayly.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“We are going to walk through that splendid grove,” -explained Alva, carelessly.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I <em>do</em> 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,”<span class="pagenum">[207]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Alva, you are ill, or frightened!” he cried, anxiously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[208]</span></p> - -<p>“No, no; go on!” she answered, urging him on, and -trying to shake off her strange depression.</p> - -<p>The spell fell over St. George, too, and icy fingers -seemed to clutch at his heart. He muttered, in a strange -voice:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; but—go on!” she whispered back, with -white lips.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Everything was so still they could hear the beating -of their own hearts.</p> - -<p>“The door stands ajar. Perhaps I had better go in -alone. You are nervous, Alva,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Close to them a door swung wide open. They stopped, -and looked with curious eyes at <em>what</em> lay beyond the -threshold—two bodies, white and cold in death, lying side<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> -by side in a pool of clotted blood that showed dark in -the sunset light streaming through the open window.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">THE LAST VICTIM.</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Otho’s stiffened hand lay along the carpet, still grasping -the weapon with which he had sent a bullet through -his heart.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum">[210]</span> -of hate, as if they had looked last on some abhorred -sight.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At last rousing himself to the exigencies of the moment, -Beresford sighed heavily and said:</p> - -<p>“We must go and tell the driver of this awful discovery, -and send him back to Mount Vernon with the news.”</p> - -<p>They went to the driver, who was so astounded he -could hardly credit the story.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Alva insisted on remaining with her brother.</p> - -<p>“We have not found Floy yet, you know,” she said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[211]</span></p> - -<p>“Shall we resume our search?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Look—look!” she cried, wildly. “Her eyelids -moved! See, her breast heaves! She is not dead! She -revives!”</p> - -<p>St. George turned back at his sister’s words and saw -that they were true.</p> - -<p>Maybelle was reviving.</p> - -<p>Her dark eyes opened wide and rested imploringly on -their faces.</p> - -<p>“Do not leave me!” she faltered.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Maybelle moaned faintly:</p> - -<p>“Poor Otho, he is quite dead, is he not? His courage -did not fail—like mine—at the last.”</p> - -<p>Beresford drew a shawl over the dead face reverently, -hiding it from her sight, and she added:</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[212]</span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">“JUST ONE KISS!”</span></h2> - - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>She did not seem surprised at their coming. Perhaps -she guessed in some way at the reason.</p> - -<p>Beresford stooped over her with anguish in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“She is not. That is true,” answered Maybelle, growing -paler at this reminder of her successful rival.</p> - -<p>“Where is she, then? Do you know?”</p> - -<p>“I swear I do not know,” she replied, faintly, and he -read truth in her beautiful eyes.</p> - -<p>She was strangely beautiful in her pallor and pain, and -Alva thought for a moment how strange it was that her<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> -brother had not loved charming Maybelle before he met -Floy.</p> - -<p>But in the next moment she sighed to herself:</p> - -<p>“There is no accounting for Love’s vagaries. I am -glad my brother loved little Floy instead of imperious -Maybelle.”</p> - -<p>Beresford looked at the poor girl with pitying eyes. -The knowledge of her hopeless love for himself softened -his heart, and he said, gently:</p> - -<p>“Why did you attempt this terrible deed? What malign -influence drove you to self-murder?”</p> - -<p>She shuddered and closed her eyes. He thought she -was going to faint again, and reproached himself for tormenting -her by such questions.</p> - -<p>But Maybelle opened her eyes again, and said, solemnly:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You may exhaust yourself,” he objected, though his -curiosity was on the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">qui vive</i>.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[214]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Can this be true?” cried Alva in wonder.</p> - -<p>“It is true,” answered Maybelle. “I have seen him -again and again, and it is horrible!”</p> - -<p>She paused and glanced half fearfully at the door, -muttering:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>They listened eagerly, devouring every word, wondering -if her strange story could be true.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>She rested a little while, then resumed her story:</p> - -<p>“This old man—this miser—has surely hidden his gold -somewhere in this house, but he has not the power of<span class="pagenum">[215]</span> -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, <em>great chests of gold!</em>—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 <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">finale</i>. -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Can this story be true?”</p> - -<p>The young man looked from the chamber of horror<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> -out at the quiet sunset skies, and it seemed to him incredible -that such things could be.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“It is a strange story.”</p> - -<p>Everything began to grow dark in the room before -Maybelle spoke again.</p> - -<p>She looked wistfully at Beresford, sighing:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Have you any last words—any wish?” he began.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>So Beresford gave the one kiss that was a joyful memory -in all Maybelle’s future years.</p> - -<p>For she did not die as she foreboded.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Otho and his father were buried side by side, and kind -friends cared for the helpless Maury family. Mrs. Vere<span class="pagenum">[217]</span> -de Vere, always Maybelle’s stanch friend, adopted the girl -as a daughter, so she never missed the wealth she prized -so much.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> -<h2 id="CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII.<br /> -<span class="cheaderfont">ALL THAT FLOY HAD LONGED FOR IN OTHER DAYS WAS HERS NOW.—LUCKY LITTLE MORTAL!</span></h2> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In twenty-four hours after their return Lord Miller’s -card was received.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beresford was out, and St. George was ill again -from the fever of a baffled hope.</p> - -<p>So Alva went down alone to meet the handsome Englishman, -and their mutual attraction toward each other -was strengthened by this interview.</p> - -<p>His earnest sympathy with her brother tempted her to -confide the story of Floy to his sympathetic ears.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p> - -<p>He listened in wonder to it all, and then she ended -with a sigh:</p> - -<p>“He is ill again, my poor brother, and no mortal physician -can heal the wound from which he suffers—the pain -of hopeless love.”</p> - -<p>He looked at the bright, beautiful face, wondering how -she should know so much of what she spoke, then he -said, abruptly:</p> - -<p>“I wonder if your brother would see me a little while -if I could give him good news?”</p> - -<p>“Good news?” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“Yes, of this girl—this Floy Fane. I know where -she is to-day.”</p> - -<p>Alva almost fainted with joy. He never forgot her -looks of gratitude and her expressions of joy.</p> - -<p>“Come with me!” she cried; and led him to her -brother’s rooms.</p> - -<p>“I have brought you a physician with news to make -you well!” she cried, radiantly, to the pale, languid invalid.</p> - -<p>And then Lord Miller told them of his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rencontre</i> with -Floy the night of his return to New York, and his discovery -that she was his own child.</p> - -<p>We must pass over their delight and amazement when -the romantic story was all told, and he ended by saying:</p> - -<p>“I left Floy at the hotel, very busy looking over a few -thousand dollars’ worth of finery she purchased yesterday,<span class="pagenum">[219]</span> -but if you both will return with me, I think she will -be glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Are you well enough dear?” inquired Alva, looking -at her brother doubtfully.</p> - -<p>He leaned upon her, his face flushed, his eyes alight -with joy.</p> - -<p>“I am a new man. I do not feel as if I ever had been -ill,” he repeated, joyfully.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“And to think how near she was to me while I was -breaking my heart over her loss!” thought the happy -lover.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Lady Florence is in her own parlor,” said the servant -whom Lord Miller asked for his daughter.</p> - -<p>Lady Florence! How strange that sounded to Alva -and St. George! Yet it was her rightful title now.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>She had been amusing herself all day trying on her -new dresses and jewels, but after all they did not fill<span class="pagenum">[220]</span> -her tender little heart. There was an ache there all the -time because of her grief for her fickle lover.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>At that moment three people were at the door, and -Lord Miller opened it without knocking.</p> - -<p>“Oh, let us wait outside!” cried Alva, with a romantic -impulse, drawing back as St. George crossed the threshold.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Ah! happy love! Is it not a foretaste of Paradise?</p> - -<p>Lord Miller found that he had recovered his lovely -child only to lose her again.</p> - -<p>St. George was the most persistent lover in the world.</p> - -<p>He pleaded continually for an early marriage.</p> - -<p>“Floy is nothing but a child, barely seventeen. Wait -till her eighteenth birthday,” answered the fond father.</p> - -<p>The lover was most unhappy over the year’s probation.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Lord Miller answered, laughingly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[221]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>They would not sail for their ancestral home until -October, anyway, for they had much to do in America.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They were walled up in stone beneath the brick flooring<span class="pagenum">[222]</span> -of the cellar, and contained riches to the amount of -half a million.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She rejoiced unselfishly in the girl’s good fortune, and -wept when she clasped her in her arms, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“You shall come and live with me now, and be rich -and grand.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dearie, I could never go away from Mount -Vernon and my poor John’s grave!” she cried in her -simple, faithful fidelity.</p> - -<p>Lady Florence wept with her as she answered:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[223]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Get Alva to stay with you when I come away. She -would make a magnificent countess.”</p> - -<p>“The very thing that was in my mind,” he answered, -quickly; and before he left America he told Alva of his -wish.</p> - -<p>“If you can be satisfied with a second love, I will make -you a devoted husband,” he said.</p> - -<p>And Alva replied with a like confidence:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[224]</span></p> - -<p>“My first love, too, is dead, but you have won my -heart. I believe that we can be very happy together,” -she admitted, frankly.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center p1">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<div class="boxit"> - -<p class="center boldfont xlargefont" style="margin-left:-5em">Glorious Romances<br /> -<span style="padding-left:2em">Thrilling Adventure</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left:4em">Baffling Mysteries</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left:4em">Realistic Love</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left:9em">Tales of the Old West</span></p> - -<p class="largefont p1">An extensive list of famous stories -by famous authors. Books for -every reading taste ... at an extremely -moderate price.</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center boldfont p1"><span class="largefont">THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY</span><br /> -Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 style="margin-top: 0em">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> - -<p>Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller was the pen name for Mittie Frances Clark Point.</p> - -<p>This novel was first serialized in the <cite>Fireside Companion</cite> 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.”</p> - -<p>Punctuation has been made consistent.</p> - -<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors -have been corrected.</p> - -<p>The following changes were made:</p> - -<p><a href="#Ref_97">p. 97</a>: “and” was assumed for unclear word in original text (save and -except)</p> - -<p><a href="#Ref_110">p. 110</a>: “foes” was assumed for unclear word in original text (from her -foes.)</p> - -<p><a href="#Ref_198">p. 198</a>: “I” was assumed for missing word in original text (perhaps I -have)</p></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mystery of Suicide Place, by -Mrs. Alex. 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